Disclaimer: I own the plot; I apologize if it's been done before. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
AN: Hi! Real AN at the end! Enjoy!
Consanguina
By Jess S
Chapter 14: Shadows and Memories
"So you want to have someone following Harry at all times?" Dumbledore summarized, not really revealing his opinion on the subject by tone or expression. "Is that really necessary?"
"Perhaps not," Vivian shrugged, "but it couldn't hurt."
"It may interfere with his education, and possibly with the school's daily running."
"My people are very good at what they do, Headmaster. They will not be noticed unless Mr. Potter is threatened, I assure you." She offered a small smile, "That is, after all, the function of a Shadow."
"Of course," the Professor nodded, not really appearing to give the matter much thought. "Do you really believe he may be in danger here? That his kidnapper might pursue him even after releasing him?"
The Auror shook her head, "That they allowed him to come suggests that he wasn't abducted at all, Headmaster. The Healers found little to suggest any ill-treatment from his host, with the exception of some cerebral trauma, which was probably caused by the reverberation that resulted in the remembrance of his sister."
"He may have even been staying with his sister."
"That is possible."
"Hmm…One would have to wonder why she wouldn't want to be recognized…"
"Would they?" Vivian asked. "I may be wrong, but, unless I'm mistaken, she was exiled from everything she knew and loved from her sixth birthday onward. Wouldn't it be a bit much to expect her to come running back?" she smiled. "I'm not saying that that's why she hasn't come forward--"
"But its very possible," Dumbledore nodded, looking very much his age.
"Yes, though she may have other reasons."
"Of course…" After several moments of silence, the Professor shook his head, seemingly forcing himself back from wherever his mind had momentarily wandered. "So an Umbrae Nutricius will be keeping an eye on him, then?"
"Just one Umbra at a time, in rotating shifts," the General nodded. "You might wish to inform the House Heads, Professor McGonagall in particular, of their presence though."
"That way she won't worry about intruders and whatnot," Dumbledore nodded. "Very well."
"And anyone who might be…uniquely inclined to notice their presence should be informed as well."
Dumbledore nodded once again. "Harry already knows, correct?"
"Yes." Vivian nodded, before glancing down at her watch. "I'm afraid I have to head back now, Headmaster. Thank you for your time, it was most appreciated." She told him, while rising, "And the tea was wonderful."
"It was a pleasure, my dear," Dumbledore assured her, while he to rose, reaching out to gently clasp hands with her. He watched her as he turned to go, puzzling over why she might seem so familiar to him. He'd only met her a little over a month prior, and yet he felt as though he'd known her for years. That bafflement was quickly pushed to the back of his mind, however, by a more pressing thought. "If you don't mind my asking, General," he raised an eyebrow if she turned back to look at him. "May I ask after your opinion on our new Defense Professor? Those who reach N.E.W.T. level in her course are, after all, the ones you're most likely to see applying for jobs in your department in a few years."
"Yes," Vivian nodded apparently giving the inquiry some thought before replying. "Off the record… I honestly can't say I approve of Dolores Umbridge herself, so I'm hardly partial enough to judge her teaching methods…but I do have someone looking into them. Good day, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled again, offering another nod, "Good day, Vivien," he replied, watching as she disappeared in a burst of green flames.
There was little need for the Snape's call to order, as a heavy silence had fallen over the classroom the moment their Professor had closed the door. It had been like that for the past four years too, Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.
"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape began as he swept over to his desk before gazing out at them all, somehow managing to do so condescendingly. "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you've learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my…displeasure." His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped. "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," the Potions Master went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means some of you will certainly be saying good-bye." Here his eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled.
Harry didn't bother glaring back, what was the point? He'd gotten very little sleep the night before, so he was utterly exhausted now. Furthermore, he knew he had to make it into Snape's N.E.W.T. class, if he wanted to be an Auror, so the news meant next to nothing to him.
His lack of reaction rather obviously puzzled the Professor, almost as much as it worried his already concerned friends, who'd been watching him anxiously the entire morning. Nonetheless, the Potions Master shrugged his surprise off, continuing his speech as though nothing had happened, therein demonstrating why he was the Head of Slytherin House.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," the House Head murmured softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I've come to expect from my O.W.L. students…. Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned; If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."
On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. If he'd had a little more energy and felt a little less homesick, he didn't doubt this'd amuse him.
Snape flicked his wand toward the board at the front of the classroom, and a long list of instructions appeared there. "The ingredients and method are on the black board. You will find everything you need," he flicked his wand again, and the door of the cupboard in the back of the room sprung open, "in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half…Begin."
Ron and Hermione had been speculating about what this class would be like through breakfast, and, as it turned out, many of their speculations had come to pass. Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, nitpicky potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities. The mixture had to be stirred unerringly the precise number of times, first in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions. And the temperature of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.
But that wasn't what bothered Harry about this. No, he'd made this potion before. He'd made it under his sister's careful instruction, over the summer, in her potions' lab back at the Manor. True, it had been much easier under her fond gaze, compared to Snape's probing glare, but he knew how to work his way through it. Just follow the instructions.
Flashback
"Get everything ready before you start, that way you don't have to worry about finding anything while you're making the potion." Vivian told him as she helped him set up the materials. After that she opened the Potions Book they'd been studying the day before, and after a few moments of searching, seemed to find the page she wanted. She set the book before them, opened up to the instructions for the Brewing of the Draught of Peace. "Now read through them," she told him, whacking his hand lightly when he reached for the first of the mentioned ingredients. "No, don't start. Just read through the instructions, we have time."
After he'd read all four pages worth of instructions he looked to her for further coaching. She handed him a Muggle notebook and an erasable pen.
"Now plan your course of action." At his bewildered look, she smiled, nodding to the notebook. "Write the instructions down, step by step. You might want to set it up like a checklist, so that you don't miss anything."
