As the Sister of Harry Potter

Luna didn’t know when our interview would be published, only that it should be soon and her Dad was excited to print it.

Harry’s date with Cho had apparently gone over badly. I didn’t know for sure how I felt about this. On one hand, I felt sorry for Harry, but on the other, I was pretty glad because Cho bugged the hell out of me with her cling-iness and her overly nice self. I didn’t think she was at all good for Harry. And if at all possible, my dreams started getting worse. They now had some death-by-Quidditch in them, something I was sure would happen come game time.

The Saturday of the match, I felt like I wanted to cry, throw up, and kill someone all at once. Cedric didn’t talk to me, because we both knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it. After breakfast, I lead the team down to the locker room where we dressed in silence. I skipped the pep talk, merely nodding at everyone. I picked up my Firebolt, and we marched out onto the Pitch to meet the Hufflepuffs. As Cedric and I shook hands; it took a lot of self control not to give in to his paralyzing touch.

“Annnnnnd they’re off! That’s Rowan of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle – no, Gryffindor Captain Jennifer Potter has stolen it back!” Lee yelled as I stole from Rowan and took off down the Pitch. A Bludger grazed my foot, but I made the first goal of the game.

Ten minutes in, we were trailing by forty points. As Katie passed me the Quaffle, I flew past Andrew, who was taking a swing at an oncoming Bludger. Before I even knew what was happening, I was laying flat on the ground, my back and my entire face in agony, and blood sloshing around in my mouth. Something extremely sharp was stuck in the side of my cheek, and when I pulled it out, I found it was one of my front teeth. I stuck out my tongue and recoiled when I felt the gaping hole where my tooth should be, gushing blood.

“Potter, you’re going to Hospital,” Madame Hooch was almost yelling, rushing over to me.

I rolled over and spat out a good amount of bloody spit onto the ground before saying, “No. I’m playing.” I stood shakily, and stuck the tooth into my robe pocket where my wand was. I then noticed that standing around me were Madame Hooch, Andrew, Launa, and Cedric. “What happened?”

“Andrew, err…’it you with ze bat…” I glared at the small boy.

“I’ll deal with you later,” I said deadly as I picked up my broom. Madame Hooch shook her head.

“Potter, I really must protest –”

“Jen, don’t. Please.” Cedric’s eyes were pleading, but they made me boil with rage. Why the hell shouldn’t I play? It was only a tooth.

“I’m. Playing,” I growled. Madame Hooch sighed, blew her whistle, and the game resumed.

After another ten minutes, it was over. Ginny had caught the Snitch right from under Cedric’s nose, and we only lost by ten points. When we landed, I reamed Andrew one over so hard and loud he was crying and I was hoarse by the time I was done yelling. Then I stormed up to the castle to get my teeth set right, still in my filthy Quidditch robes.

Madame Pomfrey set me right in about five minutes, but she didn’t let me leave until dinner to make sure my back was okay. When I was released, I turned left instead of right and headed for the common room. I didn’t really think I could handle food (or the humiliation) at the moment. I was shocked in the extreme, however, when I found Cedric waiting outside the Fat Lady and not down in his common room.

“Shouldn’t you be partying?” I asked moodily.

He raised his thick eyebrows and said, “Actually, I left the party to see if you were alright.”

“I’m just peachy,” I snapped after a moment of recovery.

“Don’t get snappy. And why did you yell at Kirke afterwards?”

“Because the bloody idiot knocked my tooth out!”

“He didn’t see you coming. It was an accident.”

“Well, sorry Mister I’m-Totally-Perfect, I tend to get mad when I get a bat to the face!”

Cedric narrowed his eyes, red flushing his cheeks, and replied haughtily, “Well, excuse me Miss I’m-The-Only-One-Who-Matters, I just think you should treat your teammates better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do Diggory!” I screamed, my voice cracking at the end.

“Then don’t talk to me until you stop being a self-centered git Potter!” he yelled back and stomped off down the corridor.

“Mimbulus Mimbletonia,” I barked at the Fat Lady.

“It’s not my fault you have issues!” she said defensively as she swung forward to let me through.

“GAHH!” I shrieked, exasperated.

The only person I talked to the whole rest of the night was Ron, telling him no, he couldn’t resign. He just needed more practice. I waited until the castle was asleep, (save the Hufflepuffs and a few teachers) before fetching the bottles of tie-dye and taking them and the Map down to the basement. The sounds of partying drifted up from the Hufflepuff common room as I passed it on the way to the laundry room. There were four big water buckets washing the cloths all by magic, one each for robes, shirts, pants/skirts, and socks. I poured two different colours into each bucket and left.

