Disclaimer: If I was making money off this, I would have probably bought that cute little sundress I saw at the mall over the weekend instead of saying, "FIFTY dollars?! On clearance?! Who are you kidding?"
Author's Note: Once again, thank you all for your comments! You are all awesome. I'd also like to extend a special thanks to Fred, who appeared in trufflesque's review. In regards to your demands…keep your pants on, my friend. Patience is a virtue. Anyway, as always, let me know what you think!
Chapter 8: Revolution
Despite my best efforts, my life took a slight turn for the worse after that conversation with George. Viv and I were still not speaking, which was fairly stressful, not to mention lonely. Although I was angry with her, I couldn't help but miss her—she was my best friend, after all.
Things were further complicated by the fact that nearly everyone seemed to be changing. Angelina was becoming more and more obsessed with Quidditch and I quickly discovered that the length of her temper was inversely proportional to the degree of her obsession. That is, the more obsessed she became, the shorter her temper grew. Alicia was not much better. In addition to being quite dreamy and absentminded, she had become very secretive and took to darting out of the room to forgotten appointments whenever any one of us tried to mention Lee or Divination. Lee was equally evasive, although he seemed to pay more attention than Alicia.
I suppose I wouldn't have minded all of this quite as much if George hadn't changed as well. He wasn't outright rude, but he was slightly more distant after our conversation out on the grounds. He didn't visit me during my self-inflicted exiles from the common room and he stopped trying to write notes on the corners of my parchment during class. He didn't exactly seem angry with me, as he was still quite genial and didn't go out of his way to avoid me. If I had to pick an emotion, I would say that he seemed more disappointed than angry. I wanted to change that, of course, but I got the sense that the only way I'd be able to was by going to the Hog's Head or trying to take on a band of Death Eaters single-handedly. The latter was fairly impossible in light of my pathetic dueling skills and the fact that if Death Eaters appeared anywhere near Hogwarts, Harry Potter would be the one vanquishing them, as danger seemed to follow that poor boy everywhere. As for the Hog's Head, I still couldn't convince myself that going to that meeting was something that I was capable of doing, even in the name of friendship.
All in all, it seemed that our little group was swiftly breaking apart at the seams. Only Fred remained resolutely unchanged and unfazed through the entire ordeal.
When the Hogsmeade weekend finally arrived, I stayed buried under my blankets in the dormitory, claiming I had a headache when Angelina and Alicia asked why I hadn't gotten up. It was a thoroughly miserable day, despite the fact that I slept in late and spent the rest of day reading. But the worst part was the way George's smile didn't quite reach his eyes when I saw them all at dinner that evening,
The following Monday, Educational Decree Number Twenty-four was posted, which didn't do much for anyone's mood. The decree disbanded all student organizations and required that all such groups receive Umbridge's permission in order to reform. In essence, the decree accomplished two things. For one, it solidified everyone's dislike for Umbridge herself. It also caused Angelina to drop all pretenses and go completely mental. She was speechless for several moments as she gaped open-mouthed at the sign, but she quickly flung herself into action, grabbing her book bag and muttering angrily to herself. Her jaw was set with a grim determination as she stomped out the portrait-hole, most likely in search of McGonagall.
"Well, hopefully she won't end up in St. Mungo's before the next match," said Fred as the portrait slammed behind her.
"If there is a match," sighed Alicia mournfully. "I can't believe this. You don't think she—"
Fred shushed her immediately. However, I couldn't help but agree with Alicia's unspoken query—there seemed to be a correlation between the decree and the meeting at the Hog's Head. George seemed to think so, too, as he caught my eye and gave me a look, as though daring me to take a stand.
I looked away, muttered something about being hungry and headed downstairs to breakfast.
It was quite an eventful day in all. The news of Trelawney's probation quickly made its way through the school, resulting in more of those infuriating looks from George. Although Trelawney wasn't wildly popular and was generally regarded as a fraud, her probation seemed to spark a wave of sympathy from the students. And although I did feel sorry for the batty, bespectacled woman, I couldn't bring myself to change my mind. I felt bad about everything that was happening, but pity alone couldn't convince me that my presence at defense meetings would make a difference.
As a whole, October was a miserable month for me and I hoped that November would bring better fortune. However, the upcoming Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match seemed to indicate otherwise. Relations between Gryffindor and Slytherin became particularly strained whenever we played each other in Quidditch. Corridors were dangerous—there were taunts to endure as well as curses and hexes from the more vicious attackers. I wasn't on the Quidditch team, so I wasn't quite as much of a target—at the very worst, a Slytherin would glare at me or say something rude. The others were not quite so lucky. Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, often expressed his dislike for Alicia in the days leading up to the match. We weren't sure if it was because she had once (accidentally) hit him with the Quaffle and broken his nose or because she had turned him down for a date in our fourth year. Either way, he seemed to have sufficient motivation to jinx her eyebrows so that they grew at quite an alarming rate. They nearly reached her shoulders before Madam Pomfrey was able to put a stop to it. The worst part was that Snape, with his usual lack of objectivity, said that Alicia must have done it herself and refused to punish Bletchley.
