Seen and Unforeseen
One hazy Monday morning, Fay and Siria headed to the Great Hall once they washed up after their run. A parliament of owls soared down on them, as they sat with Hermione and Ron. Out of habit, Siria took the letters and passed them to Hermione. As Kreacher brought Siria's mail in the dead of night, she didn't expect any from an owl.
"These are for you," Hermione said while she took more letters from other owls. "I think your interview's been published," she knocked Siria in the chest when she tried to hand her a long parcel. Siria opened it to find a rolled up copy of The Quibbler.
She blushed at the girl who stared back. A black and white Siria sat, with enough confidence to rival Bellatrix Lestrange, and stared back. Cassius stood behind Siria's chair with his hands on the back of it. Siria didn't remember being so cocky when the photo was taken last year; she was glad to see Rita kept the "extras".
The photo's headline read:
Siria Potter-Black and Cassius Warrington Speak Out:
The Truth About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
and the Night We Saw Him Return [B5, 579]
"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna. She squeezed onto the bench between Fred and Ron (B5, 579). Luna explained the paper released the night before and she asked her father to send Cassius and Siria a copy (B5, 579).
Across the Hall, Siria met Cassius's eye. He raised his copy of The Quibbler. Alice waved a handful of letters. She mouthed "Trash" and rolled her eyes. Patricia held up a letter and gave a small smile. Maddy shook her head. She waved a massive thumbs up and pointed to letter Patricia held.
"Well, help me open them, won't you?" Siria said to Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Hermione, Ron, Fay, and Luna. They tore open the letters. Each read over before saying if Siria persuaded someone, thought she was mad, or, as one person wrote, "while you seem like a fine and sane pair, I really cannot accept that You-Know-Who has returned— it's terrifying." [B5, 579-560]
"What is going on here?" a disgustingly fake, sweet and recognizable voice asked (B5, 580). Umbridge peered up at Siria, who tilted her head down to glance over her glasses at Umbridge.
"I've gotten fan mail, of sorts," Siria said. She resisted the urge to smirk at Hermione.
"Is that a crime now?" Fred asked in a loud, attention calling voice. "Getting mail?" (B5, 580)
"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umbridge (B5, 580). "And why, Potter, have—"
"Potter-Black," Siria interrupted flatly. She stared directly into Umbridge's bulging toad eyes. "My name, Professor Umbridge, is 'Potter-Black'," Siria said. She raised her head. "And I've gotten replies to an interview," Siria turned The Quibbler, in such a way that its front page was flashed to the other three House tables.
In the clear voice Siria used in the Dumbledore's Army lessons, she continued. "The Quibbler published an interview about last June— when Voldemort returned," she said. Umbridge snatched the magazine from Siria. Her face contorted with patchy, violet blotches while her eyes blurred down the page. Siria cocked her head higher. [B5, 581]
"When did you do this?" Umbridge asked, all the fake sugar sapped from her voice (B5, 581). Siria smirked.
"Few weeks back," Siria said vaguely. "There's nothing in the school rules, educational decrees, or amendments that prohibit student interviews. Surely, you remember the ones from students during the Triwizard Tournament?" She poured more gasoline on the fire. "The Daily Prophet's even referenced a few since June, in an attempt to throw shade. It's worked for a bit of the public, but Hogwarts saw, Madame High Inquisitor."
"How dare you…" Umbridge trembled. She crushed the magazine in her grubby little hand. "How you could…" she looked like a wild bobblehead. "Detention, Potter-Black—" Umbridge spat out Siria's seemingly venomous name, "and fifty points from Gryffindor."
"Actually," Siria said, "according to the rules, 'no authority may deduct House points for actions performed outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and its grounds'." Siria smiled. "You might have missed that rule refresher in The Hogwarts Herald, which you've tried to shut down."
"A week's detention and fifty points for your lack of respect for authority!" Umbridge chattered through her gritted teeth. [B5, 581]
By lunchtime, Umbridge-tall signs were hung all around the school. There was one in almost every corridor and in each House notice board. All for Educational Decree Number Twenty-Seven, which was the shortest yet: any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled. [B5, 581]
"Oh, Umbridge," Siria sighed with a wide smirk. She, Hermione, and Ron knocked fists.