That night’s sleep was a giant replaying nightmare. I would re-live the match and Cedric and I’s row, wake up, got back to sleep after a bit, and it would start all over again. But as I dreamed it each time, my emotions during the dream would change. The first time, I woke up stark raving mad. But as it happened over and over again, my anger ebbed away and was replaced by sadness until when I woke for the last time at five twelve in the morning, I was sobbing my eyes out at my stupidity.

When Ophilia woke up an hour later, she found me sitting on my bed, hugging my knees, still crying slightly. She came over and sat down with me, touching my shoulder gingerly. “Jen, are you okay?” I shook my head. “I, um, heard you and Cedric had a row last night. What happened?”

I sniffled and wiped some tears off my face with the palm of my hand. “I was j-just so mad about the match, and Cedric was te-telling me not to take it out on everyone, and we started yelling…” The tears started falling again. “So now he-he’s mad at me, I’m still having nightmares that refuse to g-go away, I’m sore ev-ev-everywhere, I have a mountain of homework, I could get expelled any day, and I’m hungry!”

Ophilia sighed. “Jen, you’re not going to get expelled, and even if you did, you wouldn’t be the only one. And I’m sure if you just talk to Cedric, things will work out.”

“You make it sound easy,” I said, taking deep breaths to stop crying.

“Well, if he’s still acting like a git after you’ve apologized, then he’ll be facing the wrath of Miss Kumquat.”

I showered and Ophilia and I went down to breakfast together. We sat with the rest of the Gryffindor Marauders. George went to ask me what was wrong with Ophilia elbowed him in the side. That girl is a lifesaver sometimes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered and sat by us just as the mail arrived. An owl landed in front of each Harry and I. Mine was addressed, “Jennifer Potter, Great Hall, Hogwarts School.” Just as I reached for the letter, about ten other birds landed in front of us, spilling marmalade and milk as they tried to deliver their letter first.

“Bloody hell!” yelled Lee as spilt milk ran over the table’s edge and onto his lap.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked.

“Here!” said Hermione, eagerly holding out two long, cylindrical packages. “Read these first. I think I know what’s going on!”

Harry did as instructed, and out came a copy of The Quibbler’s March edition. On the front cover divided into thirds lengthwise were pictures of Harry, Cedric and myself. Across the top read, “Potters Speak Out At Last! The Truth About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and The Night We Saw Him Return.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” said Luna Lovegood, who wandered over from the Ravenclaw table. “It came out yesterday. I asked Dad to send you all free copies. So I expect those,” here she gestured to the mass of owls, “are from your readers.”

Everyone looked at Harry and I in anticipation, so I said, “Open away.”

Everyone got a letter and started opening. “This bloke thinks you’re off your rocker, Jen…” said Ron.

“Zis woman thinks you all should take terapy at St. Mungo’s,” said Launa, disappointed, crumpling the letter.

“This one’s okay,” said Harry, scanning a long letter. “Hey! She believes us!”

“This one’s in two minds,” said Fred. “Thinks you’re not mad, but doesn’t want to believe You-Know-Who’s back…”

“Here’s another one you’ve convinced Harry!” said Hermione excitedly.

“Another one who thinks you lot are barking…” said Hyden, tossing the crumpled letter over his shoulder.

“This witch is convinced! She says we’re heroes too…” I said, reading the letter with amazement.

“Oi Jen, this bloke’s got the hots for you… and – oh, that’s just gross!” said Ophilia, disgusted, and drowned the letter in Lee’s coffee.

“What’s going on here?” asked the sickly sweet voice of Professor Umbridge, who was standing behind Fred and Ophilia, scanning the mess of owls and letters. “Potters, why have you got all these letters?”

“Is that a crime now?” asked Fred, annoyed. “Getting mail?”

“Careful Mr. Weasley, or I shall put you in detention. Well, Mr. Potter?”

“People have written to us because of an interview we gave about what happened to us last June,” said Harry slowly. Umbridge blinked.

“An interview? What do you mean?”

“We mean a reporter asked us questions and we answered,” I said, and tossed her my copy of The Quibbler. “Here.”

As she looked at the front page, her face went purple. “When did you do this?”

“Last Hogsmead weekend,” I replied coolly. Umbridge shook with rage.

