Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Hailey in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. She didn't argue or complain, but she wouldn't let Madam Pomfrey throw away the shattered remnants of the Nimbus Two Thousand. Hailey knew that she being stupid, she knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Hailey couldn't help it, she felt as though she'd lost one of her best friends.
She had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering her up. Hagrid sent her a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley came in wishing her well. The Ravenclaw team visited again, Roger Davies was saying that he didn't blame her for losing the match, and that he was fine with losing.
Ron, Hermione, Mandy, and Michael only left Hailey's bedside at night. Nothing anyone said or did could make Hailey feel better, because they knew only half of what was troubling her.
She didn't tell anyone about the Grim, not even her friends. She knew that Ron would panic, Hermione would scoff, Michael would say something about how it was probably a mirage from the lightning, and Mandy would probably do anything in her power to use Divination, Xylomancy, or Ovomancy to see if Hailey was in danger or going to die. The fact remained, that she had been in a near-fatal accident after seeing the Grim, because she fell fifty feet from her broomstick. She wasn't sure if the Grim was going to haunt her until she died. Am I going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the beast? Hailey wondered.
Then there was the problem with the dementors. Hailey felt sick and humiliated every time she thought of the creepy bastards. Everyone said that the dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their head of their dying parents.
At least Hailey knew who that screaming voice belonged to, now. She had heard the words, over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while she lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the dementors approached her, she heard the last moments of her mother's life, her attempts to protect her, Hailey, from Lord Voldemort, and Voldemort's laughter before he murder her mother. Hailey dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake.
She felt a dementor near, because the back of her neck was freezing. Instead of a dementor, it was because of a cold breeze on the back of her neck. She sat up and noticed Peeves the Poltergeist was floating next to her, blowing hard in her ear.
"What did you do that for?" demanded Hailey furiously.
Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the hospital wing, cackling.
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where she was forced to think about other things, even if she had to endure Draco Malfoy's taunting. Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Ravenclaw's defeat. He had finally taken off his banadages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Hailey falling off her broom.
Mandy had shouted, "Because someone almost dying is so funny, eh, Malfoy! If it happened to you, you would try to get Dumbledore fired!"
Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing dementor imitations across the dungeons; Mandy finally cracked and reached for a large, slippery crocodile heart, but Michael grabbed it instead and threw it at Malfoy, which hit him so hard in the face that it nearly caused Malfoy to topple off his stool. It caused Snape to take fifty points from Ravenclaw.
"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm ditching," Mandy said as the headed toward Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hailey."
Hailey looked in around the classroom door and instantly relaxed at the sight of Professor Lupin. "It's okay."
Professor Lupin certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats. Malfoy, thankfully, didn't seem in the mood to complain about Lupin since he had that crocodile heart lobbed at him.
"We had to do two rolls of parchment on werewolves, we don't know anything about werewolves," Hestia Carrow said.
"—two rolls of parchment!" Flora Carrow said.
"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly.
Hestia said, "Yes, but he said were really behind—"
"—two rolls of parchment!" Flora cut in.
"Shut up, Flora," Hestia snapped.
"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay," Lupin said.
Hailey felt a little uncomfortable, considering she did the essay. Coming from the awkward look on Michael's face, she wasn't the only one.
"But…I already finished it," Mandy said sadly from behind Hailey.
They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who look as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking.
"Lures travelers into bogs," said Professor Lupin as they took notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead—people follow the light—then—"
The hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass, much to Hailey's disgust and Mandy busted out laughing, before she covered it, realizing that she was the only one who laughed. Stephen snickered though.
When the bell rang, everyone packed up their things, and headed for the door. Hailey was among them, but—
"Wait a moment, Hailey," Lupin called. "I'd like a word."
Hailey doubled back and watched Professor Lupin cover the hinkypunk's box with a cloth.
"I heard about the match," said Lupin, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"
"No," said Hailey, almost bitterly. "The tree smashed it to bits."
Lupin sighed. "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."
With difficulty due to nerves and slight resentment, Hailey asked, "Did you hear about the dementors, too?"
Lupin looked at her quickly. "Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time…furious at his refusal to let them inside the ground… I suppose they were the reason you fell?"