He was still somewhat confused, but he complied nonetheless. By the time he'd finished a few minutes later, he found that the twenty steps that book had given him had in some way become eighty.
"Ok, now you can start." The Auror told him. "Take it slowly. It's better to take your time and come up with a good potion then to rush yourself and botch the project part way through…."
End Flashback
Harry sighed, shaking his head as he started to brew his draught. Everyone else was on the second step now, while he was staring at his checklist. But he knew that his sister's method worked, so he ignored them in favor of beginning his potion.
This potion was remarkably complex, and picky, for class work on the first day of school. But then again, Snape was the teacher.
Aside from the homesickness, he had one other problem. It was a little disconcerting, to work under another's scrutiny. He was used to working with Snape glaring at him, but knowing that there was an Auror in close proximity didn't help much. Even if it was Riatanya Willow.
Sometime later, Harry was pretty sure there was only a few minutes of class left, Snape spoke again. "A silver vapor should be rising from your potion."
Harry frowned as he looked around the classroom. He knew he wasn't done yet, as he'd started a few minutes after everyone else, but Hermione appeared to be the only one in the room with a successful draught!
Ron's was spitting green sparks, Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out, Crabbe and Goyle were going to have a hell of a time getting theirs into a flagon, as it their cauldrons looked like they were full of a gluey substance, and most of the potions in the room were releasing seemingly unending waves of dark gray smoke.
If Malfoy were here, the surface of his potion would probably look like Hermione's, with a shimmering mist of silver vapor. But the Slytherin wasn't present, just like he hadn't been present the night before or this morning at breakfast. If rumors were true, he hadn't even come to school!
As Snape swept around the room he looked down his nose at Hermione's potion without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticize. But he did stop at Harry's cauldron, raising an eyebrow. "Having trouble, are we, Potter?"
"No, sir."
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's not done yet, I started late." The Gryffindor told him in quite, measure tones.
"Oh really?" the Potions Master scoffed. "Think you're so much better then everyone else that you can get away with that even after all your time here, Potter? Surely you know by now that late work is not applicable?"
"There's still five minutes of class left, sir." Harry told him, eyeing the clock above the door.
"Indeed," Snape sneered, before turning his back on Gryffindor's Golden Boy. "Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," he ordered, while making his way up to his desk.
He didn't offer any recognition when a silver mist appeared over the surface of Harry's potion, signaling its completion. But then again, Harry hadn't expected him to.
"Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its use in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."
Vivian sighed as she stepped onto the elevator that would bring her to her sectors headquarters, where her office resided. She dearly hoped that nothing important came up this morning. She wanted nothing more then to lock her office door and take a nice long nap on the couch that resided within, for that very reason. She doubted that her aspiration would be satisfied, though. She'd been the Head of the Primara Sector long enough to know that when she really wanted to put her feet up, there would always be at least one antagonism there to get on her nerves.
Her weary acceptance of this as a blatant fact was proven to her, as she stepped out of the elevator, onto the soft white carpet that adorned the headquarters' floor. All but two of her 'secretaries' -- as many in the Department had come to jokingly call them, for it was one of the roles they played here, certainly -- were hard at work. Ria was watching Harry, as she would be until around six o'clock this evening, when she would switch off with Eric, who was probably reviewing the 'Mummy Market' file.
The team assigned to the 'black market' case had traced them to a few Pureblood families, but only two of the said families were British. Most of them were citizens of other counties, so they weren't under their jurisdiction. They could certainly pass the information along, but there really wasn't much point in that case. If the number of mummies found in London continued to increase, they'd probably have to take it to the international level, which was always aggravating and tiring, but was at times necessary. At the moment though, they could probably scare the other families off a little, by going after the two British 'members'. Of course, one of them was an agent of theirs, so they'd leave him alone as long as possible, which wasn't hard, considering how well he covered his trail. He had to, after all. But the head of the Goyle family had not been so cautious.
Everyone in her sector was taught to never under estimate their opponents, for doing so could be your downfall. And they did know that Goyle wasn't quite as dim as he seemed. Obviously, if he were he wouldn't have been able to talk his way out of Azkaban…Of course, that was probably why his lawyer was able to get him off. It was easy to believe that someone as dense as everyone believed Goyle to be, could easily be controlled by the Imperious curse. Then again, his family did have to the money to pay for the high-class attorney that represented him, and the lawyer may have been the one responsible for the well-told story.
The only other person absent was Catherine Dearborn, who was Ria's equal in rank, and therefore the two witches shared the rank of the sectors second in command. General Dearborn had been the one to bring about that situation. A little over a year ago, it had been up for debate. But in the end, Vivian had been willing to follow her advices and have two seconds. She'd thought that, as Ria had earned her rank, just as everyone else had, it was only fair that she be recognized for it.
It was amazing how long ago that day when General Willow has accepted the rank seemed, when it was actually only a year past. But there was no need to talk of that now. There hadn't been an incident of it since then. Well, aside from the Minister's objection, but she hadn't really cared about his opinion then any more then she did now.
Now however, any such debate was hardly possible, as Dearborn was currently on a much-deserved vacation. Which led to her wondering why Cornelius Fudge was presently in her office. He didn't like to pay social calls on her sector, the people didn't like him any more then she did, and they were obviously better at what they did then the people who were loyal to the Minister.
But there was no doubt he was calling. The five guards gathered around her office door were five of 'the Elite', supposedly the Ministry's best Aurors, who were duty-bound to protect the Minister at all costs. There were six members in the Elite, so the other one was probably in her office with the Minister himself…
"Anything interesting today, Henri?" she inquired, easily slipping into French as she stopped alongside the colonel's elegant desk, giving him time to look up and see her quick glance towards the Elite Aurors, who were standing stoically in front of her door.
[AN: I was too lazy to translate. All of the English dialogue in italics is in French.]
