Chapter 15

Rose POV

The castle turned from a school to a prison in four weeks time.

If we saw Filtch now he was in a fresh, clean suit taking down all of the endless paintings in the castle. The students were no longer allowed to wear their street clothes after school, and all visits to Hogsmede were stopped. Hagrid was relieved of his post, and Harry, Hermione, Ron and I agreed to look after his half brother Grawrp for him. All mail was stopped. All use of spells was prohibited in the hallways. Enchanted loudspeakers were constantly droning on her rules, including a reminder to join the Inquizitorial Squad if you wanted extra credit. I didn't see the point of it now. It had pretty much been made to catch the D.A.

Also a low point of this time was what was emblazoned on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Over a dozen high security prisoners, including, it turned out, the woman who had taken so much from me and my family, had escaped the isolation cells of Azkaban. This was even more shocking than when Sirius had escaped. In that case he'd escaped by changing into his canine form. These Death Eaters – the article didn't say it in so many words but all of the names it listed: Dolohov, Lastrange, Ruckwood, among others I knew were previous followers of the Dark Lord – had been broken out of prison with a blasting curse so powerful that it sent a good third of the upper levels of the prison into the churning sea judging by the picture included with the headline.

She'd escaped. I should have known that she'd come to finish what she'd failed to do all those years ago. My only question was... why? Why did she come after me in the first place? I was only four at the time; it's not like I'd killed her husband or something.

Our O.W.L exams crept nearer. I studied as much as I could while trying to keep all of the students that Umbridge tortured in good working order. I hoped that what I'd learned and perfected during my tenure with the D.A. would be enough to let me pass that area with an Exceeds Expectations. An Outstanding would be nice, but I thought that was a little far fetched for me to say the least. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry would achieve the distinction, that is unless Umbridge decided to play with the test scores. I wouldn't put it past her to give all of those in the D.A. low scores just so that we wouldn't have a chance at getting good jobs in the future.

I knew though that an Outstanding in Potions was exactly what I'd get, and that was one of the vital scores I needed. No matter how good I was with healing magic, I wanted to be an Auror.

The days of our O.W.L.s came. We had assigned seating, and I unfortunately had to sit right beside the blonde who had betrayed me and whom I'd punched hard in the face. Luckily, he didn't seem to like the arrangement any more than I did. I gritted my teeth and worked in silence as the timer clicked. I couldn't stand to be next to Draco Malfoy. If the seating hadn't been assigned I would have made sure to sit as far from him as possible. I was still very much livid at the boy who had once been my best friend. It would take much more than three months and an "I'm sorry" to allow me to forgive him this time. Actually, I was sure that only something such as him saving my life in some manner would make me even consider forgiving the meddlesome Slytherin.

I wrote my answers and performed the magic bit by bit, knowing by default that I had gotten every question right on the Potions portion of the test. Every subsequent subject I was less sure of; History of Magic though I was sure that I at least got an Acceptable. Unlike most of my classmates, I liked History of Magic. I just wished that the teacher Professor Binns, a ghost who had passed some hundred years before apparently, could make his subject a little more interesting for the other students.

As we were working on the end of the last section, Muggle Studies – I wasn't sure how I would fare on that one, I knew that Hermione and probably Harry would ace it since they grew up with Muggles; I, being a pureblood whose family absolutely did not want to be labeled as Blood-Traitors, didn't know as much as I desperately wanted to– several loud bangs, akin to those we heard when the D.A. was found out, resounded through the hall. The Headmistress, after they'd gone on for a minute or two, stood from her throne and walked the entire length of the hall to the massive doors. They were closed.

She opened them and peered outside. We all turned to watch her after we put our quills down. These thankfully did not write in our own blood. My wound again wasn't healing as fast as I'd hoped.

The banging sound stopped as soon as she opened the door. She looked to the left, then the right, then the left again. When nothing came she turned back to us, but then my twin cousins zoomed into the room on their brooms. With them came a multitude of expressive fireworks that instantly exploded.

All of my fellow students and I got out of our seats, our exams done, and enjoyed a bit of fun that we'd been denied these past few months. What was most enjoyable, for myself at least, was seeing a firework chase the startled form of Draco Malfoy till he was flat against a wall. He shied away right when the sparkler was about to explode in his face. In his place was a perfect burn impression of his ridiculous face made by the burning firecracker.