"Yes," said Hailey. She hesitated before she can ask it, but it came out instead. "Why? Why do they affect like that? Am I just—?"
"It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Hailey's mind. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."
A ray of wintery sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's grey hairs and the lines on his young face. Hailey couldn't help but wonder what caused him to have grey hair that young.
"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happen to you, Hailey, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Hailey needed to tell someone, and started, "When they get near me—" she stared at Lupin's desk, her throat tight. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."
Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Hailey's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then—
"Why did they have to come to the match?" asked Hailey bitterly.
"They're getting hungry," said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement…emotions running high…it was their idea of a feast."
"Azkaban is a terrible place," Hailey muttered. Lupin nodded grimly. "They go mad within weeks." She frowned, "But Sirius Black escaped from them. He got away…"
Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it. "Yes," he straightened up, "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible. Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…"
Hailey realized something, "You made that dementor on the train back off."
"There are—certain defenses one can use," said Lupin. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The morethere are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."
"What defenses?" asked Hailey at once, eager to learn. "Can you teach me?"
"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Hailey…quite the contrary…" Lupin started.
Hailey tried to sound determined, "But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—"
Lupin looked at Hailey's face, for a moment swearing that he saw James behind that determination, and then said, "Well…all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."
With the promise of anti-dementor lessons from Lupin, the thought that she might never have to her mother's death again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, Hailey's mood took a definite upturn. Ravenclaw were not of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Roger was determined to work his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December, whenever Oliver Wood hadn't taken the spot. Hailey saw no hint of a dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances. To make matters worse, Hailey had to use an ancient Shooting Star, which was very slow and jerky, to use whenever they trained.
Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning to be covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Fliwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Ron and Hermione had decided to remain at Hogwarts. Michael and Mandy decided to go home. Mandy wanted to spend time with her dad because of the grindylow attack on October. Michael said that it was because he and Eva had to spend time with Michael's parents. Ron said it was because he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library. Hailey wasn't fooled, she was grateful that Hermione and Ron wanted to keep her company.
To everyone's delight, and to Hailey's dismay, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.
"I can do some Christmas shopping there!" Mandy exclaimed.
Resigned to the fact that Hailey had to be the only third year staying behind again, Hailey borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Oliver Wood, to find a new broomstick. She had decided to spend the day reading up on the different models of broomsticks.
On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Hailey told her four friends goodbye, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase alone. She headed back toward Ravenclaw Tower. On the third corridor, Hailey noticed that snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was oddly still and quiet.
"Psst—Hailey!"
Hailey turned around to see Fred and George were halfway along the corridor, peering out at her from behind a statute of a hump-backed, one-eyed witch. Hailey was slightly confused, "What are you doing? How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?"
"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," said Fred, with a mysterious wink. "Come in here…" He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Hailey followed the Weasley twins inside the room. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Hailey. "Early Christmas present for you, Hailey."
Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it.
Hailey stared at the parchment, suspecting that it was on their jokes. "What's that supposed to be?"
"This, Hailey, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly.
"It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."
"Anyway, we know it by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't need it anymore."
"What do I need with a bit of old parchment?" asked Hailey.
"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Hailey had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."
George started, "Well…when we were in our first year, Hailey—young, carefree, and innocent—"
Hailey snorted, doubting that the two boys had even been innocent."
"—well, more innocent than we are now—we got into a spot of bother with Filch," George said.
Fred continued, "So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—"
"—Detention—"
"—disembowelment—"
"—and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous," George said.
"Don't tell me—" started Hailey with a grin.
"Well, what would you've done?" asked Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed—this."
"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said Georg. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."
Hailey asked, "And you know how to work it?"
"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in the school."
"You're winding me up," said Hailey, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment.
"Oh, are we?" said George. He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
Are proud to present
THE MARADUER'S MAP
It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Hailey bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Hailey looked up and down the familiar corridors, she noticed something else. This map showed a set of passages she had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead—
"Right into Hogsmeade," said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four," he pointed them out, "But we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in—completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one lead's right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."
"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly.
"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it—"
"—or anyone can read it," Fred said in a warning tone.
"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief Managed!' And it'll go blank," George said.
"So, you Hailey," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself."