The Beauxbatons' graduate of 1982 shook his head, his hazel eyes amused. "No, not really. Two new mummies today, they're are driving Bonham mad, but other then that it's been a rather dull morning." He shook his head, his shoulder-length pale-brown hair emphasizing the motion. "The stiff necks showed up a little over an hour ago. His majesty was pestering the Captains for awhile, but he gave up and decided to wait in your office a little over a half hour ago."
"They've been standing there for a half an hour?" Vivian inquired, raising an amused eyebrow. 'The stiff necks' was one of the many nicknames had come up with for the Elite. It wasn't a group they had much respect for. After all, all they did was vow to protect an idiot, which earned them high salaries and iniquitous tax-cuts.
The colonel nodded, "Oui."
"Merci," the General nodded to him before moving on towards her office. She raised an eyebrow at the middle-aged man that appeared to be in charge when they didn't immediately move. "May I help you?"
"Name and rank." The wizard ordered, disdainfully.
"I am General Vivien Potier, and you," she paused to glance at his robes. "Captain, are currently standing in front of the door to my office. Unless you wish to find yourself in a court marshal for insubordination, I suggest you either explain yourself or, preferably, move."
The Elite Captain glared at her in reply, "The Minister sent word to you earlier today of his pending arrival."
"Did he really?" the General replied lightly, "I wouldn't know, as I've been on my feet since three o'clock this morning and haven't yet had a chance to check my mail." She continued before he could interrupt her. "In any case, if he wishes to speak with me, and he is in my office, which is the only thing that might explain your improperness, then you might as well move aside. As I'm sure he didn't intend for me to talk to you."
By the time she'd finished, the other Auror's face had paled slightly with suppressed rage, which was also demonstrated by the firm, disproving line of his mouth. Nevertheless, he had enough intelligence to see that she was right, and therefore turned and opened the door before stepping aside. "General Potier to see you, Minister."
Brushing past him pointedly before closing the door, crossing her office, and moving around her desk before sitting down. Only then did she grace the apparently worried Minister with her attention. "You wished to speak with me, Minister?"
Fudge nodded immediately, "Yes, I - uhh - understand, General…that there has been an… increase in--"
"Dark activity, as of late, Minister?" Vivian cut in, not in any sort of mindset to listen to his stuttering. "Yes, there has been; a significant increase."
"Yes, well…uhh… and you are doing something about this, General?"
The Auror raised an eyebrow. "We are doing what we can, Minister, but we can only do so much… If the rest of the Ministry doesn't begin to pick up the slack, I'm afraid we'll have a very ghastly situation on our hands, rather soon."
"But it isn't…that is to say…it's not…"
"Voldemort?"
"Don't say that name!!!" Fudge ordered, looking around frantically, his eyes wider then usual.
"It may very well be," the witch continued coolly, "all the signs point to it…. And what if it is, Minister Fudge?" she inquired, her tone and expression carefully neutral. "What if Voldemort has returned, and his followers are gathering?"
"I'll look like a fool!" the Minister snapped, sweating profusely.
The Boy-Who-Lived's elder sister nodded, "You will…particularly if you're not ready to lead the Wizarding Britain into war…Which, no offense intended, I honestly don't think the Ministry is ready for any sort of war, let alone one of the level that the Dark Lord is capable of bringing."
Now the older wizard appeared to be on the edge of panic. "Well, no…of course we're not! We've only just recovered from the last war! You weren't there, Potier! You can't possibly understand what it was like t--"
"I understand war and combat," Vivian cut in, her tone icy. "And I know, from all of the training and experience that I do have, that such a war is not one we are currently incapable of winning." She raised an eyebrow, "Safe is always better for you, in the long run, then sorry is."
"Well--Yes, of course it is!" the Minister nodded, agreeing fervently. "Of course…but where to begin…"
"Well," Vivian drawled, her voice still -- almost surprisingly -- neutral. "I can think of a number of things."
"Such as?"
"Make amends with Professor Dumbledore. If it comes down to a real war, you will need his support."
"Yes…yes, of course…"
"Secondly, the case of Sirius Black must be properly addressed. It doesn't do you any real favors to ignore it, Minister. Just get it over with and be done with it. It may earn you some less then pleasant publicity, but procrastinating will only make it worse in the long run."
"B-But…he…he…"
"Is an innocent man, Minister. He was unjustly incarcerated for thirteen bloody years, and the Ministry therefore owes him far more then an apology, but that is nonetheless, the place to start."
"Yes…I suppose so…I--"
"And finally," Vivian cut in with a sigh, "for the moment at least. There is the matter of Professor Umbridge," she finished, her tone now taking on the slightest hint of distaste."
"…Dolores?"
"Yes," Vivian nodded, "how, pray tell, do you justify a secretary, someone with no combative experience or degrees in defense, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"Well, sh-she…" Fudge stopped, somehow gaining the never to risk a slight glare at her, "I really don't see how that is any of your concern."
The General raised an eyebrow, "Oh, I assure you, it is my concern. Defense training is an absolutely essential part of the preliminary education of all my employees. We've had enough trouble, as it is, over the past few years, with the Hogwarts graduates, thanks to how disjointed their education has been. But all five of those teachers supposedly had some experience with the field, Quirrell had been teaching it for years, with a degree, and had even gone on sabbatical to gain field experience. Lockhart was supposedly a civilian-Auror of sorts, and even if he didn't do any of the things he'd written about his books, which he didn't," she held up a hand to stop the Minister's protests, "we'd been researching him for fraud for several years. He'd still spent many years researching it. And his, though rather ostentatious, still contained some facts." Again, she offered a brief pause, before continuing. "Remus Lupin was known for a great deal of fieldwork, and he does have a master's degree in Defense and Care of Magical Creatures. And of course, we didn't know that Crouch's son was impersonating Moody, so he was hired on Moody's experience and repertoire…" she paused for a moment to glance at the guard standing in the corner, but she couldn't see the Major's face. "But Dolores Umbridge does not have a master's degree in anything, nor is she trying to receive one, and she can't claim the position on empirical value. The only experience she has is that of a secretary …"
"Well… yes… I suppose…But Dumbledore couldn't find an appropriate candidate…"
"So you forced him to take on someone inappropriate candidate of your choosing?"
