CHAPTER 34
I step into the Slytherin Dungeon and immediately see Draco and his gang of bullies rejoicing over Harry's capture. "Potter will most likely be expelled!" Draco announces. "Umbridge yanked him along like a dog! You should have seen his terrified face!" Many of the Slytherins gather around to listen to his story. "Potter's little group scattered like startled rats!"
"How many did Professor Umbridge catch?" Pansy asks.
"Only Potter, but Edgecomb gave her a list of everyone in the group. I, for one, can't wait to find out who was involved."
Around the edges of the common room sit small groups of Slytherins who apparently want nothing to do with Draco's tale. Most of them seem familiar though I have never spoken to them—they're the Slytherins I often see hanging around Astoria and Daphne, the group I typically avoid in favor of being alone. But right now, I don't want to be alone, not after having witnessed so much of what took place in Dumbledore's office, so I walk over to a table and sit down with them.
"Charlotte!" Astoria sighs with relief. "You're finally here. Do you hear this rubbish Draco is spewing? He's been talking about it nonstop. I mean, he's told this story five damn times already. What's the point?"
"Other than to boost his own ego?" Daphne laughs.
"I get that Slytherins are supposed to be against the rest of the Houses, and it makes sense, really," says a beautiful girl with shoulder-length curly brown hair and dazzling smile who sits three seats down from me. Zoe Accrington, the Muggle-born Draco told me to avoid. Daphne is sitting next to her. "I mean, when I was Sorted, as an eleven-year-old child who as completely terrified, alone here in this huge castle, away from my parents for the first time, no friends to speak of, in a place full of magic which in and of itself seemed overwhelming—when I was Sorted, every other House booed me, like they do to so many other first-years who are Sorted into Slytherin. I knew nothing of this school. Nothing about the Houses, nothing about the reputations of the Houses. And those students—seventh-years even—booed me. I was a child. A scared child, a nervous child, and three-fourths of this school had the audacity to boo me for something I had no control over.
"Since that moment, I have harbored no love in my heart for any of those Houses. So believe me when I say that I understand not liking the other Houses. But what makes no sense to me whatsoever is liking Umbridge. Umbridge. Just the name is revolting. Umbridge. How does anyone believe for a second that Hogwarts is better with her at its helm? I've spent the last seven years here, and this is by the far the worst year I have ever experienced, and that includes the years when that a giant creature was running loose petrifying students and hunting Muggle-borns and when that murderer was on the loose inside the castle.
"And that is, without a doubt, thanks to Umbridge. Merlin, I hate that woman. And to hear that prat over there bragging about working alongside her—fuck him." Her eyes land on me. "I don't believe we've met. What's your name?"
"Charlotte Rodgers."
"Zoe Accrington. You're new here?"
"A transfer from Durmstrang. My parents—well, guardian—believed it unsafe to stay there after Igor Karkaroff went missing."
She nods, watching me closely for a moment, her eyes darkening. "You dated Malfoy a while back, didn't you? I don't think this is a table you should be at."
"We're not dating anymore. I realized how much of a prick he is."
She looks over at the Greengrass sisters, who each give a slight nod and a small smile, then turns her attention to me and smiles at me.
"From what I hear," I say, "things are worse than Draco is letting on. He doesn't really know what happened when Umbridge took Harry to Dumbledore."
"Great," Daphne groans. "Do you know? You look like you know? If you do, for Merlin's sake please tell us so we're not taken by surprise."
I take a breath. "By orders of the Minister of Magic, Dumbledore has been dislodged from Hogwarts."
"Are you serious?" Zoe moans angrily. "Was he arrested? They've been dragging his name through the mud for a while now. Where'd they send him?"
"Oh, the Minister tried to arrest him, but he escaped. Was surrounded by the Minister, Umbridge, and two Aurors. Hexed them all and vanished in flames."
"And you know this for a fact, do you?" a black-haired boy with big brown eyes asks. I think he's a sixth-year, but I can't be sure. I've spent too much time avoiding these students.