I was fairly relieved when the day of the match finally arrived, hoping the animosity would mellow after the match. However, I quickly found myself faced with a new set of problems. Viv and I had always sat together during matches, as we were the only ones among our friends who weren't involved in the match in some respect. Obviously, this was no longer an option. I must have looked fairly dejected, because Brenna took pity on me and invited me to sit with her and her friend Kathleen.
"You and Viv had a row," she said plainly once we sat down.
"How did you know?" I asked. I had avoided talking about the fight with Brenna because Brenna adored Viv and I didn't want to make things more complicated by bringing divided loyalties into the mix.
"I asked why you weren't speaking and she told me," she shrugged. "She wouldn't say why, but it must have been something terrible."
"You've certainly done your homework," I replied, raising an eyebrow.
"It's because of Marcy Wright," she stated. Kathleen nodded in agreement.
"Who?"
"She's a terrible gossip," explained Kathleen. "But she knows almost everything."
"She said that you and Viv were having a row," shrugged Brenna. "Naturally, I had to investigate. She also says you're dating one of the Weasley twins, but I told her that that's rubbish."
"What? Where did she get that idea?"
Brenna shrugged. "She says she sees you with one of them quite often."
"I suppose the concept of platonic friendship between the sexes is alien to eleven-year-olds," I replied, glancing up at the pitch. The teams had not yet assembled.
"Hey!" protested Brenna, swatting me on the shoulder. "It wasn't me—it was Marcy!"
"Sorry. But it's a bit daft, you know?"
"She's not very subtle," stated Kathleen. "She knows everything that goes on around here, but she's nearly as dense as a troll."
"That explains it."
"Oh, there's a spot!" a voice declared somewhere to my left. A few seconds later, Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger had sat down beside me.
"Hi," said Ginny, her nose pink with cold. "D'you mind if we sit here?"
"No, not at all," I replied.
"It's Laurie, right?" asked Hermione.
"No, it's Sophie," I corrected her.
"Oh, right, of course. Sorry. I'm not usually bad with names, but you remind me of my cousin, Laurie, and I got it stuck in my head."
"That's all right."
"I wonder if Ron's been sick yet," mused Ginny. The youngest male Weasley was making his Quidditch debut as Keeper. He had looked rather nervous when saw him at breakfast.
"Oh, don't say that," scolded Hermione, twisting her hands slightly in her lap. "I just hope he didn't see the badges…"
"What badges?" I asked.
"The Slytherins are wearing them," she said darkly. "Gold crowns that say 'Weasley is our King'. I don't know what it means, but I expect we'll find out."
"It's Malfoy's doing, most likely," sighed Ginny. "Besides, I think Ron looked too ill to be able to read properly and he won't be able to see them from the pitch, so it shouldn't bother him…"
Both teams marched onto the pitch and the cheering of the crowd drowned Ginny out. The players mounted their brooms and the match began. Lee, who was commentating, immediately started off with one of his usual quips about Angelina refusing to date him.
"Well, then he can't be with Alicia…" I mused to myself as Professor McGonagall told him off.
"What?" asked Ginny.
"Er—nothing," I replied, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
"Marcy reckons that Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet are secretly dating," said Brenna.
I shook my head, not entirely sure what to think. I could hear singing coming from the Slytherin side, although I couldn't quite make out the words.
"What's that they're singing?"
As though they heard my query, the Slytherins kicked the volume up a notch.
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin—
Ginny's cheeks flushed crimson as her gaze narrowed sharply. Hermione put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Just ignore it," she said, soothingly, although I could see her eyes were bright with anger. "It's rubbish, just ignore it."
But it was quite difficult to ignore it. I found myself listening to the singing instead of Lee's commentary as the match continued on in the air. Every time Ron missed a save, the Slytherins would cheer and the song would get louder. Hermione had clapped her hands over her face and was peeking out between the gaps of her fingers, wincing every time Ron failed to block a goal. Ginny's eyes had narrowed to slits and I briefly wondered how she was able to watch the match.
Luckily, Harry caught the Snitch fairly early in the match. The Gryffindor section erupted in cheers, which effectively drowned out the rest of "Weasley Is Our King". As a final retaliation, one of the Slytherin Beaters hit a Bludger at Harry, which effectively knocked him off his broom. Thankfully, the drop was not that far.
"Oh no!" gasped Hermione. "Do you think he's all right?"
"Honestly, Hermione," sighed Ginny. "For Harry, that's barely a scratch. Oh, that was wonderful…that will show that rotten, foul—"
Ginny was cut off as people began shouting. On the pitch below, I could see both George and Harry launching themselves at Draco Malfoy, their fists flying.
"NO!" shouted Hermione, clapping her hands to her mouth. "Oh, Harry, no…"
The fight was over almost as quickly as it began. Madam Hooch hit them both with an Impediment Jinx and after shouting at them for quite a bit, pointed fiercely in the direction of the castle. Harry and George stalked off angrily.
"I think they drew blood!" reported Ginny happily, squinting at Malfoy, who was now being helped to his feet by Madam Hooch and one of the Slytherin Beaters. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were still restraining Fred. "Oh, I hope they broke his nose."
Hermione did not even bother to scold her.
I wanted to get back to the common room as quickly as possibly, but the pushing crowd made it difficult. I was quickly separated from Brenna and Kathleen and I only managed to stay with Ginny and Hermione because Ginny had linked arms with both Hermione and me. We somehow managed to make our way to the front of the crowd, and once we got in the castle, we dropped arms and took off at a run toward Gryffindor Tower.
Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Fred did not make their way into the common room until well after dinner. Hermione, Ginny, Lee, and I had stuffed as much food as we could carry in our pockets and brought it up to the common room for them. Harry and George were presumably still being reprimanded. No one seemed to know where Ron had gone.
"All right?" I asked quietly as Angelina sat down next to me on the couch. It was a dangerous question. Her expression was grim and there were traces of anger on her face. She shrugged and didn't say anything as she reached over to grab a sandwich. In fact, it was largely silent for quite a while. No one even said anything when Viv came over and sat down next to Alicia.
"Why can't any of you control your temper?" Angelina finally demanded, rounding on Fred.
"He deserved it," growled Fred.
"Oh, please, stop, the two of you," sighed Alicia heavily. "We've been over this."
"It doesn't matter if he deserved it or not," replied Angelina angrily, ignoring Alicia.
"So you think what he said was all right?" demanded Fred, his temper rising.
"Don't you try to put words in my mouth, Fred Weasley," snapped Angelina. "You should have kept—"
At that moment, the portrait door opened and George and Harry walked inside, both looking quite grim.
"Your detentions better not interfere with practice, Potter," said Angelina curtly and furiously. "You can't afford to miss any more."
"It doesn't matter," said Harry dully. He opened his hand and there was a flash of gold as the Snitch started flying around the common room. "I've been banned from the team."
Angelina's mouth hung open for a moment. Everyone seemed too shocked to speak.
"What?" she finally managed.
"We've been banned," repeated George tonelessly. "Fred, too."
"What?" demanded Fred, leaping from his seat, accompanied by a chorus of protests from everyone assembled.
"Umbridge reckons you would have gone after Malfoy if you hadn't been held back," said George.
"I'm being punished for something I didn't do?" he asked.
"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Alicia.
"Can she even do that?"
"She has the authority now," said Harry. "Educational Decree Number Twenty-five."
Everyone was silent for a moment.
"Banned. Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters…What on earth are we going to do?" asked Angelina finally, looking completely shocked.
"It's just so unfair. I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown. Has she banned him?" asked Alicia.
"No," sighed Ginny. "He just got lines. I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" added Alicia angrily.
"It's not my fault I didn't," growled Fred, swatting angrily at the Snitch as it zipped past his head. "I would've pummeled the little scumbag to a pulp if you hadn't held me back."
"I'm going to bed," sighed Angelina dejectedly after a moment. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream…Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet…"
Lee and Katie went up to bed shortly after Angelina. The rest of us sat in silence. I stared at the fire, feeling angry about everything. Angry about the match, angry at Umbridge, angry that Viv still wouldn't meet my eye.
"I'm going to bed," Viv declared after while. She patted Alicia on the shoulder. "Feel better. It will be all right." She turned to Fred and George. "I'm sorry."
They both nodded in response, looking quite angry still.
And without acknowledging me, Viv turned at went up the stairs to the dormitory. I was slightly stunned. It was bad enough that we weren't speaking, but singling me out by ignoring me…somehow that hurt worse than not speaking. I angrily blinked away the tears in my eyes and looked up at the ceiling until I was sure that none would spill over. Alicia reached over and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.
"I think I'll go up, too," she said quietly. "Goodnight."
I stared at the fire some more, feeling angry and hurt. This wasn't right. Nothing was right. But what could I do about it? What could anyone do?
Something suddenly occurred to me and I immediately felt quite stupid. But at the same time, I understood things a little better. I looked up from the fire and caught George's eye.
"I've changed my mind."
And for the first time that evening, a ghost of a smile flickered on his face.
I went to my first meeting that week. To say I was nervous was a slight understatement.
"Sophie, if you look guilty, they'll suspect you're doing something wrong," said George amusedly as we made our way through the halls. We had left earlier than the others because George had said that Harry wanted to have a word with me before the meeting began. George had also returned to his usual self around me and I could have not been more grateful for the change.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm not good at hiding things."
"Why do you think Fred and I are so successful?" he asked. "By putting on an innocent front, you deflect the blame from yourself."
"Yeah, but by now, everyone knows that if something odd happens, you two are likely behind it."
"I don't know where you get these ideas, Sophie," sighed George. He withdrew a brightly wrapped sweet from his pocket. "Sweet?"
"No thank you," I replied with a knowing smile. He grinned.
George had tried to explain the Room of Requirement to me, but it wasn't quite the same as actually seeing the room itself. The large door opened to reveal a room of considerable size, the floor of which was littered with many silk cushions. There were many bookshelves, most of which were packed with thick volumes, although one set of shelves had Dark Detectors, Secrecy Sensors, and other such items displayed neatly. Ron and Harry were talking at the far end of the room and Hermione was sitting on one of the cushions, her head bent over a particularly large book.
"Oh…my…" I said after a moment.
George grinned. "I thought you'd like it." He hailed Harry. "Harry, this is Sophie Fletcher."
"Hi…we've met before, right?" said Harry.
"The snowball fight last year," I reminded him.
"That's right."
"You're not related to Mundungus Fletcher are you?" asked Ron.
"Er…distantly," I replied. Dad didn't really like to talk about him much, as he was something of a disgrace. "He's my dad's second cousin, so I don't know what that makes me. Dad said I met him when I was a baby, but I don't remember. Why, do you know him?"