"Yes -- no! No…we just…"
"And what's with this 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor' bit?"
The Minister started, his eyes widening rapidly, "What…H-How do you know about that?"
"I'm very good at my job, as is everyone who works for me. Very little occurs that we don't know about…and even less when it's documented."
"Well… yes… We thought that it'd be a good idea to make sure that the Hogwarts Professors are teaching appropriate material, and that they…"
"Haven't lost their touch?" Vivian suggested with a raised eyebrow as he trailed off. "No, it's a good idea. As I said before, we've had problems with how moderately educated many of the recent Hogwarts graduates have been these last few years…this could put a stop to that." She gave him a moment to realize that she'd actually agreed with him, before continuing. "So whom are you offering that job to?"
"Uhh, well… That has yet to be decided…"
"Oh? Can't find someone who's qualified?"
"Yes… I don't suppose that you might…?"
Vivian remained silent for a few moments before nodding. "Yes… a team of 'Hogwarts Inquisitors' would probably be best; a few people who are qualified to handle different subjects, that way, if they need to get rid of a teacher, there will still be someone there to teach… If you wouldn't mind, my department would be happy to handle this. I do, after all, have most of the master's of Great Britain in my employ."
"A-Alright, yes, I suppose so… that is if you wouldn't mind…"
"Oh, not at all," the Auror General assured him. They sat in silence for nearly a minute, before Vivian broke it once again. "Was there anything else, Minister?"
"N-No, not at all…"
"Then I don't mean to be rude, but I've had a very long day, and I still have a bit of work to do…"
"Oh, yes… Yes, of course." He rose, offering her his hand as she also rose. "Thank you for your time, General. I trust you will be looking into the…increase in Dark activity?"
"Of course," Vivian nodded, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, but not releasing it afterwards. "I do hope to see something in the Prophet tomorrow about Mr. Black's newfound freedom and whatnot…And I will have a document on the 'Hogwarts Inquisitor Squad' ready for your signature to you by tomorrow afternoon."
"Yes, of course, thank you, General."
"Good afternoon, Minister," she nodded to him and his guard as they left her office. She sat down after the door closed, bringer her hands up to massage her temples as she heard Fudge's assembly leaving outside. She didn't look up right away when the door opened a few minutes later, instead choosing to see whom it was after they'd closed the door. Which was probably a good idea, because that way, if she lost it, fewer people would hear…
"So, how'd it go?" Colonel Vasser inquired lightly, his hazel eyes far too cheery, in her opinion.
Vivian closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair with a soft, exasperated sigh. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. That was Cornelius Fudge, after all."
"Oui, it was," the Colonel.
The witch didn't open her eyes before asking, "What do you want, Henri?"
"I can't come in for a bit of interesting conversation."
Now, she did open her eyes, to glare at him half-heartedly.
"Oh, very well," the Beauxbatons' graduate of 1982 sighed. "I just thought that you might like to know that Eric and Ria should have switched a few minutes ago…"
"Have I really been that transparent?"
Henri shook his head, as he rose to his feet, bowing slightly. "By comparison to most, certainly not. For you, oui, it's obvious you're fond of the boy…"
She called out to stop him before he reached the door. "Merci, Henri. Please tell Ria to come report to me at the Manor when she arrives…I'll be taking a much needed rest."
"Very good idea, General," the Frenchman approved, bowing again before stepping out of her office and closing the door behind him.
After a few moments of listening to the stillness, she rose to her feet, groaning as many muscles protested the action. The Auror made her way over the fireplace, tossing some Floo powder in, before stepping into the flames and sighing; "Potter Manor…"
Professor Trelawney hadn't improved over the summer, so her class was still a laugh, though the amount of homework she assigned definitely was not. Nonetheless, it was comfortable. It was a known… Harry knew what to expected of Sibyl Trelawney, and he was rarely surprised. But he didn't know what to expect of the toad-like witch with the fluffy-pick cardigan that was sitting behind her desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when they arrived.
That would be why everyone was so quiet as they entered the room. No one knew if she was another Binns, another McGonagall, another Snape, or something entirely different. Therefore, no one wanted to take any chances, not yet, at least…
The witch's wide mouth stretched into smile once everyone in the class had taken their seat. "Well, good afternoon!" She frowned at the half-hearted response she received."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!"
Harry wasn't the only one to roll his eyes at this, but he chanted back at her with the others, nonetheless. "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge."
"There, now," Professor Umbridge replied sweetly in her incredibly girlish voice. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
This, of course, resulted in the exchanging of a number of gloomy looks. DADA tended to be their favorite course, as a class. Some excelled in different areas, but as a whole, DADA was where they came together. But they'd never liked any DADA lesson that started with the order; 'wands away'. As that particular command had never been followed by a lesson they found interesting.
While they'd been following the order, Professor Umbridge had opened her own handbag. She'd them extracted her own, rather short wand, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it. Immediately, the board presented them with the words:
Defense Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles
After giving them a few moments, which were filled with the sounds of quills scratching on parchment, Professor Umbridge turned to face the class, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year…. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please." She struck the blackboard with her wand again, and the first message vanished, to be replaced by:
Course aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in context for practical use.
This time, Professor Umbridge gave them a little over a minute to duplicate the words; only speaking once everyone had copied her three course aims. "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Sinclair?" She frowned, once again, at the uninterested, yet confirmative mumble the class offered. "I think we'll try that again! When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Sinclair?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," the class called back at her.
"Good," the Professor nodded her approval, offering another strangely wide smile. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk." With that, she left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, monitoring them all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes.
