Cleaved Bridges
Siria slid her bright yellow, fluffy eggs back and forth on her plate. She sat at the furthest end of the table and continued to remain silent. Hermione sat close to where Cedric sat at the Hufflepuff table, so they could turn and talk with each other. Ron sat with Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, but would pass by and ask something to the effect of "got any spare pumpkin juice?" Siria glared at the table and refused to lift her head. If she ignored them long enough, they would move on and wouldn't be there when she died.
Her fork paused. "It's been weeks," Siria reminded herself, "get over it… people much younger than you have died for less." As with every morning, a letter from Sirius arrived. She tore the letter in half without opening it and stuffed the pieces into her bag without a glance. This morning, Remus had also written, she did the same to his letter. A third owl arrived, one of the school owls. It extended what looked like a weed. The plant had a long green stalk with several, small yellow flowers that almost looked like dandelions. There was just a small card that read "goldenrod."
With the flower beside her plate, Siria glared at the card. The handwriting was too clean to be Neville's and too sharp to Hannah Abbott's. It was too small and neat for Ron, but too large for Hermione. Someone plopped into the seat across from Siria. She put the card under the flower and glared at the small, mousy haired Dennis. "Get lost," she told him.
"No," Dennis quacked. "You don't— you don't own the table." He stammered and scraped some eggs onto his plate. Dennis's large eyes reeked with abandonment, but Siria felt her glare firm.
"You're annoying me," Siria hissed. Dennis shook his head. "Yes, you are."
An arm slung around Siria's neck and pulled her in as another arm draped over the first and someone pushed her into the first body. "What—" she cursed through her gritted teeth. "Get off!" George Weasley tapped Siria on the nose.
"Don't think so, Potty Mouth Potter-Black," said George.
"See, we've got a letter," Fred said as he withdrew an envelope.
"From your pop," George added.
"About you," Fred squashed Siria even more between the two of them, and Ron sat beside Dennis. Colin and Hermione had snuck over and sat down when Fred and George blindsided Siria.
"Honestly," Hermione shook her head. Her voice was barely a whisper and her brown eyes were bloodshot. "You're impossible."
"Why don't you go snog your stupid boyfriend," Siria choked out. She elbowed George, who pulled her closer into his side.
"That's not very nice," he grinned.
"We're here to help," Fred smirked. Siria snatched the letter from them. It was from Sirius, who claimed "Siria's worried she'll die in the final task and doesn't want any of you to suffer[…]" she shook her head and tossed the letter on the table.
"Have you considered I realized I don't like any of you?" Siria asked. She looked to the Slytherin table, to Draco Malfoy. "That's what you need to be," she told herself, "but worse."
"A bunch of blood—" she gasped as Fred tickled her side. Siria clenched her side and George went for the other.
"Come on, Potter-Black," George laughed.
"Let us help," Fred chuckled.
"Potter" the hoarse voice of Professor Moody cut through the twins, who stopped. "My office." His magical eye looked back through his head, at Colin, Denis, Fred, George, Hermione, and Ron, as he escorted Siria from the Great Hall.
"Potter, you're welcome to my office," Professor Moody told Siria once he opened the door. "I understand the need to be alone. You never know who you can trust," Moody clanked over to his chair and sat. "I appreciate your reservations."
"Thanks," Siria muttered as she sat down. "Er, Professor, did you find that book?"
"Accio!" Moody pointed his wand. A moldy book zoomed in and dropped onto the desk. "It was older than I remembered."
"May I really borrow it?" Siria asked.
"Of course!" He slid the book over to her. "You've got a good head, Potter— you don't need their help."
"Thank you," Siria nodded and put the book into her bag. "See you in class."
"I'll save you a seat up front," Moody smirked.
Professor McGonagall dropped a stack of parchment that had looked sewn together and glued to a piece of wood. She arched her eyebrows higher than Siria had ever seen them and opened the book, which contained handwritten pages. "You'll be starting here, today, Potter-Black." Siria glanced from Professor McGonagall to the page and a laugh jumped from her throat.
