A/N: Revised as of August 4, 2005

Chapter Nine: Revelations

Hermione had pointed Michaela out in the direction of the library and Michaela found it easily enough. She was about to listen to first period's course outline when she realized she had no pens or paper; just her books.

Asking the librarian (who seemed rather unfriendly for a librarian) for directions, she cautiously made her way back to the Gryffindor Tower without getting lost once.

"Password?" inquired the fat lady.

"Hey, do you have a name?" The fat lady looked surprised.

"Well, yes, it's Elizabeth. Not many people have asked me that though; I'm just a way to get into their dorm rooms."

"You must be very patient to deal with everyone coming and going, huh?"

Elizabeth brought herself up proudly. "Yes, not everyone can do this job." She then added scornfully, "Especially like that Sir Cadogen that replaced me for awhile when that horrid Sirius Black tried to get in."

"Oh, I heard about that," Michaela said, hiding a smile. "Anyway, it was nice talking to you; Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

"You too, dearie!" she called after Michaela as Michaela headed through the portrait door."

Heading upstairs, she found her shared room and went over to her trunk.

"Michaela?"

Michaela turned around, but couldn't see anyone. "Hello? Who's there?"

"It's Sirius, in the mirror."

Michaela rummaged through her trunk and found the mirror, now with Sirius' reflection on it.

"Uh, hi," she said. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Oh, no, just rather bored right now. How's Harry?"

"He's good . . ." Michaela wondered whether she should tell him about how Snape treated him unfairly earlier, but then decided against it and asked him another question. "How did you know I was here?"

"Well, I've been calling your name every now and then this morning and this time I heard some noise that I thought might be you," he said.

"But what if it wasn't? Someone else could have been in here and found out—"

"Who else would be up here at this hour?" he asked.

He's got a point, but still. Michaela sighed. "Just be careful, huh? It could hurt me same as you since most people don't know that you're really innocent."

Guilt crossed Sirius' face. "I know, I'm just . . . lonely, I guess."

"Isn't there anyone there at your house?"

"Well, the Order of the Phoenix comes and goes during the day, but I'm all by myself for the most part, except for Kreacher and my mother's lovely portraits."

"Creature? What's that?"

Sirius explained about his house-elf, who had been corrupted by Sirius' parents. "He's always lurking around, muttering insults under his breath. I can't free him because he knows too much about the Order of the Phoenix; otherwise, I'd've gotten rid of him long before now."

Poor Sirius! "I'm sorry, Sirius. It must be awful staying there. I would probably go nuts in your place."

Sirius stayed quiet for a moment, brooding, but then perked up. "Well, at least the long-distance company is pleasant. How's Hogwarts going for you?"

Michaela told him the morning's events and Malfoy's insults to her. He laughed uproariously when she told him her comeback. "That's the way! Don't let them bring you down. Of course, if it were James and I, we would hex him, but your words have enough sting in them to make up for it."

"You really hexed people?"

"Of course! Snape was our prime target but there were other people who got the short end—"

He was interrupted by the bell that rang for the next class.

"Oh, crap! I've got to get back to the library; Hermione will be waiting for me. I'll talk to you later, bye!" She shoved the mirror back in the trunk, grabbing a notebook and some pens and pencils before running out to the portrait hole.

She stopped at the entrance of Gryffindor Tower, realizing she didn't know exactly how to get back to the library again. "Elizabeth! Hey, how do you get back to the library?"

The fat lady told her in quick detail and Michaela headed off, speed walking to the library. To her relief, she spotted Hermione checking out a book at the front-desk in the library.

"Get a lot of work done?" she asked Michaela.

"Um, yeah," Michaela lied. "Which class do you have next?

"Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Umbridge."

"That lady who gave the funky speech?"

"Yes. Are you going to come?"

Michaela considered. "Yeah, why not? I'll just come to see what it's like, even if I can't do magic."

They walked down to the classroom and met Harry and Ron there. Michaela settled for a seat in the back since she wasn't an actual student.

