A/N: Hey! Remember me? Probably not. What's up with me? The usual, school, blah, and more blah, our favorites. But over the Christmas break and due to the fact that we have no school due to snow for the second day, I'm all ready with another chapter. As usual, constructive criticism is always appreciated, reviews as well.
Chapter 10
The next few days at Hogwarts went by quickly for Michaela. She chose to take Potions and Care of Magical Creatures along with her regular schoolwork. She was especially glad for the opportunity to take these classes because it gave her a break from her lonely school day.
It had quickly become clear to Michaela that she couldn't listen to her class lectures in the library or classrooms because of the distraction it caused. Instead, Dumbledore offered her a room on the seventh floor that was oddly entirely equipped with everything she could possibly need.
The hologram, which was now resized to life-size, made everything so real that Michaela could almost believe that she was in the classroom. But because of the fact that it wasn't, she often became very lonely. It was amusing the first few days, staring avidly at her fellow students, catching their bad behavior, but even that became boring after awhile. Along with the fact that she couldn't "rewind" the hologram to see what she missed while she wasn't paying attention.
And so she started to have a regular routine. Breakfast in the morning (yes, something she got used to) with Hermione, two eighty-minute classes, lunch with the gang, one Hogwarts class, and one last class with her school. Evenings varied, though Michaela often helped Hermione make clothes for the House-Elves. She croqueted rather than knitted, however, because it was much easier.
It was one of these such evenings when Harry and Ron were desperately trying to finish their homework. Harry had spent the past week evenings at detention with Umbridge and Ron had been practicing for the Quidditch tryouts. Michaela had never seen a Quidditch game before and was quite keen to see one. When Ron made the team, she promised to see his first match.
It was around 11pm when she and Hermione were about to turn in when an owl turned up at the common room window.
"Isn't that Hermes?" Hermione asked.
"Blimey, it is!" Ron said, getting up to open the window.
"What's Percy writing to me for?"
"Who's Percy?" Michaela asked Hermione as Ron started to read the letter.
"Ron's older brother. He, err, disowned his family."
"What? Why?!"
"Because he reckons I'm a crazy lunatic along with your uncle. He believes Fudge," Harry said bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Michaela said. Poor Harry, she thought. "Hugs?"
Harry looked as though he felt extremely awkward, but managed to give Michaela a hug.
Ron finished his letter, looking thoroughly disgusted. He thrust it Ron, Hermione, and Michaela, who leaned in together to read it. Michaela understood right away why Ron was so disgusted.
Was this guy an idiot? His pompous tone, his complete confidence in himself. It was almost to the point where it seemed fake. A bit too extreme. Michaela forgot about it when she heard the anger in Ron's voice.
He ripped it up—"He is the world's biggest—" and threw it in the fire—"git." Watching it burn to ashes, Ron turned away and said, "Come on, we've go to get this finished sometime before dawn."
Hermione cut in, "Oh, give them here."
"What?"
"Give them to me, I'll look through them and correct them," she said. Ron and Harry's spirits seemed to be dramatically lifted while Michaela decided to turn in.
The next morning brought a lot of news but not of the good kind. Hermione had just filled in Michaela about Sirius who had visited the trio the night before via fire.
"He's not being careful at all . . . it's all for his own safety."
"Yeah, I know, but it must be terrible for him to be cooped up all day in the house he hated. Without many people around, it must be terribly lonesome."
Just then the Daily Prophet arrived which revealed the article that Percy had unsubtly mentioned in his letter. Umbridge was being named the "Hogwarts High Inquistor" which was hugely ironic in Michaela's mind. She had learned all about the "Spanish Inquisition" of the sixteenth century last year in her World Cultures class and this seemed to be no different.
Apparently Umbridge would now have a lot more power now; she would have the power to do away teachers that she did not approve of after her "inspections," likewise with teaching methods. In other words, if you weren't under the Ministry's favor, you could be screwed, just like the poor non-Catholics in Spain.
While Harry and Hermione expressed their disgust and exasperation, Ron grinned.
"What?" Harry, Hermione, and Michaela said at the same time.
"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," he said. "Umbridge won't know what hit her."
"Well, come on," Hermione said. "We'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binn's class. We don't want to be late . . . see you later, Michaela. I'll tell you if anything happens."
Michaela nodded and got up from the table as well to head for her studies. On her way up there, she spotted Umbridge and quickly tried to look anonymous but it was too late.
"Miss Woodburn," she stated, toadish smile appearing.
