Disclaimer: I wish…
Author's Note: Oh, you guys…you're fabulous, but I'm sure you knew that. If you haven't reviewed yet, please feel free to do so! Reviews make the world go round (I bet you thought it had something to do with the sun's gravitational pull, but really, it's reviews).
Chapter 9: Confrontations
I have always hated Valentine's Day. When I was younger, it was an excuse for odd Herbert Byron to put some revolting pink doily confection in our mailbox. The worst part was that Mum always insisted that I thank him for his "sweet" gesture. Naturally, this escalated into an argument until Dad returned home with the flowers and chocolates that he had inevitably forgotten until the very last moment. And even though Mum was annoyed with us both at that point, Dad's clumsy attempts at romance usually smoothed things over.
However, at Hogwarts, Valentine's Day was different, to say the least. It didn't really turn into an awkward holiday until around fourth year. Of course, this also had to be the year that Professor Lockhart thought it was entirely necessary to unleash a band of poetically inclined dwarves upon the school. Worse still was the fact that odd Herbert Byron turned about to be a wizard and had not wavered in his childhood affection of me.
Professor Snape was in a worse mood than usual that Valentine's Day and we were all half dreading and half anticipating a musical interruption, simply because Snape's reaction would be a show in itself. We didn't have to wait long. The dwarf stumped into the Potions classroom ten minutes after class begun. Snape immediately swooped down upon the dwarf.
"May I ask what you're doing in my classroom?" he asked in a sharp and clipped tone.
"I've got to deliver a singing Valentine," said the dwarf gruffly. He squinted at the paper in front of him. "Is there a Sophie Fletcher here?"
I could have died. My face seemed hotter than the fire that was heating my cauldron in front of me. It was a good thing I was sitting down, because I'm certain my knees would have given way.
"Well, well," said Snape, his lip curling in a sort of twisted amusement. He turned to me. "Miss Fletcher, it seems you have a special delivery."
"C-could you maybe come back later?" I said quietly to the dwarf, who was fiddling with the strings on his harp.
"Oh no, Miss Fletcher," said Snape softly, "this must be worth the interruption."
"Right," said the dwarf. He cleared his throat and began to sing:
Her smile is brighter than the rays of the sun,
She's much better than any trophy,
She is pretty and smart
She has stolen my heart,
That wonderful, lovely Sophie.
I could have died before the dwarf started singing; after his song ended, I wasn't sure if I actually qualified as a living being. I thanked the dwarf weakly amid the gales of laughter from my classmates as he handed me what I recognized as one of Herbert Byron's valentines.
"Back to your work," said Snape lazily as the dwarf walked out of the classroom. "And ten points from Gryffindor for the disruption, Miss Fletcher."
The only good that came out of the fiasco was that it gave me sufficient reason to approach Herbert Byron and tell him that if he ever did something like that again, I would personally hunt him down and turn him into a hedgehog. Luckily for Herbert, his ego and his heart were not so easily bruised—he was actively pursuing Portia Foster not a week later.
In fifth year, I had my first breakup on Valentine's Day. One month prior to February 14th, Kenneth Towler had caught me in the library and nervously said that he fancied me very much and asked if I would like to go out with him. When I said yes, he kissed me, although I suppose it would be more accurate to say that he embraced his inner sheepdog and slobbered all over my face. However, our relationship was cut short a month later on Valentine's Day when I walked in on him "tutoring" Patricia Stimpson (and by "tutoring", I mean snogging). It's just as well, I suppose. He was a cheater and a terrible kisser (to this day I'm not sure why Patricia was snogging him so enthusiastically). I didn't feel very sorry for him when he came down with a bad case of boils a few days after we broke up.
After the Kenneth Towler incident, Alicia, Angelina, Viv, and I all decided that future Valentine's Days would be spent in the company of each other, because the day itself was simply useless and troublesome. Of course, in the spirit of the holiday, this plan only worked during sixth year, and not very well because Viv had to leave us halfway through the day to meet up with Dan.
