“The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 6”
By = Fayanora

Chapter Six: So Many Questions!

Notes: This is the sequel to “The Many Faces of Har---er, Adira Potter.” If you haven't read that series yet, this one isn't going to make much sense. Also, a reminder for anyone who forgot: the person formerly known as Harry still exists, she's just transgender in this one, her new name is Adira, nicknamed “Addy.”

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = Because the previous note about the styles was messing with the formatting, the following will be formatting for internal voices: 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

Text in 'Italics and single quotes' is Parseltongue.

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

This chapter contains some quotations from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

*FAYANORA*

When Adira woke up the next morning, she found a notebook on her trunk that turned out to be from Hypatia. It was full of information about how to keep people from getting your blood without your consent. After looking through it and spotting some highlighted areas, she found there was also another bit about how to make your blood useless for magical purposes if you couldn't avoid your blood being taken from you. They decided to focus on that for now. First, it was a simple potion one took up to an hour before the event. Second, they didn't like to think what Umbridge would do if the blood stopped flowing from the blood quill. And third, they weren't sure if the spell to stop blood being taken would stop the blood quill working at all, and the idea of being cut into without bleeding was fraught with questions about how that might affect them.

At breakfast, their thoughts were interrupted by Hermione pointing out something in the Daily Prophet. It seemed Sturgis Podmore, the man who Moody had been annoyed about for missing the guard duty to escort them to the train, had broken into the Ministry of Magic.

TRESPASS AT MINISTRY

Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the
Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31"
August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him
attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore,
who refused to speak, in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six
months in Azkaban.

“Six months in Azkaban for trying to get through a door?” Adira said, dumbfounded. “I mean yeah, it's a Ministry door, but still...”

“Yes, and at one o'clock in the morning, no less,” Hermione said. “What on Earth was he doing there?”

“Hmm... I suspect he was being Imperiused,” Adira said.

“What? Why?”

“Moldyshorts wanted something behind that door, he may have been wanting it since he first returned. Even though he's not exactly himself at the moment, his little minions are probably still trying to get it for him.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I mean, why do you suspect You-Know-Who?”

“Because if Sturgis was there on Dumbledore's orders, well... he's an Auror, isn't he? He'd be able to go about the Ministry with ease. Unless he was sent after something nobody wanted the Ministry knowing he was after. I can't think of any reason Dumbledore would send someone after something in a top-security Ministry room, but Moldyshorts definitely would do something like that.”

“Or it could just be a frame-up by the Ministry,” Ron said. “You know, to discredit Dumbledore's side? No — listen!” he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione's face. “The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so — I dunno — they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!”

“Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true. But both theories make sense, so it could be either one.”

Adira shrugged, and continued to eat. She didn't like Tom's chances of getting into the Ministry secretly, especially if he's still not back to full power after having to be killed again. And if he went into the Ministry openly, everyone would know he was back, which would get rid of Umbridge.

~

Having taken a copy of the recipe with them, they spent their morning break letting Iliana work out if there were any improvements she could make to potion. There were, but nothing she cared to try without running it past Snape first. And they couldn't do that; Snape would get suspicious and the compulsion charm didn't like that one whit. So they just decided to make the regular version to be safe.

But there was one component, a single drop of mackled malaclaw venom, that they couldn't easily get a hold of. And they didn't think Snape would agree to give it to them without a good reason. They thought maybe they could talk about wanting their blood protected after Voldemort, but when they ran through the conversation in their head, Snape got suspicious and suspected Umbridge. They could buy some, but as their next detention with Umbridge was tonight, that wouldn't do. So they would have to steal some... today.

Checking the Marauders Map for Snape, they saw he was in class. His office, they knew, was connected to the classroom. They didn't have his class today, so they wouldn't be able to sneak in there anytime soon. However... they did have a friend they could get help from.

Ducking into an unused classroom and putting up privacy spells, Adira called, “Dobby!”

With a CRACK, Dobby appeared. He was wearing an odd assortment of clothes, including mis-matched socks, kid's football shorts, a tie over a white A-shirt, and three baseball caps on his head.

“Miss Adira Potter is wanting Dobby for something? How can Dobby be helping Miss?”

“Hi, Dobby. First, a question: as a free elf being paid by Dumbledore, are you able to help with something that might be technically breaking the rules?”

“It is depending on what you is needing of Dobby, Miss. I can be doing that, but Dobby will only be helping break a rule if it is being very important, Miss.”

“I figured as much. Listen, can you keep a secret?”

Dobby saluted her. “Dobby is glad to keeps Miss Potter's secrets and his silence, Miss! As long as those secrets is not hurting nobody, Miss.”

“Good. Now, I can't tell you everything, because this situation is... well, think back to when we first met, Dobby. You wanted to tell me something, but you couldn't.”

Dobby's eyes went wide with worry. “Is Miss being controlled? Is you not able to speak of something like Dobby was?”

Adira remained silent. The compulsion charm wouldn't let her answer, but not answering was an answer itself for Dobby.

“I sees, Miss. And is Dobby right to thinks you cannot let me tell any teachers of your predicament?”

Again, her silence spoke volumes for him.

“Dobby understands, Miss. What is Miss needing of Dobby?”

“I have a potion recipe that can help my situation, but I can't get one of the ingredients. I hate to ask you to break rules, but the only way I can get what I need is to steal it, and time is of the essence. I need to brew the potion today, and it takes an hour to brew.”

“What ingredient is Miss needing?”

“A single drop of mackled malaclaw venom.”

“Ooh Miss, that is being a very unlucky substance.”

“Yes, I know. But the way the potion is set up, that venom will be transferring the unluckiness to someone else. But only if they try to hurt me a certain way.”

“And Miss is not able to say what way, in case it is forbidden?”

She couldn't answer again, but again it wasn't necessary.

“Miss can count on Dobby. Dobby can be getting what you needs!”

“Thanks, Dobby. Snape is teaching class right now. Can you get into his office without making your usual apparition crack?”

“It is being tricksier, Miss, but Dobby can be making a quiet pop if he is ordered to.”

Getting the picture, she said, “Then I order you to be quiet when you visit Professor Snape's office today.”

Dobby saluted again, concentrated a moment, then popped away with hardly any sound at all. Addy checked the Marauders Map, and it looked like Snape was still in the classroom. She wished she could see Dobby on the Map. She'd have to ask Sirius about how to add elves to the Map.

A couple minutes later, Dobby popped silently into the space he'd been in before, leaning against a desk for support. He looked winded, the poor soul.

“Wow, was being quiet when you apparate that difficult for you, Dobby?”

“That is being part of it, Miss,” he said when he got his breathing back under control. “The other part of it is being trying to find what Miss was looking for, and a bottle for it. Also, Professor Snapey almost came into the office. Dobby is lucky he is not being caught, Miss.”

Dobby handed her a very small bottle with a bit more than a single drop of malaclaw venom in it, but then it would be difficult to get out of the bottle if there was less than that. Luckily, the bottle also had an eye dropper installed in it.

“Thank you very much, Dobby. How can I repay you?”

“There is no need, Miss. Miss is already freeing Dobby, and that is being enough. Be safe, Miss. And if Dobby can be helping you any other way, do not be hesitating to ask.”

“Thanks again, Dobby. You're a great friend and a great elf.”