I was hoping that Ron only knew of him, as I wasn't particularly looking forward to a conversation about how Cousin Mundungus had cheated him out of his valuables. Such a conversation had happened once before and I wasn't looking forward to repeating it.
"Met him once in the Leaky Cauldron," said Ron quickly, as Harry delivered a not-so-subtle kick to his shins. I breathed an inner sigh of relief.
"So…about the meetings…" began Harry, seemingly keen on a change of subject.
"You do understand that this has to be kept absolutely secret?" interrupted Hermione briskly as she shut her book and walked over to me.
"Yes," I replied, once again feeling slightly intimidated by the fifth year.
"You understand what happens if we're caught?" she asked. "We're breaking several of the decrees, not to mention some actual school rules. We'll all be punished and—"
"Relax, Hermione," said George. "I told her, she knows."
"Well she's signing up late, isn't she?" retorted Hermione. "You've got to consider—"
"She's not going—"
"Look, I know it must seem slightly dodgy," I admitted, interrupting George. "I didn't want to join earlier because…well, I was scared. But this weekend with the Quidditch match…it changed things for me."
Hermione looked at me appraisingly before turning to Ron and Harry.
"Well?" she said.
"Well, if she's related to 'Dung, she can't be all that bad," said Ron after a few moments. Hermione shot a slightly annoyed look at him.
"You know she mouthed off to Umbridge?" added George somewhat proudly. "Said a theory-based course was rubbish. Umbridge took ten points."
"Well, it's settled then," stated Harry, grinning. He stuck out his hand. "Welcome to Dumbledore's Army."
Hermione had me add my name to the bottom of the group's roster, a piece of parchment that hung on the wall near the front of the room. She showed me the fake Galleon they used to communicate and said she'd have one for me within the week. When I expressed awe over the fact that she had managed to perform a Protean Charm as a fifth year, she smiled and seemed to abandon some of her earlier suspicion.
Zacharias Smith was a completely different matter.
"Who's she?" he asked suspiciously when everyone had filed into the room.
"This is our new member, Sophie Fletcher," explained Harry.
"How d'you know we can trust her?" Smith wanted to know.
"We can," said Harry simply. Smith's face worked into a sneer.
"Yeah? How d'you know she won't go straight to Umbridge?"
"Why don't you stuff it, Smith?" asked Fred loudly. To my dismay, I noticed that several other people seemed the share Smith's opinion and were regarding me shiftily. George put a protective arm around my shoulders and I felt slightly better.
"Listen," stated Harry, "we've worked too hard to get this group together. We're not going to do anything stupid to muck it up."
"You're one to talk about not doing anything stupid, Potter," sneered Smith. Harry's eyes narrowed angrily and he seemed to be debating whether he wished to prove his reputation as a hothead. Luckily, Fred decided to intervene.
"Why don't you stick your wand up your—"
"Enough!" snapped Hermione. Everyone in the room turned to look at her. "Honestly. We've thought this through; Sophie isn't going to tell anyone. And we haven't got all night to debate this, so why don't we just drop it?"
"She mouthed off to Umbridge as well," added Ron, after a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence.
Maybe it was Hermione's cool reasoning; maybe it was Ron's spur of the moment declaration. But whatever it was, the tempers and suspicion in the room seemed to mellow slightly and Harry began discussing the importance of Impediment Jinxes.
We broke off into pairs shortly after Harry's lecture and George and I ended up working together. Harry came over rather early into the practice and asked me to demonstrate some of the spells that the group had worked on previously. My Shield Charms were decent, but my attempts at Disarming Charms and Stunning Spells were woefully inadequate. Harry had me alternate practicing Disarming Charms and Stunning Spells in addition to Impediment Jinxes.
The meeting seemed to pass awfully fast. I hadn't gotten much better at Disarming or Stunning, but both Harry and George said I had made progress, so I decided to take their word for it. Overall, I was having a better feeling about the group and my previous reasons for avoiding it seemed increasingly foolish.
"What did you think?" asked George as we waited to leave the room in small groups.
"It was interesting," I replied.
"Ready to try out a few of those on Viv?" asked Fred with a grin.
"No," I said, swatting him.
"Not until her Disarming Charm is stronger, at any rate," stated George. I rolled my eyes.
I hate to sound selfish and horrible, but it was rather nice having Fred and George banned from Quidditch. It was now too cold to go out on the grounds to do homework, so it was nice having a few people around me in the common room or in the library. Angelina finally found replacements for Fred, George, and Harry, so she was less irritable than usual (although she was more prone to yelling at Fred than usual). Alicia continued to be secretive and dreamy, but even that didn't seem quite as bad as it had before. Things were definitely beginning to look up.
Term seemed to accelerate leading up to Christmas. The D. A. had its final meeting the day before we left for the holidays. I had finally mastered Stunning, although my Disarming Charm still needed a lot of work. Harry said that we would maybe begin working on the Patronus Charm after break, which everyone was quite excited about. All of us were fairly exhausted at the end of the day and turned in rather early.
