Author's Note: Merida, Potterhead999, Magicheart5355, xxSunnyXBlackxx, Theta-McBride, crazy1person2you3been4warned, OneOfTheGuys411102, Purplepenguin12 – Thank you!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling. I own nothing. Recognisable parts of this chapter are taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
oOo
Chapter 11: October Blues
Remus walked towards the boundaries of Hogwarts, deep in thought.
How could Dumbledore be correct?
How could Peter have killed Athena? He couldn't kill a flobberworm if he tried to!
Peter had always been a cowardly boy: always trying to keep away from violence. He never got into fights; he never even stood up for himself when students picked on him. One of the reasons Peter had started hanging out with the other three Marauders was because they were capable of defending him against bullying Slytherins. Peter would never dare murder someone – especially a fellow Marauder's wife.
But, then, why would Sirius betray James? For Voldemort? For the man Sirius hated the most?
Deep down, Remus knew that before that fateful Halloween night, he would have considered Sirius the most loyal person he knew. Remus had always secretly thought that Sirius' Animagus form suited him perfectly. Dogs were infallibly loyal. And the Sirius he thought he knew was the very epitome of loyalty towards his friends.
Had he been too hasty in judging Sirius? Should he have made an effort to talk to Sirius in Azkaban all these years? But then, Sirius was the Secret Keeper. Unless – unless they switched to Peter without telling Remus. But that seemed a far-fetched theory. Why would they switch to Peter of all people?
As he walked by the Quidditch pitch, he heard someone giggling.
"Oh Harry! A pig's tail!"
"Yeah," came the reply in an amused boyish voice.
"Ha ha! I wish I'd been there to watch Dudley! How did you forget to tell me this earlier?" said the girl again.
His ears perked up on hearing Harry's name and he walked discreetly towards the pitch. He could see Harry and Acquila lying down, side by side, on the grass below one of the goalposts.
Acquila was chuckling heartily, staring at the dark, starlit sky above. Harry, meanwhile, was looking at her, a slowly widening smile gracing his James-like features. And for a split moment, Remus was eerily reminded of James and Lily, lying on the grassy Quidditch pitch, staring at the sky, their hands linked together, identical grins on their faces.
He walked away quietly, not wanting to interrupt the children. He was relieved that Acquila seemed to be dealing with the events of the day much better than he had expected.
"Look at that star, Harry." Acquila's voice made Remus stop in his tracks.
"Don't tell me you're giving me an astronomy lesson, Acquila! Reminds me of all the homework I've to do," Harry groaned.
"I'm not talking of astronomy, silly! And even I haven't completed homework. I know I'll score well in the exams… homework isn't a big deal," she said, reminding Remus of Sirius saying something similar in their First Year.
"Now, look at that star."
"Which one?"
"That one… that's Sirius… the brightest star," she said in a soft voice, and Remus stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at the duo.
"The Dog Star. My father was named after that, I suppose… Dora said most of the Blacks were names after stars and constellations…" she trailed off.
"Sirius Orion Black," she continued quietly after a moment. "When Professor McGonagall told me his name for the very first time, I asked Mrs Smith what Sirius meant. And she pointed out the star to me. And I used to stay up each night and sneak out of my room into the backyard… to watch the star… I know it sounds stupid, but I felt closer to him when I watched the star… the brightest star in the sky… I used to imagine he'd be like the star… standing out bright in the darkness, brighter than all the others…"
Remus watched Harry looking at her, his eyes both, sad and curious, at the same time.
"And then," Acquila went on, "when I came to know what he did—killing those people—I stopped looking at the star… I didn't want to associate something so bright, so wonderful, with him…"
"But that's changed, now, hasn't it?" asked Harry quietly.
"Yes," Acquila whispered. "He sent that Patronus for me… he risked his life for me—he could've been caught entering the Castle to steal Neville's wand, he could've been given the Dementor's Kiss—but he still risked it, didn't he? For me?"
"He made the Malfoys win the case," snorted Harry.
"He didn't," said Acquila, her voice part-convinced. "He wouldn't have known the vote would swing in favour of Draco's Mum… that means—he—he wanted me to be with Aunt Andromeda. He cares for me, Harry, I know he does—"
"But—"
"And I don't want him to be given the Dementor's Kiss! I don't want his soul sucked out! I know I'm being really stupid—"
"You're not," said Harry. "I'd have felt the same way if it was my Dad… I wouldn't want him to be given the Kiss… ever!"