Angelina, Alicia, and I hadn't really discussed what would happen after Viv and I stopped speaking. I assumed that Viv would spend the entire day with Dan, as that's what generally happened as of late. But of course in the spirit of the holiday, that's not what happened. Dan was ill, Viv cheerfully informed an inquiring Alicia, so she was free to spend the day in Hogsmeade as she pleased.
How bloody wonderful.
The morning was fairly strained, but it got worse after Alicia left us. Lee had promised her a romantic lunch and she had departed looking particularly happy and giddy, which was the opposite of what I was currently feeling. Angelina, Viv, and I went into the Three Broomsticks and ordered butterbeers.
"So, er, how are things with Dan?" asked Angelina once we'd sat down.
"Really well, thanks," replied Viv with a smile. "I can't believe it's been over a year!"
"Yeah, that's great," agreed Angelina. There was a strained silence. "And—er, Sophie do you have anyone special in your life?"
I gave her a confused sort of look. She knew perfectly well that there was no one "special" in my life—otherwise I'd be out with them, given the significance of the date and all. She shrugged, almost as if to say, "I haven't got anything else."
"No, Angelina, I haven't," I replied politely. "Do you?"
"No," she said, blushing slightly. "Focusing on my classes and the like."
"Oh, I see."
There was an awkward silence.
"All right, I've had it!" Angelina finally declared, causing both Viv and me to jump. "You are both being stupid. You're best friends and you haven't said a word to each other since September. This has got to stop."
I could tell that this conversation was not going to end well.
"Angelina, you don't want to get into this," I warned her.
"Yes, I do!" she exclaimed, looking angry. "I'm tired of trying to live in the same dormitory with you two! It's bloody exhausting and I want it to stop! Just apologize and move on!"
"We're beyond apologies at the point," said Viv. I felt as though I'd been punched in the stomach. Angry as I was, I assumed there'd be some point where we reconciled.
"You can't be 'beyond apologies', not when you're best friends" snapped Angelina. "And if it turns out you are, we'll work something else out. Just so this stops and the two of you start acting like friends again."
"Some hurts are too deep to mend," stated Vivian.
"What? I questioned the absolute word of the Ministry. How does harm you?" I asked sharply.
For the first time in months, Viv met my eyes.
"You know very well you said things that were worse than that."
"As bad as what you called me, Vivian?"
"I suppose now you'll accuse me of lying," she said, looking rather bored, "but don't you accept lies as truth, Sophia?"
"I could say the same about you."
"I could say a lot of things about you," she said coldly. "They think you're a bit of a joke in Ravenclaw, you know."
"Funny, I thought they were supposed to be clever," I snapped. "But if they're Dan's friends, I don't really care what they think of me. You've already proven what kind of character they possess."
"They say you're weak-minded, naïve…" she continued lazily.
"Viv…" interrupted Angelina.
"No, she ought to hear this," said Viv. "It's for her own good, really."
"I don't think so," I replied, getting to my feet. "If I wanted to hear rubbish, I'd listen to Dan Crawford and his fool of a father. I'm going back. Thanks anyway, Angelina."
I hurried out of the Three Broomsticks as quickly as I could. It was raining fairly heavily outside and the air felt sharp and cool in my lungs, which I liked—that way, I could pretend that my eyes welled up with tears because of how the air cut into my lungs and the back of my throat. I had thought—or hoped—that my next encounter with Vivian would have been a step toward reconciliation. Although it had been months since we'd spoken, I didn't actually expect it to go on indefinitely. But what she had said—what we had both said—stung like an old wound reopening. There was a deep ache along my sternum, that place that hurts whenever you cried yourself past the point of sorrow and you're crying to relieve the weighty ache in your chest. The place that feels closest to your heart.
I took a few gulps of air and willed myself to remain calm as I started to make my way through the muddy streets and back to the castle.
However, it seemed that by some law of nature, I was required to run into George Weasley whenever I was even remotely upset. This I did quite literally as he was coming out of Zonko's.
"Oh, sorry," I apologized, as my feet slipped and slid in the mud. He grabbed hold of my elbow to prevent me from falling.