Harry had never thought that any class could prove to be more mind-numbingly boring then History of Magic. But Sinclair 's Defensive Magical Theory made Professor Binns sound utterly riveting. It wasn't long before He felt his concentration starting to slip. He was forced to admit that it had slipped when he found himself reading the same line several times without comprehension.
It might not have been so bad if they'd been allowed to talk. Working in groups always made projects at least a little interesting. But they'd been ordered to silence, so it took him only a few short, silent moments to start looking around for something worthy of his attention.
Next to him, Ron was absentmindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Evidently, he wasn't engrossed in the dry primer then Harry was. But it was what he saw when he looked to his right that gave him a real shock; a shock great enough to force the foggy cloud of boredom from his mind.
Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.
Had it been anyone else, Harry knew that it would've merited interest, but this was Hermione! He couldn't recall Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or even resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose.
She met his silent inquiry with a barely noticeable headshake. Apparently she wasn't about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.
After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry wasn't the only one watching Hermione. The chapter that they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute endeavor to catch Professor Umbridge's eye than struggle on with 'Basics for Beginners.'
Finally, when more then half the class was staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge gave in, apparently deciding that she couldn't 'overlook' the situation any longer. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione replied immediately, finally lowering her hand.
"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small, pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I read it over the summer," the younger witch told her. "And I've got a query about your course aims."
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. "And your name is--?"
"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.
"Well, I don't," Hermione replied, rather bluntly, considering the situation. She was usually very respectful towards teachers. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
A heavy silence hung over the room, during which many members of the class turned to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard, before turning back to watch the interaction between teacher and student.
"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
"We're not going to use any magic?" Ron demanded loudly.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. --?"
"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand up into the air.
Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him.
Harry and Hermione didn't even look at each other; instead choosing to raise their hands immediately.
The Professor's eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.
"No, but--"
"Well then, I'm afraid you're not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and clever than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in secure, risk-free way--"
"What use is that?" Harry inquired quickly, a bit more loudly than he'd intended. "If we're going to be attacked--"
"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge sang. By the time his hand was in the air, the DADA instructor had already turned away from him again, but now several people had their hands up too. "And your name is?" Professor Umbridge inquired of Dean.
"Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr. Thomas?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free--"
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked in my classes?"
"No, but--"
Professor Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed -- not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas angrily, "he was the best we ever--"
"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying -- you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day--"
"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just--"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turned away from her.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you--"
"Well, he turned out to be a Death Eater, didn't he?" said Dean Thomas hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads--"
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" Professor Umbridge trilled. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring straight at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't their a practiced bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?"
"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Professor Umbridge replied, her tone more then a little dismissive.
"Without ever practicing them before?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to go the spells will be during the exam?"
"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough--"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry demanded, fighting to keep his voice level as he held his hand in the air.
Professor Umbridge looked up, staring at him a moment, before softly replying; "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh yeah?" Harry glowered, fighting to keep his temper under control. He'd been told that his mother's famous temper had rivaled the Weasleys, and his father's hadn't been far behind. Now a teenager, thrown into a suppressive world, the combination of both was coming out full force as it neared its boiling point.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Professor Umbridge inquired in a horribly honeyed voice.
"Hmm, let's think," Harry replied in a mock-thoughtful voice, "maybe Lord Voldemort?"
His classmates resulting reactions were nearly comical. Ron's gasp was almost hidden by Lavender Brown's small scream, while Neville slipped sideways off his stool.
The Defense teacher, however, did not flinch. She was staring at him with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."
The classroom was silent and still, as everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.
"Now let me make some things quite plain." Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead, and is at large once again. This is a lie."
"It is not a lie!" Harry protested, reddening in anger. "I saw him, I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge said triumphantly. "This evening, at five o'clock in my office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.'" She instructed, before sitting down once again.
By the time, Harry's common sense had left him, and had it not been for an unseen, restraining hand on his shoulder, he probably would've made things worse for himself. As it was, Ria obviously wasn't going to let him do anything stupid, so he was forced to sit through the last ten minutes of class in glowering silence, never once touching the book on his desk.
"Is that all, then?" Vivian inquired quietly, before finishing her second cup of tea.
"It took some effort, but I managed to keep him from getting into anymore trouble, for the moment anyhow… Erik's watching him now."
The General nodded, "Thank you…" she was silent for nearly a minute before she sighed. "Of all the things Fudge could come up with…"
"This won't help us," Ria agreed.
"Not at all," Vivian shook her head. "We've had enough trouble in bringing the new additions to our department up to par as it is, in previous years… If they're planning on not teaching them any defense deliberately, we may need to have the new recruits in training for years…"
The blonde nodding, watching her raven-haired commander unhappily, "To make up for all the training they never received." Another silence, this time several moments longer, hung over them, before she continued. "They're starting to suspect, you know."
"Whom? And what?"
"The other commanding officers, and some of the senior seconds. They're starting to suspect your relationship with Harry."
"Good," the Auror General nodded. "I expect nothing less from them…." she paused, thinking over her next words as she finished prepping her third teacup. "I suppose I should hold a meeting before long then."
"When?"
"An hour or two, a meeting at the Manor, I suppose. What'd you think?"
"Bonham's still on duty."
Vivian nodded, "Would you send him over for breakfast when you switch?"
"Gladly."
"Was he all right?"
"Harry?" the four-star General inquired, before continuing at her commander-in-chief's nod. "He seemed to be in good health. Just needed time to cool down. He should be out of detention by now."
The Auror chuckled softly, though her voice held no amusement when she spoke. "I doubt that went well."
"No," the other agreed.
Vivian took another long sip of tea, then looked up at a knock on the door. "Yes?"
The door opened and then Captain Vindictus stepped in. "Sorry to disturb you, Generals."
"Not at all, Captain." Vivian waved the apology off. "How is Mr. Pettigrew?"