"Yeah, I'm positive."
"How do you know this for a fact?" the same boy asks.
"I know how to get information. I just can't tell you how I did it—you know, gotta keep my secrets to myself."
"Then how are we supposed to trust you? You dated Malfoy. You're new from Durmstrang—and we all know the rumors about that place. You claim to just know things, and you won't tell us how you know them. That's quite a few reasons not to trust you—Charlotte, I believe your name is?"
"Grant, why would she lie about this?" Astoria asks.
"I don't know. But I see no reason to trust her."
"I trust her," Daphne says.
"Well, congratulations. When she stabs you in the back and tells Malfoy everything we've said, don't say I didn't warn you." He gets up from the table and storms off.
"Don't take Sparkford personally," Zoe says. "He finds it hard to trust anyone. Ever. His family's not the best." Her face becomes increasingly serious. "So you're positive about Dumbledore leaving?"
"Yes. Dumbledore's gone."
"And Umbridge?"
"Will probably take over as headmaster—er, mistress."
"NO!" She slams her fists onto the table. "That woman is the bane on my existence, and I will not have her ruin the rest of my final year at Hogwarts!" Zoe rises out of her seat and stomps over to the group of Slytherins intently listening to Draco's tale of Harry getting caught. "Shut up, Malfoy! You've said the same thing five times now! Umbridge will run this place into the ground because of you, and yet you have the audacity to boast about getting Potter caught! We all know how much you hate Hogwarts and Potter and everything that doesn't suit your outlandish I'm-from-a-rich-family-and-can-do-as-I-please beliefs, but just shut up!" I see Daphne wave her wand and whisper an incantation to put a Shield Charm between Zoe and Draco. Frankly, I can't even be sure which of the two she's trying to protect at this point. "You've repeated the same story five fucking times. Merlin! Do you ever stop talking about yourself and how oh-so-great you are? Need we remind you that just recently your father was recently ousted as a Death Eater, that he serves You-Know-Who like a scared, obedient little bitch?"
"How-how dare you—?" Draco splutters. "How dare you—you filthy little Mudblood—my father will—"
Zoe exits the common room without letting him finish whatever he was trying to say, going to her dormitory, leaving a long and uncomfortable awestruck silence in her wake. My mouth gapes open as she exits the common room, my eyes trailing after her, part of me desperately wanting to follow her.
A new Educational Decree awaits us in the common room that next morning. As predicted, Umbridge has taken over the position left empty by Dumbledore. The High Inquisitor is now Headmistress of Hogwarts. I'm standing in front of the sign when Draco walks over to me. "You're mingling with the wrong crowd, Charlotte," he says under his breath.
"And what wrong crowd would that be?"
"Sparkford, Greengrass, Baddock, Accrington. I saw you last night before the Mudblood started shouting. They're blood traitors and half-bloods and filthy Mudbloods, and I don't think the family would like it much if they found out you were mixing with the wrong crowd."
"The family, huh? How do you think they'll handle you letting me be with the wrong crowd?"
"I have never had control over you."
"Obviously. But is that how they'll take it? Or will the Dark Lord dislike that Lucius's son couldn't keep his broodmare away from undesirables?" I watch him for a reaction, but he remains stoic. "I'ma blood traitor. I don't give a damn about blood purity. In fact, I enjoy being around Muggles, Muggle-borns, blood traitors, and half-bloods." I meet his eyes. "How much do you hate me?"
He clenches his teeth. "I'm not the one you should be worried about hating you. That honor goes to your mother and the Dark Lord." Then he smiles vindictively. "I'll see you around, Aurelia."