"Nothing to worry about," he said with a grin as he steadied me. "Have you seen Fred?"
"I just came from the Three Broomsticks and I didn't see him there," I replied. "I haven't seen him since we left, actually."
"Eh, must be at Honeydukes, then." He frowned. "All right? You look pale."
"Yeah," I shrugged. "I—er—exchanged some words with Vivian. It's nothing I haven't heard before."
He looked concerned. "You sure?"
"I'll be fine," I assured him. "I think I'll head back early and get some work done."
"D'you want company?"
"No, I'm fine," I said, trying to look chipper. "I need some time alone, I think. I imagine that you've got plans, anyway."
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking serious. "Fred and I weren't going to do much…just set off some fireworks behind Alicia and Lee, nothing important. It doesn't have to be today—we could do it any time, really."
I laughed weakly. "No, go on. I imagine they could always use a little more excitement on their date. But don't tell Alicia I said so, or she'll hex me."
George didn't look particularly convinced, but he let me squelch alone toward the castle. It was one of those moments where I truly appreciated George Weasley—both his concern and the fact that he was willing to let me have a moment to myself. I thought about this as I walked up to the castle, all the while privately grumbling about how much I hate Valentine's Day.
I was curled up on the couch and doing some reading for History of Magic when everyone got back from Hogsmeade. Angelina sought me out immediately, sitting down in the chair next to me.
"I'm sorry, Sophie," she said, truly looking it.
"It's all right," I replied, shutting my book. "I imagine it's not very fun trying to live with the two of us. I would have done the same thing."
"I just…I don't know why she said those things," said Angelina, looking slightly disbelieving. "That's not like her at all."
"It wasn't like her," I corrected her.
"I tried to talk to her about it, but she didn't want to." She smiled suddenly. "Said she didn't want me taking sides. You're quite alike, the two of you. That's why it's murder watching this, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." I smiled sadly. George came over and flopped down in the seat next to me, while Fred took one of the spare armchairs.
"You look chipper," commented George. "Feeling better?"
"Yes, much," I replied as George took my textbook from my hands.
"Why is that every time you're angry, you take out this bloody book?" he asked. "History of Magic is bad enough as it is."
"It's self-flagellation," agreed Fred. I rolled my eyes.
"Well, you're done with the goblins for this evening," said George, unceremoniously tossing the book on the floor.
"Actually, we're studying Grindelwald right now," I corrected him. "Goblin rebellions were mainly last year."
"No matter," said George dismissively. "The Exploding Snap World Championship is scheduled for this evening, and Lee is off somewhere—"
"Presumably snogging Alicia," supplied Fred helpfully.
"Most likely," agreed George. "Anyway, you're his second, so you've got to play in his place."
"Since when?" I asked, never having agreed to such a thing.
"Since I decided five minutes ago," replied George promptly.
"Honestly, Sophie, History of Magic or Exploding Snap?" said Fred like there wasn't much of a choice to be made.
"Besides, you look like you could use a laugh," added George with a smile.
"You're ridiculous," I replied.
"I'm glad you agree with us," said George as though he hadn't heard me. He withdrew a pack of cards from his pocket and began shuffling.
"Do you want to play, Angelina?" asked Fred.
"Er…" Angelina glanced up at the clock. "No, I've got to prepare for practice. Kirke and Sloper still aren't at one hundred percent and we've got a match coming up."
"Psh," said Fred dismissively. "Who needs plans for practice? You can just improvise."
"Not when Oliver Wood is writing you nearly every week and insisting on reliving every play of every match," sighed Angelina. "He wasn't very pleased about you lot being banned."
"What does it matter to him?" asked George. "He's not captain anymore, is he?"
"Wood is still very…committed to the team," said Angelina, seeming to choose her words carefully.
Fred grinned. "He's a maniac, you mean."
"Essentially," agreed Angelina. She glanced at the clock again. "All right, I'll be down later. Have fun with your game."