The next morning arrived with the usual amount of chaos. Although we had all packed the night before, it seemed as though there were an infinite number of items that had somehow forgotten to make their way into our trunks. The fact that two of us weren't speaking only complicated matters. We all finally trooped downstairs, where Viv promptly abandoned us, explaining to Alicia and Angelina that she had to meet Dan. I wasn't particularly sorry to be rid of her company.
"Where are they?" asked Angelina, glancing at her watch. "We're going to miss the train if they don't hurry."
"Lee probably overslept," said Alicia. At that moment, the boy in question came clambering down the stairs with his trunk, looking somewhat disheveled.
"Finally," said Angelina. "Where are the others?"
"I thought maybe you would know," said Lee, shrugging his jacket on. "They were gone when I woke up this morning. Trunks and everything."
"We haven't seen them," reported Alicia.
"Maybe Ron or Ginny will know," suggested Angelina.
However, upon closer inspection, we realized that the room was noticeably bereft of redheads, which made us all rather concerned.
"Those boys are in Ron's dormitory," said Alicia, gesturing to Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. "Angelina, go ask them what's happened."
"Why me?" asked Angelina.
"Because you're authoritative."
"You're a prefect! You ask!"
"But you're more intimidating than I am!"
Angelina sighed and rolled her eyes as she started to walk over to the two boys.
"Honestly, Alicia, sometimes you're impossible."
"I may be impossible, but I can get people to do what I want," said Alicia with a satisfied grin as Angelina engaged the boys in a whispered conversation. Lee looked slightly unsettled at this declaration. I simply shook my head.
"There was an emergency," Angelina said when she returned few minutes later. "Harry went with them as well. They weren't particularly clear on what happened…said McGonagall made them swear not to breathe a word to anyone."
The four of us exchanged a look.
"We'll write them on the train," said Alicia finally.
There were two major flaws in this plan. The first was that none of us owned an owl, so I ended up having to send the letter from my house later that evening. The second was that we were all in a festive mood and our letter turned out something like this:
(Written by us all; transcribed by Sophie because her handwriting is the neatest)
Dear Fred and George,
We woke this morning to find you departed for parts unknown. Lee, the useless lump...sorry, Lee saying we should change that to 'outstandingly handsome young man'...now Alicia's suggesting 'reoccurring problem'...right, we've agreed on 'who was apparently very tired', somehow managed to sleep through said departure, so we're not sure why you've left. By interrogating random people...sorry, Angelina has demanded...er, requested that we change that to 'asking around', Angelina was able to determine that there was some sort of emergency. We all hope that everything's all right. We're all quite worried. Please send us word as soon as you can.
You've missed an eventful train ride. Alicia already has a list of offenders she will be reporting to their heads of house and Lee orchestrated a minor explosion near a group of sixth year Slytherins. Lee says that this was the best moment of his life and that you ought to have been there.
We hope you have a good holiday and that everything's all right. Again, please send word when you can.
Happy Christmas!
Love from:
Sophie, Angelina, Alicia, and...hold on a moment...Lee's yelling about something...
From,
Lee
(who thought 'love' wasn't 'manly enough to express [his manful manliness.' Whatever that means.)
However, I did get a reply several days later:
Dear Sophie,
Thanks for the letter—it made me laugh. If you wouldn't mind passing word onto the others, I'd appreciate it. I'd rather not write four different letters, as I haven't had much sleep during the past few days. Fred would be writing this as well, but he's sleeping at the moment.
Dad had an accident, but he's doing much better now and is expected to make a full recovery. It's all rather complicated, so I'd rather tell you about it in person. The main thing is that he's fine and we're fine. Well, maybe not 'fine'—Mum's out of her mind with worry and none of us have gotten much sleep lately, but we're going to be fine. Tell everyone not to worry (that includes you).
Hope you have a good holiday. I'd suggest that we all meet up in Diagon Alley, but I doubt that we'll get out of the house much with everything that's happening. Happy Christmas—expect your gift in the next few days.
Love,
George
I quickly jotted off brief notes to Angelina, Alicia, and Lee before penning a reply to George.
Dear George (and Fred, if you're awake),
I've owled Angelina, Alicia, and Lee as you requested. I'm glad to hear your dad is doing well and I hope he continues to make a quick recovery. I will continue to worry until I know everything's all right (I know you said not to, but honestly, George, who do you think you're dealing with?).
I'll have your gifts in the post in the next few days. And as you're not actually going to be around me when I open your gift, there's really no need to make it explode when I open it, is there? (Hint, hint).
Love,
Sophie
Of course, when my gift (a reading light that only gives light to the reader) did arrive, the box gave such a loud explosion that Mum came running into the kitchen because she thought that the roof had collapsed. I suppose there was no harm in asking, though.
The holiday seemed to go all too fast and before I knew it, I was back on the Hogwarts Express and heading for another term. It was just Angelina, Alicia, Lee, and I on the train again, as Fred and George were coming directly to Hogsmeade Station. When we finally met up with them, Angelina told them off for scaring us half to death and then demanded to know what had happened. However, Fred and George's explanation of their father's injury—a bad snake bite sustained on a raid—seemed to be rather vague, much like their explanation of where they had been that summer. However, we were mostly satisfied with the news that Mr. Weasley was well and no one pushed it further.
