Silent Riot | Regulus Black

TWELVE

A week passed. The prank had, as predicted, been spectacular. It had resulted in the four boys receiving a detention, Avery getting a concussion, Potter having a full- blown fight with Black (physical and verbal), and somehow nobody suspecting them of anything.

Or at least Gemma had thought they'd gotten away with it, until she'd been called to Professor Dumbledore's office. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She'd gotten in trouble a fair few times, but never before had she been spoken to by the headmaster.

'Chocolate frogs,' she said dully, and she was let in. As she entered, she was in awe of the strange artefacts and size of the well- decorated office. Dumbledore had clearly been collecting for years.

'Take a seat, Miss Aston,' a dreary voice called. She turned around to see the old man sitting at his desk, inspecting her with his half- moon spectacles. She'd never liked Dumbledore- he was biased towards his own house, sure, but there was also something about him that didn't seem right. Gemma sat down opposite him.

'How is school, Miss Aston? How are your friends?' He asked.

'Good,' she replied curtly. He nodded.

'And your father?' He questioned. 'Have you heard from him recently?'

'No,' she answered carefully. 'He doesn't like owls because they scare him, and Hogwarts doesn't exactly have a postbox.'

'Ah yes, of course,' Dumbledore said. 'To business. Today I called you here for a reason. How much do you know about your mother's line of work, Miss Aston?'

'Nothing,' she said bitterly. Her mother had practically disappeared from her life over nine year ago. Now she only got owls on her birthday and Christmas, and the letters usually contained little more than five words. Her father however, refused to remarry or change Gemma's surname to match his, despite her encouragement.

'Well,' he said, leaning forward slightly. 'What if I were to say that I know of her location?'

'I would tell you to take that location and stick it up- um- forget about it. I don't care where she is, because I don't care about her.' Gemma pushed her chair back slightly. 'Is that all?'

'Perhaps if you saw her, or understood her position-'

'No,' she snapped. 'Listen, I respect you and all, but I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my business.'

'Ah but the thing is, your mother's business is my business.' Gemma stopped for a moment.

'Stop talking in riddles,' she said warily. 'If you want to say something, just say it.'

'I would recommend reading this,' he said, sliding an envelope to across the desk. Scrawled on it in black ink was the name Gemma Aston, from Genevieve. Gemma went to open it, but Dumbledore stopped her.

'Not yet,' he urged. 'Open it in private, preferably when your mind is fully at peace.'

'Fine,' she said, trying her best not to roll her eyes. 'Thanks. Is that all?'

'Yes,' Dumbledore said. 'Remember, help can always be found at Hogwarts for those who seek it.'

'Brilliant,' she replied dryly, exiting the office.

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

'Rook to B4.'

As the black rook moved to the selected square, Gemma winced as she realised she'd been checkmated. She ran her hand across the board, knocking over the pieces in frustration.