At breakfast, I manage to forget about Draco's ruthless words, mostly thanks to Astoria and Daphne who talk animatedly about the events in Dumbledore's office, trying to get whatever details from me that they can. Apparently, most of the school knows already. Thanks to Fred and me, it seems. No one really seems to recall where the rumors started, but how else could word have gotten out if not for Fred and me? Marietta is in the hospital wing, and I don't think Harry would have had the time to speak with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff this morning. The thought that Fred and I helped spread the news fills me with a sense of pride, even though our story has been escalated and exaggerated, now reaching so far as saying that the Minster is in St. Mungo's. It's probably a good thing that no one knows who started it because Umbridge won't be able to hunt us down.
"Just tell us how you know all of this," Astoria pleads.
"I can't, I can't." I laugh at their hopeful faces. The owls swoop into the Great Hall to deliver their letters and spare me from trying to come up with a lie. I smile when one lands in front of me. I am to go to McGonagall's office right before lunch for my Conjuration lessons, which means it will be an extremely short lesson compared to normal, but it's better than nothing.
Even with Umbridge as the new headmistress and Dumbledore absent and missing, the rest of the day somehow stays bright.
As I'm making my way to McGonagall's office after lunch, I run into—quite literally, in fact, which is becoming a trend—Fred in the hallway. George is with him this time.
"Can you believe how quickly the news spread?" he asks me excitedly.
"I wasn't expecting the whole school to know before lunch! But now that it's happened, I can't picture it going any other way."
"Poor Harry's been bombarded with questions all day," George tells me. "It makes sense, I guess. He was the only one there, so he's the best source of information." Then he winks at me.
"George's the only person who knows," Fred informs me.
I smile at them. "Excellent. I'd hate for it to get back to Umbridge that you and I saw everything. I don't think I really want to deal with another detention with her."
Fred shakes his head. "Can't blame you. Lee hates even the thought of her detentions now."
"Poor bloke . . ." George sighs.
"Did you tell the other Slytherins, or did you decide it's safer to keep it to yourself?"
Anger stirs in me when at the thought of Draco's glee that Harry had been taken to Dumbledore's office. "I told a few of them, the ones who weren't rejoicing with Draco over Harry being caught."
"What was Malfoy saying?" George growls.
"He was just . . . I don't really know what he was saying. But he was extremely happy that Harry had been caught and would probably be expelled. Apparently, he had been telling the story for a while, because one of the seventh-years—Zoe Accrington— got extremely frustrated with him and actually yelled at him before storming out of the common room." I add for emphasis, "I told you that not all of the Slytherins are horrid."
Fred grins. "I believe that was one of the first things you said to us. And now I admit you were right. At least partially. We know Accrington. She hates us. Well, our House and the other Houses, but she doesn't seem like a bad person."
"She has her reasons. She was even infuriated at the thought of Umbridge filling Dumbledore's position."
"Umbridge'll regret that soon enough," George says suddenly.
"Why?"
"The headmistress is in for a surprise," Fred tells me.
"What are you going to do?"
"You'll have to wait and see," George answers.
"Will it get you into trouble?"
"We don't care about getting in trouble, Charlotte!" Fred laughs. "We're past that!"
"Which means yes."
They shrug.
"Just don't hurt yourselves."
"Never," George says.
"And make sure to watch your back," Fred warns me.
"Weasleys," Draco growls, walking towards us. "You blood traitors shouldn't be messing with the Slytherins. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
The twins groan. "Since when do you have the right to take away points?" I ask him.
"Since Umbridge gave the Inquisitorial Squad the right to."
"That's ridiculous," Fred says.
"Don't make me take points away from you again, Weasley," Draco warns. "Now, be on your way and leave Charlotte alone. I'm sure she has better things to do than waste her time speaking with two destitute blood traitor Weasleys."
Fred smiles at me, and before he takes off with George, he looks down at me and tentatively bends to kiss me. Even if only to piss off Draco, I meet Fred halfway, his soft lips welcome against my own.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor!"
We separate swiftly, ignoring Draco, and I say, "We're no longer even." Fred smiles at me again before George pulls him along.
Draco glowers at me.
"What?"
"It's like you want me to tell your mother what you're doing."
