Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Out For Blood
Despite Lockhart being out of the picture, things did not slow down. If anything, there was more going on than before, such as; the investigation concerning Dumbledore, both the diary and the chamber of secrets hanging over our heads, and trying to make up with Angelina. With all that, we almost forgot our birthday…. Or I almost forgot our birthday.
"You're mentioned in the paper again", Fred told me as he sat down on my right; handing me a folded-up Daily prophet.
I frowned as I accepted the paper without looking. "Why?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the teachers' table. This morning we woke up to quite a few ministry officials touring the school. And there was a rumor going around that they were going to start pulling students for interviews. The fact Dumbledore wasn't sitting in his usual spot for breakfast all pointed to this being something to do with the investigation. It made being in the paper is less embarrassing and less terrifying than it's been in the past.
"Something to do with Lockhart's trial again", Fred answered as I forced my attention away from the teachers' table. No sense in worrying about the investigation now. Especially since there is nothing I can do about it.
For some reason, the newspaper felt heavier than one normally does. But despite thinking so, I didn't question it as I started to unfold it to find the article Fred was talking about. I'd read it and spend the rest of the meal complaining about it. Except, as soon as I opened the paper a cloud of black dust shot out and engulfed my entire head so I couldn't see anything beyond it. My eyes watered and my nose burned as a dry spicy scent filled my senses. What was this? Pepper? I started coughing as the black cloud began to disperse. Oh, how lovely. Pepper. Exactly what I would have paired with my porridge.
There was a chorus of snickering ringing in each of my ears as I wiped my eyes and nose with the sleeve of my robe. What had I done to deserve this?
"Happy Birthday, Jolly Holly", Fred said; sounding entirely too proud of himself.
With water dripping from the corner of my eyes, I turned to glare at Fred. Birthday? What was he going on about? Oh… Hell. It's April First. "Why?" I complained. "We didn't do this last year?"
Fred adopted an almost devilish smirk that didn't bode well for me. "Well, we couldn't last year, could we? We were at home and Mum threw us that party. She'd skin us alive if we carried out the tradition in front of guests".
"We could start a new tradition", I tried to suggest although I knew it wouldn't gain any traction. "One where we celebrated our birthday on the first instead of April Fool's Day".
"Alas", Fred started with a touch of drama. "It is a heavy burden to share a birthday with a holiday. But we must prevail to honor both occasions".
I pulled my eyebrows inward; forehead wrinkling to match my frown. "Did you rehearse that?" Fred busied himself by taking a bite out of a pastry so he didn't have to give me a response. Which was an answer in itself. Sighing, I gave in; preparing myself for a day filled with explosions, bad smells, and…. Stickiness. I'd have to see what I could pull off. They wouldn't leave me alone until I participated. "Where's George?" I asked once I realized the last member of our trio was missing. It was both a good change in topic and a worry. Especially now that I know what we'd be doing today.
Fred finished his pastry in two more bites. He smiled in a way I didn't find endearing in the slightest. Then he finished by giving me a wink before standing up and exiting the Great Hall. Leaving another question unanswered. Oh, bother.
I was laughing so hard I couldn't stop. I was laughing so hard I couldn't even manage the counter to the tickling charm. Damn it, George! People were sending me strange looks as I staggered down the hallway; leaning against the wall with one hand to keep myself upright as the other wrapped around my stomach. I couldn't blame them. I'd stare too if I saw someone walking around the school cackling like a deranged crone. My eyes teared up from the strain of it all and I panted between bouts of laughter in an attempt to draw in air. Even the portraits were peering down at me like I had grown a second head. The next time I see George, I'm going to hex him until his left big toe falls off. This was way worse than the pepper.
What I really needed was some itching powder. I thought as I rounded the corner; heading for the dungeons. Or maybe I could switch the ink in their inkwells with glue…. No, I've done that before. Still gasping for air in between laughs, I was finding it difficult to brainstorm. Leaning all my weight against the wall I came to a standstill. My chest was starting to hurt from all the laughing. And the tickling sensations occurring all over my body were becoming overstimulating. Maybe if I… If I….