My cousins met towards the top of the Great Hall and George – or it may have been Fred, it was impossible to tell those two apart; even now – tossed an exceptionally large firecracker to his brother, who threw it into the air. It exploded in hundreds of sparks that soon converged into a giant Chinese Dragon that began to chase the fleeing Headmistress.

The Sorting Hat would have had to have been charmed if it had sorted that woman into Gryfindor. She was every bit the Slytherin she had been then; pure-blood, cowardly, cunning, and definitely power-hungry.

The Dragon continued to chase the terrified woman until she was out of the Great Hall, then the epic firework exploded into a thousand dancing sparks after its mouth had closed around the Headmistress. A second later we heard every single one of Umbridge's decrees fall to the floor in a shower of shattered glass.

We took our chance to bolt while she was in shock that all of her hard work had been in vain.

The twins left the school with a W shaped firework in their wake. We clapped as they left. Behind me, I heard Harry collapse to the cold, hard stone of the courtyard. I turned and watched Harry worriedly. He had told me that there was some sort of mind link between himself and Voldemort, but it was creepy to see it happening in action. I knew that that was the only thing that could put the look that Harry currently wore onto his agonized face.

I dropped to the ground in front of him, wishing there was something I could do to help him. Not even my gift could help him I knew, even if I could control it. I was getting better. I'd kept it in check while we were all in detention, but I'd only succeeded by the skin of my teeth. I'd had to part myself from the pain and block out that of the others in the room. It was an uncomfortable, foreign process, but it worked.

Finally, after Hermione had joined me while Ron was still oblivious and enjoying his brothers' flamboyant display, Harry choked out one word. "Sirius."

"What about Sirius?" I asked urgently.

"Voldemort has him." he said as he got himself off the ground and raced into the castle.

I sucked in a breath, then pulled my cousin's sleeve, breaking his concentration and forcing him to come after us. "Where is he?"

"The Department of Mysteries." Harry rushed as he ran up one of the sets of stairs.

"What?!"

Harry began a rambling brokenly and it took me a second to figure out the context. "It's the same door I've been dreaming about for months but I couldn't remember where I'd seen it before. Sirius said, 'Voldemort was after something. Something he didn't have the last time,' and it's in the Department of Mysteries!"

I was struggling to keep up with him, both what he was saying and up the stairs. Harry was other worldly fast sometimes. Perhaps it had to do with Quidditch. "Harry, stop."

He turned to me with wild eyes, desperately wanting to continue up the stairs.

"What if Voldemort is just playing with your head? What if he wanted you to see this?" I asked, trying to stop him from doing something rash.

"So what if he is? I'm just supposed to let him die? Rose, he's the only family I've got left."

Harry raced up the stairs again. "How do you plan to get there?" Asked Ron.

"The Floo Network." Harry shot back.

Hermione countered him as he led us to the landing of the Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts classroom. "Umbridge has all the fireplaces under surveillance."

"Not all of them." Harry rushed. We raced after him into the classroom. The office of which was serving as that of the Headmistress since Dumbledore's wasn't allowing her in just as I'd hoped. The door was locked, but a quick Alohamora made the old lock moot.

The office was still sickeningly pink.

Harry raced to the fireplace and threw the Floo Powder that rested on the mantle into it. The flame glowed green, the portal open. Harry would have been gone in that instant had Ron not pulled him out. "Ron."

"We're coming with you." Hermione cut in.

"No, it's too dangerous." Harry warned.

Hermione pulled him aside, forcing him to look at her. "When are you going to get this through your head? We're in this together."

The door behind us opened and the Headmistress barked. "That you are."

In a fright, I backed against the wall, my wand behind my back where she couldn't see it. I knew she would find it eventually, or if she didn't, someone else would. "Please, we weren't doing anything wrong!" I exclaimed. We weren't; unless the Ministry counted rescuing a wrongly accused escapee from the evilest man ever born. I couldn't believe that the Ministry still refused to acknowledge that Voldemort was back.

"If I've told you once I've told you a hundred times Ms. Braddock," Said the Headmistress, entering the room with the Inquizitorial Squad in toe. I glared at Draco, here to catch me again. If we hadn't had a history I would have hated him. His cold grey eyes laid on me and I looked away in disgust toward one of the Headmistress's numerous decorative kitten plates. "Naughty children deserve to be punished." She said through gritted teeth.