The Slytherin-alumni shook her head. "He's still talking to himself, something about the Potters and the Dark Lord…amongst plenty of inane babble."
"Perhaps one of the healer's should look in on him, then," the General sighed. "We can't have his defense rep. saying we were deleterious to his health or some such nonsense." After a moment, she nodded. "I'll send word to Rebecca…Would you tell the others that I'd like to meet with all of you at the Manor this evening? Around eleven."
Any surprise the Captain might have felt was circumspectly veiled with practiced ease. "Of course, General."
"Thank you," Vivian nodded to her again, watching as the captain left, closing the door behind her without a sound.
"You should probably remove yourself from his case."
"I should, shouldn't I?"
Ria nodded, "If your…identity comes out before his trial, it could cause some trouble."
"His trial is tomorrow afternoon, anyhow," the General shrugged, "But that would be why I passed the case over to you yesterday afternoon. The file is complete; you just need to see its conveyance to court. Catherine will take over for you at noon tomorrow, during lunch."
"Very wel--" the blonde paused, frowning as both turned to watch one of the crystal globes on Vivian's desk light up.
A white flame had bloomed in the center of the globe, after a moment, it began to take on many different shades of numerous colors, before taking the form of a miniature person dressed in and made of multi-colored flames. The quiet voice, which seemed to be made up of many voices, that echoed respectfully from the globe wasn't one the two generals were unused to hearing. "Master Erik Bonham requests a word with you, Mistress…"
Vivian nodded without hesitation. "I accept the call."
"Very well... Mistress..." the figure collapsed into multi-colored flames, which, moments later, held a small projection of the captain himself.
"Good evening, General Potier, General Willow."
Both nodded in reply, but it was Vivian who spoke. "Good evening, Captain. I assume this is important?"
"Maybe not," the Captain shrugged, looking somewhat sheepish. "But I thought that you might like to know that Mr. Potter doesn't appear to be sleeping well…"
Vivian frowned, "A vision?"
"I've never seen one before, but…" the wizard shrugged again, "it looks a lot like Skeeter described in her article last year. If he was awake, he'd probably be screaming."
"He's not?"
"No, he's just whimpering right now, but I doubt that'll last long…"
"I'm coming over," Vivian told him, "Potier, out."
"Yes, ma'am," the captain bowed. A flash later his likeness was gone, and the crystal ball went dark as the flames went out.
Vivian sighed as she rose to her feet, and Ria shook her head sympathetically, "Looks like you'll be pulling another all-nighter. Want an extra hand?"
"No," the General shook her head, "thank you, but you really should get some rest. We don't want you falling asleep on the job."
"Right," the lesser General nodded, rising. "I'll be switching with Eric at six, right?"
"Are we going back to the hotel now, Daddy?" a young blonde girl, who couldn't have been more then eight years old, inquired of you middle-aged man she was holding hands with.
"Yes, sweetheart." He replied pleasantly, exchanging a look with his wife, who was carrying a sleeping three-year-old boy. "Don't worry, it's only a few more blocks…"
Harry flinched as he watched a group of Muggle tourists near the Death Eaters. In didn't take a genius to decipher that the poor family of four were unwittingly approaching their doom…
"Can I help you?" The man inquired, blinking as two dark-robed figures stepped in front of them.
When both figures remained silent, as though waiting for something, the group became nervous. Upon closer inspection, both men were dressed in dark black robes, their faces were hidden by white masks, akin to those grim-reaper masks children often wore on Halloween, and both held long wooden sticks in their hands.
When he looked around for an escape route, Harry noted that the man wasn't surprised when he found that they'd been surrounded by a slightly larger group of similarly dressed figures.
"Listen," the man began nervously, "We don't have much money, but--"
"We don't want your money, fool Muggle." The taller of the two cut him off, his voice icy.
"T-then…Wh-what do you want?!" the man demanded, "Please, just let us go. We don't mean any trouble!"
The Death Eaters laughed.
"Let you go?" the groups' leader laughed, "I think not. Crucio!"
The man's wife began screaming as her husband fell to the pavement, writhing in agony. Her scream, combined with the screams of both her children -- one of whom was clinging to her skirt, the other to her neck -- were nothing compared to her husband's tortured screams.
This wasn't right…
It had to stop…
Someone had to stop it…
'Stop it!' Harry thought, writhing as the Muggle man's agony echoed around him.
Why would he even be seeing this, anyhow? He didn't see Voldemort anywhere, and he wasn't watching through the Dark Lord's eyes… So why was he seeing it?
He didn't want to see it!
It wasn't right!
"Stop it!"
Harry! A familiar voice called him, Wake up! Harry!
"Avada Kedavra!" another Death Eater called, pointing at the woman, whose screams of terror augmented as the wave of green light neared her.
But the killing curse didn't hit her. Instead, it hit the small child she was carrying, who instantly went cold in her arms, an expression of sheer terror frozen on his face.
"Ethan!" she cried, shaking her son even as her husband went on screaming. "Ethan!!!"
"STOP IT!" Harry cried, as the pain intensified, and the Death Eater's laughter echoing around them.
He didn't want to see anymore…
He didn't want to see any of this!
Each moment was much worse than its predecessor, full of pain, humiliation, and torment.
"Wake up, Harry! You have to wake up!" Another familiar voice broke through the pain. This one was different from the earlier one, though. It was backed by more power then the last. Plus, this was a woman's voice; the previous one had been a boy's. "Ennervate!"
And finally the scene faded, as he was pulled back into the waking world.
"Miss Potier?" To say Professor McGonagall was surprised would be a severe understatement. It was ten o'clock in the evening, after all.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagall." Vivian nodded to the older witch. "I apologize for the late hour. But Captain Bonham tells me his charge isn't doing very well. May I come in?"
"Harry?" the Professor's eyes widened, while worry seeped into her voice. "Oh, yes, of course! Come in, come in."