The Exploding Snap World Championship turned out to be a fairly exuberant affair that lasted for quite a while. Although Fred and I were tied for the majority of the game, George made a spectacular come-from-behind victory. Despite my earlier reservations, it was exactly what I needed. By the end of the game, the incident with Viv was the farthest thing from my mind.
Despite the fact that Fred and George were no longer on the Quidditch team, they still had a vested interest in the team itself. So naturally, their newest hobby became spying on practice, despite the fact that Angelina had expressly forbidden them to do so. They insisted in including me on these ventures (though I refused to go when it was raining), which they treated more like reconnaissance missions. The stealth part of the endeavor was taken much too seriously, especially when Fred insisted that we all have code names—Gred, Forge, and Hopsie. The practices themselves were often depressing. I know very little about Quidditch and even I could tell that it was a lost cause. I was excited for the match against Hufflepuff only because I had Fred and George to sit with.
"Well, this will be depressing," remarked Fred as we waited for the teams to assemble on the pitch.
"Oh, don't be so cheerful, Fred," I replied dryly.
"What? You've seen the practices," said Fred.
"I have some faith in miracles, I suppose," I said.
"Hi, Sophie!" said Brenna breathlessly, as she and Kathleen wove their way through the crowd. "D'you mind if we sit with you?"
"Not at all," I replied.
"It's our favorite test subjects!" greeted Fred warmly as they sat down.
"Yes," I said, arching an eyebrow at Brenna. "I thought I had warned you about this lot."
"Oh, really, it's not that bad," insisted Brenna.
"They work out the problems in the end," added Kathleen.
"This why they're our favorites," said George indulgently as the girls giggled.
"You're incorrigible," I sighed.
"Why, thank you," replied George brightly.
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
A chorus of "Weasley Is Our King" provided a rather unpleasant end to our conversation as both teams marched out onto the pitch. Fred's eyes narrowed and George's hand was drifting toward his pocket where he had stashed his wand. I caught hold of his wrist. He looked at me, seemingly irritated at my intrusion.
"You won't be able to hit anyone properly from here," I said into his ear. His face settled into a grin and as I released his wrist, he caught my hand in his and squeezed it tightly before dropping it.
The entire exchange gave me a funny feeling, a quick drop in my stomach that was hard to define. It was a good feeling—maybe satisfaction that I had made him less angry? I wasn't sure.
We were flattened in the match, but that happy buoyant feeling persisted for quite a while. It was truly bizarre—even running into Viv didn't bother me. We had bumped into each other trying to get out of the stands and, not realizing who the other was, we looked at each other and said "Sorry." It was rather awkward moment, so I did the best I could: I gave a bemused sort of smile and continued on my way.
Unfortunately, Hufflepuff's victory meant that Zacharias Smith was nigh intolerable at the next D. A. meeting.
"You know, you don't even have to aim for me," said George as I practiced my Stunning Spells, which were still fairly shoddy. "You could try and hit Smith. That would give you the proper motivation."
"Oh, really?" I replied, arching an eyebrow at him.
"Well, I'm just too charming to Stun," explained George. "And I'm already stunning, so it's redundant."
"Oh, I see," I laughed. "So what I need is a partner who is less charming and funny, and preferably a git?"
"Exactly," said George. "I reckon your spells would be excellent if you were working with Smith or Malfoy."
"Well, George, it's a good thing I've got you to explain my psychology," I replied.
"It's a pity I'm such an excellent bloke," sighed George sadly.
"It's a pity you're not working," said Harry as he walked up to us.
"We're just sorting out the reason why her Stunning's so poor," explained George. "In my professional opinion, it's her motivation that's shoddy."
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"He thinks I ought to practice on Zacharias Smith," I said.
"Or Malfoy," added George.
Harry grinned. "At this point, I wouldn't discourage it."
"If Harry says you should do it, you ought to," said George sagely.
"Oh, go on," I laughed.
"Actually, I'd like to see how your Stunning's coming along," said Harry.
Unfortunately, my Stunning was not coming along very well at all, and I was forced to endure another lecture on technique from Harry and more "helpful" tips from George.