Dobby blushed scarlet and disappeared with a CRACK.

Going to the Room of Requirement, Iliana soon was walking into a full potions lab. There weren't any ingredients there, but she had that already in her bag. All she needed was the cauldron, the fire, and the water.

Iliana started up the potion, carefully following the instructions. She wondered, as she brewed, how and when the extra lessons with Snape would happen, with Umbridge looming about in the school now. Would he even want to, after what he'd said about them in their vision of Dumbledore's office?

She checked her watch, and was alarmed to find she'd be late for her next class if she didn't leave soon. The potion was basically done, it just needed to simmer for another half an hour. She turned the heat down, set an alarm, and called Dobby again.

“Miss is wanting Dobby again?”

“Sorry, Dobby, but I have to get to class. This potion needs to simmer for 30 minutes. When the alarm goes off, turn off the fire under it and let it sit for five minutes before putting it in this bottle.”

She set a large bottle down next to the cauldron, about a foot away.

“Then, when that's done, meet me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom right before lunch, okay? Can you do that?”

Dobby nodded. “That is being simple, Miss. Much like cooking, but easier because Dobby is not doing any brewing.”

“Good. Now, you'll have to stay here while it simmers, because I don't know what will happen to it when the room reverts to normal. Can you do that, too?”

“Dobby can do that, Miss. Dobby is finishing his chores for the next two hours early today, so he can be doing that.”

“Thank you again, Dobby,” she said, hugging him and rushing out the door with her book bag.

Dobby got up on a stool the Room provided, and looked into the cauldron. He took a whiff, trying to get a clue about what they were brewing. He couldn't tell by scent what was in it, though. He was more familiar with cooking than potion brewing, after all. But then he looked to the side and noticed Miss Potter had left the recipe behind in her haste to get to class. He gasped at the title of the potion: 'A Potion to render stolen blood useless to dark wizards.'

He sighed sadly, wishing he could tell someone what he'd found. But even with being free, he was still bound to keep the secrets of his masters, and now as a Hogwarts elf, he had to keep her secrets, too, if she told him to. Also, he'd promised her to keep the secret. So, sad at this fact, he read the instructions to make sure there weren't any steps she'd forgotten to tell him about, then sent her notebook back up to her room with a wave of his hand, and kept an eye on the potion.

~

With the potion in her possession, Addy ducked into an unused classroom on her way to dinner to take a measure of it. But she couldn't remember if she was allowed to eat after the potion, and Dobby had told her she'd left the notebook behind and it was now in her room. So she skipped dinner, just to be on the safe side. She could always get something to eat from Dobby. In fact... just in case she might wake him up later, she called Dobby one last time before leaving the classroom she'd ducked into and asked him to leave something for her to eat that wouldn't spoil between now and midnight. That done, she let Chandra take over and they went on to their second-to-last detention with Umbridge.

This detention was much like the last, and lasted until midnight again. They were getting backed up on their schoolwork, and between another detention tomorrow after lunch and tryouts on Sunday, they didn't have a lot of time to do it all.

[Don't worry about that,] Hypatia told them. [I'll do it for you. I have ways of speeding up the process.]

'Thanks, Hypatia.'

[Yes well, I'd like you to get some more sleep.]

This detention did have one difference: after two hours the words 'I must not tell lies' did not fade from the back of their left hand (Chandra being left-handed was such a boon in this case) didn't go away this time when they were done, and the sudden silence of the blood quill no longer scratching the parchment made Umbridge look up.

“Ah,” she said softly, moving around her desk to examine his hand herself. :Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight.”

“Do I still have to come back tomorrow?” asked Chandra hopefully, picking up his schoolbag with his right hand rather than his smarting left one.

“Oh yes,' said Professor Umbridge, smiling as widely as before. “Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evenings work.”

Chandra and the others had never before considered the possibility that there might be someone they hated more than Voldemort, but as he walked back towards Gryffindor Tower he had to admit they had found a strong contender. ~She's evil,~ he thought, as he climbed a staircase to the seventh floor, ~she's an evil, twisted, mad old-~

“Red Knight?” Chandra asked, dumbfounded.

He had reached the top of the stairs, turned right and almost walked into Ron, who was lurking behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, clutching his broomstick. He gave a great leap of surprise when he saw Chandra and attempted to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven behind his back.

“Red Knight, what quest brings you here at this late hour?” Chandra asked him.

“Er — nothing. What are you doing?”

“I am returning from the Herculean trial of Sorrow and Enmity's detention. But you are attempting to divert me, like Hercules of old did to that river. What is it that has you hiding here?”

“I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know,” said Ron. “They just went past with a bunch of first-years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione and Neville there.”

He was talking in a very fast, feverish way. Chandra didn't know what to say. So Adira took over and they changed before Ron's eyes to her.

“But what have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?” she asked him.

“I — well — well, OK, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?' Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. 'I — I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.”

“I'm not laughing,” said Addy. Ron blinked. “It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?”

“I'm not bad,' said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Addy's reaction. “Charlie, Fred and George always made me keep for them when they were training during the holidays.”

“So you've been practicing tonight?”

“Every evening since Tuesday . . . just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be.” Ron looked nervous and anxious. “Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.”

“If they do, Iliana or I will have some stern words for them. And if that doesn't work, we'll hex them seven ways from Sunday.”

“Thanks, Addy. Hey, what's that on the back of your hand?”

Addy, who had just scratched her nose with her free left hand, tried to hide it, but had as much success as Ron with his Cleansweep.

“It's just a cut — it's nothing — it's-”

But Ron had grabbed her forearm and pulled the back of her hand up level with his eyes. There was a pause, during which he stared at the words carved into the skin, then, looking sick, he released her.

“I thought you said she was just giving you lines?”

Harry hesitated, but after all, Ron had been honest with him, and he now knew the truth anyway; what was more, she'd felt the compulsion charm extend to Ron when he'd touched her arm. So she told Ron the truth about the hours Chandra had been spending in Umbridge's office.

“The old hag!” Ron said in a revolted whisper as they came to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was dozing peacefully with her head against her frame. “She's sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!”

“Can't,” she said with disgust. “Chandra figured out when he first touched the black quill that there's a compulsion charm on it to keep me from telling anyone. Only reason I can talk about it now is you figured it out. And you can't go to anyone either; the compulsion charm extended to you when you grabbed my arm.”

“Damn it!” Ron stage-whisper 'shouted.' “And the charm prevented you from warning me, I'll bet.”

“Yes.”

“Damn it. And wait, did you say a black quill? And it does that to your hand?”

“Yes.”

“So, a blood quill?”

She nodded.

“Bloody hell! Have you tried asking teachers about ways to prevent it being done to you?”

“Can't ask the teachers anything that would tip them off. Even thinking about it made the charm activate. Which isn't pleasant, I can tell you. But Hypatia left us some options. Iliana made a potion to render any blood taken that way useless for any kind of magical purposes. That wasn't easy to do, either. I had to rope Dobby into stealing an ingredient for me. Luckily, the potion isn't too difficult if you have all the ingredients, and I have enough left over for tomorrow. Possibly more days, but I really hope I won't need that much. But given what happened with Moldyshorts, I might want to get in the habit of taking this potion.”