"If there was one thing she could have done to make sure everyone reads, it's ban it," Hermione beamed up at the sign, that hung beside the Great Hall.
"What a moron," Ron said. He shook his head as he and Hermione headed down to Potions and she headed to Professor Chaudhary's classroom.
"What's on the agenda for this week?" Professor Chaudhary asked when he reached Siria's table.
"Still working on the Wolfsbane Potion," Siria said. She raised her arm to stop him. "I know Snape's brewed at least fifty, but I need to get this on my own. If I still can't get it, I'll move onto bettering the Burn Healing Paste."
"Your Burn Healing Paste is already top notch," he said. "Madam Pomfrey was quite impressed."
"Really?" Siria asked. She looked up from her Cauldron. Professor Chaudhary nodded.
"You know, I'm sure she'd love to reward you for it. Let's say ten points to Gryffindor for the Burn Healing Paste and ten for your dedication to difficult tasks," he winked and walked away. Siria paused, mid-stir, mouth agape as she failed to say "thank you" in her awe.
After dinner, Siria readied for her detention with Umbridge. Hermione clutched Siria's arm. Siria chuckled. "Umbridge won't try anything," Siria said. "Even if she does, Cassius has detention too." Hermione took off her gloves. She extended her hand to Siria. Siria smiled and leaned to kiss it when she actually saw it.
Thin, small, neat writing— Hermione's handwriting— was scarred into the back of her hand: I must not tell lies. Siria pulled Hermione's hand closer. She squinted at it over her glasses, as though it could have been a trick of the light.
"You said it was lines," Siria whispered. Hermione had her other hand pressed over her eyes. "Hermione."
"You were all 'I'd walk through fire' and I couldn't put it past you not to FiendFyre the whole castle," Hermione said. She grabbed both of Siria's wrists. Hermione pulled Siria down to her eye level. "Please, go in there, serve your detention, and leave."
"This isn't right—"
"Siria!" Hermione shook. "You— I— this isn't about what's 'right', not right now. This is about you being able to do more good. You can do more good here, at Hogwarts, than out there."
"Hermione, these are scars," Siria said. Hermione knocked her forehead into Siria's.
"Siria, please. Put on some of your balm, it'll help," Hermione said.
"All those gloves in the D.A…." Siria started. Hermione nodded. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I made them promise not to tell you."
"That's why I never seemed to make enough," Siria said. Hermione nodded again.
"She makes you write with a quill that cuts into your hand and… and you write in your own blood, 'until the message sinks in'."
"I'm so sorry," Siria whispered. Hermione shook her head. She pulled on a brave, though not convincing smile.
"Just, please, go through with it and let it be over." [B5, 265-268]
Though Siria did not have a balm-free experience to compare it to, carving "I must not tell lies" into her hand wasn't as painful as Siria thought it would be. Cassius revealed the deep scars on his hand, which matched Hermione's. "Now we all match," Siria said. She tried to smile, but it fell too soon.
A week of detentions with Umbridge was a small price for Cassius and Siria to pay. Professor Chaudhary wasn't the only teacher to work around Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five and show support. Professor Sprout gave Siria twenty points when she passed a watering can. Professor Flitwick snuck a box of squeaking sugar mice into Siria's hands, pressed his finger to his lips in a "shh!" and dashed away. Professor McGonagall gave Siria five points "for nerve". Cassius also received points for simple, small actions. [B5, 582]
Divination was the most shocking to Siria. Through hysterical sobs, Professor Trelawney announced Siria would live to be older than Dumbledore. "She'll marry a beautiful, kind woman and they'll adopt twenty children!" Ron covered his snigger. Siria kicked him under the table. While she wasn't sure about outliving Dumbledore or having that many kids, marrying a beautiful girl sounded quite nice. [B5, 582-583]
As though that weren't enough, Luna informed Cassius and Siria that no issue of The Quibbler ever sold out so fast, and her father would be reprinting it. When they heard about the reprinting, Fred and George hung an enlarged a copy of the front page, which they Charmed to say "Eat dung, Umbridge" and "The Ministry are morons", in the Gryffindor common room (B5, 584). Siria had them remove it the moment she walked in.