That issue of The Quibbler marked the beginning of a period of great change. However, we were all blissfully unaware of the role that the interview would have in the near future. I had never even heard of The Quibbler until George shoved the magazine into my book bag after breakfast that day.
"What is this?" I asked as we made our way out of the castle to Herbology.
"You've got to read it," he replied with the sort of grin he wore whenever he had caused a particularly excellent piece of trouble. I arched an eyebrow at him. "You'll like it, I promise."
"Is it about the joke shop?"
"No." The grin was still there.
"Joke products?"
"Not even close."
"Quidditch?"
"Nope."
"Umbridge getting sacked?"
"Better."
I looked at him incredulously.
"What could possibly be better than Umbridge getting sacked?" I asked.
"You'll see," he replied with that infuriating grin.
"You're impossible, George Weasley."
"Impossible, but charming. Funny…"
"Oh, not this again."
"Devilishly handsome, clever…"
"You can stop now."
"Creative, well liked, noble…"
"A troublemaker…"
"But you love me." He slung an arm around my shoulder as we walked into the greenhouse. The infuriating grin was still there.
"I suppose so."
"Oh, come off it, I know you do," he replied.
"What makes you say that?"
"You carry a picture of me everywhere."
"I do not!"
"No, but I thought I'd try, just in case."
"'Just in case?'" I repeated.
He shrugged. "You never know."
"Mr. Weasley, Miss Fletcher, that's enough talk," declared Professor Sprout as she called the class to attention. Alicia gave me a strange look; I shrugged and turned to the front to listen to Professor Sprout.
I was not able to read the article until after Herbology as we were going to Charms. And George was right—it was better than Umbrige being sacked. Harry Potter had done an interview in The Quibbler about the night he saw You-Know-Who come back. When I finished reading, I let out a triumphant squeak and launched myself at George.
"Thank you!" I exclaimed, hugging him tightly.
"What for?" he laughed, patting me on the back somewhat awkwardly.
"This is the best news I've had all week," I explained, beaming. "You've just made my day." I impulsively pecked him on the cheek before releasing him. It was odd—I'd never done anything like that before and it gave me an odd feeling. At the time, I attributed it to the article and nothing more.
"What has got into you?" asked Alicia.
"This! Read this!" I replied, stuffing the magazine into her hands. She opened it and Lee read over her shoulder.
"Hey, I gave George the magazine, why don't I get a kiss?" protested Fred. I rolled my eyes and pecked him on the cheek as well.
"I didn't realize I was in such high demand," I said.
"Well, I wanted you to feel kindly toward me after the problem with your sister…"
"What? What problem with my sister?!"
"Oh, you didn't know?" asked Fred.
"It's fairly obvious," stated George. "I can't believe you missed it."
"What?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing major," replied Fred in what he thought must have been a reassuring voice.
"Or permanent…we think," added George.
"You think? What did you do?"
"We turned her hair blue," said Fred.
Although it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, I spent the next several minutes telling them both off.
However, my high from reading the article was not that easily quashed. Even the latest educational decree (which threatened students in possession of The Quibbler with expulsion) could not depress me. Alicia quickly disguised the copy I had passed on to her as a spare piece of parchment and other students did similar things with their copies. The decree had very little effect overall, as it seemed that almost everyone had read the interview. I went through the rest of my day with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Professor Umbridge even asked me if I was feeling well. I gave her a big smile and told her I was feeling fantastic. In a rare display of concern for her students, she sent me to the hospital wing. George reckoned I overdid it with the smiling. Madam Pomfrey said she had never had a student sent the infirmary for a good mood, but she gave me a Calming Draught and let me stay in the hospital wing for the rest of the period. As it was Umbridge's class, I didn't mind quite so much, especially because she was in a bad mood because the interview.
However, I was quite unprepared for Angelina's reaction.
"I made her read it," she whispered as we departed from dinner. I didn't have to ask who she was talking about. "I don't know what kind of impression I made on her, or if I made one at all, but she's read it."