Something inside of me snapped in that instant. I'd had enough of Umbridge and her threats; I'd had enough of Draco Malfoy, I'd had enough period. She could do whatever she wanted with me, I just wanted her to let my friends go. "Do what you want with me: torture me with a Blood Quill; throw me in the dungeon; I don't care anymore. Just leave my friends out of this." I shot back defiantly, turning my head to look at the Headmistress but keeping Draco out of my line of sight.

"I will not tolerate that kind of rebellious attitude in my school."

"This is not your school. This school belongs to the parents who want their children to learn how to defend themselves from whatever is out there, because, believe it or not Headmistress, there are things out there, things that none of us can even imagine. And Voldemort has returned. I've seen the proof with my own two eyes."

"Liar!" She snapped. "How dare you try to undermine my authority as Headmistress of this school by spreading your filthy lies along with Potter."

"Undermine your authority?" I scoffed. My friends looked at me as if I'd gone mental. Perhaps I had, but I concluded that I was just being incredibly bold. "You have no business being the Headmistress of any school, let alone Hogwarts. You are a coward and an evil woman who cares for nothing but her own advancement and selfish gratification. The only person at the moment who is worthy to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts is Albus Dumbledore." I knew that I was being reckless. In actuality, my speech was probably the most reckless thing that I had ever done. I knew that I would pay for it, probably dearly, but I needed to get what I felt out of my system before I was expelled.

Her mouth hardened into a line as she listened to my criticism of her character. Out of the blue, her pudgy hand whipped out and slapped me hard across my cheek. It exploded with pain and my gift fought for freedom, but I turned away, my mouth a hard line. The Headmistress said furiously,"Malfoy, you appear to have a history with her. If she tries anything funny, don't hesitate to act."

I felt Draco approach me and I loosened my grip on my wand so that he could take it easily. There was no use in fighting anymore. We were going to lose and Sirius would die because we hadn't acted fast enough. When we were all bound to be expelled and black-listed for the rest of our lives, and probably the lives of our children too, what use was there in fighting?

The Prefect peeled my fingers from my wand and placed it gently on the table. The other members of the Inquisitorial Squad did the same with their captives.

Umbridge sent out the rest of her cronies to round up the D.A., and before long thirteen or so of us were packed into Umbridge's office. She interrogated Harry, and would have used Veritaserum if she hadn't used it all on other students, but when she attempted to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry Hermione spoke up, going on about Dumbledore's Secret Weapon, whatever that meant.

After Harry, Hermione, and Umbridge left to go after the weapon, our captors stood idly by and chatted amongst themselves but forbade us to do the same. I relentlessly tried to kick, punch, jab, or otherwise hurt my captor, but it wasn't working, and his smug smile remained. Eventually I just looked away from him and crossed my arms defiantly.

After Harry, Hermione, and the Headmistress had been gone for quite a while one of the Slytherins asked, "I'm hungry, are there any sweets in here?"

Ron beamed. "Well, yes. I believe that she keeps some in the top drawer of her desk."

As the boy rummaged through the drawer I whispered urgently, "What are you doing?"

"Wait, Rosie," he said quietly so that his captor, a Slytherin I didn't know, wouldn't hear. The Slytherin pulled out a heart-shaped box of chocolates, the one that I knew Fred and George had planted for Filtch before the D.A. was discovered. I finally understood; Ron was attempting to trick the Slytherins into eating the Fever Fudge – or whatever my genius cousins had named them – and give us enough time to escape while they were dealing with the results of their stupidity; Umbridge didn't eat sweets, her sweet tooth was satisfied with ultra-sweetened tea with lots of milk.

I slyly grinned at my cousin and waited. The boy put the box on the desk and opened it, revealing three-quarters of a box of harmless-looking chocolates. "Ooh," he murmured, reaching in and plucking out one. Like moths to a light the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad swarmed around the candy. Filtch tried to warn them but of course the members of noble Slytherin House would never take advice from a Squib. The only Slytherin who did not partake was Draco, who kept constant vigil by my furious side.

Before long, the small red bumps caused by the developing boils were showing up on the faces of the Slytherins who'd eaten the chocolates. The students cursed their luck and tried to figure out a way to get rid of their affliction, but when the boils began to rupture they all promptly headed out of the room to the Hospital Wing. Draco, naturally, was the only one who didn't.

