Chapter 10: A Compass in the Fog

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. I wish.

"How extraordinary," said Albus Dumbledore, with a hint of amusement in his voice. Of course he hadn't wanted Buckbeak to be executed, but it was now that all of the pieces were starting to fall together, and it was now that Dumbledore understood what was to be done.

He checked his pocket watch, confirming what he had suspected, and patted Hagrid on the shoulder, "Macnair, if Buckbeak had indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?" He looked up at Hagrid with a smile, "Search the skies if you will… Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

And so Dumbledore was led inside by Hagrid, and was soon followed by the Minister, Macnair, and the committee member.

Now all he could do was wait.

How was he to have known that Ivy Miller, the likeable and somewhat plain American student, held the key to the mystery that surrounded Sirius Black?

Of course, a revelation like this would require some hard evidence…

Should Sirius be captured during the course of tonight's events, Cornelius would be sure to administer the kiss, no questions asked. He need to find a way to prove his innocence, and buy time to convince Fudge.

It would certainly help if he caught Pettigrew. That would wrap everything up quite nicely –

Dumbledore stopped mid-thought, and mid-sip. Slowly, he set down the tea cup and saucer, and thought back to one particular dream that Ivy had shared with him.

It was tonight.

In showing him a seemingly random dream of Pettigrew, she had upped the chances of getting Sirius his freedom within the month.

Dumbledore smiled to himself, and tuned back into whatever Cornelius had been saying about outlawing Biting Bushes.

Perhaps now his errors from the past could finally be amended, and for that, Dumbledore was grateful.

"I'm sorry, run that by me again?" Sirius Black asked in disbelief as he climbed out of Professor Flitwick's office and onto Buckbeak's back, "Dumbledore did what?"

"He managed to catch Pettigrew!" cried Harry with a wide grin, "I have no idea how he knew where to look, but he got him!"

Hermione looked like she was close to tears, although it might have been from the height they were at.

"Remind me why I need to leave, then?" Sirius seemed to be getting more and more confused, he clutched his stomach as the hippogriff crested the top of the astronomy tower.

"Because," said Harry, "Fudge is an idiot and won't believe a word anyone's been saying to him. He went ahead and ordered the dementors perform the kiss on you."

Buckbeak landed on top of the West Tower with a clatter. Harry and Hermione slid off, and waved to Sirius.

"I'll owl you as soon as I can," said Harry.

Hermione nodded vigorously, "You should expect an owl from Dumbledore as well," she said.

"How can I ever thank –"

"GO!" shouted Harry and Hermione together.

"I promise, Harry, once my name gets cleared we'll be together again. You're truly your father's son…"

Sirius saluted them, and took off on Buckbeak… he and the hippogriff became smaller and smaller as Harry gazed after them... then a cloud drifted across the moon... They were gone.

Ivy

"Listen to this, 'Apalling Ministry Blunder – Black Never Received Trial'," I grinned and showed the article to Fred, who shook his head in amusement.

The Hogwarts Express was pulling out of the Hogsmeade station, and most of the fifth year Gryffindors were crammed into a single compartment. Maisie had ducked out earlier when Benjamin shambled along and fetched her to help him patrol the rest of the train.

I was squished between Fred and George, and Lee, while Ingrid, Angelina, and Alicia took up the other side of the compartment. Katie Bell, a girl from the year below us, also sat with us in the compartment. Although I hadn't talked to her much, I decided that I liked her. She reminded me of Annie, in a way.

The article was surprisingly accurate, as far as I could tell. Surprising for the Daily Prophet, although it was probably due to the fact that it was written by someone named Abram Fidel and not Rita Skeeter.

Sirius Black, who was famously incarcerated at the end of the First Wizarding War, escaped from Azkaban prison earlier this year. Believed to have been in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his escape left the Wizarding World terrified and cautious. However, recent events taking place upon the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have revealed the existence of Peter Pettigrew, a man Black had supposedly murdered. Further digging into this matter has led to the discovery that Sirius Black never received a trial in the first place. With Pettigrew in Ministry custody and Black set for trial next week, we can only wait and hope that the Ministry can keep its head long enough to sort out the truth, once and for all. The bigger question is – CONTINUED ON PAGE 3.

I folded up the newspaper and shoved it into my bag, and rested my head on George's shoulder. It wouldn't hurt to fall asleep, but then I realized that I was sitting in between the twins, and Fred had yet to get me back for the whole 'drawing on his face' thing.

Sitting back up quickly, George let out a quick chuckle. He seemed to have realized the exact same thing as me.