"Angelina, I don't want you to—"
"I know, I know," she interrupted. "But it's the least I can do after the Hogsmeade visit, yeah?"
That evening, there was a party for Harry in the common room. Fred and George had enlarged the cover of the latest issue of The Quibbler and had bewitched it to repeat anti-Umbridge and anti-Ministry sentiments. Usually when there were parties on school nights, I opted out of them because I had work to do. However, I was in such a good mood that I decided to forgo schoolwork for the evening, although I would probably regret it later. And, as George cheerfully informed me, I was not going to have a choice in the matter either way.
"What's with you?" asked Alicia while we were watching Fred, George, and Lee selling various joke products to an eager crowd.
"What do you mean?" I replied.
"You're awfully happy today," she stated. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd had one too many firewhiskys."
"Well, I'm in a good mood," I explained. "Why? Am I usually depressing?"
"No, not at all," said Alicia. "You're just a little more reserved or something. More serious."
I shrugged. "I'm in a good mood, that's all."
She gave me a slightly amused sort of glance.
"Well, if you say so," she replied.
"What? What do you mean by that?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"Oh, don't you, 'nothing' me," I replied. "That look meant something."
Alicia rolled her eyes. "You read too much into things. If you—Merlin's beard, I don't believe it."
"Don't try to change the subject," I warned her.
"No really," she insisted, pointing at the gathering of people near the fireplace. "Viv's here."
She was right—there was Viv having an animated discussion with my sister, who did indeed have blue hair.
And although I was still confused by Alicia and her cryptic glances, I found the puzzle of Viv's presence more interesting. I could even dare hope that she had changed her mind because of that article, but it was the only explanation I could think of.
Unfortunately, Umbridge continued to try and bring the school down around us. A few weeks after the interview in The Quibbler was published, Trelawney was finally sacked. It was one of the saddest things I had ever witnessed—the poor woman sobbing hysterically as Umbridge sneered cruelly above her. But as always, Dumbledore came in to save the day. His presence was a relief—he had been conspicuously absent from the staff table at meals. With the way things had been going, it was nice to finally see him and it was even better to hear him tell Umbridge that the ability to remove teachers from the castle still rested with him. And before Umbridge could appoint someone horrid, Dumbledore announced that he had found a centaur called Firenze to take on Trelawney's Divination classes. The look on her face was excellent—barely restrained rage combined with the agony of defeat and the aftereffects of public humiliation.
The D. A. continued, which was great because I doubt I could tolerate Umbridge otherwise. It became especially exciting because we started work on the Patronus Charm, as Harry had promised. The most difficult part for me was finding the memory—many of mine proved to be too weak to produce more than silver vapor. After a lot of trial and error, I decided to try that day at the Quidditch pitch when I had got that funny feeling in my stomach, around the time Viv and I had accidentally said we were sorry. And the strangest thing was that it worked. I wasn't sure that it was the happiest I had ever been, but that sensation had to be something like happiness. However, I was slightly disappointed with the end result.
My Patronus was a mouse. It was cute, I suppose, but still…it was a mouse. It did not inspire much confidence.
"Well…that's slightly pathetic," I said as it scurried in circles around my ankles.
"It's certainly industrious," said George as his own Patronus (a monkey) sat and watched my mouse.
"I just hope it does me some good against enemies," I replied.
"With any luck, you won't have to meet any," said George.
I smiled. "Yeah…let's hope so."
"Ooh! Look! Did you see that?" asked Alicia. "I had something. I couldn't quite tell what it was…maybe a bird of some sort?"
"This is giving me a headache," sighed Angelina. "Honestly—"
She trailed off and looked at the door, which had just opened. A house-elf with multiple hats stacked on his head ran quickly past our ankles and made a beeline for Harry.
"Hi, Dobby! What are you—what's wrong?"
"Harry Potter, sir…Harry Potter, sir…Dobby has come to warn you…but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"
My stomach dropped slightly as the house-elf flung himself at the wall, some of his many hats tumbling off his head. The room was deathly silent.
"What's happened, Dobby?" Harry had gotten a hold of the elf so it could no longer throw himself it the wall.