"Would you mind showing me the way to Gryffindor Tower?" Vivian inquired, "I'm afraid I don't know the way."
"Of course," the Head of the Gryffindor House replied, turning and quickly leading the way to one of the many doorways that opened into the entrance hall. "It's right this way."
As they hurriedly made their way through the echoing corridors, the Auror finally decided to comment on the Professor's attire. "Up awful late, aren't you, Professor? I wouldn't think you'd have much work to do after the first day of classes."
"I was getting a head start on their summer work."
"Ahh," Vivian nodded, "that's probably a good idea."
"Yes," the Transfiguration Professor agreed, also nodding. "I've always found that it's best not to put these things off." She finished, as they finished mounting the proper staircase. She probably should've been surprised that the staircases were so accommodating, but then again, the castle probably knew where they were going.
"Indeed," the Auror smiled slightly, while looking around her appreciatively. "Are we almost there?"
"Yes, it's just around--" the Professor stopped short as pained screams echoed through the hallway.
"Harry!" they both gasped, dashing around the next corner and making their way to the end of it.
The portrait swung open just in time for them to run through it, as the Gryffindor House Head gasped the password out. Once inside, she turned to the right. "This way!"
Vivian really didn't need the direction, the screams were, after all, coming from that side of the Tower, but she was far too worried to say anything.
"Harry!" They burst into one of the fifth year boys' dormitories, to see all but one of its occupants awake, much like the other boys out on the staircase. Ron Weasley was currently leaning over Harry's bed, shaking the unconscious boy as he went on screaming. "Wake up! Harry!"
Suddenly, Harry's screams augmented. And his cry of; "STOP IT!" made his best friend jump back with a start.
Vivian hurried forward without a second thought, grabbing the teenager much like his friend had a short moment before. "Wake up, Harry! You have to wake up!" She frowned when his screams lessened only slightly, and quickly made up her mind.
The others in the room gave a start as the Auror stepped back slightly, drawing her wand.
"Ennervate!" she intoned, performing the precise gestures with swift proficiency, before pointing her twelve inches of dark yew at the boy.
Harry's eyes immediately snapped open, just as his screams suddenly stopped, to the gratitude of the room's occupants. "Wh-What…where…V--?"
"Drink this," Vivian instructed calmly, handing him a clear glass of water, mixed with some potion or another. Even though he didn't bother questioning, she explained while helping him bring it up to his lips. "It'll help with the pain."
He offered a short nod as he finished drinking what was in the class. Then he took the next potion she offered, this one still in its vial, and therefore not even slightly diluted.
"Back to bed, all of you!" they heard Professor McGonagall calling from the stairwell. "It's well past lights out, and you don't want to be tired on your second day of class! To bed, now!"
Vivian chuckled quietly, and Harry shook his head to show his amusement as he drank the vial of soothing, minty liquid in one gulp.
He started as Vivian stood once again, he didn't remember when she'd sat down next to him, and began gesturing at one of his pillows. A moment later, it'd been transfigured into a comfortable cushioned stretcher.
"Up you go," was all the warning she gave him, before she levitated him onto it with, "Wingardium Leviosa." She quickly covered him with one of his blankets, making sure he was snuggly wrapped up, before levitating the both of them, and leaving the room.
She probably noticed that Professor McGonagall wasn't the only one following them, but she offered no indication of it, as they made their way down to the Common Room. Once there, she let the stretcher rest on the larger couch, and turned it back into a pillow for him to lean back against, with a flick of her wand. Then she turned to look at the three other people in the room.
"I'm sure Mr. Potter will be more than happy to talk to you about this, in the morning," she told Ron and Hermione, her voice gentle, but nonetheless firm. "But both of you really should head up to bed."
"Quite right," Professor McGonagall agreed, shooing them both up separate sets of stairs with a look. Then she turned to Vivian, questioningly.
"If you like, Professor," Vivian began with a soft smile. "I'll look after Mr. Potter this evening. You said you were quite busy…"
"But shouldn't Poppy--"
"Send her up, if you like." The Auror shrugged, "But I have plenty of medical supplies with me. He probably needs sleep right now, more than anything else. I thought it'd be better for her to look him over in the morning."
After a moment, the Gryffindor Head nodded, "Very well, I'll tell her," she looked at Harry, "She'll have breakfast waiting for you there."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry nodded, his voice quiet.
With a nod to both of them, the Transfiguration Professor left at a much more reasonable pace than she'd entered at, stopping to talk to the Fat Lady, as her portrait swung shut.
Vivian turned to Harry, offering a soft smile. "Would you like some tea?"
Harry smiled.
Everyone stopped talking when the door that led out to the Headmaster's office opened once again, admitting their missing member.
"Ahh, Minerva," Dumbledore offered a warm smile, his gaze curious, "That was fast. Who, pray tell, was visiting at this hour?"
"Viv--General Potier," the Head of Gryffindor House replied, somewhat distractedly. "Apparently Mr. Potter's shadow reported that he wasn't sleeping well, so she came to investigate…"
"Is he all right?" Sirius demanded immediately, beginning to rise from his chair, even as his best friend laid a restraining hand on his arm.
McGonagall sighed, "At the moment, I think. She thought it best to let him get some sleep, and have Poppy look him over in the morning… She's watching him now."
"But doesn't he need something for that? If those visions of his are half as painful as we suspect, he can't very well be expected to fall immediately back to sleep after them."
"She had a number of potions with her, which seemed to help," the Professor shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.
"You let a witch with indefinite loyalty's give the Golden Boy unidentified potions?" Professor Snape inquired, a sardonic eyebrow raised.
The Transfiguration Professor blinked, then frowned, before replying with a sigh. "I suppose it wasn't overly wise, but…" she shook her head, "I really don't think she's Dark. I don't know why…"
"It's just a feeling," Dumbledore nodded after a short silence. "Sometimes we have to trust our instincts, and most of us instinctively trust her…"
"Which in and of itself may be cause for alarm," the Head of Slytherin House offered sourly.