“There will be no more Hogsmead visits for either or you or Mr. Diggory,” she whispered. “How dare you… the messages of not telling lies and obeying authority have apparently not sunk in enough. Fifty points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and a week’s worth detentions, for all of you.”

-

By mid-morning, a new decree had gone up:

By Order of
THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Any student found in possession of
the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.

Signed,
Dolores Jane Umbridge
HIGH INQUISITOR

The day went rather oddly. It was great because Umbridge had done the one thing to make sure everyone read the interview. But it sucked because Cedric wouldn’t talk to me and I didn’t know what to say to him. He spent most the day in the Library. News of our row had apparently traveled fast, because a group of giggly girls followed him around, lead by Cyliana White. I listened in on part of their conversation, and quite frankly, I was disgusted.

I cornered Luna in the hallway as she went down to dinner. “Hey Luna, do you think your Dad could overnight me about two hundred copies of the March edition? I’ll pay for it, of course. And he’ll need to send it to my dorm.”

“Sure Jen, I’ll send him an owl after dinner.”

Grinning, I said, “Luna, you’re the best,” and ran off to Sarlanda’s dorm.

“Gooooood evening everyone! This is Miss Kumquat!”

“And I’m Miss Phoenix!”

“And we’re bringing you your announcements! First off, we’d like to congratulate Hufflepuff for their narrow win over Gryffindor! And remember, Quidditch players do it in the air!”

“Also, Miss Phoenix would like to remind the girls of Hogwarts that the Head Boy does not perform sexual favors, and to please stop conspiring to gang-bang him in the bathroom!”

“So that’s it for tonight, this is Kumquat and Phoenix, signing out! Miss Kumquat encourages everyone to read The Quibbler!”

“Miss Phoenix wishes Ravenclaw good luck on their upcoming match against Slytherin!”

-

The rest of the week was a muddle. The school uniforms changed to red and purple robes, yellow and brown shirts, green and orange bottoms and blue and pink socks overnight, a phenomenon Misters Terminator and Rockstar announced as “revolutionalizing the dress code.”

Every night, the words “I must not question authority” were getting carved deeper and deeper into my hand. The nightmares continued to persist, and Cedric still wouldn’t talk to me.

Friday night, I was just finishing up dinner, ready to go upstairs to the Head’s Dorm to plan pranks and talk to Cedric when a woman screamed out in the Entrance Hall. Everyone went silent, then students began standing up and going to investigate. Ophilia looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and we stood up to join the crowd. Sarlanda joined us at the edge of students, and I stood on tiptoe to see what was going on.

Professor Trelawney was in the middle of the hall, holding her wand and an empty sherry bottle, looking insane. She and the two trunks beside her looked as if they had been thrown down the Grand Staircase. She stared, terrified, at something at the foot of the stairs.

“NO!” she shrieked. “This cannot be happening!”

“You didn’t see this coming?” asked the amused girly voice of Umbridge. “Though you are incapable of predicting tomorrows weather, surely you realized that your poor performances during my inspections warranted your sacking?”

Professor Trelawney was sobbing. “You c-can’t! H-Hogwarts is my h-home!”

“It was your home,” said Umbridge, clearly enjoying the sight of Trelawney sinking to the floor in uncontrollable sobs, “until about an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us.”

I was shaking in rage. Ophilia was white with shock, and Sarlanda’s lips were thin. But with footsteps and a break in the crowd, Professor McGonagall was there, comforting Trelawney. “There, there, calm down Sibyll, you’re not going to have to leave Hogwarts…”

“Oh really Professor McGonagall?” asked Umbridge deadily, stepping forward. “And your authority for that statement is…?”

“Mine,” said the deep voice of Dumbledore as the front oak doors opened.

“Your’s Dumbledore? But as you know, I have the power to sack any teacher I do not feel comes up to scratch.”

“You do. But you do not have the power to banish them from the grounds, and I wish Sibyll to remain here. Would you kindly escort her back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, and she, Sprout and Flitwick took Professor Trelawney and her trunks back upstairs.

“And what,” started Umbridge nastily, “are you going to do when I appoint a new Divination teacher?”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. I have already found someone, and they prefer ground lodgings. May I introduce you?” With a clip-clop of hooves and many gasps, a centaur walked out of the mist and into the hall. He had white-blonde hair, pure blue eyes, and a palomino horse body. “This is Firenze,” said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. “I think you’ll find him suitable.”