"So, Ivy, what are you doing this summer?" asked Angelina.

"I'm just going to spend some time in New York with my family. Not anything too eventful…"

"Ooh, that sounds like so much fun! I've always wanted to visit the States!" gushed Ingrid, "Much sunnier than dreary old Britain I bet."

"Yeah, it's something." I grinned.

We spent the rest of the train ride playing games of Exploding Snap and sharing boxes of Every Flavor Beans. We were still laughing about the look on Lee's face after he ate a charcoal flavored bean, when the Express pulled into Platform 9 ¾.

George looked nervous all of a sudden, after we had unloaded our luggage and pushed our things through the magical barrier. Lacing his fingers with mine, he led me over to an older witch and wizard, both with bright red hair and kind smiles.

The woman turned to face me and George with a wide smile. She looked rather familiar, although I couldn't place her. Fred came up beside us and grinned at the look on George's face.

"Oh, George! How are you sweetheart? And you Fred?" The woman smiled brightly at the twins and flicked her eyes to me, then to our entwined hands. Her eyes lit up and she sent a questioning look to George. I smiled at her while the tips of George's ears turned pink.

"Oh, I'm fine Mum. Er, this is Ivy. Ivy, this is my mum."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley." I extended my hand, but it was quickly waved away by Mrs. Weasley.

"No, no, dear; you should know that in this family, we give hugs." she immediately pulled me into a motherly squeeze and patted my back. "So, you and George?"

I nodded and glanced at George. His face was pink and he was looking at the ground sheepishly. I grinned and pulled him down closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to burst from happiness. She turned back to the man who could only be Mr. Weasley, and greeted Harry when he wheeled his trolley up to them.

Fred gave me a hug and ruffled my hair, before wheeling his trolley over to his father, "You'd better write me, Miller!" he called with a grin. I rolled my eyes and turned to George, who had his hands stuffed into his pockets.

I smiled up at him lightly and pulled him in for a hug. He leaned down and buried his face in my hair, "Owl me, yeah?" whispered George.

"Of course," I said, "I'll miss you,"

"I'll miss you too," he said, before pulling away and joining the rest of his family as they headed out of the station.

I sighed and turned away sharply, running right into a beefy man. I stammered out an apology, but something about me seemed to have offended him greatly, for he scowled at me and stalked away.

"Sorry 'bout my uncle," said Harry as he followed the man, "He doesn't like magic much."

I grinned at the smaller boy, and waved to him, "No problem, Harry. See you next year,"

People continued to stream past me, so I joined the crowd towards the entrance, when I was met by a man holding a sign with my name on it, "Ivy Miller?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Your folks hired a car to take you to Heathrow Airport. I'm Dan by the way," he caught sight of my trolley, "Allow me,"

He wheeled my luggage outside of the station and began loading the unwieldy trunk into the back of the car. He handed me Agnes's cage with a smile, "That's a beautiful bird, that is. How'd you get it?"

I climbed into the backseat of the car and put her cage beside me, trying to think as fast as possible, "Oh, she fell out of a tree as a baby. I've had her ever since."

Dan nodded, seeming to have accepted my answer. I felt a little bad for lying to him, but I doubted he would have believed me if I told him that I had gotten her in a magical pet store at the age of 12.

Most of the car trip was spent in silence, but I thanked Dan once he had pulled into the airport.

He tipped his hat to me and helped me get my trunk onto another trolley before driving away. I entered the large building and made my way over to a dark and disused corner where an empty and battered old vending machine stood.

I leaned against the smudged front of it and immediately fell through, emerging on the other side. I brought my trunk up to a bored looking witch in a navy blue uniform.

"Welcome to the International Floo Station of Heathrow Airport. What is your destination?"

"The John F. Kennedy International Airport," I answered.

"Alright. That will be 5 galleons. Please allow me to resize your luggage." She waved her wand over my trunk, shrinking it down to the size of a matchbox. I stuck it in my pocket, "You will have to hold onto your owl. Please step up to the floo terminal."

Wrapping my arms around the cage, I stepped into the dancing green flames. "New York City, New York, United States!" cried the attendant, and before I knew it, I was spinning. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could and waited for the rushing sound in my ears to stop, toppling out of the grate and at the feet of the next attendant minutes later.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I groaned and pressed my hand to my forehead, "Yes," as useful as the airport Floo Stations are, they make me nauseous as hell.

"Welcome to New York. Is this your destination?" I nodded and he continued to speak, "Do you have any luggage that was resized?"

