Hyacinth POV
The office was quiet enough to hear the crackle of the fire. While Dad's hands shook against my cheek as he tilted my chin up, his eyes narrowing at the bruises climbing across my throat.
"Cinthy," he said, voice rough. "Have you been to a healer yet?"
I tried to answer, but the rasp that came out made his jaw lock tight. I shook my head and his whole body went rigid with his unspoken anger.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, before stepping into the silence with that infuriating calm. "Sirius, you must understand. Argus was distraught, his companion appeared dead. In his grief..."
Dad's head snapped up, and the temperature in the room dropped. "GRIEF!" His voice thundered through the office. "You call this grief?" His hand swept to the bruises already darkening on my neck. "My daughter, Heiress to the Houses of Black and Potter was nearly strangled in front of half the bloody school, and you're excusing it?"
"Mr. Filch has been a loyal servant of this school..."Dumbles tried again but was cut off by Dad.
"ENOUGH!" Dad roared as he surged to his feet, his chair tipping over in his haste. "I want him gone, and by gone I mean fired. I'll not have the man who put his hands on my child still roaming these halls."
I glanced at Professor Snape out of the corner of my eye. To my surprise, his lips twitched, like he was hiding a smile.
Professor McGonagall, however, pressed her lips into a thin line and stood straighter. "I must agree, Albus. Mrs. Norris is petrified, not dead. His behavior toward Miss Potter-Black was unacceptable." Her sharp gaze slid toward me before cutting back to Dumbledore. "Regardless of circumstance, there are lines that cannot be crossed."
Dumbles raised his hands as if that would actually calm Dad down and said. "My dear friends, this is precisely why we must show caution. If we rush into decisions..."
"Caution?" Dad spat, his eyes burning. "Caution didn't keep my daughter's airway clear while your squib caretaker crushed it shut."
I winced at the reminder, swallowing hard. My throat was still raw as every word caught, but I managed to whisper, "Dad, it's okay..."
"No," he cut me off, his hand warm and steady against my shoulder. "It is not okay. It will never be okay."
Professor Snape stepped forward then, slipping a hand into his robes. "Black," he said, tone clipped but not unkind when he said. "I have a draught that will ease her pain until she sees a proper healer." He pulled a small vial free and offered it without hesitation.
Dad blinked, his fury pausing for just a moment. He took the vial carefully, then looked Snape dead in the eye. "Thank you, Severus. I appreciate this."
Snape gave a small, curt nod, the faintest ghost of satisfaction in his expression, before stepping back into shadow.
Dad didn't waste another breath on Dumbles. He took my hand and practically dragged me out of the office, down the stairwell, and across the castle. His fury rolled off him in waves, each step sharper than the last until he shoved open the doors of the Hospital Wing.
"Poppy," he barked, voice hard. "Get the floo open and call Healer Sloan. Now!"
Madam Pomfrey blinked at the sight of us, her eyes darting to my throat, but before she could sputter out a response Dad had already lit the floo himself and sent the call. Green flames flared, and seconds later Healer Sloan stepped out, her healer's robes crisp and her expression already sharp.
Her eyes fell on me, then on the bruises around my neck, and her whole face iced over. "Why was I not summoned immediately?" Her voice echoed through the room like a curse. She turned, pinning both Madam Pomfrey and Dumbles in her sights.
Dumble bumbles lifted his hands as though to soothe her as he said. "I was simply trying to handle..."
"Handle?" Healer Sloan cut him off cold. "Nothing is more important than the immediate health of your students. Absolutely nothing. I'll be filing a report with the DMLE regarding this negligence, Headmaster. This, paired with the fact Miss Potter-Black missed her inoculations last year, paints a worrying pattern."
Madam Pomfrey flushed red to her ears in shame, and Dumbles' eyes narrowed, but before either could open their mouths, Dad cut in. "Enough with the inquisition. Just fix my daughter."
Healer Sloan didn't argue. She moved with quick, precise efficiency, pulling two potions from her satchel. One burned bitter on my tongue, the other cooled the burn and tasted like mint, and then she smoothed a salve across my bruised skin. Within minutes the tight ache in my throat eased, and the black marks began to fade.
"Better?" Dad asked, crouching down to look me straight in the eyes.
I nodded, my voice still a little rough but steadier. "Better."
His shoulders loosened, just a fraction when he said. "Good."
We left Dumbledore to stew in the wreckage of his slipping control, Madam Pomfrey fussing and Sloan scribbling notes with a vengeance.
The heavy doors of the Hospital Wing had barely swung shut behind us when two familiar redheads popped into view. Fred and George grinned in unison, but their eyes flicked to my throat before they sobered and shoved something into my hands.
"Oi, Cinthy," George muttered. "We got what you asked for. However, we do want to know why you had us pilfer our own sister's diary?"
I looked down at the worn leather diary in my hands. Ginny's diary, that was the relic of a mad man.
Dad took one look and his mouth pressed into a thin line before he looked the twins in the eye and said. "We've found out this is a relic left behind by Voldemort. It's dangerous. You boys did well getting it away from your sister."
The twins exchanged a shocked glance but nodded sharply, for once not saying anything.
Dad leaned down, kissed the top of my head, and muttered, "I'll get this to the goblins for disposal. You..." his eyes flicked over me, softening for a heartbeat, "try not to give me any more heart attacks, yeah?"
"I'll try," I said, grinning cheekily, though the sting in my throat made me wince a little.
Then my smile faded. "Dad... whatever did that to Mrs. Norris is still out there."
He nodded grimly. "Newt still thinks it's a Basilisk. Apparently if you don't look it in the eyes directly, but through a reflection you end up petrified instead of dead. I'll contact the Board of Governors. Maybe we can get Newt and a goblin team in here to put it down before it kills a student."
The diary burned heavy in his hand as he turned toward the floo and for the first time, I felt the real weight of the war we were still fighting.