"See you in Honeydukes," said George, winking.
The Weasley twins left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.
Hailey stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. She watched the tiny ink Mrs Norris turn left, pause, and seemed to sniff at the something on the floor. If Filch really didn't know…she wouldn't have to pass the dementors at all…
Hailey felt flooded with excitement, something Hailey had once heard Mr Weasley say came floating back. 'Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain.'
The map was on of those dangerous magical objects Mr Weasley had been warning against…Aids for Magical Mischeif-Makers…but then, Hailey reasoned, she only wanted to use it to get into Hogsmeade, it wasn't as though she wanted to steal anything or attack anyone…and the Weasley twins had been using it for years without anything horrible happening.
Hailey traced the secret passage to Honeydukes with her finger. She rolled the map up, stuffed it inside her robes, and hurried to the door of the classroom. She opened it a couple of inches to see that no one was outside. Very carefully, she edged out of the room and behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. To her surprise, a new ink figure had appeared on the map, labeled Hailey Potter. This figure was standing exactly where Hailey was standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. Hailey watched carefully. Her little ink self appeared to be tapping the witch with a miniature wand. Hailey took out her real wand and tapped the statue. Nothing happened and Hailey looked back at the map. A tiny speech bubble had appeared next to her figure and there was a word inside that said, "Dissendium."
"Dissendium," Hailey whispered, tapping the stone witch again.
The statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a fairly thin person. Hailey glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then tucked the map away again, hoisted herself into the hole headfast, and pushed herself forward.
She slide a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide, then landed on cold damp earth. She stood up, looking around. It was pitch dark. She held up her wand, muttered, "Lumos!" and saw that she was in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. She raised the map, tapped it with the tip of her wand, and whispered, "Mischief managed!" The map went blank at once. Hailey folded it carefully, tucked it inside her robes, then, heart beating fast, excited and apprehensive, she set off.
The passage twisted and turned, like a giant rabbit burrow than anything else. Hailey hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor, holding her wand out in front of her.
It took ages, but Hailey kept the thought of Honeydukes to propel her forward. After what seemed like an hour, the passage began to rise. Panting, Hailey sped up, her face hot, her feet very cold.
She came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above her. Careful not to make any noise, Hailey began to climb. She lost count of how many steps she took at fifty. She watched her feet…trying not to slip, when she hit her head on something hard.
It seemed to be a trapdoor. Hailey stood there, rubbing the top of her head, listening. She couldn't hear any sounds above her. Very slowly, she pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge.
She was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. She climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it—it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. Hailey crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. She could now definitely hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door.
She wondered what to do when a door opened much closer at hand; somebody was about to come downstairs.
"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out—" said a woman.
A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Hailey jumped behind an enormous crate and waited for the footsteps to pass. She heard someone shifting boxes against the opposite wall. Hailey realized that she might not get another chance—
As quickly and quietly as she can, Hailey dodged out from her hiding place and climbed the stairs; looking back, she saw an enormous backside and shiny bald head, buried in a box. Hailey reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it, and found herself behind the counter of Honeydukes—she ducked, crept sideways, and then straightened up.
Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one seemed to look twice at Hailey. She edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as she imagined the look on Dudley's face if he could see where Hailey was now.
There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-coloured toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbert balls that Ron had mentioned, along yet another wall were "Special Effects" sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-coloured bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringments, tiny black Pepper Imps ("breathe fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice ("hear your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermint creams shaped like toads ("hop realistically in the stomach!"), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.
Hailey squeezed herself through a crowd of sixth years, saying "excuse me" and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop (UNUSUAL TASTES). Hermione, Mandy, Ron, and Michael were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavoured lollipops. Hailey tried to be quiet as she snuck up behind them.
"I don't think she's a vampire," Michael said, to Hermione.
"How about these?" asked Ron, showing them a jar of Cockroach Clusters.
"That's disgusting," Mandy said.
"I agree with Mandy," said Hailey.
Ron nearly dropped the jar, Michael spun around, almost crashing into Hailey. Mandy's eyes were comically wide.
"Hailey!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing her? How—how did you—?"
"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!"
Hailey snorted at that. "'Course I haven't." She dropped her voice to a whisper, so a group of sixth years didn't hear, and explained all about the Marauder's Map.
