Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter VII: Listen to Many, Speak to a Few
The next day found Diana sluggishly traversing the halls of Hogwarts, her robe falling limply over her frame as she downed a third coffee in the span of an hour. Her nightmares had, unsurprisingly, checked in for an extended stay the night before. It was for this reason that when the white haired heir to Malfoy manor intercepted her path she contemplated somersaulting off the astronomy tower, but distance alone was enough to convince her that may not be the quickest way out.
She chose instead to attempt to sidestep his advance, only to be met with one of his cronies. Diana grimaced slightly at the stickiness of his robes, a smearing of chocolate above his lip the obvious culprit.
"I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name's…"
"-Draco, yes. I'm in several of your classes."
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He smirked and replied with an air of pure haught.
"Right…Nice meeting you. I was just on my way to somewhere that's..not here so I'll be off. Lovely chat."
"Leaving so soon? We were just getting acquainted."
"I have other plans this morning, perhaps another time."
"There's no better time than the present. I'll walk 'd you say you were going? Somewhere..not here?"
"I think Diana is perfectly capable of locating the library, Draco. A feat you seem none too capable of." Hermione's voice rang through the hall as she walked to stand beside Diana.
"Psh. I know where the library's at." Draco's reply coaxed vicious nodding from Crabbe and Goyle, loyal to the bitter end.
"Yes, I'm sure you're quite familiar with its more private corners. I've seen your head buried in just about everything but a textbook."
Draco flushed but seemed none too embarrassed. Quite proud, actually.
"I'm taking a lot of extracurriculars." Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this, it seemed Hermione cared not for the same civility as hers were practically in the back of her head.
"And Pansy makes a good tutor?"
"There's always room for improvement." He said, glancing back at Diana's form with a smirk.
"You're vile." Hermoine replied and grabbed Diana's arm, effectively ripping her away from the conversation. The two girls walked brusquely from the scene, Hermione livid and Diana mildly entertained by the antics of the Slytherin boy. Draco may be a pain in the ass, but he certainly made for an interesting scene.
"Thanks for that, I'm not sure I have enough brain function this morning to fend off Malfoy." Diana said finally, a smirk on her face.
"Anytime. After a while, you get quite used to it."
They were silent for a moment as they walked through the transfiguration courtyard, the vague cacophony of laughter and conversation from peers settling around them. Hermione looked towards Diana sceptically for a moment in contemplation.
"I figured most Slytherins tended to get along quite easily." Diana raised her brow.
"What gave you that idea?"
"I don't know. Similar ideologies, house pride, blood purity." Diana resisted the urge to bite back at the generalisation. It was clear amongst the other houses of Hogwarts that there was a certain stigma associated with Slytherin, she'd be a fool not to have noticed.
"Yes, well. Not all of us put so much stock in what house we're associated with. It's just a place to lay your head at night."
"You say that now. Wait till your first quidditch game." Hermione said and nudged Diana's shoulder.
"I wouldn't hold your breath." Diana replied, coming to a halt in front of McGonagall's classroom. The old woman had surely worked herself into a tizzy over the Slytherin girl's tardiness for their tutoring session. "It was nice catching up Hermione, I'll see you in class tomorrow."
"See ya!" Hermione smiled back in response before taking her leave into the sea of students.
Diana pushed open the door of the transfiguration room, none too surprised to see Professor McGonagall sitting expectantly at her desk, slim spectacles perched at the tip of her nose.
"You're late, Miss Abbott."
"I truly am sorry, Professor. I had a run-in with a rather unsavoury brand of students which proved remarkably distracting."
The older woman's lip twitched at that and Diana swore she almost saw the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
"Be that as it may, you'll find at Hogwarts we herold punctuality above sociability. From now on, reserve the social interactions, in whatever nature they may be, for your free hours."
Diana nodded quickly, determining this battle to be one of minor significance. Professor McGonagall surely did not wish to hear her prattle on about how Malfoy cornered her in the corridor. Besides, she had already been running late before the fact.
"Yes, Ma'am." She replied instead.
McGonagall smiled warmly, her countenance tangibly shifting at the resolve.
"There. Now that we've established our expectations, let us begin."
The lesson started with what Diana considered to be a rather dense perusal of the text which explained how the heart of the wizard, in compliance with method and focus, determined the success of the transformation.
She withheld the opinion that the heart of the wizard having any sort of relevance to their skill seemed an absurdly romanticised notion. Judging by the glimmer in Professor McGonagall's eyes when she read the passage, Diana determined her argument would simply result in another drawn out lecture that ended with her forced reverence and she'd really rather get to practising magic.