"You say that like I care that she's my mother."
"No, but you should care that she keeps nothing from You-Know-Who."
I shrug. "Tell her if you want. I don't care about what they say or do to me at this point, because what can be worse than what's already in store for me, right?" That's not true—of course I'm afraid of what they might do to me. But if I'm supposed to bear the Dark Lord a child, they need me alive.
He huffs. "Do you care about what they might do to Weasley?" I narrow my eyes at him. "That's what I thought. Don't test me. Now let's go to the Great Hall."
"Actually, I am on my way to McGonagall's office."
"For what?"
"Reasons."
"Not breaking any of Professor Umbridge's Education Decrees, are you?"
"You think McGonagall, of all professors, would do such a thing? I really must be going."
As McGonagall's office is just a short walk away, I am there within just a few minutes. She wastes no time getting started on our lessons, which disappoints me because part of me wanted to ask about last night and speak to her about my Easter meeting with Voldemort. "You seem comfortable with the Bird-Conjuring Charm," she begins. I can now Conjure a flock of birds at any point thanks to her. "Now we will begin the Water-Making Spell, Aguamenti. It is a charm that conjures a jet of clear, pure water from the tip of your wand." She draws up a large bowl before aiming her wand at it, moving it in the shape of a sideways S, and saying, "Aguamenti." A stream of water bursts from her wand and fills the bowl.
I smile widely, excitement flowing through me. "This is perfect."
She steps aside and lets me get closer to the bowl. "Go ahead and vanish that for practice. Then you can get started on the Water-Making Spell."
"Evanesco.". The water disappears from the bowl, and I try my first attempt at the Water-Making Spell. "Aguamenti." As I'd expected, absolutely nothing happens. So I try again, only to wield the same results. With McGonagall watching very closely, I try once more. And again, nothing happens.
"Your wand movement is off. Your second loop—it is nearly twice as long as your first one. They must be the same length." She demonstrates how to do it the correct way. "Try again."
I take a deep breath and try again. "Aguamente." Nothing happens.
Before I have a chance to try again, McGonagall says, "You pronounced it wrong that time. Aguamenti, not Aguamente."
"Sorry," I mutter, not looking her in the eye.
"Your heart's not in it today, Rodgers. Is there something you wish to say?"
"I'm just distracted. I leave Friday for the Easter holiday and . . ." I can't even say it. I'll be meeting Voldemort for the first time. She opens her mouth to speak, but I continue, "Do you know where Dumbledore went? Will he return? Because I don't . . . I don't—Voldemort fears only him, and if he's gone . . ."
"You know as well as I do that I cannot speak on such topics," McGonagall says sternly. "Education Decree Number—" She pauses for a moment. "Merlin, there are so many I can't remember which is which anymore."
"And there's no way I can get you to disregard that in this one occasion?"
She doesn't waver.
"Technically, Professor, the Education Decree you're speaking of—I think it's number twenty-five—"
"Twenty-six," she says confidently.
I smile. "You sound very sure of that."
"Education Decree Number Twenty-five is the decree that gave the High Inquisitor control over punishment and led to my Quidditch team losing its Beaters and its Seeker. That particular decree will not be easily forgotten."
I nod. "Well, the twenty-sixth one prohibits professors from giving information to students. But I'm not really a student, am I? Not a true one at least. You know that. I'm only here because the Dark Lord demands it. If anything—and don't take this personally, because I've grown to like it here despite my best effort when I was placed here against my will—I'm more of a prisoner at Hogwarts than a student. Wouldn't you agree?"
Whether or not she agrees with me, I might never know, because the moment before she answers, something somewhere in the castle explodes so severely that McGonagall's office shakes, the bowl for water falling onto the floor and shattering. "What was—?"
McGonagall and I exchange curious expressions as the sounds of running and screaming can be heard from several floors below us. McGonagall's curious look is quickly replaced by one of concern. "Rodgers, head straight to lunch. If you are not seen there, you might be blamed, and as far as Professor Umbridge is concerned, no student is learning Conjuration earlier than the Ministry-approved timeline."