“Well okay, I suppose. Is there a way to break compulsion charms, though?”

“I don't know.” Addy took a moment to think about it, and felt the pain of the charm activating, so she stopped. “Damn, she did a good job on that charm! I'd need outside help to break the charm, but we can't tell anyone, and if they touch either of us, the charm could affect them too. I'm sure the charm has limits, but still...”

“Yeah, it's a riddle,” Ron said.

“A conundrum indeed. Anyway, we should head back to the common room. Hold on a moment.”

She Disillusioned herself and Ron with her wand. They finished their trip back to the common room without being caught, though the Fat Lady looked suspicious at her voice coming out of nowhere, though she recognized her voice and let them in anyway.

~

Their final detention of the week the next day – a Saturday – went much as before. They took the potion to make their blood useless before going, and the words refused to go away even with their metamorph powers. About the only interesting thing to happen all day was waking up to find all their schoolwork for the week done, the auto-quills still in position and awaiting further commands. Hypatia must have set them all up and then gone straight to bed once she'd set them all in motion. They wondered how long that had taken, but got no response from her about it.

With their schoolwork done, Iliana spent the morning with Luna, walking along the grounds and talking, holding hands on occasion. It was a welcome experience after everything that had happened during the week.

Luna and Iliana continued spending time together after Iliana's detention, for Umbridge had let them go about 4 pm because the pain was bad enough Chandra couldn't have hidden his agony from her even if he'd been trying to. It had pained them more to see the evil woman so gleeful, but it gave Luna and Iliana more time to spend together, during dinner at the Gryffindor table together, and afterwards until just before curfew. She'd had to disguise the cuts in her hand with a bandage that was enchanted to look like her normal skin, and avoid letting Luna touch their left hand, but it worked.

Sunday was different, it being the tryouts. They'd set the tryouts to start after noon. Luna came to watch, as did Hermione and Javier. There were a lot of people there, in fact; far more than Iliana had anticipated. A number of them weren't even in their House. She dismissed those people right away, and they joined the others in the stands. But once that was dealt with, Iliana sent the rest through rigorous tests of speed, skill, and teamwork, each designed for different positions.

Ron, as it turned out, was pretty good at Keeping unless something undermined his confidence. Knowing how the Slytherins operated, she'd have to find some way to deal with that. Maybe have someone shouting insults at him during practice, to help him learn how to ignore such taunts? Well, something else to work on, because he was the best Keeper of those who had tried out.

By dinnertime, she had picked out the main team and the reserve team members. Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet returned as Chasers, the Weasley twins returned as Beaters, and Iliana was Seeker. Ginny Weasley made the team as a reserve Chaser and a reserve Seeker, but given their history of injuries, Iliana chose an extra reserve Chaser in case Ginny was already acting as a reserve Seeker. Maybe she was being overly cautious, but she didn't care. For all Wood had been fanatical about training, he'd overlooked having reserves, which had never made any sense to her.

Anyway, along with Ginny, the other reserve Chasers were a new find named Demelza Robins, and Dean Thomas. Demelza was particularly good at dodging Bludgers, which was the deciding factor for her. Also as a reserve Chaser was Fay Dunbar, despite the fact she'd been trying out for the Beater position. She was disappointed not to get her preferred position, but seemed glad to be on the team at all, even if it was as a reserve Chaser.

For reserve Beaters, Iliana had a hard time picking two from the choices of Andrew Kirke, Jack Sloper, Jimmy Peakes, and Ritchie Coote. Peakes and Coote were younger than Kirke and Sloper, but were already the equal of the older boys in skill. Not being sure who to pick, she got Al's help; together, though that wasn't apparent to others, they looked into the eyes of each boy, letting Al get a good read of them.

% Thoughts? % she asked Al when they were done.

(They've all got equal talent for sure,) Al said, (but I get the sense that Kirke and Sloper worked at least three times as hard to get as good as the other two. So I'd recommend Peakes and Coote for reserve Beaters, since it should take less effort for them to improve.)

% Right. Thanks. %

Aloud, she said, “Peakes, Coote, congratulations on making the reserve team.”

The two boys fist-pumped, Kirke and Sloper looking disappointed. She took the two boys aside before they left and told them she'd consider them for reserve reserves if something happened to take out two sets of Beaters. They looked at her funny when she said this, but then she reminded them of all the crazy stuff that had happened over the years, and they seemed to understand. They went away a little less disappointed, anyway.

For reserve Keeper, Cormac McClaggen was the second best after Ron, but in the short time he'd been around them for tryouts, Iliana could already tell she wouldn't be able to stand the berk. Al agreed, as did the others. But the problem was, she couldn't omit McClaggen from the reserve team without a solid reason, and nobody else but Ron had done as good as he had. So, sighing, she put McClaggen on the team as reserve Keeper anyway.

It occurred to her then to realize that if she included the reserve team, the team was evenly split between genders, with 7 girls and 7 boys on the team as a whole. If the positions were equally split by gender, they could have played girls versus boys, but all four Beaters and both Keepers were boys, with only one Chaser being a boy. Fay Dunbar was decent enough at playing Beater that Iliana could use her in a real emergency, but making her officially a reserve of a reserve was too paranoid, so it just remained an idle possibility.

“Alright, now that we're done, I want everyone on both the main team and the reserve team to stay behind, and everyone else to go away. Team, follow me,” Iliana said, leading them into the room that Wood had always used to talk with the team in private.

When they were all there, Iliana said, “Look, this is going to be difficult for everyone, because Wood was honestly a bit daft for not having any reserves, so even the veterans are going to have a hard time adjusting to training fourteen players all more or less at once.”

“We can manage, Iliana,” George said.

“Yeah, it'll be fine,” said Fred.

Iliana looked to the others. Everyone else seemed to agree.

“Yes, well, mainly this might be difficult on me in particular, having never done this before and going into it whole hog. By the way, I had an idea for setting someone up as a Deputy Captain just in case. Preferably somebody who can both manage the stress and who will be here next year, but if there's an absence of the latter, I'll be content with the former.

“The reason for this new Deputy Captain role is primarily to take some of the load off of me in my O.W.L. year, but an abundance of caution is another reason. Lots of crazy things have happened at Hogwarts the last few years, I'd rather have a system in place if the worst happens than let someone else scramble to pick up the pieces later.”

“Who are you going to pick for Deputy Captain?” Angelina asked.

“Dunno yet. But so far, Angelina, I'm inclined toward picking one of the veteran Chasers. So either Alicia, Angelina, or Katie. I'll think on it some more and come to a decision by next Saturday.”

“When's our first practice?” Ginny asked.

“Next Saturday. We're going to be doing practice every Saturday and Sunday; all day long on Saturdays, minus meals of course, and just mornings on Sundays. That's the new training schedule until further notice. I thought about having some on weekdays, but there's so many reasons not to that I'll only add to that if it isn't sufficient.

“Anyway, I expect you all here at 7 am next Saturday morning. And I do mean all of you. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain Potter!” came the reply.

“Good. Dismissed. Except for you two,” she said, pointing at the Weasley twins.

“Uh-oh George, first day of Quidditch and already we're in trouble,” Fred said.

Ignoring the twins at first, she waited for everyone to leave before putting up privacy spells in case someone – especially Ron – was trying to listen in.