I could feel the pressure more distinctly now that I was on the other side of December. Not only did we have N. E. W. T.s at the end of the year, there was also the added anxiety of trying to find some sort of employment after Hogwarts. Alicia was already sending her résumé to potential employers, making the rest of us feel decidedly unaccomplished. Fred and George's laissez-faire attitude toward academics was somewhat infectious and enough to keep me slightly unmotivated.
There was also a massive Azkaban breakout the day we got back to school, which just made everyone paranoid. Those of us who weren't inclined to believe the Ministry or the Prophet noticed that all the escapees were once prominent Death Eaters. There were no dementors at the castle gates this year, unlike when Sirius Black escaped during fifth year. I was grateful because they were quite terrifying, but at the same time, their absence made me feel slightly less secure and rather uneasy. Where were they if they weren't guarding us and (apparently) not guarding Azkaban?
Following the trend of bad news, it also appeared that Umbridge had not become a kinder person or a better teacher over the holiday. The first indication of this was the news of Hagrid's probation, which caused more of an outrage than Trelawney's probation. Hagrid was very well liked, although he wasn't necessarily the most adept teacher. I had dropped Care of Magical Creatures sixth year, but it certainly wasn't because of Hagrid. All right, there were some classes where I wasn't certain if I'd make it out alive, but he was really all right. If anything, I imagine Umbridge put him on probation because his methods weren't exactly traditional, although Fred reckoned it was because he was half-giant and Umbridge was prejudiced. It wouldn't have surprised me if he turned out to be right.
In addition to that piece of news, another educational decree was posted. This one banned teachers from giving students information not related to their subject of expertise.
"Well, I suppose that means we're not in danger of Snape telling us about his romantic conquests," stated Fred as we read the decree on the notice board.
"Would've been a short lecture," said George.
However, Lee took the decree the next level the next day in class.
Fred and George had long since grown bored of remaining still and silent when Umbridge expected us to read, especially after they had been banned from Quidditch. Instead, they turned to their own devices for entertainment. During our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class after Umbridge's latest decree, they decided to entertain themselves with a particularly spirited game of Exploding Snap.
It was not long before Umbridge's patience also snapped (if you'll excuse the pun).
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked sweetly in an apparent attempt to disguise her anger.
"I thought it was pretty obvious," said Fred, looking up from his cards.
Her smile didn't falter.
"Ten points for your cheek, Mr. Weasley, and I think another twenty each for playing games during my class. You are showing disre—what is it, Mr. Jordan?"
Lee had been waving his hand obnoxiously in the air for the past few minutes. I got the sense that Umbridge would have liked nothing more than to hex the offending limb into oblivion.
"You can't do that," he said, triumphantly.
"Excuse me, Mr. Jordan?" asked Umbridge, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It's not your place to tell me what I can and cannot do. Ten points from Gryffindor."
"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor!" he said boldly. There were a few scattered sniggers. "That's not information relating to your subject!"
I'm not sure if Umbridge was angrier with Lee or Henry Grogan, who had nearly fallen out of his seat from laughing so hard.
"Three days' detention, Mr. Jordan," said Umbridge coldly. "Perhaps you will learn to control your impertinence in my class."
"He was only—" protested Fred, angrily.
"Hand, Mr. Weasley," she snapped.
I don't know what made me say it. I don't know why I just didn't say it later, away from her classroom. But before Fred could raise his hand, I opened my mouth and spoke.
"I suppose that's the advantage of being a tyrant," I said, loudly and clearly. "You don't have to enforce your own rules when it benefits you personally."
A deathly silence followed and my cheeks flushed crimson with the knowledge that I had just said that out loud. Umbridge regarded me beadily for a moment.
"You will be joining Mr. Jordan, Miss Fletcher," she said finally, with an angry, but self-satisfied smile twisting the corners of her mouth. My cheeks burned even hotter. I had never had a detention. "And twenty points from Gryffindor apiece. If the rest of you don't wish to join Mr. Jordan and Miss Fletcher, I suggest you return to your reading."
George made to throw his deck of cards as she stalked back to the front of the room. I quickly caught his wrist and shook my head.
"It's not worth it," I said quietly. George held my gaze for a few more moments, but his arm relaxed slightly and I released my grip.
"Mr. Weasley, Miss Fletcher, back to your books," said Umbridge. "Mr. Grogan, if you do not remove yourself from the floor, I shall take twenty points from Hufflepuff."
I dropped my gaze and resumed my reading.
"I have never been more proud of you," said Fred, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we left the classroom. "My protégée is finally growing up."
"I don't recall ever being your protégée," I replied, arching an eyebrow.
"It's not something you voluntarily sign up for," Fred informed me. "I chose you."
"Oh? And when did you choose me?" I inquired.
"Five minutes ago."
"You must have put so much effort into me."
"Blood, sweat, and tears," said Fred proudly.
"You know we lost one hundred points between the four of us," stated George. "That's got to be a record." Alicia rolled her eyes.
"What d'you reckon she'll have us do?" asked Lee.
I shrugged. "I've heard it's mainly lines."
"Shouldn't be too bad then, eh?"
Lee and I left for Umbridge's office that evening after a very hurried dinner. The Gryffindor table had applauded when we got up and left the Great Hall—apparently word had traveled fast. Lee gave a few elaborate bows while I laughed and tried not to look too embarrassed (especially when Fred and George started catcalling. Honestly).