"Honestly Professor, I'd really rather work with the Guinea Pigs," Siria looked to other desks. Professor McGonagall gave a thin smile.
"As you already know the spell, you ought to learn something new, Potter-Black."
Siria peaked to the pages Professor McGonagall had skipped past, but McGonagall put her other hand down. "This one, Potter-Black. If you're going to burn bridges, you should know how to make them."
"Right," Siria clicked her tongue. "I'm sure dropping a bridge on someone will make us best friends again." She tugged the book out from Professor McGonagall's hands. "Where exactly do you want the bridge?"
"Across the Lake. Hagrid is expecting you and I'll see when you're done. Don't come back into this room until there's a bridge across the Lake, Potter-Black," Professor McGonagall instructed. Siria took the book and left. She rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Maybe I can just drop a bridge on Tom," she sighed again. "Like that'll work," Siria shook her head and flipped through the book as she walked. There were spells she had never even heard of in the book: Smoke to Daggers, Lightning to Hammer, Spindle to Ballista, Thread to Ballista Bolts, and so on. "What does anyone with a wand need a Ballista for?" Siria murmured and sat down, at the edge of the Lake, with the book in her lap. She flipped back to the bridge spell. Siria groaned at the spell and withdrew her wand, which she pointed at the Lake. With the tip of her wand, Siria gestured from the spot before her, to the other side of the lake.
"Gesture the start and finish," she muttered, "flick the tip of the wand in a counterclockwise motion at the end of its trail…" Siria squeezed her eyes shut while she continued to make the motion. "Emphasis is as follows, but must be completed by the end of the flick," Siria muttered and rested her head in her hands to stare at the book. The curly, bold black font glared up at her from the page"Pon-TEM-ve-ER-ba mea-FIE-t."
After an hour of focused wand pointing and flicking, Siria was no closer to making a bridge than she was to becoming Minister of Magic. She buried her face in the notes around the spell while she headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Whoever wrote it had placed the spell in the center of the page with its gesture beneath. Then they drew lines from it in all directions. Like a spider's web, the lines crossed and wove themselves to other notes.
After another month of failure, A.
leant me The Tales of Beedle and the Bard, again.
I suppose I looked deeper than I should have because,
on the other side of a research rabbit hole, I've made this spell.
People may argue that I've brought it back,
but they can argue what they like.
I made this spell and Merlin at my witness,
I won't stop here!
The exclamation point pressed deep into the parchment and the author had punctured through with their quill. She placed the book at her seat in Moody's class, without seeing the stacks of books beside it. Siria looked at the other notes and traced the web to "wand motion." Most of the words in the web had been crossed out, but with a single, almost ruler straight line of ink. They were still perfectly legible and said things like "jab," "swish," "flick," slice," and "turn."
"Constant vigilance!" Moody barked when he entered the room. Siria closed the book of sorts and tucked it into her bag. He waved the desks and chairs to the wall. "Hope you've studied," Moody cackled. The room went quiet and still. Siria gulped. "You'll be dueling each other," a wicked grin crossed Moody's mamed face, "then me." Siria squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand to her ear. Last time Moody pointed a wand at her, her ears twitched until the next morning.
Each of the girls drew a name from the bowl of Moody's desk. Siria sighed and looked to Neville. Crimson rushed from his face and sickly white took its place. "You and your partner will try and climb through the ranks, to me," Moody instructed and pointed to the chalkboard. Their names appeared in a tournament fashion. Neville shuffled to Siria's side with his head down. She pressed her lips together and raised her head. "Stay out of my way," she demanded. Siria's hand trembled on her wand, but not as much as Neville's did.
"We've been practicing with Hermione," Parvati reported with a confident grin. Siria shook her head and looked to Neville.
"Stay behind me and don't cast anything. We won't make it if you hit me instead," Siria said. Neville and Siria raised their wands and bowed to Seamus and Parvati, as Dean and Hermione did the same to Lavender and Ron. Moody scanned the room, "Go!"