“Oh boy,” George said when she put up the spells. “How deep in it are we, Iliana?”

“Not at all, yet. I only held you back because Ron is worried you two are going to make this difficult for him. I know he's not spectacular, but he's the best Keeper we have, and he'll be better without you two making fun of him. I expect both of you to treat all your teammates with equal respect, even the ones related to you. I want everyone to be comfortable with everyone else so we can work well as a team. And I know a thing or two about teamwork.”

The twins chuckled at her joke. She waited for them to stop, then continued on. “Anyway, so do try to be kind to all your teammates. But don't go overboard on it, we don't want anyone being suspicious of your motives if we can help it. I'll be keeping an eye on you two, and if I'm not satisfied with your level of respect, I won't hesitate to bench you. Understood?”

Swallowing audibly, the twins nodded. “Yes, Iliana. We'll be good, we promise,” George said.

“Is that only during practice, or all the time?” asked Fred.

“Well, since I can't police you all the time, just during practice. For now.”

“Understood, Captain Potter,” the twins said in stereo.

“Good. Now let's go have dinner while we still can.”

~

After dinner, Iliana went back to the dorms. When she opened the portrait of the Fat Lady, a wall of sound hit her. It was a party for all the people who had made Griffindor's Quidditch team, organized by the Weasley Twins. Ron came running over to her.

“Thanks for putting me on the team, Iliana!”

“You earned it, Ron,” she said, patting him on the back.

“Thanks. Have a Butterbeer.' Ron pressed a bottle on him. “I can't believe it —” where's Hermione gone?”

“She's there,” said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.

“Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,” said Ron, looking slightly put out.

“Let her sleep,” said George hastily. It was a few moments before Iliana noticed that several of the first-years gathered around them bore unmistakeable signs of recent nosebleeds. Iliana looked around covertly and found Neville, pointing this out to him.

“Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver's old robes fit you,” called Katie Bell, 'we can take off his name and put yours on instead.”

As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Iliana. “Captain Potter?”

“Yes, Deputy Captain Johnson?”

“Speaking as your deputy captain, well... I know you and Ron are good friends, but he's... not great. Better than the others, of course, but not great.”

“Yeah, confidence issues. He's had a lot to live up to over the years. We'll iron the kinks out in training. Anyway, part of the problem is the twins, but I already spoke to them about easing up on Ron and treating the rest of their teammates with respect as well. It's not a bad lesson to drive home to everyone else, either, now I think on it.”

“Right,” Angelina said. “Well, glad to know you've got things covered.”

She nodded, and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. Iliana moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as she sat next to Hermione.

“Oh, Iliana, it's you . . . good about Ron, isn't it?” she said blearily. “I'm just so — so — so tired,” she yawned. “I was up til midnight writing a letter to Viktor.”

“Must've been a long letter,” Iliana quipped.

“Yes, it was.”

Iliana sighed. “Well I'm kinda tired too. I know they probably all expect me to join in the festivities, but today was difficult if fun, and tomorrow is Monday. So I'm off to bed. Tell Ron and Neville for me, would you?”

“Oh no,” said Hermione, looking relieved, “if you're going that means I can go too, without being rude. I'm absolutely exhausted.”

“Well good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Iliana.”

With that, the two went off to their respective dorms for the night.

~

They woke up the next morning bright and early, dreading the day ahead. Given what class they had first, they let Chandra have the reins. He was soon down at breakfast, but called Dobby to let him know he wanted vegetarian meals today. While he ate, Hedwig dropped off a note for him from Sirius.

Dear pup,

If you haven't gotten more detentions by then, meet me in my teacher's quarters for a private dinner, just the two of us, so we can discuss your first week some more, if you want. Go to the west wing of the fifth-floor corridor and look for portraits of famous witches and wizards in the fields that Hogwarts teaches. Mine is behind the portrait of Godric Griffindor! The password is “Snivelus.”

Love you, pup!
---Sirius

Chandra wrote a quick note on a conjured piece of parchment saying “I would be thrilled to come visit you, Sirius. But please change the password to something else, it is not nice to make fun of Professor Snape. - Chandra.” He then sent it back with Hedwig, and went about having breakfast.

After breakfast, Chandra walked with Ron and Hermione to History of Magic. Ron was looking at Chandra and smirking while trying to keep from laughing, while Hermione was looking concerned. Given their emotions, he figured they assumed Chandra wouldn't be able to handle getting through this class without more detentions. ~Oh ye of little faith,~ he thought.

They got to class, and once more Umbridge was already waiting at her desk for them to join her. Again she looked like a large toad. Chandra wondered if, like Voldemort, she had done some kind of dark ritual that had mutated her appearance.

“Well, good afternoon!” she said when finally the whole class had sat down.

Knowing from the last time what was expected, they all echoed back, “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.”

“Excellent. Glad to see such fast learners in my class. Wands away and quills out, please.”

Nobody had bothered to get out their wands, but there was a bit of activity as people got out quills and parchment. Umbridge got up and used her wand to put words on the board. She was continuing her very biased history lesson, which made it sound like werewolves were horrible people. Chandra decided to consider it a look into the psychology of a racist instead of as facts, a point of view that made it a lot easier to detach himself from the content and write without feeling the need to respond.

When she was done with that, she told them to get their new history textbooks out and read chapter two. (They'd read chapter one last time after she returned from McGonagall's office.)

“There will be no need to talk,” Umbridge reminded them all.

Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Chandra wondered dully whether there were enough chapters in the book to keep them reading through all this years lessons and was on the point of checking the contents page when he noticed that Hermione had her hand in the air again.

Professor Umbridge had noticed, too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, “What is it this time, Miss Granger?”

“I've already read Chapter Two,” said Hermione.

“Well then, proceed to Chapter Three.”

“I've read that too. I've read the whole book.”

Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly.

“Well then, you should be able to tell me what Ms. Troozerfyr says about about Grindelwald's war in chapter 16.”

“She says that Grindelwald was a terrorist whose ideas were based not in good ideas about blood purity, but that he was instead very anti-establishment and targeted the pureblood elite of the continent. She goes on to say that without the pureblood elites to rule the continent, the countries there have become steeped in decadence and flooded by 'ridiculous Muggle ideas' like modernizing magic with magical versions of Muggle devices like light bulbs, labor rights, laws against house elf abuse, books written with indexes and tables of contents as well as fact-checking books before publishing, finding ways to magic-proof Muggle appliances like televisions, and legalizing same-sex marriage.”

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and Chandra knew she was impressed, against her will.

“But I disagree,” Hermione continued.

Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.

“You disagree?” she repeated.

“Yes, I do,” said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. “Ms. Troozerfyr sounds like one of the Death Eaters, opposed to Muggles and Muggle-borns on principle. All those 'Muggle ideas' she looks down on all sound to me like great ideas.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. “Well, I'm afraid it is Ms. Troozerfyr's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger.”

“But —” Hermione began.

“That is enough,” said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. “Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house.”

There was an outbreak of muttering at this.

“What for?” Ron asked angrily.

“For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions,” said Professor Umbridge smoothly. “I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as neither of them — with the possible exception of Professor Binns, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection.”

Hermione glanced over at Chandra, who said nothing. Even Umbridge looked at him, like she was disappointed he hadn't had an outburst in Lupin's defense. But he just sat there, looking politely attentive.