"It's not just that," said Acquila in a small voice. "I want to meet him—"
Remus heard Harry's sharp intake of breath even from that distance.
"—I want to talk to him… see him with my own eyes… I want some answers from him—why would he kill my Mum? He married her, he loved her—and he wasn't the one I saw when the Dementors attacked us! It was that other guy—that blonde, pudgy man—"
"He could've had someone kill her for him," put in Harry.
"I don't think so—that just doesn't seem right—I don't know!" Her voice was frustrated now. "I—I just want to meet him… once… and I—I don't think he's evil… his voice—from the Patronus… he sounded like he cared for me—"
Remus couldn't stay there any longer, a deep pool of guilt forming in his stomach.
Acquila, who remembered nothing at all of her father, was having doubts about claims that Sirius had killed Athena.
And Remus, who had known Sirius for more than half his life, had never once bothered to contest the unproven allegations, never once even realised that Sirius didn't have a single reason to kill the girl he had loved since he was fourteen, the girl he had married despite all the death threats from Bellatrix and her cronies, the girl who'd given him the one thing he treasured most: Acquila.
He walked away without a backward glance.
He would find Sirius. He would find the truth.
And he would do it for the girl who wanted her father, for Acquila, who, for once in her life, deserved to know the truth.
oOo
"I don't want to have dinner," grumbled Acquila, as Harry and she walked back to the Castle. "I'm not hungry."
"You are hungry," said Harry. "You just want to face the other students, because they'll talk about the hearing."
Acquila just shrugged. "Everyone's going to stare at me. Lavender and Parvati will want to know details of the hearing, people would have read stuff in the papers… I just want some peace."
"We'll just walk in quietly, eat, and then rush off to the Tower," said Harry. "You'll fall ill if you don't eat. And then you'll be kept in the Hospital Wing for a couple of days and then I'll get bored in History of Magic without you to play hangman with!"
"All you need me for is to stop you getting bored in classes? And, here, I thought I was your best friend!" She elbowed him playfully, as he chuckled.
As Harry was about to reply, they saw Hermione and Ron come rushing towards them.
"Where were you both?" exclaimed Hermione. "Do you want more points to be taken off Gryffindor for wandering around the school?"
"Even if we lose points, you aren't Ms Know-it-all for nothing, Hermione. You'll win back all the points in tomorrow's lessons!" Ron guffawed.
Hermione threw him a glare and then turned to Acquila. "I read about the verdict… in the Evening Prophet—"
"Let's not talk of it," said Harry. Hermione nodded, and the four of them walked to the Great Hall in relative silence.
"Acquila! There you are!" A snide voice spoke up from behind them.
"Malfoy!" groaned Harry and Ron together.
Draco ignored them and walked towards Acquila. It was weird seeing him unaccompanied by his cronies, and with the wide smile he was sporting.
"Finally, you're part of the family, Acquila," said Draco, grinning happily. "I'm so happy. We'll spend Christmas together at the Manor. I've already thought of which room you'll have—it's right across mine! The elves will set it up as you want it, as long as it isn't Gryffindor colours."
Acquila stared at Draco, something surging within her at the genuine happiness in his voice. He was really looking forward to have her stay with him, she realised – although that didn't mean she wanted to stay with the Malfoys.
But the rest of his words made the fondness she felt for him quickly diminish.
"And by the time you're back here after the holidays," he said, smirking, "you'd have learnt all about the right company to keep! Not idiots like these—"
"Draco!" she snapped irritably, her earlier weariness returning now. "Just leave me alone for some time, alright? I'm tired."
"Tired?" said Draco, sounding rather worried. He caught hold of her hand, stopping her as she made to leave. "Come, I'll take you to the Hospital Wing. The nurse can check—"
"No, I'm fine," she said, tugging her hand back from his hold. "It's just been a long day."
"Sit with me for dinner, at the Slytherin table. I want to introduce you to my friends – it's where you belong! Not with people like Weasel and the Mudblood here—"
"Shut up!" Acquila snapped at him, truly furious now. "Just leave me alone, alright?" She stalked away without a backward glance, inwardly worried her magic would flare up again, hurting Draco just like it had hurt his father.