Mercifully, after what felt like hours of spongeing regurgitative theory, McGonagall moved on to the interactive portion of the lesson.
Diana took to transfiguration quite quickly, and though she by no means had any sort of mastery over the subject, the process held a strange familiarity that lent itself to a certain level of proficiency.
That did not mean, however, that the candlestick to mouse transformation did not result in a particularly extravagant pillar of silver scurrying off into a wall on four legs.
Diana left the transfiguration room with modest praise from McGonagall, and strict instructions to continue practising the art of making inanimate objects less mobile.
She exited to find the halls of Hogwarts remarkably vacant of bright eyed students, and although at first it was taken as somewhat of a relief, the realisation that it more than likely meant she was already late for her next course soon set in.
She turned the corner with rapid determination set towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom only to be met with the brute force of what must be a newly conjured wall. Strangely enough, however, this wall had arms, which jolted to steady her, and smelled of scorched pine. Diana looked up to see the dark eyes of Professor Snape drilling holes into her own, the intensity there a marked challenge either for her hurried apology or sustained dominance. A Slytherin would be damned before choosing the former.
She thought back to their last interaction, wherein he had been ready to all but strangle her, and remained captive for a moment, noting the strange warmth his grasp summoned and the fixed confidence his palms held her with. His gaze was a mixture between anger and annoyance, an expression she was all too familiar with from the Potions Master, and yet neither pulled away, grappling with the temptation of power. As if moving first was to roll over.
She justified her actions as simply playing their game. As expected, toying with the pomp and pretension of the stoic man. Fraying at his temper in her typical childlike fashion.
That was the sole reason she found enjoyment in their proximity.
He seemed to sense this, one brow rising slowly, tongue poised for the kill of ridicule. But before he could gain the upper hand she pressed herself flush against him, a smirk painting her face as she watched his derision drop.
Snape's breath quickened as he pushed her away, utterly affronted by her audacity. Diana assumed an air of innocence as the challenging smirk on her face shifted to a honeyed smile.
"Sorry Professor, didn't see you there." She said sweetly, smoothing out her uniform.
She left him standing in the halls with a swoosh of her robes and took off towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
The high of adrenaline from her previous encounter was not enough to combat the distinct air of tension rising up within the captive audience of students in Umbridge's lecture; an image she could not recall having ever seen in the months past . The pink clad professor looked to Diana sharply as the door slammed behind her, a sickening grin plastered on the ministry worker's face. Her eyes, however, remained shockingly blue yet shark-like.
"How wonderful of you to join us." She voiced in her traditional frequency. Diana wondered how the witch could make feigned innocence sound so terribly murderous, it was almost admirable.
The Slytherin girl opened her mouth to respond but was immediately cut off by Umbridge.
"Take your seat, you'd hate to waste even more of my time."
Diana glared but digressed.
"As I was saying," Umbridge began, still giving a side-eye in her direction, "It is the view of the ministry that a theoretical knowledge of defence would be sufficient to get you through your examinations which, after all, is what school is all about."
"And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Harry Potter interrupted wildly. The entirety of the classroom looked to him, some more perplexed than others as he challenged the professor. Umbridge simply smiled, though Diana noticed her fingers clenching manically to her side.
"There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you imagine would want to attack children like yourself?" She replied finally.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe Lord Voldemort."
A hush befell the space as each student looked to the other in unified terror. It was clear to Diana that, whoever this Lord Voldemort was, he was an individual whose mention held great influence over the minds of her peers. And even more fascinatingly, struck fear into them.
Her head tilted to the side at the thought.
"Now, let me make this quite plain." Umbridge began, strutting through the centre of the classroom, "You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie." The professor's perfect pink manicure disappeared within her fists.
"It's not a lie, I saw him! I fought him!" Diana raised her brow at Harry's outburst, impressed by the level of commitment which he was willing to give to the argument. And though nearly every other student fought the doubts placed by their influencers, something in Diana insisted she believe him. Or perhaps it was simply witnessing the crazed intensity with which Potter defended himself.
"Detention, Mr. Potter!"
Harry pressed on, seemingly unfazed by the punishment. "So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?"
A high pitched squeal filled her ears as their voices rose over the classroom .
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."
"It was murder, Voldemort killed him. You must know that!" Diana's head split with an excruciating stab of pain as the noise became bolder, the argument fading in its wake.
"Enough!" Umbridge yelled finally and the sound gave way to welcome silence. "See me later, Mr. Potter…my office."