The Inquisitorial Squad left the room and Ron peaked out the door as their footsteps faded off into the distance. The rest of the D.A. retrieved their wands after my cousin sounded the all-clear. Draco smirked at him, his wand tip pressed threateningly against my throat. Draco's arrogance astonished me. Did he really think he stood a chance against eleven? One, maybe; me, probably; but eleven; that was a fools-errand. Ron turned to the Slytherin and barked, "Drop the act Malfoy."

Draco stood firm and pressed his wand ever deeper into my throat. My pulse quickened as the pin-point pressure began to interfere with my breathing, but I suspected that something else was attributing to it. He started to say something to my cousin, but before he could get anything out I took the chance to take his wand out of his grasp and got myself out of my vulnerable position. He was now like a deer preyed on by a pack of wolves. Disarmed and alone, surrounded by people who erred on the side of disliking him at best, he didn't stand a chance. Like all cowards, he caved under the pressure.

Reluctantly – he didn't let it show to the masses, but I could see it in his eyes – he stood stoic while the D.A. grabbed their wands and filed out of the room.

I grabbed my wand off of the desk and turned to follow, still holding Draco's wand in my hand, when I realized that I was alone with Draco and I turned to look at him; not knowing why. My anger rose when I saw the smug grin on his face. He probably thought that he would be hailed when Umbridge returned as the only one who hadn't fallen for the trick, or he hoped that he could at least hold onto one of the students that Umbridge disliked the most. "I told you that I'd be watching you." he recalled, a steel edge to his voice. His eyes were cold, his tone icy.

I almost felt the temperature drop in the room as he stared at me, and my resolve wavered as my eyes stayed locked onto his forbidding orbs. I gathered up my courage and knew I would to tell my childhood friend the things that I needed to say, but it would hurt me to say them far more than I thought they would him, even if they did pierce through his thick skull. I locked my emerald eyes onto his gray, set my jaw firmly, and replied, "Did my slap teach you anything? You think that you can do no wrong, that everyone should just lay themselves down at your feet. You treat me like I'm worthless to you. You've treated me like our time before Hogwarts... I... I trusted you Draco, I trusted you with my life and tried to turn the other cheek last year because I cared about you, and then you throw that all away for what?" I didn't realize until then that I was sobbing almost hysterically. I looked down at my hands. They were empty aside from my own wand. He must have taken his back while I was absorbed in my tirade. I didn't try to take it back from him. Instead I wiped the tears gushing from my eyes and continued, finally gathering the courage to say what he did not want, but needed to hear. "You... you are heartless, Draco Malfoy... and a coward." I cried, my resolve gone, turned on my heel and ran out of the room.

Harry took the smoky orb in his trembling hand. Indistinct whispering emanated from the small sphere as Harry watched and seemed to understand what was coming from the ball. I watched Harry intently, trying to make out what the words were, something about "neither lives or survives," or something like that.

"Harry!" Neville called, his voice cracking and filled with fear. We whipped around to see a figure clothed in black with a gruesome silver mask hiding his face. Even though I didn't know who the figure was, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the figure was a Death-Eater. In the isles of the Prophecy Room materialized more of the followers of Lord Voldemort. I realized that we were being corralled. If the Dark Lord was here, which he assuredly was given the presence of his followers, then... where was Sirius?

"Where is Sirius?" demanded Harry, still holding the Prophecy in his iron grip. He held his wand firmly, the light glowing from the end of it illuminating our part of the room, and, more importantly, the Death-Eater in front of us.

"You saw what the Dark Lord..." The first Death-Eater spoke and I paled. I knew that voice, I knew it all too well. We'd thought he'd changed. Please be an illusion. Please be an illusion. Please be an illusion! If it was not an illusion like I'd hoped, then that meant that a man I looked up to as a father figure had completely betrayed my family. My father would be devastated. Lucius Malfoy was his closest friend, and he'd been like a father to me, a strict father who kept his pure-blood ideals much closer to his heart than my family did, but a father none the less. As he pulled away his mask with a flick of his wand, my fears were realized as Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic face appeared from the darkness. "...wanted you to see."

Instead of the betrayal that I should have felt on account of two thirds of the Malfoy family betraying me and mine in the span of a month, all that I felt was extreme sadness. The man who was as close to me as a father Death-Eater, a distinction that he had told my parents time and again he did not have. His son had insulted and betrayed me numerous times at school, proving to me that he was nothing more than a bully and a coward. The only one whom I knew had not betrayed me was Narcissa, and I fervently hoped for it to stay that way.