When the classroom was filled, Professor Umbridge addressed them. "Well, good afternoon!"

There were a few half-hearted replies.

"Tut, tut. That won't do now, will it? I should like you, please to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

What was this? Kindergarten? The class repeated it back to her.

"There now, that wasn't too difficult was it?" she said, in her annoying preschool voice. "Wands away and quills out please." The class gave a collected sigh, as did Michaela.

No action today, I s'pose. As the rest of the class started writing down the course aims, Michaela reached for her planner. She looked through the homework tabs.

Pre-Calculus: Section 1-1 #1-22; 25-27

Michaela was good in math and her textbook usually gave good enough explanations so that she didn't need that much help from her teacher. Getting out her book, she started to read through the lesson.

Silence filled the room as the students were assigned to read chapter one in their books. After several minutes passed, however, Michaela noticed that Hermione had her hand up in the air with more than half the class staring at her.

Professor Umbridge reluctantly acknowledged her. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione said.

"Well, we're just reading right now. If you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class."

Hermione cut in, "I've got a query about your course aims."

"And your name is—d?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge, her voice extra sugary.

"Well, I don't. There's nothing up there about using defensive spells."

A silence followed before Professor Umbridge answered. "Using defensive spells? Why I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You sure aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

Michaela raised her hand as Ron said loudly, "We're not going to use magic?"

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.--"?

"Weasley." Ron put his hand up in the air, but Professor Umbridge turned to Michaela instead.

"Yes, Miss Woodburn, I presume?"

"Well, when you say that we don't expect to be attacked in class, that doesn't mean that we won't get attacked elsewhere, does it? Life is unexpected like that."

"Well, Miss Woodburn, is that what they teach you in those—" she gave a simpering giggle. "—Muggle schools that Squibs attend?" She said the word "Squib" as though it was something beneath her.

"Surely you're not insinuating that the quality of my education is sub-par, are you?"

Professor Umbridge giggled again. "Now when did I say that? I merely thought that your philosophy was silly and wondered where you could have gotten it from."

Professor Umbridge turned to answer another student while Michaela was flabbergasted. She had never been so bluntly "burned" (as her friends would say) by another adult. It was quickly replaced with great loathing of Professor Umbridge.

The students remained incredulous of her answers that they would not use any magic in the class and her refusal that they would not be attacked anywhere, but with Harry they struck a nerve.

They got into a shouting match (or rather, Harry shouting and Professor Umbridge simpering) that made it clear that Professor Umbridge didn't believe that Voldemort was back.

What is up with this? She stood up. "What is with you guys not believing that Voldemort is back?" Several students gasped out loud. "I would've thought it obvious that Mr. Big Bad V is back; my uncle wouldn't make something up like this—that's just ridiculous and exactly what is silly about your philosophy, Professor Umbridge!"

Professor Umbridge's mouth twitched before she answered Michaela. "Miss Woodburn, I forgive your statements since you are the Headmaster's niece, but if you continue on, you will join Mr. Potter in detention."

The nerve of that woman! But Michaela knew when to stop and sat down, promising herself a long talk with her uncle. Unfortunately, Harry didn't know when to stop.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" Michaela could see that he was shaking with anger.

Harry, Harry. You can't let her get to you!

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Professor Umbridge said coldly.

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him and you know it." For a moment, Michaela thought that Professor Umbridge was going to yell at Harry, but she retained her composure and looked triumphant. "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

She's just like me! Michaela realized with a jolt. She can keep her head even if she's angry. Well, well. We'll have to see who can outlast the other; two can play at this game.

Professor Umbridge wrote out a note and sent Harry to see McGonagall. With that, the class remained silent until the bell rang.

Gathering her books, Michaela tried to catch up with Hermione and Ron, but lost them in the crowd of students in the hallway. "Damn." She decided to go visit her uncle instead of heading back to the Gryffindor Tower.