~..O..~
After a lap around the first floor of the library in a failed search for the Gryffindor Prefect, Diana made her way up one of the spiral staircases, the scent of leather and archival parchment striking her with comfortable familiarity. She found Hermione sitting at a table littered with near criminal amounts of books and parchment. Her curly mane was hunkered over the text as she greedily absorbed the information before her, only when Diana cleared her throat did the girl look up.
"Oh Hello, Diana! I lost track of time working on the Arithmancy essay Professor Vector assigned. It is terribly interesting. I'm glad you found me."
She smiled and gestured for Diana to take the seat across from her as she carefully moved the thick tomes to a neat stack.
Hermione pulled out the sorry excuse for a textbook, entitled Defense against the Dark Arts: For Beginners, which was notably smaller in size to the tomes the girl previously had her nose in. With an almost imperceptible eyeroll Diana retrieved her copy from her bag, its spine suspiciously unbent. Hermione quickly averted her eyes from Diana's in an attempt to keep her professional tutor persona. It didn't mean, however, that a small disapproving squeak didn't escape her throat.
"Let's begin, yes? Professor Umbridge instructed us to read through to chapter 6, I've already finished the book… it's quite a quick read—"
"I'm sure it is…" Diana eyed her book as if she could determine the weight of it with sight alone.
"Right, well, you've really only missed revisions of what we learned the last four years. That being said, do you have experience using counter-jinxes and defensive spells?"
"Probably—"
Hermione looked at Diana blankly.
"Right then," She continued, " It appears we will not be using our wands much in class, but we still need to be able to complete a practical portion for the O.W.L.S. And then of course you can earn more credit by successfully casting the Patronus charm, though I doubt the Professor will be bothered to teach us that one." Her delivery of the word 'Professor' presented itself as if there should be an 'alleged' proceeding it, a distinction Hermione mercifully chose to omit.
"I know how to produce a Patronus." Diana replied, casually flitting through the crisp pages of her textbook. A slight scowl creased her brow as she realised the sheets were sticking together. To be fair, they'd scarcely been apart.
"Oh… really?" Hermione replied, interested now though her tone was laced with shrewd scepticism. "Who—"
"Hermione," it was Diana's turn to cut her off at the realisation that before her was a know-it-all; A know-it-all that she could coax into answering her new questions. Thankfully the headache from earlier dissipated enough to give her the strength to stroke the girl's intellectual ego.
"Yes?"
"What was all of that in class today?"
"What do you mean?"
"With Harry and Professor Umbridge."
"Oh, um, it's quite a long story actually. I'm surprised you don't know—"
"Well, one hears whisperings, of course. I'd have to be dead not to realise Harry's social polarity, for lack of a better term, since last year's Tri-Wizard tournament. The only thing I've yet to understand is why." Truthfully, Diana hadn't cared enough to ask. That is, until now.
Hermione's eyes remained trained on the text in front of her, though in a rare occurrence her focus was clearly beyond the page.
"Who is Voldemort?" Diana pressed again, for once not enjoying the silence coming from the Gryffindor girl.
Hermione took a deep breath and marked her page before slowly closing the book .
"Commonly known as 'You-Know-Who,' Voldemort was a dark wizard. He believed in pureblood supremacy. It was prophesied that Harry would someday possess the power to destroy him. He…he killed Harry's parents when he was a year old, tried to kill Harry too…with the killing curse. But it backfired. You-Know-Who died that night." She paused for a moment, as if deciphering how much information was appropriate to divulge. "At the end of last year…well, we have reason to believe that he has returned."
"But Umbridge insisted—"
"Umbridge works for the Ministry, nothing she says can be taken for fact." Hermione, remembering their very public location, looked about the space to ensure there were no attentive ears in the vicinity. "Diana, listen to me, you should not get involved."
"Who says I want to be?"
"Trust me. Asking questions about him will always end with you in the thick of it. If I were you, I'd be grateful I didn't know."
Diana decided against telling Hermione she wasn't aware there was anything the Gryffindor girl would be grateful not to know and instead decided to end what was clearly a dried up well of information.
There was clearly more to this story and Diana, by Merlin, was going to find out.
~..O..~
It was late that night within the Gryffindor tower that a young Harry Potter tossed and turned in a fitful rest. Sweat littered his brow as the sheets became tangled at his feet, the violent thrashing making him their new prisoner. Behind his closed eyes, clenched impossibly tight, he was met with visions of green mysterious doors situated between hallways of dark tile. His impatience seemingly grew as he slithered between each one, though in search of what he could not be sure.
When he awoke with a fury, dread lingering in the pit of his stomach, there was only one thing he knew to be certain: something was coming.