"Professor Umbridge," Michaela said. Before Umbridge could speak again, Michaela said something else. "May I be the last to congratulate you on your new post," she said, taking a bow deep enough for most simple person to see her irony and sarcasm.
"Oh, I hope you are not the last, my dear," Umbridge said, giggling. "Now, to business, I'd like to inform you that because of my new position, I shall be keeping a greater eye on you. You shall come to my classroom everyday so that I can be kept informed of your school studies." Again, her tone of voice made it exactly clear what she thought of Michaela's "school studies."
You want to play that game, Umbridge? Michaela thought. I'll play. "I shall simply be delighted to visit your classroom, Professor Umbridge," she said. "Any opportunity to see your remarkable teaching ability of the non-practical side of Defense Against the Dark Arts is truly enlightening to me."
There was no flicker of a change in Umbridge's face or tone as she bid Michaela good-bye. We'll see how long she can hold her poker face for, Michaela thought. She had never met anyone whose emotions were so checked, but was up for the challenge.
This shall be fun, a battle of the wits, she thought, as she settled back, ready to learn about the atomic orbital charts in Chemistry.
* * *
"Fools!" The unfortunate Death Eater was slammed back against the wall.
"Master, we're sorry, so sorry . . ."
"Silence!" Silence reigned. "You, don't tell me that the spell can't work, tell me why it's not WORKING NOW!"
Nott shivered in fear, he couldn't help it. The Dark Lord was not known for his mercy. On his knees, his head bowed, he said, "My lord, there must be other relatives whose blood we need; it's the only explanation."
"But we've got Dumbledore's sister, his only relation. Aberforth was adopted into the family."
"I know, my lord. We don't need Aberforth's blood. There just must be some other relation that we don't know about."
"Fine. Rise, Nott, and summon Goyle and Crabble. I have work for them."
Nott scurried away, intensely glad to be out of the Dark Lord's wrath. Voldemort turned back to the still quivering Death Eater laying on the floor.
"Get up, Wormtail," he spat.
Wordlessly Wormtail got up and followed Voldemort into the chamber where Howard Woodburn was chained to the wall with several cuts and bruises on his body.
What he had endured was something no one should ever even hear about. His wife, Angelina, was dead by bleeding to death in front of his own eyes. That wasn't the worse part of it.
He had been freed from his chains and was put under the Imperius Curse to kill his own wife. Of course he had fought it off—successfully too—but each time he did so he receive the Cruciatus Curse.
This was all for Voldemort's amusement as the man stubbornly kept fighting until he at last collapsed physically and mentally so that Voldemort had complete control over him. He made the final fatal stabbing wound and watched, after had had been chained again, horror-struck at what he had done.
The Death Eaters had only taken a small vial of blood from her. Then they left him and her alone in the chamber. Angelina was unconscious from the loss of blood and Howard could only watch as his wife's breaths came slower and slower until they finally stopped coming. She was not more than three feet from him.
Howard could only cry and rage at Voldemort, the Death Eaters, himself, the world, and anything else that came to mind until exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep.
He was abruptly awaken by a kick a few hours later.
"Yes, that's right. Wake up, Mudblood lover."
Howard struggled to focus his eyes and his vision came back slowly.
"So our little spell didn't work so well, apparently there seems to be more blood relatives in the Dumbledore line. Who else is there?" The question was said almost politely.
After no response, Crabbe punched Howard's face. "Not too hard, Crabbe, we want him conscious."
Howard had been working thing out in his head the first time he was asked the question. The spell didn't work. Then there was hope yet! When he was asked the question a second time, his thoughts went wildly to Michaela.
Michaela! Of course! They didn't know about her. At all costs her identity couldn't be known. It couldn't. Not only for her safety, but for the safety of the world. With that, he struggled to come up with an answer.
"I—I don't now what you're talking about."
"Liar! Do not think I am a fool when I just saw the recognition in your eyes. Though you must be a practiced in the arts of Occlumency, you can't hide your eyes. Crabbe?"
Crabbe hit Howard again, this time much harder. In his weakened position, this was enough to send Howard into blissful unconsciousness. His last thoughts were that he couldn't give up what he knew.
The costs . . . would be more than the world could bear.
"Idiot! We need him conscious to question him! Crucio!"
Crabbe shrieked as Goyle went down on his knees begging Voldemort to give them another chance.
"Stay here until he awakens and then get me. We will get down to the bottom of this." With a swish of his robes, Voldemort swept out of the room.