I closed my eyes. Why did we have to be born on April first? Why couldn't we share a birthday with Easter or Earth Day? Instead of pulling pranks, we could plant flowers.
"Miss Weasley?" A sharp voice asked; forcing me to open my eyes. Standing two feet away from me was stiff and stern McGonagall. She had her hands held at her sides as she peered down at me through the lens of her glasses.
Oh, thank Merlin. "Professor", I wheezed out as more laughter bubbled in the back of my throat. "Help".
McGonagall pursed her lips but complied by pulling out her wand. In an excellent display of nonverbal magic, I felt whatever she cast wash over me; taking away the tickling sensations with it. I was still panting, but at least I managed a lungful of air this time.
Looking up at my head of house, I said as earnestly as I'm capable of, "Merlin bless you, Professor".
"Miss Weasley", Professor McGonagall tried again. "What is the meaning of this?" She asked, gesturing a hand over my recovering form.
It took a couple of breaths before I was able to answer her. "It's April First, Professor".
Having been stuck with us triplets for the past four years no further explanation was needed. I watched as some of the color left McGonagall's face. But she recovered herself nicely. A lot quicker than I had. "That explains why I witnessed your brother hiccupping bubbles", she shared. I wondered who that was. Did Fred get George or did George get Fred? But I didn't ask. I'm sure I'll hear all about it later. There were no warnings about detentions or our actions causing us to lose house points. McGonagall knew it wouldn't make a difference. Instead, she said, "I was searching for you Miss Weasley. There are some people here who would like to talk to you".
To me? Breathing normally again, I managed a serious expression as I made my suspicions. "The investigators?" I asked.
McGonagall nodded in confirmation as she started walking in the direction I had just come from. Seeing no other choice, I turned on my heels and followed. In the time I spent laughing like a madman, the halls had thinned. Most of the students made it to their morning class, leaving only the stranglers behind. McGonagall instructed a couple of them to hurry on to class as she led me down the hall. We found our way to the entrance hall and started up the grand staircase.
No longer was I thinking about putting itching powder in Fred and George's beds or about sabotaging their homework. Instead, I kept worrying about who would want to talk to me. "Professor", I said after a moment. "Is this about Lockhart?"
McGonagall glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. Her lips were pressed together in such a way that I knew she wasn't thrilled about the investigators being here either. "I suspect that's part of what they would like to discuss", she answered; her tone forewarning.
Exhaling loudly through my nose, I looked away from my head of house to stare at a painting as we passed by. It was what I feared then. "I don't want Professor Dumbledore to get into trouble because I was stupid". The words felt heavy on my tongue and came tumbling out without my permission. But at the same time, it felt nice for McGonagall to know I wasn't trying to make trouble for her boss and friend.
We came to a stop in front of a door. One I wasn't familiar with, so it probably wasn't being used as a classroom. We didn't go in right away. Instead, McGonagall paused with her hand on the doorknob. She was frowning as she stared at me over her shoulder. "You were in a difficult situation, Weasley. One you shouldn't have been in. This isn't your fault", She tried to assure me before she opened the door. But my guilt only doubled. If only she knew.
Twisting the doorknob, McGonagall opened it wide enough for the occupants in the room to see both herself and me. There were five of them; all sitting behind the same long table with rolls of parchment and quills set up in front of them. "I've brought Miss Weasley, as requested", McGonagall announced as she ushered me forward.
Five heads looked up from what they were doing and I recognized three of them; Malfoy Sr., Lord Flint, and Umbridge. Happy Birthday to me. I thought sardonically as I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide how uncomfortable I was feeling.
The disingenuous smile that grew on Umbridge's wide lips made my skin crawl. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall", She said; voice deceptively sweet. "We'll take it from here".
It was a clear dismissal. One I didn't like. Looking over my shoulder at McGonagall, I tried to plead with my eyes. Please, Professor. Don't leave me alone with this lot.
And she tried. She really did. "Perhaps I should stay", McGonagall suggested. But her voice was the same as when she informs Fred, George, and me she'll be writing home to our mum. So, it didn't sound like a suggestion. "The ordeal Miss Weasley went through is still rather recent".