"Yes," I said, pulling out my shrunken trunk. I set it on the ground and he flicked his wand at it, growing it back to its usual size. I gripped the handle and readjusted the cage in my arms, before stepping through the magical barrier and out into the busy airport

Immediately, I was tackled by a skinny, blonde blur.

"Ivy!" wailed Maggie.

"Can't. Breathe." I joked. She scowled and poked my arm accusingly.

"You can't blame me. I haven't seen you in months! Patrick and I missed you so much! How have you been? How was Hogwarts? Ooh, Colleen was so jealous when she heard that you were chosen to go! Did you make any friends? How was the food? How were the—"

"Maggie, calm down." I said, "Where are my parents?"

She looked around and frowned, "They were right – Oh, I see them, they're at that coffee place down there." She pointed across the way. I spotted my mom standing at the counter, and my dad waiting for her order to finish. He caught sight of me and waved. I grinned and headed over to him.

"Hey Dad!"

"How are you, Sweetie?" he asked.

My mom had finally finished ordering her drink, "Hi, Sweetheart!"

"Mom!" I threw my arms around them and hugged them tightly, "Where's Annie?"

"She's at home," my mom answered. My parents looked completely different. While my father was fair, my mother had dark hair and eyes. I looked most like her, although my hair and eyes were definitely lighter. She had her hair cropped short, hanging just below her chin, while a stylish pair of glasses perched on her nose. She liked baking and reading and watching horrible soap operas, just to make fun of them.

My dad had almost blond hair and blue eyes, and a bit of stubble on his face. My mother refused to let him shave it all off – she said it made him look younger. He was the definition of dad. He liked doing the crossword in the morning and old cars and making ridiculously corny jokes.

Nora and Mark Miller. My parents.

"So… tell me more about this George," my mom said slyly as we fought through the crowds and toward the apparition point.

Maggie looked up, "George? Who's George?"

I groaned, "Mom, really? I was waiting to tell her,"

"Tell me what? What have you been keeping from me? Is George a cat? Is he a person? Who is he?"

I gave my mom a pointed look. She only smiled, "Sorry,"

I could tell she really wasn't sorry. My dad chuckled. I'd written to them about George earlier in the year, so they knew all about him.

"You girls ready?" my dad asked. We nodded, so I handed Agnes to Maggie and gripped my trunk with one hand and my dad's arm in the other. Maggie held on to my mother's arm, and once we'd reached the apparition point, they twisted and I got the sensation of being squeezed through a tight tube, but as quickly as the feeling had come, it disappeared, and then we were standing in front of our Queens home, in the magical neighborhood of Langwood. I smiled up at the brick structure that was my home, before following my parents and Maggie inside.

"Welcome home!" Annie jumped up from the sofa and snapped a party hat onto my head, "We've missed you!"

I laughed when I realized that everyone put on party hats at this point, and with a grin, I sat down on the sofa to regale everyone with some tales of Hogwarts.

It wasn't until much later, when I was alone with Maggie, that she pestered me more about George.

"TELL ME ABOUT GEORGE. NOW." She demanded loudly. I shushed her and closed the door to my bedroom, before collapsing on my bed. Maggie followed me and grabbed my arm, "Please?"

I giggled and rolled over onto my stomach, "Okay, there's this guy," I said. Maggie nodded furiously, "and we've been dating since March."

"Do you have any pictures?" she asked impatiently, "More importantly, does he play Quidditch?"

I laughed again, "yes… and yes."

She squealed, "Ooh, what position?"

"Beater –" I dug around in my bag for some pictures, but Maggie interrupted me by groaning and burying her face in a pillow.

Maggie lifted her head after a moment and rested it in her hand with a sigh, "Beaters have the greatest arms. Does he have nice arms Ivy?"

"Maggie," I said solemnly, "George has fantastic arms."

"Ugh, arms," she groaned again. I laughed and finally pulled out a photo of the two of us and handed it to her.

She stared at it for a few minutes and commented dryly, "You'd think the red uniform would clash with the red hair… but it works. It definitely works."

"You don't even understand how much I've missed you," I finally gasped out after bursting into laughter again.

She tackled me with a hug and kissed my cheek exaggeratedly, "I know! It's like I've been on Ivy withdrawal or something!"

I don't know what my face looked like, but Maggie started laughing at it.

"Ivy withdrawal?" I asked with what I guess was a pretty incredulous face, "that makes it sound like I'm a drug or something."

"You are a drug," she pouted, "and I just can't get enough,"

I stuck my tongue out, "That's just gross, Maggie."

"How is it gross? I'm expressing my love for you in a very creative way."