I don't argue and instead sprint to lunch—on my way to the Great Hall, I manage to see large green and gold dragons, made entirely of sparks, rampaging through the corridors, emitting loud and fiery bangs as they fly around, lighting the corridors and casting shadows around. Pink Catherine wheels flutter through the air like saucers while rockets with silver tails soar around them. Surprisingly, none of these fiery objects seem to run out of steam; in fact, they gain momentum the longer they fly. The Weasley twins have outdone themselves, and I will definitely need to compliment all of their hard work.
Throughout the rest of the afternoon, these dragons and Catherine wheels and rockets do not stop—how the Weasley twins didn't ace all of their O.W.L.s is beyond me if they can create things like this.
A dragon finds its way into McGonagall's classroom later, and I cannot hide my joy when she says, very sarcastically, "Dear, dear," while watching it fly around, emitting its loud bangs and exhaling its flaming breath. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"
It's like no professor seems capable of ridding their classrooms of the Weasleys' fireworks despite their immense skills, so Umbridge spends her entire first afternoon as headmistress running around, answering distressed calls from each and every professor. It is without a doubt the greatest bit of undermining rebellion I have ever witnessed. And to my surprise, even Draco and the Inquisitorial Squad seem amused by Umbridge's afternoon task despite having been so happy to have her take over from Dumbledore. Their loyalty only stretches so far.
I only see Fred for a brief moment that afternoon. I rush over to him from behind and grab him around the waist, startling him for a second before he turns and smiles. He doesn't have a chance to say anything before I reach up and press my lips against his. "You're brilliant!" I laugh.
"At kissing or creating fireworks?"
I ignore that and look at George. "You're both brilliant!"
"You haven't kissed me, Charlotte, how would you know if I'm brilliant or not?"
"Perhaps I'm just imagining you are," I say with a wink.
Fred puts his hand on his brother's face and pushes him away, laughing.
"Your joke shop will be absolutely fantastic if everything you create is as amazing as those fireworks."
"Oh, it will."
"Do you not fear getting expelled though?"
"We couldn't care less," George says.
"We'll walk out of here ourselves soon enough."
"You should probably be walking to the Gryffindor Tower first. You'll have tons of students in there trying to order stuff from you, and you don't want to miss that!"
"Good point," George says. Then he and Fred take off toward the Gryffindor common room while I make my way down to the Slytherin Dungeon.
Astoria comes toward me as soon as I step inside. "You weren't lying, obviously, about Umbridge taking Dumbledore's position, but did you see this coming at all?"
"You think I wouldn't have warned you?"
Grant Sparkford walks over as well. "So you weren't lying," he sighs. "I'll remember that."
I nod at him, and he walks away. "This is going to be a really good week."
"If all the professors act as they were today?" Astoria says. "Without a doubt."
And the week is a really good week—students and professors alike, and even Peeves, find ways to mess with Umbridge's new reign. Flitwick can't perform any charm well enough to stop any of the Weasleys' shenanigans, and rumor has it that McGonagall informed Peeves about different ways to bring down chandeliers around the castle. Umbridge is living in her own personal hell for days on end, but like all good things, this has to stop, halting abruptly when the Easter holidays arrive that Friday. The Weasley twins have given us quite a show, but they say that they are going to tone it down for the holidays, which most fifth-year students will be using to study for the O.W.L.s.
Of course, I'm not "most fifth-year students." And when it comes time to leave for Easter, I find myself on the Hogwarts Express in an empty compartment. This time, my departure from Hogwarts is not filled with anticipation as had been the case for Christmas (before that was ruined). This time, my departure is filled with nothing but fear.
Not only will I be forced to see my mother—Bellatrix Lestrange, I reprimand myself, I should not think of her as my mother because it is so obvious that she does not want to be that person anymore—but also Lord Voldemort himself.