The Girl Who Lived

Interrogations with Umbridge

June 18th, 1996

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I swear on my mother and father that I will rip Voldemort apart, piece by goddamned piece.

I swear that if the Gods allow any bad to happen to Sirius, I will unleash all of my power on them.

Elena was sprinting up to Gryffindor Tower. Her heart was pounding yet she was surprisingly calm. She was always calm these days, even when hell was about to break loose but this was different. She was ready to fucking murder everybody today.

She couldn't think straight, not from the moment when Harry was practically crawling over to her. She scooped up her taller, stronger, bigger, brother into her arms as if he was five years old and frightened of the dark. Elena had never planned of getting off of the ground and making any of that vision real until Harry had whispered in her ear.

"I don't want him to die, Lena. I don't want to lose anyone else. I can't lose anyone else."

The words he spoke with a shaking voice tore her heart apart and confirmed that fear she had been shoving down. The chances that Sirius would die... Elena didn't even want to think about it. She just wanted her godfather. She just wanted to go home and forget about this, pretend that it was not real.

"Fish, I need you to do something for me," Elena called out as she slammed the door of her dorm.

The dorm was clean, thanks to Elena cleaning in the early morning before breakfast. Hermione's books were carefully layered on the nightstand and Ginny's broom was leaning against her bedpost. Elena's desk was wiped down and her knives were carefully polished, gleaming in the sunlight. She had spent an hour before the sun rose, simply polishing them and sharpening them to a point where Elena ran the blade over her finger, barely skimming it and a thin slice opened up across her finger, spilling blood.

The belt had been scrubbed clean of any remaining blood or grime from all of the times Elena had used them for practicing or during a fight. It was laid out to dry in the sunlight and finally, it had dried.

Fish was laying on the bed, on top of a knit blanket Elena had finished the past week. Her head perked up and her ears shifted towards Elena, signifying she was listening.

Elena kneeled in front of the trunk pressed against the bed and unlocked the buckles, lifting the top. Inside, there were layers upon layers of books and shoes and clothes- too many goddamned clothes.

She sifted through the contents, tossing the neatly stacked clothing aside and tossing her shoes aside onto the ground.

Finally, Elena reached in and ran the fabric through her hands. Soft like silk but thick and rich, the outside was pitch black but the interior side was blood red. Something a true witch would wear in the Muggle fairy tales.

She had bought this before returning to school in the fall. Somehow, Elena had snuck away to Knockturn Alley and gone into Borgin and Burkes, pretending to be a dark witch. Borgin had not even asked questions when Elena browsed the store and her eyes met the cloak placed on a mannequin.

"Personal artifact and worn by Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland in the 1500's," Borgin explained, twiddling his thumbs as Elena ran her hand over the cloak. "The cloak is known to amplify one's magic source, if it wishes to."

"Wishes to?" Elena asked.

Borgin nodded. "The cloak chooses the owner, much like the wand chooses the wizard. Anyone who the cloak did not choose suffers a terrible fate."