Umbridge cleared her throat with a noise that was halfway between a cough and a giggle. Either way, the sound made me shudder. "These interviews are of a private nature". The superior tone Umbridge took was more than enough to show her inflated ego to everyone in the room. "The participants must feel free to talk to us as they wish".
Which was a statement I doubted very much. "I want Professor McGonagall to stay", I said.
But Lord Flint spoke over me and everyone acted as if I hadn't said anything at all. Sometimes, it really bites being underage. "Not to worry Professor. The young lady and I are well acquainted. I will step in if Holly becomes overwhelmed".
Not bloody likely, I thought. McGonagall seemed to think similarly. Or at least that was my impression when her eyes narrowed and her grip on the doorknob tightened. "Miss Weasley", she said to me and only to me. "When you have finished, do not worry about being marked late or absent from any of your classes". And she left; the door closing behind her with a sharp tug.
Left with no other option, I turned my attention to the other five in the room. Umbridge sat in the middle of it all; Lucius and Lord Flint on her left and the two I didn't know on her right. Members of the board, I assumed. Hopefully, they proved to be inconsequential. Just like the roommates of myself and Fred and George that we still hadn't learned the names of.
"Please take a seat", Umbridge said in that sickly sweet voice of hers as she waved a ringed hand in the direction of a singular chair set up in front of the table they were all sitting behind.
I walked up to the back of the chair, and placed a hand on top of it; steeling myself for an unpleasant morning. "If this isn't going to take long, I'd like to stand", I said. Maybe I should also pray my mouth doesn't make any more trouble; if the amused-looking Flint Sr. is anything to go off of.
Without making any changes in her expression, Umbridge's countenance darkened. Quite the impressive feat, really. "Please take a seat, Miss Weasley", she reiterated.
Trying not to stomp and huff like the moody teenager I currently am, walked around the chair and lowered myself onto it. It took a good deal of willpower not to cross my arms. And before any of them could ask their questions or even open their mouths, I declared, "Professor Dumbledore is the best headmaster Hogwarts can ask for. The business with the chamber of secrets is Lockhart's fault. And everything that happened last school year was Quirrell's fault".
Lucius Malfoy's eyes became shadowed by the time I had finished speaking. His eyes bore into me like knives and I was glad he wasn't aware that my actions, the actions of my brothers, and the golden trio had cost him his house-elf.
Lord Flint barked a laugh that he quickly snuffed when Umbridge turned to stare him down. The other two had no visible reaction. Inconsequential, indeed. Having recovered, Lord Flint was the first to step up to the plate. "Holly", he started with an ease of tongue that suggested good faith and friendship. "May I call you Holly?"
Oh, is that who we're playing this? The corner of my mouth twitched upward as I tried to decide if Flint Sr. was on my side or their side. Impossible to tell really. He truly was a talented lawyer. "You've never asked my permission before", I answered. And then because I wanted to, I asked, "So, are you here as the Puceys' lawyer right now, or the board's?"
Flint Sr. smiled as he stood up from his chair and walked around the table so it wasn't between us. That… actually made things feel marginally better. As if Flint Sr. acting as a barrier between myself, Umbridge, and Lucius Malfoy was satisfactory protection. But at this moment, Lord Flint is probably the most dangerous person in this room. "You've kept up with the Daily Prophet. Very smart". He complimented, even though the words he used were hollow. "I am here today representing the board", he answered. "But I assure you their interests align with Puceys".
"Do my parents know I'm talking to you?" In this sense, I meant you as in everyone currently in this room.
"Cooperation is mandatory", Umbridge said before Flint Sr. could answer with more tact. "You will answer our questions".
Umbridge sounded so sure of herself. I raised an eyebrow as temptation brewed. How hard would it be to just get up and walk out? Or if I refused to talk at all? Despite whatever delusion Umbridge was living in, there was very little she could do to me if I refused. She wasn't a teacher yet. She couldn't give me detention or make me write with a blood quill. Having worked very closely with me in the weeks leading up to Lockhart's trial, Flint Sr. recognized at once when I was about to change into a bullheaded mule.
