Chapter 41
Hermione
Hermione sat hunched over a small conjured desk in Umbridge’s office, painstakingly copying lines: "I must not question the authority of Professor Umbridge." Harry was being made to write “I must not tell lies”, which he was doing silently with a bitter sneer on his lips. Hermione knew it was paining him to sit quietly and write that over and over when he hadn’t lied. He was being punished for speaking the truth; and the injustice burned even after Sirius had managed to reduce their punishment. Hermione had gotten through the time by imagining increasingly fantastical ideas of how to extract revenge on her teacher; from starting a letter campaign to the Ministry calling for her immediate removal (she was absolutely certain she could get the Ravenclaws on board) to learning the human-to-animal transfiguration fake Moody had performed on Draco Malfoy the year before. That particular fantasy was quite elaborate, and she had to suppress the smile at the thought of turning her into a toad and chucking her into the forbidden forest. Of course, I’d have to find out if the transfiguration was temporary or permanent, it’d be a shame if she came back, She thought with a vicious sort of glee.
The quill scratched incessantly, a maddening counterpoint to the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of Umbridge’s long nails on her desk. Her saccharine smile was twisted into a grimace of barely contained fury. The air hung thick with the scent of her sickly-sweet perfume and the acrid tang of resentment.
Umbridge’s voice, usually simpering and high pitched, was laced with venom as she spoke, breaking the last hour’s silence.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Black," she hissed, her voice barely audible above the scratching quills. "You think you're above the rules? That your… *connections* will always save you? Let me assure you, Mr. Black's… *assistance* was a small inconvenience. There will be other transgressions, I am certain, and not every time will someone intervene on your behalf." She placed a long, somewhat plain wooden box on her desk, stroking the scarred surface of the wood with her fingertips. Hermione watched as she opened it, removing a long black quill with an extremely sharp looking tip. Umbridge stroked the feather, looking up and locking eyes with Hermione. She gave her a smile.
“Admiring my quill, Ms. Black? Perhaps your next detention I’ll let you use it. It’s quite special.” She murmured, placing it back in the box with exaggerated care.
“No thank you, Professor. I don’t plan on having another detention.” Hermione said with exaggerated politeness.
“One never plans to be punished.” Umbridge replied in a girlish singsong. “Especially spoiled children who refuse to respect authority.”
Harry and Hermione exchanged a weary glance. They knew Umbridge was right; Sirius couldn't always be their shield. Something about this woman was off, and not just because she was appointed by the Ministry. Under her pink robes and sickly-sweet tone was a cruelty, an absence of empathy that reminded Hermione very much of her mother. Her mother had been a champion of fake smiles and good public shows of kindness, of saying something that sounded like a compliment but was actually cruel. Hermione was sure dealing with Umbridge would be a challenge at every turn, but she had years of experience. When the clock tower struck 7, Umbridge stood, and collected their papers, frowning deeply.
“Tut-tut. I hardly feel the message had a chance to sink in.” She murmured. “You’re excused.” She snapped in a louder voice. Harry and Hermione wasted no time grabbing their bags and rushing to the door.
“C’mon Hermione! What if Sirius left?” Harry tugged her along as they jogged down the halls together.
“Harry…he’s not going to…leave us!” She puffed, struggling to keep up with her athletic friend and his long legs. They reached the Great Hall in record time, Harry going straight for the Gryffindor table where their father sat, surrounded by a crowd hanging off his every word and no doubt asking him as many invasive questions as possible. Hermione on the other hand, leaned forward on her knees and panted, having left her ability to breath somewhere on the grand staircase.
“Alright there, love?” Came a voice behind her, seconds before she was swooped off her feet. The world was a dizzying array of color and light for a moment; then she collided with a chest. She looked up into Fred’s grinning face. He’s holding me bridal-style like a knight in some bodice-ripper novel, she realized to her complete mortification. A small part of her thrilled in it, the careful way he held her, the fact that he was strong enough to carry her as though she weighed nothing. The fact that it makes his muscles budge in such a delicious way, her brain whispered traitorously and she blushed fiercely.
“Fred! You can’t just carry me around, people will see, put me down!” She hissed, kicking her legs.
“You were winded. And I like carrying you.” Fred said with an air of indifference, squeezing her tighter to his chest.
“Don’t you dare walk into the Great Hall.” She snapped.
“Why not, Maiden Fair?” He took a step forward, grinning. Had she said that out loud? Her cheeks burned at the thought.
“Because Sirius Black is in there.” She said smugly.
Fred dropped her legs and helped her right herself with lightning speed. He kept his arm around her, which she had absolutely no objection to.
Fred
Fred laughed uproariously as Sirius’s tale of a school prank in which The Marauders had (allegedly) bewitched everyone’s pointed hats (including the teachers) to sprout feathers and fly at breakneck speed about the hall, causing pandemonium. Fred loved Sirius’s stories of his school days; each one was more outrageous than the last, and it was excellent prank inspiration. Not to mention, his girlfriend’s father was *The* Padfood, one of the mapmakers and a hero to him since his first year- how could one man get so lucky?
“Forge…” He wheezed. “We need to take notes!”
