Harry Potter and the Gift of the Seraphim or Curse of the Stars

Chapter 6- Straits and Solutions

"Miss Chang?" the silky voice startled the girl so much that she almost fell out the window. Reaching wildly, she grabbed the front of the Professor’s dark blue cloak and righted herself. After realizing what she had grabbed, her otherwise pale face flushed a deep red.

"Excuse me, Professor," she murmured quietly, looking down onto her chart.

Blushing herself, Professor Sinistra dismissed it. "Nothing but a good handhold," she joked. When Cho didn’t respond, she glanced at her work. "Beautiful," she commented. "I couldn’t have done better myself. I’m so happy you decided to take this class this year." Blushing again, Cho nodded.

"I am too. I love the sky; it’s beautiful. It’s why I used to play quidditch."

Professor Sinistra’s smile turned into a frown of confusion. "Used to? Aren’t you the Ravenclaw Seeker?" Cho’s smile also changed. It became a thin line on her face.

"Not anymore, no. I found a new seeker for the team, Mandy Broklehurst. She’ll do fine." Professor Sinistra’s expression did not change. She glanced around the room, and the leaned in closer to Cho.

"Are you okay, dear?" she whispered into her ear. Cho’s head almost hit her as it whipped around to face the Astronomy Mistress.

"Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?" she asked angrily. Professor Sinistra was speechless. She hadn’t expected an angry reaction. "I’m fine! I’m just trying to look at the stars so will you please leave me alone.

"Mr. Crabbe? How are you doing tonight?" she asked cheerfully, trying to shake off the bad feeling that had come with the awry interaction with Cho Chang. She waited for the boy to respond. He always had been a little slow, she idly thought, as he didn’t respond to her question. Soon, however, she became tired of waiting and again called his name. Goyle, noticing what was going on, grabbed his work of the desk and hurriedly began to jot down any constellation that came to mind cursing his quill for scratching so loud. At the same time, he tried to kick Vincent‘s chair to jostle him awake. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Professor Sinistra had realized he was asleep.

"Vincent Crabbe!" she said angrily, pulling him by his ear. "If you don’t wakeup this moment!" she threatened. Crabbe let out a surprised yelp and opened his eyes wide in pain. Frantically, he groped for Professor Sinistra’s hand to force her tight grasp with her long fingernails off his ear. As soon as he came in contact with her hand, she roughly let go and he dropped back onto the chair. Whining in pain, he realized she had come to check on his star chart, which he had not even begun. Thinking fast, he picked it up and flung it out the window. Trying to hide his mirth at his prank, he turned to the Professor and said, "My chart seems to have fallen out the window, Professor. It’s a shame; I was almost done. That’s why I took a little nap." He tried his best to give her a sweet, innocent look, which he failed miserably at. Meanwhile, Goyle, still scratching furiously at his constellation-imitation, sniggered in the corner. He also thought that prank had been absolutely brilliant.

But Professor Sinistra was not to be so easily conned. Thinking quickly, she moved over to the window and took out her wand. She pointed it at the lazily drifting paper and said, "Accio parchment!" Quickly, the parchment changed directions and sped back up to the window, directly in to the Professor’s outstretched hand. She caught it deftly and scrutinized it carefully, as if she was looking for small flaw on the blank paper.

"This is very curious, Mr. Crabbe," remarked Professor Sinistra.

"What is?" replied Crabbe sullenly, avoiding to look at his teacher.

"Why, there must be something in the night air!" said the Professor in a false high-pitched tone. "It’s made your paper go completely blank!" She tutted. "What a shame it flew out the window. Ten points from Slytherin, complete this chart before class is over and report to me for a detention next Friday," she sentenced.

"But, but, Professor," stuttered Crabbe, amazed at his punishment. The Professor was having none of it. She turned her back on Crabbe and Goyle and stalked away.

With a scowl on his face, Crabbe haphazardly drew a messy star chart, but it would get him a passing grade. When he was done, he couldn’t fall back asleep on the uncomfortable chair. So, he decided to wallow in his anger towards Professor Sinistra for foiling his trick of pushing the paper out the window. He was so absorbed in his thoughts; he almost fell out of the chair when he heard Goyle loudly whispering his name.

"What do you want?" he asked crossly. Goyle looked nervously around to check that no one was listening. Nobody was. They were all on the verge of sleep themselves; this was an extra long class, which lasted for more than an hour.

"I’ve come up with another idea for the plan," he said excitedly.

Crabbe’s frown grew deeper. "Have you discussed it with your father?"

"No, not yet." Goyle shook his head. He saw Crabbe’s mouth open to speak and quickly cut him off. "I’m not going behind his back or anything, Vinnie. I haven’t had a chance to tell him, I’ve only thought of it right this second!"

Reluctantly, Crabbe gave in. "Alright, what is this ingenious idea?"

"First, are you on terms with Draco yet?" Slowly, Crabbe nodded. He couldn’t figure out what Greg was leading up to. "Good. I’m almost done on my part with him, and you’ve barely begun."

