tradition

13

The mornings following Dumbledore's sudden disappearance were somber and charged with an air of unsettling change. The Great Hall, once a lively and welcoming space, now echoed with a quiet sense of foreboding as Professor Umbridge took her place as the new headmistress of Hogwarts. The usual vibrancy and warmth of the room seemed to be replaced by a cold, oppressive atmosphere. Briar Rose, standing by one of the tall windows, gazed outside at the stormy sky. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance, a reflection of the turmoil that had enveloped the school. Filch, the caretaker with his grumpy demeanor, was methodically removing the cherished portraits from the stone walls, his actions marking the beginning of a new and unwelcome era. "What's happening?" Adam, Briar's younger brother, tugged at her robes, his voice tinged with confusion and worry. Briar, her own heart heavy with the weight of the new reality, responded with a mix of resignation and bitterness. "The Ministry is taking over Hogwarts... that's what's happening." Her words were like a heavy fog settling over Adam's innocent questions.

Briar, determined to shield her brother from the worst of the oppressive atmosphere, guided him toward the Great Hall where Umbridge had called for all members of Dumbledore's Army to serve detention. The hall, once a place of joyous gatherings, was now a grim setting for punishment. "Sit here, okay?" Briar instructed Adam as she guided him to a seat behind her. Adam, his small face lined with anxiety, nodded and sat down, his gaze fixed on the unfamiliar and unsettling surroundings. Briar took her own seat, her eyes flickering to the parchment laid out in front of her, along with a quill that sat ominously without any ink. The absence of ink felt like a bad omen, hinting at the nature of the task that awaited them.

At the front of the room, Umbridge, with her unnerving and high-pitched voice, occupied the chair that had once been Dumbledore's. Her presence was a stark contrast to the beloved former headmaster, radiating an unsettling air of authority and disdain. "You'll all be doing lines," Umbridge declared, her voice slicing through the room like a cold blade. The words were met with a collective groan of dismay from the students. Adam, noticing the lack of ink, muttered with a hint of confusion, "I haven't got any -" But before he could finish his sentence, Harry Potter, sitting behind him, offered a grim but helpful reassurance. "You won't need ink," he said quietly, his tone filled with a weary acceptance of the cruel task at hand.

As Briar began to write, she felt an unexpected sharp pain sear through the front of her hand. She glanced down and was horrified to see the words she was forced to write etched into her skin as if her blood had become the ink. The sight of her own skin marked with the cruel message was both physically and emotionally painful. She turned to look at Adam, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears. The sight broke her heart. "Give me your parchment," Briar whispered urgently to her brother. Adam, his face a mixture of confusion and trust, handed her the parchment reluctantly. Briar, with a resolute expression, began to write furiously on both parchments, her own discomfort momentarily overshadowed by her need to shield Adam from further pain.

A single tear escaped Briar's eye and fell onto the parchment, staining it with her silent suffering. The room grew darker as the hours dragged on, the once bright hall now dimmed by the heavy clouds of sorrow and the oppressive presence of Umbridge. The sting in her hand became a constant, unbearable reminder of the cruelty they were enduring. "You are dismissed," Umbridge announced finally, her voice dripping with a sense of malicious satisfaction. Briar quickly passed Adam's parchment back to him and grasped his arm, guiding him out of the room with a sense of urgency. Her protective instincts were in overdrive as she glanced into Adam's bright blue eyes. "Don't tell a single soul that I did your lines," Briar instructed firmly, her voice a mixture of determination and tenderness. Adam nodded quickly, his tears mingling with a sense of relief as he hugged his sister tightly.

Briar's comforting words flowed gently as she held her brother close. "Sh, sh. It's okay, the pain will go away and so will the marks. Time will heal it, but for now just stay out of trouble, yeah?" she said soothingly, lifting Adam's chin so that their gazes met. Adam nodded solemnly and, with the support of his friends, made his way back to the common room. Briar, her own heart heavy with the weight of the day's events, made her way toward Eloise and Georgia. Both of them bore the same cruel marks and cuts on their hands, a testament to the shared suffering they all endured. But no one had the same number of marks as Briar, a fact that did not go unnoticed.