“On it.” George mumbled, scribbling furiously in his notebook. “Sirius, mate, what was that incantation again?” He asked casually, tucking the book under his elbow.
Sirius’s eyes glittered with mirth. “Don’t even think about it boys, as a responsible adult I could never condone such behavior.” He leaned over and tapped a finger on George’s arm, right above the book and winked. Then he turned to Harry with a grin. “I’ve got to get back, can’t leave Mooney alone tonight.” He said, glancing at the sunset sky reflected in the hall ceiling, “Why don’t you and your sister walk me out?”
The twins waved their goodbyes, and Fred, out of respect for his future father-in-law, didn’t pull out the WWW products to sell until the small family had disappeared.
George
George could not believe he had spent the summer with two of the makers of their beloved map, school legend pranksters, and didn’t know. He was bitterly disappointed he had missed out on so many opportunities to pick their brains about jokes, products or potential spells. Surely they weren’t that serious about not contributing to teenage rebellion…
As Fred switched into sales mode and began exchanging trick sweets and extendable ears for coins, George thumbed through his notebook idly, looking over notes and sketches. He reached the end, and his hastily scribbled notes on Sirius’s school wide prank. His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat as he took in the page. There, underneath his words, was another line, shimmering fresh ink in elaborate cursive.
“You didn’t get this from me. Volarepetasum, cast in a fan shape in tandem from behind the second suit of armor on the right.”
-Padfoot
George smirked and closed his notebook. It seemed only fitting that they carry on the Marauder’s legacy, after all, they’d be family eventually.
Hermione
The setting sun cast long shadows across the grounds of Hogwarts, painting the ancient stone walls in hues of orange and purple. Sirius dominated the conversation, keeping up a cheery monologue of school reminiscences until they were halfway to the gate.
“That should be far enough. Remember the walls have ears here.” He sighed, reaching up and yanking roughly on the ascot tie he wore and shoving it into his pocket. “Uncomfortable damn things.” He muttered, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply before continuing to walk, pulling the ribbon from his hair and letting down his curls as he walked.
“Sirius!” Hermione cried, chasing after him. “We’re on school grounds!”
He smirked at her horror. “Kitten, they never caught me before. So,” He looked pointedly between them, “How was detention?”
“She just had us write lines.” Harry shrugged.
“She was weird about it.” Hermione said slowing, creasing her brow as she thought of Umbridge stroking the black quill.
“Apparently she’s got rather the nasty reputation at the Ministry. Votes against any positive werewolf or creature legislation, has some rather strong views on blood purity, that sort of bollocks.” Sirius said thoughtfully.
“She said in her speech at the feast the Ministry was looking to change Hogwarts.” Hermione said.
“You two stay sharp around her. Don’t let her get the best of you; she’s mad and will want revenge. Don’t raise your hand or speak unless spoken to.” Sirius said firmly.
“But Sirius, she said,-” Harry began hotly.
“No, Harry. I don’t trust her. Something about her…just keep your heads down, OK? Not every fights are won in a day.” Sirius said calmly , gripping Harry’s shoulder. Harry nodded and looked away.
“Sirius, did you talk to Dumbledore about our O.W.L.’s?” Hermione said fretfully.
“Yes- and I’m doing what I can Hermione. Try not to fret.” He went silent for a moment, clearly unwilling to share the conversation he had with Dumbledore.
“You were brilliant today, Sirius.” Hermione said, shifting the subject.
“I’m brilliant every day, Hermione.” He quipped with a wink. She shook her head at his cheek as they reached the intricately scrolled iron gate to the school.
“Mind each other getting back, it’s getting dark.” He said, with a touch of the arrogance he had displayed earlier.
Harry made a face. “Sirius, come on, that’s laying on ‘dad’ a little too thick.”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Who are you and what have you done with Sirius?”
He laughed, but tried to look stern once more. “Look, it pains me to have to be the responsible one but you know what’s out there, OK? It’s not like it would be the first time if some dark wizard slipped the school’s defenses.” He said pleadingly.
“Or the fourth, actually.” Hermione muttered. Sirius frowned.
“I always thought the lax security was a bonus, feels different as a father.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“We’ll be safe.” Harry said sincerely.
“I’ll keep him in line.” Hermione affirmed.
“Traitor.” Harry hissed playfully and Hermione bumped her shoulder into his. Well, her shoulder into his upper arm.
“Troublemaker.” She hissed back.
They finally said a proper goodbye, Sirius folding them both into a tight hug and ruffling Harry’s hair. They watched him walk down the path until he turned on his heel and vanished, before turning and heading back to the castle.
“Why’d he dress up like that if he hates it?” Harry said finally.
“It was an act, asserting his power. Think about it; if he came in in ripped jeans and an old band t-shirt a person like Umbridge would look down on him, feel superior be more likely to fight. He showed up as a rich, powerful, pureblood elite to give himself the upper hand. It might also be to maintain a certain image of himself to the Ministry. It’s very clever.” Hermione explained as Harry nodded along.
“What do you think she’ll do next?”
“I don’t know Harry, but Sirius is right. We need to be careful around her…she’s planning something.”