Emboldened by his lack of response, or perhaps just trying to goad him, Umbridge spoke again.

“History is about facts, not opinions. As such, there is no need at all for students to be speaking in my class, unless I have called on them after they have raised their hand, of course.”

Dean raised his hand at once. So did several other people.

“Mr. Finnegan?” she said, calling on Seamus after ignoring Dean.

“Well ma'am, I'm no expert, but even I know history isn't about facts. It's about points of view. Like the history between Muggle Britain and Muggle Ireland, which affected us Irish witches too. For a long time, the history there was written by the Brits, and painted the Irish as barbarians who were uplifted to civilization by the Brits for our own good. But we Irish say the Brits came in and robbed us blind, nearly wiped out our whole culture, and killed thousands of people either outright or by ignoring us when we were stricken by famines. So history is, well, stories. There's multiple points of view on the same issues, but sounds to me like this book--” he held up their history book “--is one-sided, told by someone on You-Know-Who's side, like Hermione said.”

Looking condescendingly at Seamus, she said, “You are mistaken, Mr. Finnegan. Ms. Troozerfyr was not on the side of the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters were an extremist group. No matter how many good ideas they may have had, they went way too far with wanton violence, seeking to overthrow the rightful government. They may have had a point that the government of the time was leaning towards adopting the ridiculous Muggle ideas mentioned in the textbook, but that does not excuse their law-breaking, murdering, and cruelty. A great many respectable members of pure-blooded society died tragically in that conflict, or worse.” Here, she glanced at Neville. “But now that group's leader has been dead for over a decade, and all its members have been rounded up and put in Azkaban. The Death Eaters no longer exist.”

Chandra felt a great surge of rage building inside him, coming from Alastair. He closed his eyes and silently appealed to Hypatia and Mother to prevent Al from doing anything. But the rage built, until things around the room began to rattle. Umbridge looked from the rattling items to Chandra. He still had his eyes closed, but he could feel this all the same. He also felt her approaching him from her position up front.

“Mr. Potter, we are having class right now. You may have felt like you could sleep through Professor Binns's classes, but I will not tolerate it in mine.”

He opened his eyes, struggling to talk without letting Al's rage shine through.

“I was not sleeping. I was...” he trailed off.

“Yes? Do go on.”

“I was meditating, in order to keep from being disruptive, Professor Umbridge.”

She grinned maliciously at him. “I see. Is that why things were shaking around the room? You are trying to contain your temper?”

“It would be more accurate to say I am attempting to contain Alastair's temper, Professor Umbridge.”

“Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for talking about imaginary people.”

(I'll show you imaginary, you walking sack of cat vomit and crushed horse testicles,) Al thought so loudly in their head that Chandra had to clench the desk with white knuckles to keep it from escaping his lips.

When he didn't respond, she looked disappointed again. She was talking again, but Chandra couldn't follow what she was saying, he was too busy trying to repress images from Al of Umbridge turned inside out with magic, or eaten alive by a pack of wild dogs, or both at once. At these thoughts, Chandra noticed the temperature in the room drop low enough to make some other people in the room shiver. He looked at his hands, and saw frost forming around them.

Umbridge watched him, seeming to weigh whether or not his accidental magic was enough to warrant giving him a detention again. Then she smiled and went back to talking. She might have called on someone else, but everyone was glancing nervously at Chandra and not speaking.

“Of course, I understand why everyone is still afraid after all this time. The Death Eaters were a very dangerous group, and there are a great many lies spread by anti-establishment dissidents seeking to defame upstanding members of society by making unfounded accusations against them. So it is because of these lies that fear continues to fester, for no good reason. But what can we expect from mindless beasts like the dangerous former Professor Lupin?”

The rage inside them had spiked – coming from Adira this time – at the “upstanding citizens/unfounded accusations” sentence, forcing Chandra to try harder to contain it.

“Professor Lupin was the best teacher we've ever had in this class!” Dean Thomas shouted.

“I did not see your hand, Mr. Thomas!”

Ron raised his hand, and she called on him. Ron then repeated what Dean had said.

“Mr. Lupin should never have been allowed into this building for even a minute, neither as a teacher nor as a student. I do not find it to be a coincidence that one of his best friends became a Death Eater, and another of his friends tried to murder that man and went to Azkaban until he was found to be innocent, and the truth of Mr. Pettigrew came out. But as I say, it is not likely a coincidence. People with animals inside of them are dangerous beasts who need to be put down for society's own good.”

At this, Tier joined Al's anger, and now Chandra had to suppress the urge to growl and make his eyes glow red. Even putting all his effort into controlling himself, Chandra felt parts of the skin of his arm turn scaly.

Thinking fast, Chandra appealed to Hypatia, and they suddenly fell deaf and mute. Umbridge kept talking, but since they had no idea what she was saying now, it wasn't adding any fuel to the fire. Chandra filled their inner space with the prophecy about Umbridge's influence waning on endless repeat, and Iliana added images of Luna to the mix. Slowly, the rage that had been boiling over simmered down, the pressure going down bit by bit.

They didn't know how long it was before Umbridge noticed that they weren't responding at all, but eventually she noticed they were calming down, which was disappointing her. She walked over to them and spoke, but as they were still deaf and mute, they had no idea what was being said. Chandra settled for looking curiously at her and miming that he'd gone deaf and mute.

She was getting angry now, so Hypatia turned their hearing back on. But they were still mute.

“---to pay attention in class, Mr. Potter!”

'Sorry,' he signed in British wizarding sign language, 'I have gone mute.'

“Stop this meaningless gesticulation at once and answer me!”

“Professor,” Hermione said, “one of them is mute and speaks in sign language. I don't know it myself, but he has a device that translates it into speech. Or he did. Tier, do you still have that device?”

Chandra nodded.

“Miss Granger, I know for a fact Mr. Potter can speak. He is choosing not to. He is playing imaginary games and disrupting class!”

“Professor,” Hermione responded, “there are legitimate mental conditions that cause people with the condition to go temporarily mute. Setting aside for now the legitimacy of Multiple Personality Disorder, it's entirely possible he has one of those conditions and legitimately can't speak right now. This can be resolved if you let him use the translator device.”

Umbridge looked at Hermione angrily. If Chandra had to guess, she was angry that Hermione had undercut any excuse she might have had to give him more detentions.

“Fine, if it is on your person, you may get it.”

He got into their bag and hunted for the device, which they kept around in case of emergency. Soon they had it pulled out and set up.

'I said Sorry, I have gone mute, Professor,' he signed. The device translated it into speech for him.

“Yes, we've figured that out by now. But you weren't paying attention, either, Mr. Potter.”

'Sorry,' he signed again. 'I was trying to calm myself, and wasn't paying attention. It won't happen again.'

It wasn't even a lie; Hypatia had gotten Mother's help putting the others into an artificial sleep. Chandra's emotions were solely his own at the moment.

“Be that as it may, ten points from Gryffindor for not paying attention, Mr. Potter.”

The rest of the class went fairly smoothly, as Chandra had no more problems with his temper after that, no matter how incendiary she tried to be. Guessing that Al and Tier might blow the roof off the room when they awoke to review the collective memory again, he decided to keep those two from waking up for the rest of the day.