"Your parents have been informed but we don't require their consent". Lord Flint answered quickly before I could issue Umbridge any further challenge. Pity. I'd have liked to get under her skin before she had any real power.
And then things continued. It felt very much like the trial in the sense that Umbridge and Malfory Senior asked the same questions over and over again; expecting a different answer each time. The two people in the room that I didn't know were diligently writing everything down, and I take it that was their only purpose in this…. Interview. If that is what they're calling it. Lord Flint never returned to his seat and instead remained between me and the table. I'd never tell him I appreciated this move. Although, he was tricky enough that he might have guessed. Unlike the trial, the focus of all the questions were singularly about Dumbledore. Or more specifically, Dumbledore's failures. They wanted to know about his actions and the school's actions to Pettigrew's reappearance in McGonagall's classroom, Quirrell's attack in the forbidden forest, the petrification of Filch's cat, and Colin Creevey, and, of course, everything Lockhart had done under Dumbledore's administration.
I tried to keep my responses positive; refuting anything that could lead to Dumbledore being seen as irresponsible. But they pulled apart everything. Lord Flint was especially good at finding the information he was looking for. The git. Other than arguing that it was Dumbledore's fault Pettigrew had been in the castle in the first place, there was little they could do to paint Dumbledore the bad guy in that situation. He had followed intruder protocol. Quirrell in the forest was…more in their favor because they kept circling around to the question of, "Why was detention being served in the forbidden forest in the first place?"
And I didn't have an answer for them. It wasn't like the decision was mine to make. Malfoy Sr. was particularly interested in finding fault in that fiasco. I supposed it made sense. His son was there. But I refuse to give him what he wants!
Things took a turn when their questions steered to Lockhart. Lord Flint controlled most of the questioning at this point. I wasn't sure about the other two, but Flint Sr., Umbridge, and Malfoy Sr. had all been at the trial. So, there wasn't anything new for them to learn. And since Flint Sr. had coached me, he knew all my answers.
Until Umbridge asked, "What did Mr. Lockhart have to do with the rumors about the chamber of secrets?" Right, because they were just rumors as far as Umbridge was ready to go. But that wasn't the most concerning thing about her question.
"What?" I asked with a small shake of my head as my thoughts came skidding to a halt. Had Lockhart been talking? More than claiming to be You-Know-Who.
"When you first sat down, you said Mr. Lockhart was at fault for the chamber of secrets". Umbridge's voice became condescending; like she was talking to a toddler.
Aw, hell. I thought as I mentally retraced my steps and thought through everything I said. Maybe I really should take an oath of silence. I wasn't sure if it was desperation or habit that made me look in Lord Flint's direction. But I found myself searching his face for a clue about what I should do. Not that Flint Sr. could tell me anything or jump in. This time around, I wasn't his concern.
When his face gave nothing away, I forced myself to look back at Umbridge. "I plead the fifth".
Confusion vainly disguised by irritation crossed the expressions of both Malfoy Sr. and Umbridge. In any other circumstance, I would have probably enjoyed being the cause of it. "You plead the what?" Malfoy Sr. asked as if he was trying to decide if he should be offended. If only.
Before I could utter a never mind, or anything else to excuse myself from the out-of-culture reference, Lord Flint spoke up. "It's a part of American governance". He informed Malfoy with a glance at the other lord over his shoulder. His eyes turned towards me; sparkling with his own personal brand of amusement. "And it has no bearing here". Was that a warning? I feel like that was a warning. "What makes you think Lockhart was involved with the petrifications?" He asked after a moment.
Oh, thank Merlin. An out. One I jumped on like a starving man on a burrito. "I'm not sure. He said some things when we were… when he was…" I trailed off and let the adults in the room work out what I was referring to. If they've kept up with everything that was said at the trial, it shouldn't be too hard.
Umbridge leaned forward with her hands in front of her and her breasts pressing against the edge of the table. "Verbatim, Miss Weasley, what did Mr. Lockhart say to make you suspect his involvement?"
I shift in my seat to buy time and steel nerves. "Sorry. I can't remember word for word. At the time, I wasn't completely focused on him. Besides, what does any of this have to do with Professor Dumbledore?"