Crabbe sulked. "Well, he’s been put out with me for so long."

"But you haven’t done much to fix it."

"Listen," Vincent snapped. He calmed down when he saw how much he had startled Greg, who was trying to keep an eye out for Sinistra. "Sorry," he apologized. "I’m just tired of being a groupie all of the time."

"Me, too," assured Greg. "But remember, it’s all for a better cause." Vincent smiled. "But, about my plan. Have you ever heard the saying, three heads are better than two?"

"No," said Vincent slowly. He peered suspiciously at Greg. "You just made that up haven’t you?"

Carefully avoiding a real answer to that question, he said, "That’s not the point. Here, what about this? In Quidditch, if there was just one chaser and keeper per team, it’d be an awfully boring game, right?"

"Right.."

"So I was thinking we need to spice it up a little!"

"What are you raving about, Greg? We can’t change Quidditch, and that’s not the way it really is," Crabbe said angrily.

"Calm down. What I’m trying to say is, we need more…More power on our side if we’re going to beat the other team. Are you following me?"

"I suppose."

"So we add another player!" said Goyle dramatically.

"Are you crazy?!" exclaimed Crabbe. "That’s way too dangerous!"

"No, it’s not," insisted Crabbe. "We just have to find someone who hates Malfoy as much as we do."

"Who is that, Weasley?" asked Goyle sarcastically.

"No, no, don’t be crazy." Crabbe dismissed that idea with a flick of his hand. "Pansy," he whispered dramatically.

Goyle’s eyes widened. "That’s almost genius, it’s so smart." Crabbe nodded sagely. "I know," he replied. He knew that Greg would support his idea, so that it came as a shock when his face lost the look of awe. It had become a desolate expression. "What’s wrong now?" he asked.

"Pansy absolutely hates me now. She knows I gave her away." He buried his face into his hands. He felt horrible about ruining Vincent‘s plan.

"Don’t cry about it!" Crabbe demanded. Immediately, Goyle’s face was out of his hands.

"I’m not!" he cried, looking defiantly at Crabbe. True to his word, his eyes were dry and showed no sign of redness "Why on Earth would I do that?"

Embarrassed at his assumption, Crabbe just shrugged. "You know, for this to work, you have to be friends with Pansy again."

Goyle groaned. "More kiss arse work for me, right?"

Crabbe smiled, just as Professor Sinistra dismissed the class. "Absolutely."

Ginny woke up slowly. She sat up in her bed, forcing herself to keep her eyes open. Just as she was about to open her curtains and slide out of bed, she remembered her eyes must be red and rimmed; lined because he had cried herself to sleep, yet again. Defiantly, she rubbed her eyes and flung away the bed covers. She didn’t care who saw her, because she wasn’t going to shed any more tears over that…that…girl. As far as she was concerned, they had never been friends and never would be again. She was one of the few people Ginny had been able to confide in, and they hadn’t even been that close. It was just an unfortunate error that she was her older brother’s best friend.

Angrily, she forced a brush through her thick, curly red hair. She stormed off to the bathroom to take a refreshing cold shower. But that didn’t soothe her anger. She had been like this for the past two days, and nobody in her year would even dare to ask what was wrong. They all knew by now to avoid Ginny when she was on the warpath, and this time it seemed as if she was trying to create a whole army by herself.

Ginny did lift her heads out of her hostility long enough to notice the wide berth that was being given to her, however. She absolutely hated it when people did this. She didn’t have very many close friends, except perhaps Colin, and she suspected that that was a by-product of the events in her first year. Just thinking about it made her sad, and she shook her head wildly, trying to clear her brain of those thoughts.

She clomped down the stairs, looking to see that if someone was there she could talk to. She hadn’t had a conversation with anyone but teachers since her fight with Hermione. Nobody knew how deal wit her when she was in a rage; except Ron, and he hadn’t even given her a hello since then either. She sniffed, she had expected Ron to be at least a little sympathetic. After all, wasn’t family more important than friends?

As soon as she had made it into the common room, she regretted her actions of even getting out of bed. There she was, leaned in close over a table with her brother and his other best friend. She felt anger rising in her chest again, but just as she was turning to leave, and perhaps have another good cry in her bed before classes, she heard a voice call her.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted across the room. "Ginny, could you please come here?" Ginny stood stunned, not moving. Had he called her? Was she dreaming? Then, she reprimanded herself for being so silly. Of course he had called her, and no she was not dreaming. This was no life changing moment at all; he just needed some help. And see if Hermione was able to get in the way of that.

"Hey," she said brightly, squeezing herself in between Harry and Ron, who just scowled. "What’s up?" She had been concentrating on not blushing, but when she saw Harry’s face, she immediately lost all tones of joviality. His face was ashen and it looked like he hadn’t slept for days. "What’s wrong?" she immediately asked. Harry took a deep sigh but did not answer her question. She turned to Ron. "What’s wrong?" she repeated. "You two look like the living dead." Ron also took a deep breath of air.