As such, the rest of the day went pretty well, despite having Potions after History. Iliana stayed behind after Potions to ask Professor Snape about the lessons they'd been having together. Once finding out she had managed to avoid more detentions (barely), he told her that their next one would be Friday after dinner, and if anyone asked, it was a detention.

After double Ancient Runes, Iliana went to the west wing of the fifth-floor corridor and looked for portraits of famous witches and wizards. She saw a bunch if names she was only partly familiar with, more she didn't recognize at all, but finally she found Godric Gryffindor. He was tall and had red hair and beard.

The portrait spoke to her, and she didn't even recognize the language.

“Sorry, what?”

It repeated itself.

“Sorry, I don't know that language. But uh, the password is 'Snivellus.'”

Godric said something else in that unknown language, but opened up. She went inside into a short corridor, closed the portrait behind her, and walked down the short corridor to a second door. She knocked on that.

“Who is it?” Sirius asked through the closed door.

“Iliana,” she said.

“It's unlocked!”

She turned the knob and opened the door, stepping in. The room – some sort of living room – was spacious and yet not too much so, and of course was largely decorated in Gryffindor colors of red and gold. Sirius was sitting in a very comfortable looking black leather chair that didn't match the rest of the décor. He had himself and the chair facing the door, and he was grinning at her. She closed the door behind her.

“So you didn't get any more detentions, pup?”

“From Umbridge? No. But it was a close one. Al and Tier both nearly lost their tempers.”

“How bad?”

She told the whole story to him, including parts Chandra hadn't been aware of himself while Hypatia had been the only one listening, because she hated not knowing things she was there for. Hypatia had even kept the parts they'd missed while they were deaf, because of course she hadn't been deaf herself, but had kept what she'd heard from Chandra until now.

Not surprising her at all, Sirius was angry about what Umbridge was saying about both them and Remus, and to a lesser degree about the Death Eaters. Still, his anger was nowhere near Al's or Tier's.

“So how come they didn't destroy the school or kill Umbitch?” Sirius asked.

“Hypatia and Mother made them sleep. They're still asleep. I thought I'd keep them that way at least until our private dinner was over. Anyway, if it's all the same to you, I'll let Addy come forward instead of me.”

Not waiting for a response from him, they switched places, and Adira stood there where Iliana had been.

“Hi there, Addy. Not that I'm complaining, but why did Iliana scarper?”

“Oh, that. She uh... well she considers me the 'original.' They all do, I think. Yeah, even Hypatia, I can feel that. Anyway, what it means to most of them is that I'm the one who gets priority access to the body, since I was here first. I'm not complaining, but honestly... I can't remember being without Iliana or Al. The others are newer to me, but I'm pretty sure Iliana and Alastair have always been there with me. My earliest memory includes thoughts that, in retrospect, were from those two.”

“So what's your earliest memory, pup? You can tell me while we go to the dining room together.”

“Okay,” she said, following Sirius into a nearby room with a dining table built for probably 10 people, and sitting down across from Sirius.

Dobby appeared, dressed in his previous absurd mix of mis-matched clothes. He was carrying a covered tray into the room and set it down in front of them.

“Hi Dobby, what's for dinner?”

“Hello Miss Adira Potter! Dobby has got several things for Sir and Miss to choose from. This is being pizza,” he said, lifting the cover off the tray and exposing a delicious looking pepperoni pizza. “And soon Dobby will be bringing in some chicken tandoori. Dobby is learning all sorts of new recipes thanks to Mr. Sirius Black, Miss!”

“That sounds amazing, Dobby, thank you.”

Dobby giggled at the praise, and skipped off to fetch the chicken tandoori.

“So you were saying about your earliest memory? Unless you'd rather not. I know those relatives of yours weren't very nice.”

“It's not too bad. Mostly they didn't feed me enough, and were emotionally abusive and neglectful. It could've been a whole lot worse.”

“Sorry to hear that. Wish I could've been there for you.”

“The past is the past. Anyway, my earliest conscious memory – not counting memories dredged up from my subconscious by Dementor exposure – was of Vernon yelling at me about something again. I was six. I don't remember what he was yelling about specifically, but I remember the voice I now know of as Iliana having a silent argument with the proto-Alastair about what to do about the situation. Iliana just wanted to weather the storm patiently and apologize for whatever I'd supposedly done, but Al was adamant we run away from home and tell the authorities. Iliana won that argument, though; there wasn't enough evidence at that point to trust that the authorities would be able to help me. And later, when there was enough evidence, we...”

“Yes?”

“Well, by then we'd learned that adults either didn't want to know these things, or couldn't help even though they tried, or else didn't believe that such 'fine, upstanding citizens' as the Dursleys could be capable of such things.”

She clutched the table, and things around the room began to rattle. Sirius looked up in alarm at this, and Dobby – who had just come in from the kitchen – was looking nervous as well. Adira forced herself to calm down with her occlumency.

“Sorry about that, Dobby, Sirius. But 'defaming upstanding citizens with unfounded accusations' is something someone told me when I was eight, nearly word for word, after I had tried for the umpteenth time to report the Dursleys for child neglect and emotional abuse. It's a bit of a sore spot for me.”

Dobby set the container of chicken tandoori down and took the lid off. Since Sirius didn't look capable of speaking yet, Dobby spoke instead.

“You is not needing to apologize to Dobby, Miss. Dobby understands. Dobby is wishing he could have helped you, Miss, but he is not knowing back then where you is being kept, nor what is going on.”

“Well said, Dobby,” Sirius said. The elf blushed at the praise.

“Thank you for cooking, Dobby. It looks amazing.”

Dobby giggled again at the praise and bowed, leaving the room. Addy scooped some of the tandoori onto her dish, took a slice of pizza and set it on another plate, and started to eat the tandoori.

“Pizza and Indian food in one meal; kind of an odd mix, but I like it,” Addy said.

“Yeah, and if you save your crusts, you can use them to mop up the extra sauce from the tandoori. I've been eating a lot of both since my release,” Sirius said. “Finding someone to teach Dobby how to make them has saved me a lot of trips into London.”

After they'd been eating for several minutes, Adira thinking quietly most of that time, Sirius asked her, “Knut for your thoughts?”

She set her pizza down. “It's just that I'm a little afraid to wake up Tier and Al now. When they review our memories and find out all of what Umbitch said, they're going to... I don't know what, but last time Al was this angry, McGonagall confronted him for shaking the whole building, and he had to be put to sleep for a while.”

“Well, you can't keep them locked up forever. And you shouldn't keep them too long, or they'll just be even angrier for being locked up so long.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Er... if you don't mind saying, what was Al angry enough about to shake the whole building?”

Adira's face flushed. “Oh, uh... I'd rather not say.”

“Addy,” he said in a slightly stern but also understanding tone.

She sighed. “Fine. It was after we overheard the popular misconception about how and why you'd ended up in Azkaban. Al was angry enough he'd probably have killed you if you'd suddenly appeared at that point.”

“Oh. Well, I'm glad it all turned out for the best. Maybe this Umbridge situation will, too.”

They continued to talk about the first week back while eating, and Adira told him about the tryouts and who Iliana had chosen for the team. By the time dinner was done and Dobby was starting to clean up, Al and Tier had surfaced again. They were annoyed and angry at Umbridge, but much calmer about it, only shaking the room once before she left for Gryffindor tower.