We joked most of the way to Umbridge's office. Neither of us was particularly worried about the detention and I had even abandoned my disappointment of not having a perfectly clean record. After all, as Lee had put it, when the Ministry finally comes to their senses, people will realize what a raving cow Umbridge was and it wouldn't really matter.
We both quieted as we reached Umbridge's office. Lee reached up and knocked on the door.
"Enter," called Umbridge, slightly too cheerfully for the occasion. Lee opened the door.
Until that point in my life, I was not aware that it was possible for kittens to be ugly. In general, her office was an assault on the eyes. Everything was frilly and hideously pink. Unsightly kittens bedecked every surface and were prominently featured on porcelain plates on the walls. Amid this mess of color and fluff sat Umbridge herself.
"Good evening," she greeted.
"Good evening, Professor," Lee and I mumbled together.
"You will both be doing some lines for me this evening," she stated, reaching in one of the drawers of her desk. "Mr. Jordan, you will write I must not be impertinent; Miss Fletcher, you will write I must respect my teacher." She withdrew two long and pointed quills from her desk. "You will use these."
I went and took the quill from her hand. My eyes widened as I got a good look at the quill. It was a Scarring Stylograph, a quill that wrote in the flesh of your hand and used your blood as ink.
"Is there a problem, Miss Fletcher?" asked Professor Umbridge sweetly.
"My dad treated a lot of patients a few years back for severe cuts from a bad batch of these quills," I replied.
"Ah…yes, that was a pity," said Professor Umbridge, not looking very empathetic at all.
"Yes, it was," I said. "That's why they were banned."
We stared at each other for a few moments.
"It wouldn't do for a Ministry-appointed official to be using banned items on students, would it Professor?" I asked. "Especially items that were declared 'dangerous' and 'cruel'. It would be enough for the official to be sacked—"
"It appears that three detentions isn't going to cure you of your insolence, Miss Fletcher," interrupted Professor Umbridge sharply. "I think a full week is in order."
"What?" exclaimed Lee. "You—"
"Mr. Jordan, I suggest you mind your attitude unless you wish to join Miss Fletcher."
"It's not worth it," I said quickly to Lee. "Please…don't."
Lee reluctantly shut his mouth before taking his quill from Umbridge and sitting down at the little table in front of the window. I followed him while Umbridge sat in her chair like a self-satisfied slug.
Lee and I returned to the common room late that evening, the backs of our hands raw and sore. Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia were all waiting up for us.
"What happened?" asked Angelina once she caught sight of us.
Lee and I exchanged a look.
"She made us do lines," said Lee finally.
"Then it wasn't too bad?" asked George. "I knew I ought to have thrown those cards at her…"
"She made us use a Scarring Stylograph," I said grimly. Everyone looked mildly confused.
"A what?" asked Alicia.
"It's a quill…and when you write with it, it cuts the words onto the back of your hand and uses the blood as ink on the paper," I explained, absently rubbing the back of my injured hand. "They were banned about ten years ago after a bad batch injured a lot of people. It was rather obscure, so not a lot of people heard about it, but my dad treated some of the cases."
Fred and George looked shocked, Angelina had clapped her hands over her mouth, but Alicia had the strangest reaction of all. She looked up at Lee before flinging herself at him and hugging him tightly. Lee lost his balance momentarily before returning the hug. Initially I expected it to be awkward, but he looked fairly comfortable in Alicia's arms.
"Oh, Lee, that evil, foul, twisted hag," mumbled Alicia into his shoulder.
"I knew it," declared Angelina.
"Knew what?" asked Fred.
"You're dating, aren't you?" she declared, looking triumphant.
Lee looked sheepish. Alicia still had her head buried in his shoulder.
"I knew it!" repeated Angelina, jumping to her feet. Her expression changed slightly and she marched over to Alicia and Lee and hit them both on the shoulder.
"Ow!"
"What was that for?" asked Lee.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.
"We—er—didn't want to make things awkward," said Lee. "We thought we'd try it for a while and see how it went before we told you."
"And we thought you'd laugh," added Alicia, finally detaching herself from Lee.
"We wouldn't laugh!" protested Angelina.
"Well, we thought that Fred and George would laugh," Alicia corrected herself.
Fred rolled his eyes. "Only a little."
"We're only human," shrugged George.
"How long has this been going on?" I asked.
"Since summer," said Alicia.
"That sounds about right," I stated.
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, you weren't exactly subtle," I replied. "'Lee, we've got to go to Divination', all your mysterious appointments…we're not that thick, Alicia."
"It was the best I could come up with," protested Alicia. "I don't think well under pressure."
"I just wish you had told us sooner," said Angelina. "We all suspected it anyway."
"So you…you don't mind?" asked Alicia, tentatively.
"Well, I was hoping to have Lee for myself," sighed Fred with mock sadness.
"But it seems you've stolen him right from under our noses, so I suppose we'll have to settle for a loveless life," said George with a similar air.
Alicia rolled her eyes, but she looked quite happy all the same. "All right. You've made your point."
"Well, now that we've settled that, why don't we get back you lot having your hands sliced open?" said Fred conversationally.
"What are you going to do?" asked Alicia, taking Lee's hand and examining it worriedly. "Oh, Lee, it looks all swollen!"
"Other hand, love," chuckled Lee, giving her his right hand, which still looked quite raw.