Ron looked outraged. "How come Fred and George never told me! I'm their brother!"
"But Hailey isn't going to keep it!" said Hermione, as though the idea were ludicrous. "She's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Hailey?"
"No, I'm not!" said Hailey, defiantly.
"Are you mad?" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?"
"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!" Hailey explained, not wanting to get the Weasley twins in trouble, especially after they gave it to her to use. That was like a betrayal.
"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"
"He can't be getting in through a passage," said Hailey quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three—one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through—well—it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there…" Hailey trailed off, wondering if Sirius Black knew about the passage.
"Yeah, about that…" Michael started. He, Mandy, and Ron both pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.
BY ORDER OF
THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before night.
Happy Christmas!
"See?" said Ron quietly. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!"
"Yes, but—but—" Hermione seemed to be struggling to find another problem. "Look, Hailey still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. She hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, she'll be in some much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet—what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"
"I'd like to see him try to get through that," Mandy said, motioning to the mullioned window. There was thick, swirling snow outside.
"Hermione, its Christmas. Hailey deserves a break, doesn't she?" Michael asked.
Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.
Hailey grinned and asked, "Are you going to report me?"
Hermione started, "Oh—of course not—but honestly, Hailey—"
"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Hailey?" said Ron, grabbing Hailey and leading her over to the barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven—it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick." Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box.
"I still don't know why they made those," Michael said.
"Do you reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?" Ron asked.
"You can try, but I won't guarantee he won't seek revenge," Mandy said.
When Hailey's friends paid for all their sweets, the three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside.
Hailey couldn't help but gasp at the sight of the village. Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees. It was just so beautiful and breathtaking to see.
Hailey shivered; unlike the other four, she didn't have her cloak. Michael ended up passing her his grey zip-up hoodie. As Hailey put it on, noticing that it was kind of baggy on her, but she liked the bagginess of it, because it was comfortable. They headed up the street; Ron and Hermione were shouting their scarves.
Hermione motioned to a building, "That's the post office—"
Ron gestured, "Zonko's is up there—"
"Wait till you see the Shrieking Shack," Mandy said.
"Tell you what," said Ron, his teeth chattering, "shall we go for a butterbeef in the Three Broomsticks?"
Hailey was more than willing; the wind was fierce and her hands were freezing, so they cross the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.
It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky inside. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.
"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red.
Hailey smirked, knowing that she was going to have to tease him over it.
"I'll help," Michael said.
Hailey frowned at that, as she, Mandy, and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a medium, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace.
Hailey glanced back at Madam Rosmerta. She was probably old enough to be Michael's mother or at least aunt. She rolled her eyes and then noticed something smelt odd. It smelt like it was coming from her jacket. She sniffed the shoulder and realized it was apple-cinnamon scented. It was quite Christmas-y and it smelt nice. She sniffed it again and noticed Mandy was giving her an odd look.
"Runny nose," Hailey lied.
Mandy gave her a disbelieving look. "Yeah…" she passed Hailey a napkin, which Hailey proceeded to wipe her nose off.
Ron and Michael came back five minutes later, carrying foaming tankards of butterbeer.
"Happy Christmas!" Ron said happily, raising his tankard.
Hailey took a drink. It was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted and it seemed to heat every bit of her from the inside.
A sudden breeze ruffled her hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again and Hailey looked over and almost choked on her spit.
Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak—Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.
Mandy and Michael both placed hands on the top of Hailey's head and forced her off her stool and under the table.
Crouching out of sight, Hailey watched as Mandy and Michael moved to make sure Hailey was hidden, although she almost took Michael's knee to the face. The two Ravenclaws had to sit way to close together to Hailey's discomfort. She wasn't sure why the close proximity between them seemed to bother her.
"Mobiliarbus," Hermione whispered, and the Christmas tree rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view.
Hailey heard chairs moving back from a table and then hear the clacking of high heels.
A woman said, "A small gillywater—"
"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.
The woman continued, "four pints of mulled mead—"
"Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.
Rosmerta continued, "A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella—"
"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.
"Fancy," Mandy whispered.
"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister," Rosmerta finished.
"Than you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"
"Well, thank you very much, Minister."