“By the way,” she said before leaving, “do you know what language Godric Gryffindor's portrait speaks? I don't recognize the language.”

Sirius shrugged. “I think it might be some Anglo or Saxon language. Not sure. I don't really know, that's just a guess.”

“Right. Makes sense.”

~

Later that night, as Adira, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were working on their homework more or less together, a familiar owl landed in the window. It turned out to be from Percy, and was for Adira.

“What's perfect Percy writing to you for?” Ron asked derisively.

“No idea,” she said, opening the letter and reading it.

Adira Potter,

I have heard that you are still hanging out with my brother Ronald. A most alarming thing to hear about, I assure you. My brother has made a mistake siding with you and Dumbledore on this, it will be the end of his career before it's even begun. On no account are you to continue being friends with him, do you understand me? Now I know we've got on well in the past, you've taken my side on things, but I cannot abide trouble-makers. You are one such trouble maker, so I am officially cutting ties with you. Our friendship is over, for you are a disruptive influence. Under no condition are you to continue to associate with my brother or sister. Ronald especially, but also Ginny; the twins are trouble-makers enough as is, so I won't try to stop you being friends with them. Still, keep away from the rest of my siblings. I have worked too hard to have you ruin this for me now. Don't bother responding, I won't be answering. Even if you beg, I still will not answer.

With that said, please turn this letter over to Ron, so I can speak to him. Oh Ronald, Ronald, Ronald. Ronald, what do I say? Knowing you as I do, I doubt I can convince you to keep away from Potter, but for the sake of your career, I beg you to stay away from them. I know they can be very scary and violent when riled, so I understand if you're feeling too scared to abandon them, but you really must. Now that I'm with the Ministry, I can help you get away if you need help with that. Goodness forbid if you were hurt by associating with them, Ron. With the things about to happen at Hogwarts, even moreso. I think you'll find it easier to leave Potter's side safely in the coming weeks, if all goes as planned. The Minister and Professor Umbridge have a plan that is now coming to fruition, read the Daily Prophet tomorrow at breakfast to see what I mean. Hard work of months has gone into making this possible, and it will be glorious. Heh, I almost wish I was there to see it myself, but of course I have my duties at the Ministry that are very important. Ever since last June, I have been working at Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, which has become a much more important role since Professor Umbridge has stepped down from her Undersecretary position to become a professor at Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, with her imminent new position there, she will be able to tell the Minister exactly what is going on at Hogwarts. Dumbledore will not be able to keep secrets from the Ministry. Mark my words, Ronald, times are about to change, and for your own good you should change with them and spill any secrets about Potter to Professor Umbridge that you are aware of. All will become clear tomorrow. So think very carefully about which side of history you want to be on. Tomorrow, it begins. Everything changes then, for the better in my humble opinion. Ron, keep that in mind, and remember that I love you, even if our parents are on the wrong side of this battle.

Doubtless you may be tempted to tell me to mind my own business. Only time will tell whether you tell me to shove it or pick the winning side, the side of the Ministry. Nice people like Professor Umbridge are in place to make choosing the Ministry even easier. Tell her if you need any help with Potter. Tell her anything you know about them; weaknesses, their nefarious plans, if you see them going anywhere unusual. Et cetra. Like I would, in your place. Like any patriotic citizen should. Make the right choice, Ron, and pick the Ministry. You could, alternately, keep your head down and not make matters any worse. Fred and George may choose to side with Potter and Dumbledore too, so if you see them up to any funny business, you should tell on them at onec. At once, you understand? Mother would want you to anyway, you know how those two are. I have no doubt they'd make trouble just for trouble's sake just as easily. Likely you know that already. You don't know where their loyalties are, though.

Now that I've said my piece, I can soon end this letter. Obey the Ministry, Ron. Trust Professor Umbridge. You'll be glad you did, in the end. Eventually, you'll see I'm right. Trust me on this.

With love;
Percy

Adira handed the letter to Ron and watched him read it. His face got redder and redder the more he read of it. Finally, he slammed the letter down on the table.

“If you want to end your association with me, Ron,” Adira said, trying to sound like the letter was a joke, “I swear I won't get violent.”

“He is — ” Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half “the world's — ” he tore it into quarters “biggest — ” he tore it into eighths “git.” He threw the pieces into the fire.

“Come on, we've got to get this finished,” he said briskly to Adira, pulling his Potions homework back toward himself.

Hermione was looking at Ron with an odd expression on her face. But she soon shrugged and went back to work herself. Neville, for his part, hadn't read the letter at all and was very confused.

Adira tried working on her homework too, but Percy's letter on top of everything else made that difficult. Al's anger had cooked down to a sort of concentrated loathing for Umbridge, and Tier was feeling much the same. But something about the letter was niggling at her. She was familiar with how Percy wrote, and something felt off about that one. Off in a familiar way, no less. But she couldn't put her finger on it.

Finally, she gave up and went upstairs to her room on the excuse she was going to bed. Once there, she used Hypatia's perfect recall to re-write the entire letter, spending an hour and a half staring at it, trying to figure out what was weird about it.

[The cadence is wrong. It sounds believable as something someone would write, except for a few oddities here and there,] came Hypatia's analysis.

'Oh?' she thought.

[Yes. Like here, he capitalized Et cetra and made it its own sentence. Who does that?]

'Yeah, especially if they're sticklers for rules like Percy. He'd be a stickler for grammar rules, too.'

[Exactly. Hmm... but no, that's absurd,] Hypatia thought-spoke to them in response to some private thought of hers. [Simply absurd it could work. Could it really be that simple?]

Hypatia grabbed control of their right arm and started circling the first letters in each sentence. Then she wrote each letter down at the bottom of the parchment. Soon, they had a message: I AM ON YOUR SIDE. WORKING WITH HEADMASTER. DON'T TELL MY FAMILY. NOT YET.

“Wow,” Adira said aloud.

She had no idea what to say or do in response to this. All she knew for sure was she wanted more information, because she had so very many questions. Foremost on the list was 'Why keep this a secret from his family?' Then she pictured how the Weasleys would react if they knew Percy was faking being a gigantic git, and answered her own question. So next up was 'Why tell me he's on my side?' Then 'Surely this message didn't get past the Ministry? Surely nobody at the Ministry is THAT stupid?' Then she realized it had taken her over an hour to see the pattern herself, and wouldn't have even gotten the message at all after Ron hadn't torn it apart, if it hadn't been for Hypatia's perfect memory. Possibly Percy thought Ron wouldn't tear up a letter addressed to her. Which, come to think of it, she'd have to chastise him about that later.

But what to do with this information? She saw the value in not telling the Weasleys. Why had he told her, though? Sure, it wouldn't really change how she acted, but how was Percy to know that? Also, had there been more secret messages there? She scanned the rest of the letter for another hour, but didn't find anything. Still, that didn't rule out a message only she could activate, which would be gone now to the flames. If he'd had anything else to say at all, of course; she had no reason to think he had, aside from the fact that he hadn't been very forthcoming with information.