"Harry Potter…she…she…" Dobby tried to punch himself in the nose but Harry grabbed hold of his tiny arm.
"Who's 'she', Dobby?" There was silence. "Umbridge?"
Dobby nodded and I felt as though I would be sick.
"What about her? Dobby—she hasn't found out about this—about us—about the D. A.?" Another pause as Harry looked quietly at the elf. "Is she coming?"
"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!" wailed Dobby, looking thoroughly miserable. Harry stood up and looked at us.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"
We didn't need to be told twice. Everyone bolted for the door, causing a minor holdup as we all tried to get out at once.
"This way," hissed George once we finally got out, grabbing hold of my wrist and turning left. Fred and Angelina were ahead of us—I wasn't sure where Alicia and Lee had gone. We tore through a tapestry, into a dark and narrow tunnel, and up a set of narrow steps, on which I nearly broke my ankle.
"Does anyone else know about this?" I gasped to George.
"Just us…I hope."
The passage ended at another tapestry. Fred stuck his head out and looked around before motioning us to follow him. We ran quickly and as quietly as we could until we finally reached the doors of the Owlery. Fred hauled the heavy doors open and Angelina, George, and I scrambled inside, with Fred quick behind.
It was fairly chilly in the Owlery, as it didn't have windows and the weather was still fairly cool. The stone floor was thick with owl droppings and an occasional dead mouse. The four of us stood there panting and clutching at the stitches in our sides and chests while the many owls looked on curiously.
"What're we going to do?" asked Angelina after a while.
"Wait," said Fred.
"I suppose none of you have got a letter by any chance?" I asked. "If anyone comes in here, we've got an excuse."
The three of them shook their heads.
"We can say we've just sent it," suggested Angelina.
"That'll have to be good enough," said Fred.
"Who d'you reckon told?" asked George.
"Dunno. Smith, maybe?" I asked.
"Seems likely, except he was in the room with us tonight," said Angelina.
"Maybe he didn't want to make anyone suspicious," I offered.
"Yeah, we're so used to his annoying presence," agreed Fred. "It wouldn't be a D. A. meeting without the whiny—"
"Shh!" hissed Angelina.
There was the sound of footsteps outside. My heart sped up and my stomach dropped.
"Oy, Crabbe, check the Owlery! There might be a few in there."
"Disillusionment Charm," said George quickly.
I pulled my wand from the pocket of my robes. I was slightly nervous, as we had only just started using Disillusionment Charms on humans in class. I tapped myself on the forehead and felt a cool sensation that spread from my forehead and all the way down to my feet. The others were quickly disappearing around me. I examined my hand. The Charm appeared to have worked, although I was thankful for the poor lighting, which would hopefully disguise any shoddy Charm work.
I pressed myself against the wall and tried to calm my racing heart. Someone bumped into me—I assumed it was George, as he was nearest before he Disillusioned himself. I felt hands on my shoulders as the he steadied himself and moved to my right. I could feel a hand next to mine as I pressed my hands flat against the wall.
"It's all right," said George's voice quietly. I felt a little better. The door creaked open and I impulsively grabbed the hand next to mine. It squeezed back reassuringly and I felt a small semblance of relief.
The boy called Crabbe stuck his head in the room and squinted around in the semi-darkness with his beady eyes. I held my breath and prayed that he could not my heart beating frantically over the quiet rustling of wings.
He walked into the room, squinting a little more closely at the corners and the areas cloaked heaviest in darkness. He passed by us, mere meters from where we were hiding pressed against the walls. My heart continued to beat a persistent tattoo in my chest.
After what seemed like an eternity, he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. As soon as his footsteps faded completely, I let out a whoosh of air and let my grip on the hand go slack.
"I thought we were done for," I heard Angelina's voice say quietly.
"He's too thick to look properly," Fred said, also quietly.
"D'you think it's safe to undo the Charm?" I asked
"They've already searched, haven't they?" Fred was slowly reappearing on my left. I took my wand and carefully tapped myself on the forehead. A warm sensation told me that the Charm had lifted. Angelina and George were now visible.