"I don't know what we can do," I sighed. "It seems like she gets more powerful every day."
"Shall we go to McGonagall?" asked Lee.
"Maybe…but not until the detentions are over," I replied. "It would be just like Umbridge to extend our detentions for reporting her. And I'd rather not see what other banned items she's got in that desk of hers."
Unfortunately, the first detention wasn't the worst. It was all right when Lee was there, as there was a silent sense of camaraderie between the two of us. Also comforting was the idea that we could both easily overtake Umbridge and turn her into a tea cozy if worse came to worse. But when Lee's three days were up, my other two detentions seemed particularly unbearable. By the end of Thursday evening, my hand ached and I was fantasizing about throwing the pointed quill into the center of her forehead like a dart. By the end of the week, I was behind on most of my homework and the cuts on my hand were open and bleeding profusely. Chucking a quill at her seemed almost too kind.
"Let me see," demanded George when I returned to the common room late on Friday evening. Lee had somehow discovered that murtlap essence helped with the pain and a fresh bowl and some clean bandages were ready for me on the table.
"It's fine," I said, sitting down on the couch. Something on my face must have betrayed me, because George rolled his eyes, sat down next to me and took my wrist in his hand.
"She's an evil hag," declared Alicia, passing George some bandages as he carefully examined the back of my hand.
"At least I have neat handwriting," I said, trying to sound lighthearted as George mopped up the blood. "Would you mind handing me the bowl?"
"You're going to report her," stated George as Alicia passed me the murtlap essence.
"I'll try to speak with McGonagall tomorrow," I promised.
"I'll hold you to that," warned George.
But McGonagall found me before I found her. At breakfast the next day, a note was delivered to me.
Miss Fletcher,
Kindly see me in my office at 11:00 this morning.
--Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
"D'you reckon she knows?" asked Alicia after she had read the note. I shrugged.
"I suppose I'll find out."
At eleven o'clock, I was standing outside of the door of Professor McGonagall's office. I knocked on the door.
"Enter," said a voice from inside. I opened the door and walked into the room. Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk, a stack of parchment in front of her.
"Miss Fletcher," she greeted. "Please sit." I sat down in the hard-backed chair in front of her desk. "Professor Umbridge tells me you had detention this past week."
"Yes, Professor," I replied.
"I've known you to be a very well-behaved student, Miss Fletcher," said Professor McGonagall. "You have never received a detention prior to this."
"Yes, Professor."
McGonagall peered over her glasses at me. "Why did you receive this detention?"
"I called Professor Umbridge a tyrant," I replied. Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. "She gave Lee Jordan detention because he said that she couldn't tell off Fred and George Weasley for playing Exploding Snap because it had nothing to do with her subject. And…well…I said it was an abuse of power to write educational decrees but not enforce them on herself."
"As I understand it, Mr. Jordan was being impertinent for the sake of being impertinent," she stated.
"But he was right, Professor," I replied. "He didn't go about saying it in the best way, but he was right."
"That does not excuse Mr. Jordan for his impertinence and it does not excuse you for calling Professor Umbridge a tyrant," said Professor McGonagall. I was slightly surprised at her lack of empathy. "At least not in the eyes of Professor Umbridge."
Her tone seemed to indicate that she thought otherwise and I felt much better.
"I know…I just said it before I could think properly," I replied. "She just makes me so angry, Professor."
"I understand, Miss Fletcher," said Professor McGonagall, her expression softening slightly. "But you must understand that it is not wise to make Dolores Umbridge your enemy. Not with the way the Min—" She cleared her throat. "Not with the way things are now."
"I don't intend to," I said.
"Good. Now, if there isn't anything else—"
"Actually, Professor, I wanted to have a word with you," I said quickly. "It's about my detentions with Professor Umbridge."
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "What about your detentions?"
I quickly unwound the bandage from my right hand where "I must respect my teacher" was emblazoned in bloody letters. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"She uses a Scarring Stylograph. They were banned years ago."
"I remember," she said, carefully looking at my hand. "One of my students was given one as a prank…a nasty bit of business…"
"Something has to be done. She can't do this," I said quickly, my voice thick with the panic I had been holding back.
"Unfortunately, Miss Fletcher, there's nothing that I can do," said Professor McGonagall sadly.
"What?"
"Educational Decree Number Twenty-five gives the Hogwarts High Inquisitor power over all student punishments," she said hollowly. "I'm afraid I have little authority." I opened my mouth to protest. "However, I will make sure that the Headmaster is aware of this. In the meantime, I suggest you avoid further detentions with Professor Umbridge."
I sighed heavily. "Yes, Professor."
"And get to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix that up easily," she said.
"Yes, Professor."
"It will be all right, Miss Fletcher," stated Professor McGonagall with a small half-smile.
But despite the confidence in her voice, I couldn't help but wonder if Umbridge could be stopped at all.
A/N: The dialogue, "Banned. Banned. No…Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet" was written by J.K. Rowling and can be found in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Additionally, Lee Jordan's dialogue to Professor Umbridge "Exploding Snap's got nothing…relating to your subject!" was also written by J.K. Rowling and can be found in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The narrative parts within these pieces of dialogue were written by me. The Scarring Stylograph story was also created by me—as far as I know, Rowling never explained the story behind Umbridge's quill.