Hailey heard the Rosmerta's heels clack away and then back again. Hailey's heart was pounding uncomfortably. She had forgotten that it was the last weekend of term for the teachers, too. She wasn't sure how long they were going to sit there. She needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if she wanted to return to school tonight…Mandy's leg twitched and Hailey almost took Mandy's knee to the eye.
"So, what's brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" Madam Rosmerta asked.
"What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened at the school at Halloween?" Fudge said in a whisper.
"I did hear a rumour," admitted Madam Rosmerta.
"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" said Professor McGonagall in an exasperated tone.
"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.
"I'm sure of it," said Fudge shortly.
"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice?" said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away…It's very bad for business, Minister."
"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," said Fudge, sounding uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution…unfortunate, but there you are. I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore—he won't let them inside the castle grounds."
"I shouldn't think not," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"
Hailey had to admit that it was a good point.
"Hear, hear!" squeaked Professor Flitwick.
"All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse…We all know what Black's capable of…"
"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was last I'd have thought…I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too mead."
"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."
"The worst?" asked Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"
"I certainly do," said Fudge.
"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?" Rosmerta prompted.
"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"
"Naturally," said Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here—ooh, they use to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"
Hailey jolted in surprise, hitting her head on the table and Mandy kicked her.
"Precisely," said Professor McGonagall. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course—exceptionally bright, in fact—but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers—"
"I dunno," chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."
"You'd have though Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"
"Of course they were," said Fudge. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Hailey. Hailey has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment her."
"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.
"Worse even than that m'dear…" Fudge whispered in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."
"How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest.
"An immensely complex spell," said Professor Flitwick, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find—unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"
"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.
"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself…and yet, Dumbledre remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."
"He suspected Black?" gasped Madam Rosmerta.
"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," said Professor McGonagall darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."
"But James Potter insisted on using Black?" Rosemerta asked.
"He did," said Fudge heavily. "And then, barely a week after Fidelius Charm had been performed—"
"Black betrayed them?" breathed Madam Rosmerta.
"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Hailey Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it—"
"Filhy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said so loudly that half the bar went quiet.
"Shh!" said Professor McGonagall.
"I met him!" growled Hagrid. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Hailey from Lily an' James's house after they was killed! Jus' got her outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across her forehead, an' her parents dead…an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily and James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the new o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I comforted the murderin' traitor!" Hagrid roared.
"Hagrid, please!" said Professor McGonagall. "Keep your voice down!"
"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Hailey ter me, Hagrid, I'm her godfather, I'll look after her—' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Hailey was ter go ter her aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Hailey there. 'I won't need it anymore,' he says.
I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him.
"Buit what I'd given Hailey to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched her off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' daughter! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore…"
A long silence followed Hagrid's story.
"But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him the next day!" Rosmerta said with some satisfaction.
"Alas, if only we had," said Fudge bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew—another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."
"Pettigrew…that fat little boy who always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Madam Rosmerta.
"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I—how I regret that now…" She sounded like she had a sudden head cold.
"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses—Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later—told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' and then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…"
Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy…foolish boy…he was always hopeless at dueling…should have left it to the Ministry…"
"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands—I'd've ripped him limb—from—limb," Hagrid growled.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," said Fudge sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I—I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muffles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him…a heap of bloodstained robes and a few—a few framents—" he stopped and there was the sound of five noses being blown.
"Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," said Fudge thickly. "Black was taken away by members of the Magical Law Enforcment Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."
Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh. "Is it true he's mad, Minister?"
"I wish I could say that he was," said Fudge slowly. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man—cruel…pointless. Yet I meet Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them…but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored—asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him—and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."
"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" said Madam Rosmerta. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"
"I daresay that is his—er—eventual plan," said Fudge evasively. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing…but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again…"
There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.
"You know, Cornelius, if you're dinning with the headmaster, we'd better head back up the castle," said Professor McGonagall.
There was the scrapping sound of chairs moving back and the sound of Rosmerta's heels clacked away. The sound of the door opening to the Three Broomsticks came again.
"Hailey?"
Ron, Hermione, Mandy, and Michael's faces appeared under the table. They were staring at her, all at a loss for words, too.