After asking a student for directions, she found herself in front of a gargoyle. "Butterbeer," she said clearly. The stone gargoyle sprang to life (uncannily like the gargoyles in Disney's movie, The Hunchback of Notre Dame) and moved as the wall split into two and revealed a spiral stone staircase.

Michaela stepped on the first stair and to her surprise it twisted up, bringing her to a door with a knocker. Michaela knocked on it.

"Come in."

Michaela opened the door to find herself in the place she had been that terrible night when her parents had been taken. Ignoring the rising feelings within her, she walked in.

"Hello, Michaela, I'm glad to see you. Please, come sit down," her uncle said, pointing to the chair across his desk.

"How are you doing?" Michaela asked politely.

"Oh, fine. The first week of school is always most challenging. I don't know whether I have more Owls from frantic first-year parents or from the Ministry with demands," he said jovially.

Michaela smiled. "Well, I wanted to ask you a few questions, if you can spare a minute or two."

"To avoid the onslaught of the Ministry's messages that I have to answer? Certainly, Michaela." His eyes twinkled.

Michaela described what had happened in Professor Umbridge's class and how the girls had reacted the night before about her discussion of Voldemort. Michaela watched as her uncle's face turned more somber with each sentence.

"They were scared by the mere mention of his name, Uncle Albus, even though they apparently believe he's dead. Even Hermione got skittish; why?"

"I can only say that in the years of Voldemort's height of power, people became so terrified that they thought that even mentioning his name was enough to bring his wrath down upon them."

"Did it?" Michaela asked. Maybe there was some sort of magic that caused that.

"No, of course not, but it still stuck. I tried all throughout the war and even now to convince people to say his name, but to no avail."

"But that's so silly!" Michaela said. "I don't care if he was the devil himself, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of calling him 'You-Know-Who.'"

"Yes, well, I've seen that most American wizards and witches have taken that same sentiment, but then again, Voldemort did not unleash his main reign of terror in America."

Michaela didn't think that it mattered much where Voldemort had ruled, but thought it a moot point and asked another question. "But why don't people believe that he's back?"

Dumbledore sighed. "There are many reasons why, but by far the largest is that Cornelius Fudge (our Minister of Magic) refuses to believe that he's back. Without his support and the general trend of negative articles towards the truth in the Daily Prophet, the Order of the Phoenix is hard-pressed to convince the public of Voldemort's return."

"We are in a sticky situation then, aren't we? And poor Harry, taking the brunt of it all."

"Yes, but he needs to learn to keep his cool. I fear that Professor Umbridge wants to enrage him so much that he does something rash that will discredit him permanently."

"Are you going to talk to him about it?"

"No, because he needs to learn it himself and it would be highly suspicious for the Headmaster to get involved."

Dumbledore suddenly stood up abruptly and Michaela followed suit. With ease that seemed rather forced, he said, "Well, much as I hate to, I have to finish answering these dispatches before dinner. We can discuss your schoolwork and classes later."

He escorted her to the door and as soon as she was gone from sight, the old wizard pulled off the ring on his finger that he hadn't taken off for twenty years. It was black.

He put his head in his hands and lost the composure that he had struggled to maintain the minute before. Albus Dumbledore was not one to cry—he hadn't cried when his parents died or when his sister had been taken. Instead, he had poured his energies into finding her again.

But now he wept. The old wizard who had carried burdens equal to the weight of the world cried as shamelessly as a newborn. But, like Michaela, his grief subsided as he got a grip on himself.

He still had to carry his heavy burdens and couldn't afford to lose his composure again. Instead, he afforded a moment of irrationality driven by grief to fling the ring into the fire, even though he knew that it couldn't be destroyed.

Duty took place once more in his mind as he pondered the situation. Should he tell Michaela? No, he couldn't. Not when she had just come to grips with her new life.

And there was so much more that she still didn't know. The real reasons why she had to come to Hogwarts: not merely for her own safety. No, his mind reasoned, she can be told later . . . when she can deal with it better.

It was an old man's mistake that was unfortunately made for another person he cared for deeply: Harry Potter.