As my gift fed off of the strong emotions coursing through my body at this moment, I struggled to keep it under wraps. This was just about the worst possible time for it to show itself. I couldn't even imagine what would happen if Voldemort found out about it.

I sobbed inwardly as Harry snapped, "Do anything and I'll break it." He was referring to the Prophecy I assumed. I wondered absently if the Prophecy was the "weapon" Sirius had referred to at the start of the year.

Another voice soon came into play. It sounded vaguely familiar, as if I had heard it long ago. Oddly, a memory that I thought I'd lost ages ago shoved itself into the forefront of my mind. It was one of the most painful memories that I possessed, one that the Dementors had fed off of during third year when I was attacked while sitting with Draco on the train. The memory was from the moment I lost her, and the moment I was able to see the thestrals that brought us here.

The voice was sing-song and so demented that I knew its owner was completely insane the instant she opened her mouth. Her hair was black and frizzy with a white streak along one side. She had been beautiful once, but eleven years in Azkaban had taken their toll. Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had taken so much from me and my family, was standing not six feet from me, and there was nothing I could do about it without frying my friends and I and giving my traitorous father-figure a prophecy that Lord Voldemort desperately seemed to covet.

"Harry knows how to play! Itty, pretty, baby." As she spoke she tore off her mask. The sight of her face thrust another memory from that night into my mind: watching Bellatrix, younger and prettier, inching toward me as I sat terrified in my closet with the door just barely cracked open.

"Bellatrix Lestrange,' said Neville, his voice and wand trembling. Hearing her name caused my fury to peak like it never had before, but I couldn't force out what I wanted to say at that moment; something... my sheer anger maybe?... was holding me back.

"Longbottom is it? How's Mom and Dad?" she mocked.

He worked up his courage and thrust his wand out in her direction. "Much better now that they are about to be avenged!" he rushed, provoking the insane witch.

She simply laughed maniacally until I emerged from the shadows at the rear of the group. Lucius Malfoy blinked in surprise. It seemed that he didn't know or think that I'd be here. His sister-in-law's laughter died as she looked at me in wonder. She stepped back her skin turning white as if she'd seen a ghost. "Well well well, look who we have here." she finally said in that same demented way after she regained her composure.

I stepped toward her, my wand at the ready, my gift itching to be let loose on the witch. "Yes Bellatrix. I'm still here. Even after all these years. Even after you killed my sister. Do you remember Lily? The eleven year old who threw herself in front of the closet I hiding was in so that you couldn't kill me? I was four, and I still remember every second of it!" I shouted. I didn't realize until then that my friends were looking at me. They were all looking at me. I'd never told them that I'd had an older sister; the subject and memories were far too painful to discuss. I'd wanted to tell them, to get it off of my chest, but my own grief held me back.

"Yes, well it appears that I'll just have to finish what I started then won't I?" she answered menacingly. I stepped back, frightened by the insanity in her eyes.

She raised her wand, the Killing Curse surely on her tongue, when Harry ordered, "Now!" We all raised our wands, and the battle began.

We had battled them in the Prophecy Room, putting what we'd learned and perfected in the D.A. to good use, while inadvertently causing an avalanche of prophecy-orbs to tumble around us, leaving the door we'd come in at as the only way out. However, instead of leading us out of the Department of Mysteries as we'd assumed, we landed in a rocky room containing nothing but a stone arch with a strange, fluid, paper-thin veil suspended within it. Interestingly, only Luna, Harry, and I seemed to actually be able to see the veil. The others just saw an empty archway. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that we were the only three who had seen death. Shortly there after the our enemies reappeared silently and captured all of us but Harry, leaving him alone with Mr. Malfoy while the rest of us were tucked against the wall with wands at our throats.

Mr. Malfoy also held Harry at wand point. I felt so ashamed of him. I thought that he would never let anything harm me; Narcissa certainly wouldn't if it was within her power. She'd told me more than once over the decade or so that I'd known her that I was like the daughter she never had but always wanted.

He spoke then, his voice smooth and full of force, but also soft and aristocratic. "You can either give me the Prophecy now and leave this place with you and your friends unharmed, or you can watch your friends... die."