"Perhaps," the Headmaster allowed with a nod. "But, to be frank, I think not…"
After several moments of contemplative silence, Remus offered, "You were saying, Headmaster?"
The aged wizard shook his head, clearly bringing himself back to the present. "Ahh…Yes, we were discussing possible methods for finding Miss Potter, were we not? And what she might be hiding as?"
The others nodded and a second silence fell over them as they went back to think of answers to those two very important questions.
But it wasn't one of the members of the Order that broke the silence this time, it was one of the great School's former Headmasters, who was one of the many that had been watching this meeting, and others, with interest. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, you could at least check the student records!"
Everyone blinked at that. And it took a moment for any of them to think of a reply to that, but eventually the Head of Slytherin House did. "I highly doubt she ever came her as a student."
"Probably not," the portrait shrugged, "but her name should still be on the list of hopefuls, more specifically; one of the ones that didn't attend. The Circle's shroud probably kept her name from showing at the time, so her invitation was never sent, but it's probably there now."
"Yes," Hogwarts current Headmaster nodded, "and that, at the very least, would present us with her given name."
"I'll go see what I can find," McGonagall offered while rising, she was across the room and through the door before any of the others could offer to help. After a moment, she poked her back in slightly, "What year would she be? 84? 85?"
"It might be best to start with one of the earlier years, as we aren't exactly sure," Dumbledore offered, watching her depart.
A little over two minutes later, she returned with several scrolls floating in front of her. She waved her wand, and a few of them went to different Order members all around the room, before she took hold of her own, and returned to her seat.
"I'm not sure all of the 1980's was necessary, Minerva," the Headmaster offered with a chuckle.
His deputy shrugged noncommittally as she unrolled the scroll she'd take, clearly a replica of the original piece, as the parchment was brand-new.
The other nine people who'd received scrolls followed her example, scanning down the lists until they came to the hopefuls with the surnames beginning with 'P', which merited closer attention.
Ironically, the one who found it was probably the one who hated the very name he was looking for more then anything else. His voice was quiet as he drew their attention, "I found her."
When the Potion's Master made no other comment, not looking up from the scroll he was staring at, the Headmaster inquired, "Severus?"
"It seems," Snape murmured in the same quiet, thoughtful tone, "That the class that attended here from 1985 to 1992 should have included a Potter."
"What's her first name, damn it!" Sirius Black demanded, clearly loosing his patience with the Slytherin.
"Vivian," the other wizard replied quietly.
Several moments of silence ensued this remark, then Mrs. Weasley broke it with a shrug, "It's a lovely name."
"And it does rhyme with 'Lillian'," Tonks chimed in.
"That it does," Professor Dumbledore agreed, still watching his Potions Professor closely. After a moment of similarly insignificant remarks, he inquired. "Is something wrong, Severus?"
"Hmm?" Finally Professor Snape did look up, his dark eyes speculative. "Oh, no. Not at all. I was just…thinking."
"Of?"
The Potions Master sighed, shaking his head. "Of what idiots we've all been."
"Why?"
Snape didn't reply immediately, instead choosing to ignore his comrades stares in favor of rolling up the parchment and setting it on the table beside his chair, before drawing his wand and waiving it towards the Headmaster's desk, while mutter a spell. Doing so brought a smaller piece of blank parchment to him, which he took, set down on the table and tapped with his wand with a firm, "Inscripsi Vivian Potter," followed by an equally firm, "Converto dans au Français." He watched the parchment for a moment, before murmuring a replication spell, to send a copy of it to everyone in the room.
Each member of the Order caught it, and watched dark black ink take the form of letters, which soon became a name, and then two arrows, which linked it to another name, leaving all of them utterly and completely shocked.
For what else could the parchment state but;
Vivian Potter
Vivien Potier
End of Chapter 14.
Translations:
Consanguina - related by blood (Latin)
Umbra Nutrici/Umbrae Nutricius
Primara - in the first rank, distinguished
Primani/Primorum - soldiers of the first legion
Inscripsi Vivian Potter - Write - Vivian Potter
Converto dans au Français - Translate into French
Author's Note: Hi everybody!
How was this chapter? Was it worth the dreadful wait? Probably not… I really am sorry about that… I just couldn't seem to finish this chapter! It was terrible!
I'll try to update again sooner, but that's really all I can promise…
Ooh! I have news too! I'm an aunt now! My niece will be two weeks old in two days!
…Umm…That's all for now.
Thank you.
Response to Reviewers:
The Last Hope - …Ummm…no…not really…no…sorry? pouts
nods Yes, yes, not enough time… Mainly because of how much trouble this chapter was giving me… I didn't even include the last two scenes because I couldn't make them work out!
Shakes head Sorry, not telling. There is a reason for that. But that probably won't come up for awhile… Sorry.
Rachel A. Prongs - LOL, yes, it is nice, isn't it?
True, I suppose. Snape isn't that bad…or at least he wasn't before OotP… but he still isn't as bad as Voldemort and Umbridge…
Sorry about the wait.
Everpresent - Winces Your welcome… sorry about the wait on this one…
LOL, no she isn't…but that's for later, sorry.
Sigh Yes, I'm afraid I'd under estimated that…
Sorry about the wait.
Wytil - Winces Sorry about the wait…
I hope you had a nice holiday too… Was it really that long ago?
Sigh No, V-Star isn't working on this one either… But then again, we haven't made much progress with LS either… It's irritating. There's only a few chapters left, and we haven't been able to finish it! L
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I once again apologize for the wait…
Ananova - Thank you…
Yes.
Probably.
Blinks …wow…Someone actually noticed that… Sorry, can't tell you that…
Sorry about the wait… I really didn't mean to leave you guys hanging this long.
Thanks to:
Athenakitty
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Bye!
Jess S