She considered writing back, but the letter had been adamant she not do that. Of course, it had said a lot of things she was certain were false, like the constant repeated calls to Ron to sell her out or stop associating with her. So she couldn't assume the part about writing back was serious. Maybe she should write an angry letter back? Yes, that seemed the sort of thing the Ministry would expect her to do, if they'd read the letter but somehow missed the secret message.

So what to say in her response? Did she need to say anything at all? Well, she certainly wanted to tell him he was a bit of an idiot for assuming Ron wouldn't destroy the letter. Shouldn't have told her to hand Ron the letter to read, the berk. Percy seriously needed some lessons in secrets and lies.

Hypatia led her to their trunk, where she dug out a book about ways to send secret messages to people using magic. She skimmed through it, looking for useful things that the Ministry might not check for. Then when that ran dry, she had Hypatia think of something. Putting her unusually bright mind to the task, Hypatia soon had a brand new way of sending a message to Percy, something she knew would get past the Ministry's secrecy sensors. She chuckled at how clever it was. First burning the copy of Percy's letter she didn't need, she and Hypatia set to work.

~

Percy Weasley had just gotten to sleep for the night when he heard a tapping on his window, waking him up. He sat up and looked at the window, seeing the snowy white Hedwig perched on his windowsill, waiting for him with a letter around her leg. He got up and opened the window for her, removing her letter and giving her some owl treats before reading the letter. Percy also tried to coax Hedwig out of the window, but she refused with a squawk, so he let her stay for now.

The letter was, on first glance, a scathing and rage-filled admonition that certainly lived up to the “Potter is crazy and violent” image, but which Percy saw through at once. He circled the letters of the first sentences, which at first didn't seem to spell anything. But then he noticed it was backwards, so he reversed the order of the letters and soon had the message: WHEN ALONE, CAST PWRFUL FINITE ON LETTER.

It was... a strange request. But he did as it said.

“Finite!”

Nothing happened, so Percy ramped up the power, and tried again. Still nothing. Trying one last time, something finally happened. The ink of the angry letter vanished, apparently having been conjured. The parchment also turned into Muggle notebook paper; apparently, it had been transfigured. And now he had another message written in pencil on it, plain as day: “You are an idiot.” Beneath that was a slew of maths. These maths were upside down and at an angle in relation to the rest of the message. Most people would assume she'd torn a page out of an old maths homework notebook to write the message for him. In fact... the maths were far more advanced than even seventh-year Arithmancy would have in it.

But it was more clever than that, even. The maths were far more complex than they appeared to be. Hard enough to be difficult for most wizards or witches to solve them, but simple enough to be dismissed as some odd sort of Muggle maths. Suspecting this was the true message, he worked out the equation over the next 30 minutes.

The answer he got from solving the equation was confusing at first. It was a spell analysis. To most people good enough at maths to solve the equation, that's where they'd stop, convinced that it was just a page torn from Arithmancy work for school or self-study. He was confused and impressed; he hadn't known that the Potters were even in Arithmancy, nor that they were this good at it. But then, he didn't know much about their classes.

He might have given up too, if it hadn't been for the fact that they'd cast such a powerful transfiguration on this paper that, knowing them, they wouldn't waste that kind of effort just to tell him he was an idiot. So he studied the spell analysis in more detail, working out from the information present what spell it was. He soon discovered it was an entirely new spell, which he knew because this spell had some specifics to it that were basically a signature. Adira had somehow managed to create a wand spell with a silent incantation that only he, Percy, would be able to cast. Further, he could only cast it on Hedwig.

Percy sat there, stunned. Then he checked his work, comparing it to his Arithmancy books. Then he checked a third time, just to be sure. There was no doubt; for the purposes of sending him a message, Adira (or someone else in her collective) had invented an entirely new branch of wand spells, one that used knowledge of someone's wand core, wand wood, and magical signature to make it so only he, with his wand, could cast this spell. And, because the spell factored in Hedwig's own magical signature, the spell could only be cast on Hedwig.

Which was simply flabbergasting! There was no way someone could have previously invented a type of spells that only one specific person would be able to cast, much less which could only be cast on one specific other being, without it having been huge news, and a major part of the N.E.W.T. curriculum for Arithmancy. If Adira published this, she could be world-famous for something much more important than surviving a Killing Curse. If this worked the way he thought it would, it was an even more secure form of communication than using messenger Patronuses. Of course, the downside was that she'd have to come up with an entirely different one to send a different message, and he wouldn't be able to send a message back the same way, because he didn't have the Arithmancy skills to do that. He doubted he ever would.

Curious to see if it actually worked, he practiced the wand movement for a few minutes before turning to Hedwig.

“I'm not sure if this will work, but I expect she told you something about it, Hedwig.”

Hedwig nodded, a strangely human gesture for a bird.

“Alright then.”

He held up his wand, did the wand movements, and cast the silent spell on Hedwig. It was a good thing it was a silent spell; the incantation for it would have been a tongue-twister if he'd had to say it aloud.

Immediately, Hedwig began to glow with an aura of blue light. The light created a magical shield around the two of them, which cut off all sounds from the London traffic outside his window. Their privacy secured, Adira's voice issued from Hedwig's body as the owl stared impassively at him.

“Percy, you idiot! The Ministry might have seen that message! Though I'll admit I almost didn't see it myself. Ron destroyed it before I saw the message. It was just your luck I made a copy, and figured it out later. Anyway, I have so many questions, but that will have to wait. This method of---”

The message cut off mid-sentence, and shortly after that, the glow vanished and the spell was broken.

Percy tried the spell again in case something had gone wrong on his end, but no, it appeared the message had cut off on her end. Well, of course a spell that amazing had to have some kind of drawback, aside from the fact that the spell was well beyond N.E.W.T. level, a fact that restricted its use. He thought Dumbledore or You-Know-Who could probably create spells like it if they knew how. But his own Arithmancy skills, he thought, were likely not up to that task.

“Wow, Adira. You're going to ace the O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s in Arithmancy for sure!”

He wrote out a quick note back to her, one which used her own backwards-ordered message trick from the initial letter to spell out “I HAVE QUESTIONS FOR YOU TOO.” It was short and to the point, indicating they needed to talk sometime, while also telling her he'd got the real message without giving away the secret.

It took Percy another hour to get to sleep that night, his mind was racing so much. Just... so many questions!

Endnotes: Just to clarify, it's my head-canon that in canon as well as this fic, that Umbridge put a compulsion charm on the blood quill. It was weird enough that it got used on Harry without Harry mentioning it to any adults, his friends only finding out by seeing the cuts on his hand. To think Dean Thomas (among possible others) also went through that as well without telling McGonagall or another trusted adult just beggars the imagination. So magic has to be the reason for it.

Despite Fay Dunbar having the same first name as me, I chose her for a reserve Chaser not because of that, but because there weren't many other canonical options, and she has the interest according to her wiki page.

The idea for where the teachers' quarters are (the portraits, not the exact location) I give full credit to The White Squirrel at FanFiction dot net for thinking of, in their fanfic story “The Arithmancer” and the sequel, “Lady Archimedes.” It's a great series, centers around Hermione in an AU where she's a maths prodigy, it's amazing!

It wasn't said before, but I've decided that the new history of magic textbook was written by a woman named Lyre Troozerfyr.

One last one: Updates might be fewer and farther between than usual. Summer means heat, and heat makes me useless, makes my brain go all slow and melty.