Forbidden [d.m.] || rewritten

chapter 16

- year six -

S A G E P O T T E R

It had been exactly eight weeks since the incident at the Department of Mysteries. Eight weeks since we lost Sirius. Eight weeks since the nightmares finally started going away. Not only was our name all over the Daily Prophet, but Dumbledore's as well. More publicity wasn't necessarily something Harry and I wanted, or needed for that matter. There was non-stop debate over who the Chosen One could be. Was it Harry? Or was it me? Half of the press believed it was Harry; the other half thought it was me. But Harry and I both knew— it was both of us in different ways.

We both knew no one could kill us but Lord Voldemort himself. But we also knew Harry was the one who could kill him out of the two of us. I, however, was the defining factor in the entire equation. It was simple. If I was branded with the Dark Mark, Voldemort would triumph.

I spent the entire summer worrying about my brother. He wasn't acting like himself. He spent the majority of his time in the Muggle World, flirting with every girl he could get wrapped around his finger. He didn't do any of his homework the teachers assigned us over the summer. He didn't practice Quidditch. It was like Harry Potter wasn't Harry Potter anymore.

This summer, I spent most of my time with Fred, George, and Ginny. All things considered, Harry was always away and I couldn't stand being in the same room as Ron, Hermione, and the sexual tension they carried with them. It built up by the day and was growing more and more unbearable as we grew closer to the school year.

Percy would come and go. He spent most nights cooped up in his room doing Ministry work. His head would poke out from his room occasionally as he shouted for us to "keep it down" and he would boast during meals about his job. Things between him and his parents were tense to say the least and I was surprised they even let him in the house after the stunt he pulled when You-Know-Who came back. The more amiable brothers, Bill and Charlie, came and went as well. Ginny and Molly were getting sick of Fleur Delacour inserting herself wherever she liked, given that she was marrying Bill. Ginny even started calling her Phlegm behind her back.

I was beginning to think that returning to Hogwarts this year wasn't the best idea considering all of the attention Harry and I were receiving these last two years. Nonetheless, I was still going to attend and face the onus of being a sixth-year.

Fred and George, who weren't returning back to Hogwarts, were in their prime. With their joke shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, opened up in Diagon Alley, they were occupied all day, every day. Given how deserted the Alley was, it was shocking how much business they were getting. I guess people really needed a laugh these days.

And now, it was everyone's last morning at the Burrow before we would be sent off to Hogwarts in the afternoon. I was awoken from my slumber by Hermione's frantic shrieks voice ringing through my ears.

I pulled the blankets over me haphazardly and mumbled into the pillows, "Christ, Hermione. If you're going to talk to yourself, you could at least have consideration for the person sleeping ten feet away."

"Sorry, sorry... good morning." She acknowledged, still sounding all over the place. "I'm looking for my Gryffindor sweater."

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and sat up. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Mrs. Weasley is almost done making breakfast. It's past 9 o'clock. So if I were you, I'd get up and make sure you have everything packed. We're leaving for King's Cross in just over an hour."

Stretching my arms above my head, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and felt the drowsiness hit me when I stood. "Weren't you wearing that sweater two nights ago, Mione?"