Late Bloomers

Funeral

Friday morning dawned gloomy and gray, as though the sky knew the mood of the inhabitants of Hogwarts. 5th and 7th years were up to their ears in essays and extra spell practice and Umbridge was becoming steadily more unbearable. On top of not teaching anything useful in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she now insisted on observing the others teachers (educational decree number twenty-three, signed by the Minister of Magic himself as she liked to remind them, gave her the right to sack whoever she thought to be unsatisfactory) and interrupt their lessons with insolent questions. She even had the audacity to use a measureing tape on Professor Flitwick during Charms, much to the outrage of the Ravenclaws.

Sinead was not alone in guessing at the real reason Umbridge had been appointed to her position at Hogwarts: the Ministry was attempting to take control of the school because of what Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter had been saying about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. However, it seemed that Sinead was one of the few people that believed them. Even Aoife was on the fence, and after discussing the matter at length with Sinead following the most recent Daily Prophet article about the Boy Who Lived, concluded defensively with, "why should I take the word of an angsty fifteen year old saying the most powerful Dark wizard of all time as returned?" Sinead could think of several reason why, but kept her mouth shut to avoid an argument.

Despite the nature of the visit, Sinead would be glad to spend the weekend at home just to escape from the suffocating, stressed atmosphere of Hogwarts. Perhaps it would also help her shake off the melancholy feeling that had been plaguing her since she'd gotten the news about her parents. Neville had taken it upon himself to cheer her up and promised several times to take her down to the greenhouses but, Neville said due to homework, he had only been able to take her once. Therefore, they had not been able to see much each other since the previous Sunday.

That was why, when the clock struck seven that evening, Sinead and Aoife were poised outside of the Headmaster's office waiting for Neville to arrive. Not five minutes later, Neville came hurrying around the corner, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey," Sinead greeted, hugging him tightly. Neville returned her hug and kissed her cheek as he pulled away, a blush crawling up his neck as he remembered that Aoife was there.

"Ready?" Sinead inquired, looking at them each in turn. When they both nodded Sinead gave the password (licorice snaps) and led the way up the spiraling staircase. Knocking three times on the large wooden door, Sinead held her breath. She'd hardly moved her hand away when an expectant voice called "come in,"

Cautiously, Sinead opened the door and stepped into Professor Dumbledore's office. Neville was the last in and shut the door behind them.

"Ah, Ms. Gallagher, right on time," Professor Dumbledore commented genially as he stood and motioned them toward his desk where a particularly dirty, deflated soccer ball lay. "Your Portkey is set to depart in two minutes' time. I assume none of you have travelled in this manner on previous occassions, but do not be nervous. You need only touch a finger to the item," here he indicated the soccer ball, "it will glow blue for a moment and transport you to your destination which, in this case, is the pasture just over the fence from your backyard, Ms. Gallagher. Your aunt and uncle have assured me that your house is far from prying eyes," his eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, "So, if you please," he gestured once more to the ball and the three teenagers hurried forward to place a finger on it as it began to glow.

There was a strong tug just behind her navel and then she was moving at an impossible quick speed, her shoulders bumping against those of her companions. Seconds later, her knees buckled as her feet made contact wtih the ground and she fell, the balled jarred from her hands and flopped out of reach. Neville and Aoife did not have better landing and were sprawled o nthe grass on either side of her. Groaning, they all stood and brushed the dirt off of their clothes.