Neville rushed behind Siria, as she pointed her wand at Seamus, "Stupefy!" He froze and clattered to the floor. Parvati pointed to Siria "Expelliarmus!"
"Protego!" Siria snapped her wand across and the bolt of red shot off and to the floor. "Foetidus Adpiscem!" Parvati screamed and clapped her hands to her nose. Lavender stopped to look and Hermione stunned her. She dropped the floor, as Ron hit Dean with a spell that triggered his legs to dance uncontrollably. Hermione pointed her wand to Dean to stop Ron's spell and Moody clanked over to Parvati.
"What is wrong with you?" Parvati cried while Moody unstunned Seamus. "You've been a complete nightmare!" Siria scoffed and crossed her arms. "Siria Potter-Black," Parvati shook her head, "Even if you became the best duelist, you'll have no one to share it with!"
"Please," Siria rolled her eyes, "do you even hear yourself? You can't share things like that." Parvati stomped toward Siria, but Hermione grabbed Parvati by the arm and shook her head.
"There's not reasoning with her," Hermione gritted her teeth.
As Draco Malfoy did, even when he was completely wrong, Siria raised her head higher. "Don't worry, Granger, I'll get you once I'm done with Dunbar," she shrugged. Her organs groaned while they were torn to pieces by her own words. "No," Siria told herself and stood to her full height. She was taller than Hermione, but knew that Fay being taller wouldn't help her win.
Hermione and Siria glared over the tips of their wands. Hands ripped Siria's mouth into a smirk and kept it pinned. The last time Siria saw Hermione make that face was when Rita Skeeter wrote the article about Hagrid. "GO!" Moody called and jets of colored light bolted around the room. Ron flipped a desk to hide behind and peer over as spells ricocheted around the classroom. Dean and Neville were stunned within the first minute. Step after step, Hermione and Siria circled around the room with the same distance between them.
"Who are you?" Hermione thundered as she deflected another stun to the ground.
"Siria— Potter!" Siria bellowed while she leapt out of the way of Hermione's hex. "Densaugeo!"
"You did not!" Ron roared from behind the desk.
"Shut it!" Hermione and Siria snapped.
"You're impossible!" Hermione shouted. Siria threw her head back to scoff.
"Do you hear yourself?" Siria yelled back. "Look in a mirror!"
"You look in a mirror!" Hermione echoed and reached into her pocket.
"Accio Button!" Siria cried, "Crescere Clypeus" and the button grew to size of a fence. Something hovered over it. It was a silver chain, with a small star and thin, silver "S". "Get that trash away from me!" Siria howled. The necklace dropped and Siria caught it, only to throw it against the wall. She waved her wand "Reverti!" The button shrank, fell to the floor, and rolled away.
"You're the impossible one," Siria's vulnerable voice cut through the silent and still room. "Just leave me alone." She gestured to the unstunned Neville, who crouched behind a table with the unstunned Dean, as Hermione neared her. "I'm better off."
"You didn't even give him a chance to help you!" Hermione cried into Siria's face. Their wands were pointed to the ground. "You've been off ever since Crouch went missing— I get that you were attacked and that's scary, but it's terrifying to see you just burning everything."
"Well sor—ry!" Siria sang with her voice drenched in all the malice she could muster. "Didn't mean to 'terrify' poor, little—" Siria grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and pulled her down "PROTEGO!"
Whatever spell Moody cast crackled down Siria's Shield Charm. He grinned like a mad man. "Constant vigilance, Potter," he growled. Siria stepped between Hermione and Moody.
"She wasn't even facing you!" Parvati snapped, but ducked back under the flipped table.
"Constant vigilance," Siria spat and shook her head. "Fine!" Siria screamed her voice hoarse as jets of red, violet, and yellow shot around the room. Hit chairs shattered, legs flew off desks, and the bookshelf spat out books.