"Indeed", Lord Flint allowed in acceptance of my pointed reminder of why we're here. Perhaps, he isn't entirely on the board's side. And by that, I mean he's playing both sides. Umbridge fumed and Malfoy Sr. looked bored now that Dumbledore wasn't the main target. And at that moment, it was kind of to my benefit the discussion returned to Dumbledore. "Did you inform Professor Dumbledore about your suspicion concerning Lockhart's involvement?" Lord Flint asked.
And we were back on track….. kind of. "No", came my one-word answer as I ignored the hard look Lord Flint sent my way. I had mentioned going to Dumbledore for help weeks ago; on the day I first met Lord Flint. Ever the two-sided coin, Flint Sr. didn't call me out for lying. Look at him being just as confusing as always. Smoothing his face before turning around to face the members of the board, he said, "I believe we've asked everything we can". Hallelujah.
The end of the day found me flopping down onto a couch in the common room that was occupied by Percy. "Happy birthday", he said as I made myself comfortable. He had his transfiguration text open in his lap, but it didn't look like he was studying it too hard. So, I didn't feel bad when I turned and laid my head in his lap, on top of his book. Very much like a cat stretching out on a keyboard when they're in search of attention. Percy let out a loud sigh at my antics. But he didn't push me off or threaten me with detention. I love being a little sister. Especially when it means that I can get away with more than Fred, George, or Ron. "You look tired". Percy commented after a moment of me not moving.
I smiled up at my glasses-wearing big brother; feeling both sleepy and accomplished. "Hmmm. It was a long day. I got pulled for an interview with the board of governors. And then there was Fred and George, and their birthday tradition". Percy hmphed in understanding. The birthday we had during our first year of Hogwarts had driven him nuts. It's a miracle we didn't cause him any lasting mental damage. I opened my mouth as wide as it could go as I let out a big yawn. "I just got back from the quidditch pitch".
Percy quirked an eyebrow as he peered down at me. We had the same eye color which gave this whole exchange a comfortable familiar feeling. "What were you doing at the quidditch pitch?" He asked because we both knew our mutual feelings regarding the sport.
"Fred and George had practice. I had to take advantage of the opportunity that presented me". I smiled up at Percy who looked weary but wisely didn't ask further questions. Or I might just be lucky he's off duty from prefect responsibilities. Taking a longer look at my brother's face, I saw a sort of droopiness in his eyelids and a slowness in his expression. "You look tired too", I commented.
Percy pushed his hand under his glasses so he could rub his eyes. "I had to supervise a detention this evening".
"Oh? Who got in trouble?" It was always fun hearing about someone getting in trouble who wasn't a Weasley. Sometimes it felt like Percy was our own personal prefect whose sole job was to keep us in line. Percy never succeeded, but that's what it felt like.
"Your boyfriend", Percy answered shortly.
I scrunched up my face. Adrian? My Adrian? That didn't sound like him at all. I don't think Adrian's gotten detention since the forbidden forest incident. "Why? What did he do?"
Having finished rubbing his eyes, Percy readjusted his glasses on his nose. "I caught him leaving the girls' lavatory on the second floor".
How did Adrian end up there? I asked myself as I continued to stare up at Percy. Who was peering back down at me as if he suspected I knew what Adrian had been up to. I'm not sure why. Adrian wasn't like Fred and George. I didn't automatically know when he was up to something. But…. Isn't the bathroom on the second floor Moaning Myrtle's bathroom? Before I could ask Percy any more questions, the door to the common room opened, and with it; many giggles and snickers from our housemates. I turned my head to see what was causing the laughter. And the sight had me sitting up straight as I grinned.
Standing in the doorway with their hands on their hips were a blushing Fred and George. And why were they blushing? Probably because when they entered the locker room to change after quidditch practice, they found their trousers gone. In their place were two of my school skirts. That they were currently wearing. Awkwardly.
"When you said you had come from the quidditch pitch…." Percy trailed off; flushed with second-hand embarrassment.
"Happy Birthday!" I called across the common room. They had it coming.