I chose to ignore that last statement and change the subject, "So, how was Clarke while I was abroad?"

She shrugged, "Normal, I guess. We flattened Washington at the last Quidditch match, Shannon and I hung out some, Tony was his usual dreamy self, Colleen was a bitch, Patrick played Quodpot and refused to go to the Vermont-Georgia Quidditch match with me…"

"How is Patrick, by the way? I haven't heard from him at all since –"

"Since Becca's party last summer?" she asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, it was pretty awkward between us for a while,"

"He was asking about you the other day, actually. Wanted to know when you'd get home."

I raised my eyebrows, "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Wonder why," she commented while picking at a piece of lint on my bedspread, "Quick question,"

"Yeah?"

"Does a certain dark-wizard-defeating boy-who-lived go to Hogwarts, by chance?"

I grinned, "Maybe. Why?"

She shrugged and jumped off my bed to examine the clock on my wall, "No reason. Just wondered."

I had to stifle my laughter. I knew exactly what was coming next, "Well, it just so happens that a certain dark-wizard-defeating boy-who-lived does in fact go to Hogwarts."

Maggie spun around in excitement, "You went to school with Harry Potter?"

I shook my head, "Harry Potter doesn't go to Hogwarts,"

"But –"

I smiled, "I was talking about a different dark-wizard-defeating boy-who-lived,"

Maggie scowled, but it looked weird because she was trying not to laugh at the same time, "You bitch,"

"Honestly Maggie, how many people have you heard of with the title 'the-boy-who-lived'?" I said with a wide grin.

She flipped me the bird, before reaching into her overnight bag and pulling out a onesie. I frowned at her, "What is that supposed to be?"

With a giggle, she put it on and stuck her hands into the oversized pockets of the pajamas, and proceeded to hop around my room, "They're the pajamas my mom got me for Christmas! Do you like them?"

"They're certainly… festive," I offered.

She frowned, "Oh, don't be a party pooper Ivy. Here, I got you a matching pair!" she tossed me the offending garment with a smile.

Oh my god. I held up the onesie and absolutely lost it. It was covered in Christmas trees and presents. Giggling, I slipped it on and joined Maggie in the skipping around my bedroom,

"Okay, I have to admit that this is pretty fun!" I cried, before turning on the radio in the corner of my room and popping in a Beach Boys tape.

We spent the rest of the night – and part of the morning – dancing around in the ridiculous pajamas and talking about our respective years.

The next morning, I was greeted with the smell of something I hadn't eaten in months.

Cinnamon rolls.

I heaved myself out of my bed and shook Maggie's shoulder, "Yea…" she muttered, before snuggling deeper into her pillow.

"Cinnamon rolls!" I said, "I'm going down to eat!"

"Kay…" and then she was snoring again.

I brushed my teeth quickly and ran downstairs, leaping over our cat Frodo who was asleep in the middle of the stairs (I blame my sister and her fascination with the Lord of the Rings for the name. Our female cat is named Frodo) and skidding into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" said my mother cheerily, with her hair pinned back and a gaudy apron on. My dad sipped coffee at the kitchen table, with his Obliviator robes on.

She slid a plate with a huge cinnamon roll on it in front of me, the sugar dripping off of it tantalizingly. Before I could even take a bite of it, Annie pranced into the kitchen, grabbed it off of my plate and took a big bite from it.

As much as I loved Annie, she could be a right pain in the ass. She was only a little taller than me, and with darker, straighter hair, and blue eyes. I think we look alike in every aspect except with different coloring. And she has bigger boobs. Oh my god, her boobs are huge. I frowned as she leaned against the counter.

"Hey!" I protested.

Annie ignored me, "Leah's in town. She's living up in Brooklyn,"

"Really? Is Aunt Jo with her?" I asked.

"No," said Annie, "But she wrote me this morning. You remember that band she was in?"

I furrowed my brow, "Pumpkin Juice, right?"

She shook her head, "It's 'Wizard Prisoner' now,"

Coming up with band names has never been Leah's thing. I laughed and nodded, "What about them?"

"They're playing tonight. You wanna go?"

I grinned, "Let's do it."

A/N: CHAPTER 10!

I start school this wednesday! oh my gosh! In hindsight, I probably should have been doing my summer reading and not writing this...

Oh well. Chapter 11 might not have any Ivy/George interaction. I don't want this fic to only be about their relationship, so I'll be including some more things with Maggie, Annie, a little bit with Leah, and hopefully Ivy's parents. I have quite a bit planned out, but George WILL be in chapter 12.

REVIEW!

Until next time!