"STUPEFY!" Hermione screamed and Moody froze. Siria collapsed to her knees and gasped for air. Her arm trembled as she extended her wand "Accio Map!" She clattered to the floor and rolled onto her back. When the Marader's Map arrived, it landed on her chest. "I'll be taking this back now," she panted. "Thanks…"
"Come on," Hermione extended her hand to Siria. "Your stupid lone wolf period is over and you've got a lot of apologizing to do." Siria put a hand on the Map and casually tossed the other to her forehead.
"I'm bleeding awful at apologizes," Siria confessed in a low, drained voice.
"Lucky for you, practice makes… better," Hermione offered a faint smile.
Siria's hand clapped into Hermione's and slow applause broke into the class. Parvati and Lavender hugged Siria. "Sorry," she murmured. They laughed.
"Oh, you've a long way to go to be forgiven!" Parvati shook her head.
"But that was amazing!" Lavender squeezed Siria.
"You almost held your own against an Auror!" Parvati cheered. Siria nodded and tapped out of the hug. She looked to Ron and scratched the back of her neck. He put his table upright and gazed at her from the side.
"I don't want an apology," Ron stated. Siria paused and looked to the ground.
"Right, of course…" she quaked, as her head trembled.
"I want an explanation," he added and raised his head. Siria nodded and wrapped him into a hug.
"Of course!" She beamed.
"Tonight," Hermione squeezed into the hug. "We'll meet you in the Room," she grinned and tugged the Map from Siria's robes. Siria nodded and pressed her head to theirs.
"Um," Neville gulped. "What about Professor Moody?"
"Yeah…" Siria trailed. "I'll go get Professor Dumbledore. I'm not about to unstun him and get attacked again."
"So…" Siria bit her lip as she scanned over the faces in the Room of Requirement. Warrington rested his hands on Travers's shoulders while she covered her mouth, but neither hid the knit of their brows. Maddy had pulled Patricia closer to her as Siria's explanation progressed. Neville was good as petrified and Lavender and Parvati were in no better shape. Dean and Seamus looked like they had each lost a fight. Cedric pressed his knuckles to his mouth. Colin and Dennis mirrored someone who caught a basilisk's reflection. Ron mouthed wordlessly to Hermione, who stared at Siria with tears ready to burst from her eyes. Even Fred and George were silent and still.
"So," Siria repeated and scratched the back of her neck. "Um, I get if you don't want to be friends, or—"
"Are you mad?" Lavender screamed.
"You've lost your mind!" Parvati echoed.
"You could— you could die of— die of old age!" Ron stammered. Siria sighed and looked over her glasses.
"Didn't you hear me? As long as Voldemort—get over it—" she snapped at the flinchers, "can come back again, even if Dumbledore beats him."
"No," Hermione rose so fast her chair toppled behind her. "Ron is right— you can die of old age! You're— you're practically immune to the Imperious Curse, so no one could force you to bring him back?" She pressed her fingertips to her lips. "I don't know how Horcruxes work," she confessed.
"But we know now," Fay reminded them. "We can prepare or something."
"Yeah!" Colin cheered.
"What?" Siria asked. "No! You should leave me and it alone, and—" George slung his arm around Siria's shoulder and laughed.
"Ms. Potter-Black," George tutted.
"The hypocrisy!" Fred draped an arm over his forehead in dramatic outrage.
"We aren't leaving you," George wrapped Siria into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles against her hair.
"We're here to stay," Hermione's voice was crisp and clear as others chimed in around the room.
"I don't know how much I believe," Seamus muttered, "but I can at least use the practice."
"That's fine," Siria beamed as she hugged Hermione.
"Here," Warrington held his clenched fist out once Hermione broke apart her hug. Siria tapped her own fist against Warrington's and he sighed. Warrington placed something cool into her hand. "It matches your necklace," he noted and gave a nod to the small star and "S" on the thin silver chain around her neck. She snapped the watch around her wrist. "The Room?" She guessed. Warrington patted Siria's wilder than usual hair.
"Anything else you'd like to share?" he smirked.
"Actually," Siria rushed to her bag and pulled out the bound parchment McGonagall had leant her, "who's up for building bridges?"