"Is it safe to go back?" asked Angelina.
"I think we ought to wait," said Fred, glancing at his watch. "We can be out a little later anyway."
I suddenly felt the aftereffects of our close brush with trouble. My legs got very rubbery and my head spun unpleasantly.
"Sophie, are you ill?" asked Angelina, squinting at me. "You don't look very well."
"I'm just slightly dizzy," I explained. "I should probably sit down."
"Not on this floor, you don't," advised Fred, wrinkling his nose at the dropping-strewn floor.
"Here, hang on to me for a while," offered George, hooking an arm around my waist so he was supporting some of my weight. "Get your arm up by my shoulder so you won't fall."
"Thanks," I replied, putting an arm around his shoulder.
The others talked quietly for the next fifteen minutes, but I mostly remained silent, feeling rather exhausted. I listened to their whispered conversation, leaning my head sleepily against George's shoulder.
"It's been a while," said Fred eventually.
"We may as well go up," said Angelina. "They would have caught everyone by now…besides, I'd rather not spend the night here."
"Why not?" asked Fred. "It has a quaint sort of charm."
"If by 'quaint' you mean 'covered in droppings', then I suppose it does," said Angelina.
"How do you feel?" asked George. I took my head off his shoulder. My knees felt less wobbly.
"Better," I replied. "Thanks, George."
An unreadable expression flickered across his face before his arm dropped from my waist.
"You're welcome."
"All right," said Fred opening the door, "try to look normal…"
"That'll be hard for you," joked George.
"Shut it."
The light of the corridors hurt my eyes after the dark of the Owlery. We made our way back into the oddly quiet corridors, walking more quietly and carefully than normal. We nearly made it to our dormitory without meeting anyone.
"Well, well."
A large hulk of a Slytherin had stepped out from behind a suit of armor. I knew he was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but other than that, I knew little about him. He was called by his surname—Montague. I didn't even know his first name. He stood in front of us, blocking our path. "What are you doing out?"
"We're coming from the Owlery," said Angelina levelly. "Sophie and I had to send a letter."
"So why did they come with you?" asked Montague, glaring at Fred and George suspiciously.
"We're their escorts," said George, putting a protective hand on my shoulder.
"Clearly we came along for a good reason," added Fred.
"The Owlery, that's close to the Room of Requirement, isn't it?" asked Montague.
"The what?" asked Angelina without missing a beat.
"The Room of Requirement. Surely you know what that is, Johnson?"
"Actually, I don't," replied Angelina, looking bored and irritated. "Now if you wouldn't mind moving—"
"I think I would," said Montague, sneering. "I think—"
But before Montague could say anything else, someone shouted "Stupefy!", a jet of red light hit him in the back, and he fell over with a confused expression on his face. Alicia was standing at the other end of the corridor, her wand pointed at Montague. Lee stuck his head out from around a corner.
"Hurry!"
We ran the length of the corridor and didn't stop until we were safely inside the Gryffindor common room.
"Where've you been?" asked Lee once he'd regained his breath.
"Owlery," replied Fred. "Where were you?"
"Alicia and I hid behind the sculpture of Leonidas the Large," Lee informed us. "We waited for the noise to quiet down and then we ran. We just started snogging if we heard someone coming and they thought they'd walked in on us."
"Thanks, Lee," said Alicia, looking rather embarrassed.
"What? It was one of the better ideas I've had!"
"I guess this means the end of the D. A.," said Angelina, looking sad.
However, we were not yet aware of how much worse things were going to get.
A/N: The dialogue from "Hi Dobby!...WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" was written by J.K. Rowling and can be found in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I did not use Ms. Rowling's narrative in that selection of dialogue; the narrative bits that appear in that selection were written by me.
I've got the rough draft for Chapter 10 written and I'm kind of excited about it…it should be up in a week. As for this chapter...I'm not sure how I feel about it (this could be because it's 3 a.m. and I'm losing capability of coherent thought). Anyway, let me know what you think (good, bad, whatever).