After her third recounting of June's events, Siria rose to her feet. "Thank you all, so much," Siria told them, "but I'm so exhausted I could sleep through my O.W.L.s." She sighed at their disappointed groans (B5, 584). Hermione linked her arm through Siria's.
"You heard her," Hermione said. "We've exams to prepare for!" and she escorted Siria back to their dorm.
"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked while Siria changed into her pajama pants. She shrugged and dropped onto Hermione's bed. "You ought to clear your mind first," Hermione said. Siria grumbled into Hermione's pillow. Hermione sighed. "When you have nightmares, don't be surprised." Siria rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
"Weird thing is," Siria said. "I think I'm still having them, or nightmares in general at least." Hermione pulled on an oversized sweater and cuddled up to Siria. "I keep waking with this fear that something's happened to Sirius, but," Siria tapped her handy watch.
"I suppose as long as he's 'traveling' he's fine, if it works like Mrs. Weasley's clock," Hermione said. Siria nodded and yawned. She nuzzled Hermione's shoulder.
"You know, I love you," Siria yawned again. Hermione chuckled as leaned over the bed and picked up a book.
"Love you too, nerd," Hermione said.
"Are you going to read to me?" Siria asked.
"It's a Korean spell book," Hermione said. She flipped to her dog eared page. Siria gave a tired half shrug. "Alright, but you can't get mad when Fay and I drag you onto the floor to wake you." She waited for Siria to nod before she started.
Siria woke as she hit the cold, hard floor of their dorm a few hours later. Fay smacked Siria, again, with a pillow. Hermione shouted Siria's name. Lavender threw her pillow at Siria. Parvati cried "What?"
Parvati ripped Siria's hands from her face. "Stop!" She shouted. "You'll get another scar," she said.
"My face," Siria gasped, "I—" Lavender tossed one of Siria's mirrors to Parvati, who showed Siria her reflection. "I…" Siria squinted at the emerald eyed, jet black haired girl reflected back at her.
"That's right," Parvati told her, "breathe."
"Is anyone hurt?" Fay asked. Siria shook her head.
"Well," Siria said, "Avery is going to be, but…" she closed her eyes and focused on the dream.
"Rockwood, one of the escaped Death Eaters, he was an Unspeakable, and…" Siria paused. She would have to tell Hermione in private. "That is why Bode fought so hard against Malfoy's Imperius Curse," Rockwood told Voldemort (B5, 585).
"And Avery gave Voldemort bad information," Siria finished with a glance to Hermione.
Fay helped Siria to her feet. Hermione took Siria's arm from Fay. "Let's get you a Draught of Dreamless Sleep," Hermione said. "We can brew one up," she lead Siria to her trunk. "Night," she waved to the others. Siria caught Parvati give Lavender a look that said the other girls knew that wasn't what Hermione was going to do.
There wasn't a chance for Siria to tell Malfoy about her dream. What would she even say? Hermione remembered Bode from St. Mungo's and the Devil's Snare. How could Malfoy even warn his father? Did Siria even want him too?
When Hermione reminded Siria that, with her detentions to Umbridge served, she had Occlumency with Snape that night. "How am I supposed to clear my mind after that?" Siria asked. When she wasn't staring holes through Malfoy's head, she had Hufflepuff's win against Slytherin on her mind. Worse, she occasionally of Angelina hosting tryouts for the recently reinstated Gryffindor Team. As Siria predicted, she was one of the students banned from activities.
Before she knew it, Siria was outside Snape's office door. Already defeated, she placed her head on the door and squeezed her eyes shut. "Enter" Snape called through the door. When she procrastinated, the door opened and she stumbled into the room.
"I trust your week of detention with the High Inquisitor—" the heavy venom in Snape's voice over Umbridge's title would have endeared Siria to him, if it came from almost anyone else in the world, "—has not weakened our mind further." She said nothing. Even when he yanked her onto her feet minutes later.
"What was that last one?" Snape hissed. His grip on her arm tightened. Her ears rang.
"I don't know," Siria replied through gritted teeth. "That hurts," she reached to pry his hand off. Her body was on fire. Snape released her like he was burned by her blood. Siria's stomach turned then emptied itself on his floor.
Snape glared from the vomit to her face, as though Siria purposely expelled her stomach. She wiped at the corner of her mouth. He pointed his wand at the floor and it cleaned away her food. Her ears were still ringing. What had that last memory been?