"You know what we told you on the train?" Ron asked, a pained expression on his face. Ginny thought back.

"About Si- Er, Snuffles?" she responded in a hushed whisper, looking back and forth between Ron and Harry, deliberately ignoring Hermione’s presence.

Ron nodded solemnly. "Yes. Well, there’s been a…Problem. Someone’s found out about him." Immediately, thought of whom the perpetrator could be flashed through her mind. Her first, and worst vision was Malfoy. She just managed to hold back her guess, however, and just nodded at Ron, urging him to go on.

"You know he’s been writing to Harry, ever since the summer after third year. Well, just a couple of days ago, we were looking for Hermione," he threw her a scowl that was not fully heartfelt, but did get across the point that he had been annoyed; "And Harry left the letter on his bed. Next thing we know, that little snoop Longbottom had read it! Now, we don’t know how much he’s read, but we figure it’s enough to figure out who it was. For all we know, he’s read the whole thing." Ginny face lost all its color.

"You mean, he knows? This is horrible!" she almost yelled. She clamed down when she saw how Harry buried his face into the palms of his hands. "But I’m sure it can be fixed," she said in a more certain tone. It expressed much more confidence than she actually felt, but it was necessary. Ron and Hermione both gave her a dubious look. "Has he told anyone?"

Harry lifted his head out of his hands for a moment. "We don’t think so, but we can’t be sure. He was the one who left out his passwords that let Snuffles get in; and we’re pretty sure he’s scared shitless of him," but then Harry placed his head into his hands again. "But that just gives him all more the reason to want to turn him and me in as soon as possible." His black hair flopped over the edge of his palms and Ginny peeked through his spread fingers to see his eyes were red-rimmed. There had definitely been some tears shed over this.

"Come on, you two," she said emphatically, "think logically! Who would be the first person Neville would go to?"

Ron ventured a weak guess. "McGonogall?"

Ginny shook her head violently. "Not for something this big. Even Neville would go straight to the top."

A light went off in Harry’s mind and his regained a little bit of their luster. "Dumbledore?" he guessed. Ginny nodded, happy that he had figured it out. "We should have know!" he pronounced joyfully. "We were just all to worried to think straight. Of course he would go straight to Dumbledore, and of course he knows all about Snuffles." He jumped up from his chair. "Come on, guys," he said, pulling Ron out of his seat with one hand. "Let’s go talk to him now." He gave Ginny a huge grin. "Thanks," he said to her. "I don’t know what we would have done without you." Then he ran out of the portrait hole with his two best friends. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother Ginny that she had been left out of their clique. It was enough that now she felt she had served a purpose and had gotten to know a little bit about Harry. It didn’t even bother her that it was Hermione that went with Harry, and not her.

Dumbledore sank back in his chair and watched the scarlet hair fly out of his circular office. He was relieved that he didn’t have any more appointments today, maybe he could catch a few quick ‘Zz’s’. But it was not to happen. Just as he had kicked of his shoes and leaned back in his leather chair, on the edge of the dreamworld, his office door flew open unexpectedly.

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore," Neville ran in through the open door. He sunk down into a plush crimson chair, exhausted. "Professor, there’s something I have to tell you," he announced.

"What is it, Mr. Longbottom?" he asked with concern, not even asking how he gained admittance into the private tower. "Please tell."

Neville took a deep breath of air, trying to resume normal breathing. His faced was flushed and his brown hair clung wetly to his forehead. "Headmaster," he began, wiping his brow with his sleeve, "you must not believe anything Ron, Harry, or Hermione tell to you." Dumbledore looked mildly alarmed.

"Why is this?"

"I-I was," Neville stuttered, still trying to regain his breath, "I was sitting in the common room just minutes ago and I heard them talking," Neville looked at the Headmaster for a reaction, but finding none continued with the story. "And I they’re coming to tell you something right his very minute."

"What is it, Neville?" asked Dumbledore again. Amazingly, he showed no signs of impatience.

"They believe in Sirius Black’s innocence," he said dramatically.

Dumbledore didn’t twitch. "What makes you believe this?" he asked calmly. He watched as Neville fiddled with a stray thread on his black school cloak.

"I heard them, sir," Neville stressed. "They’re going to come up here any minute and tell you that I stole some letter and that Sirius is innocent and writing to Harry but they’re wrong! He’s a madman, he tried to attack Ron last year and he’s in league with Voldemort!" he finished dramatically.

"Mr. Longbottom, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I shall have a talk with them soon," Dumbledore responded politely. He looked down at the papers on his desk and decided to try to wade through the mountains of useless paperwork the school board made him fill out.

Neville remained in the chair, stunned with the Headmaster’s assumed lack of action. "Er, aren’t you going to do anything, sir?" He was thoroughly confused by Dumbledore’s lack of action. Here I am, he thought, doing something brave…where’s my reward?