"I don't," Siria started. A wave hit her. "Feel good." Snape said something, but she couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears. She shivered. Siria was hot, but freezing.
Snape yanked Siria off the floor. She shook her head. There was a flash of the memory— Siria being smacked into her cupboard door frame. Glass shattered over someone shouting.
"Let go!" Siria bellowed over her own, smaller voice. Snape crashed into a shelf. "Just— just tell Dumbledore you can't teach me anymore," she said. He flicked his wand at the shattered jars, which repaired themselves and leapt back onto their repaired shelving.
"Potter-Black," Snape said, "the Headmaster wishes you to continue, no matter what."
"I will— with Hermione or something," Siria said as she shook her head and inched toward the door. "I'm sure your teaching method works for some people, but I'm tired of my failures being repressed childhood beatings and my victories being your mother's…" she raised her eyes to his face. Siria was tired of watching the hook nosed man shout and beat that poor woman.[B5, 591-592]
"Well, it is not your decision," Snape told her, "who you take your lessons with." He rose his wand. Siria opened the door.
"I'll persuade the Headmaster then," Siria said. While she didn't much fancy blackmailing Dumbledore with his love letters, she was one accidental magic moment away from blowing up Snape's office. He growled, but a scream from above them silenced them both (B5, 593).
When Snape asked if she saw anything odd, she was too worn to give a sarcastic reply of "just the usual shrieking head." She shook her head "no," and followed a fair distance behind him. [B5, 594]
Students crowded in the corridor, outside the Great Hall. Many stood on the steps, having been headed to or from dinner. They formed a ring around Professor Trelawney. Her wand trembled in one hand and a sherry bottle in the other. The various shawls she wore hung haphazardly around her, falling like pieces of unpinned fabric on a mannequin. Two large trunks were toppled behind her, as though thrown down the stairs. [B5, 595]
"You c—can't!" Professor Trelawney cried. "I'be b—been here sisteen years! H—Hogwarts is m—my h—home!"
"It was your home," said the sugary sweet voice of Professor Umbridge. Siria clicked her tongue. With the sea of students, she could not see tiny Professor Umbridge, halfway up the stairs. "Until half an hours ago, when the Minister of Magic co-signed the order for your dismissal."[B5, 595]
Siria squinted around the castle entrance. Cassius was there. She knew, though didn't know how. Under the pretense of pretending to get a better view, Siria side stepped through the crowd. [B5, 595]
Half her attention focused on Professor Trelawney, as Professor McGonagall approached, Siria continued around the ring of students. She caught Professor McGonagall tell Professor Trelawney that she would not have to leave. Umbridge giggled in a vile, deadly voice. "And your authority for that statement is…?" [B5, 595-596]
"That would be mine," a deep voice announced at the large, oak front doors as they opened. Siria hurried to join the crowd, parting to clear space for Dumbledore. While other students gawked at Dumbledore's impressive image, in his pale, seemingly glowing, mint robes. Mist rolled in around him, but never neared him. The cool, moonlight trickled in and highlighted his fine white hair.
Dumbledore explained, while Umbridge had the authority to dismiss teachers, she did not have the authority to banish them from the castle. Professor Trelawney sobbed something like "go seek my fortunes elsewhere," but Dumbledore insisted she stay. At Dumbledore's request, Professors McGonagall and Sprout escorted Professor Trelawney away while Professor Flitwick Charmed her trunks to move back up the steps. [B5, 596-597]
"And what," Umbridge began in a carrying whisper, "will you do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?" Dumbledore, his smile still firm, told her he had already found a new teacher. Siria caught sight of Alice's kinky dark hair, in the doorway of the Great Hall.
"You've found?" Umbridge shrieked. "Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree—"
"The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if— and only if— the headmaster is unable to find one," Dumbledore finished. There was a twinkle in his eyes, as he gestured to the door. [B5, 597]
Through the mist, there were hooves. Those around the doors parted further. In the twinkling light, through the mist, pranced a centaur. Firenze, with his long, white-blonde hair and striking blue eyes, had not aged a day since he escorted Siria in the Forbidden Forest. The only change was a harsh, bloodied hoof print on his chest [B5, 598]