Harry made to follow her, but Draco stood in his path.
"This is all because of you, Potter!" he spat. "You're filling her mind with nonsense about me! She's my cousin—she wouldn't have spoken to me like this unless you told her to—"
"I don't need to tell her anything," said Harry coolly. "She can decide for herself."
"She knows how you are, Malfoy," put in Ron snidely. "You're a bloody big-headed git—"
"Shut up, blood traitor," spat Draco, bristling.
"You just wait and watch, Potter," he added furiously to Harry. "Acquila is a Black, and she's a ward of my family now! She won't even talk to riffraff like you three. Father says Mudbloods and half-bloods aren't worthy of associating with a pureblood heiress—"
"Malfoy!" Hermione cut him off heatedly. "Will you stop with your bigoted—"
"You Mudblood! How dare you raise your voice at me!"
Ron advanced towards Draco, face as red as his hair. "Don't talk to her like that! She's got ten times your brains!"
Hermione blushed a bright pink.
"Ron's right, Malfoy," said Harry. "And you stay away from Acquila. She's not going to stay at your stupid Manor, with your murderer of a father—"
"Potter! Don't you dare talk of my father like that!" roared Draco, raising his wand at Harry. The three Gryffindors did the same. "Your mother was a lowborn Mudblood, just like bushy-hair here, born to filthy Muggles who—"
SMACK!
Hermione had slapped Malfoy with all the strength she could muster!
Draco stood still, as speechless as Harry and Ron were. His cheek was now a bright red, which stood out on his pale face. "You will pay for this, Granger!" he snarled and walked away, trembling with rage.
"Wow, Hermione!" gasped Harry. "That was just—just—I don't even have words for it!"
"Bloody Hell! Ms Know-It-All actually slapped Malfoy!" said Ron.
As Hermione glared at Ron, Harry said to him in a whisper: "Unless you want a similar slap, you'd better stop calling her a know-it-all, mate."
"Umm… let's go for dinner," said a pink Ron, as they followed Hermione to the Great Hall.
oOo
"Acquila!" Acquila heard Dora's voice as she passed the Hufflepuff table.
"Mum owled me about what happened… I guess you don't want to talk about it," said the Metamorphmagus, taking in her expression.
"Yes," muttered Acquila, hoping Dora would understand.
"Alright, sweetie," said the older girl. "If you want someone to talk to, you know where to find me. And if someone's giving you trouble, just tell me, huh? I'll handle them," she added with a devious grin, before she lightly hugged Acquila and walked off to the Hufflepuff table.
Acquila went towards the Gryffindor table, all the while hearing mutterings of 'Wizengamot', 'Malfoy', 'fire' and 'hearing' around her. She took an empty seat at the end of the table, next to two Seventh Year Gryffindors she'd never noticed earlier, deciding sitting next to them would be better than sitting with Lavender and Parvati, who seemed frighteningly eager to question her.
She quickly grabbed a bowl from the table, and ladled some pudding into it, beginning to gulp it down hastily, wondering where Harry, Ron and Hermione were.
"Where were you guys?" she demanded, as the trio finally arrived when she was almost done with the pudding. "What took you so long?"
Harry stared at her pudding bowl. "You just jumped to dessert? You promised you'd eat properly!"
"I'm not that hungry," she replied, shrugging. "And I just want to go back to the Tower as soon as I can—better than listening to people discussing me. They're talking about what I did—setting Lucius Malfoy on fire—"
"You did what?" exclaimed Hermione. "But it isn't in the Prophet!"
"You set Malfoy's dad on fire?" gasped Ron.
"Well—yeah, accidently," muttered Acquila.
Ron whistled in amazement, while Hermione stared wide-eyed at her.
"Why—and how? Did you use 'Incendio'—it's an advanced spell—"
"Later!" hissed Harry, spotting the two Seventh Year Gryffindors looking up at them from their dinners.
"Let's not talk of it now," muttered Acquila. "But tell me where you were," she added, "And Hermione, why were you looking so stunned?"
"I slapped Malfoy," mumbled Hermione.
"You—what! You slapped him?" exclaimed Acquila.
"Yes!" guffawed Ron. "You should've seen his face! He just stood there like a statue! Ha ha! He so deserved it!"
"Why did you slap him, Hermione?" asked Acquila, quite imagining how enraged – and humiliated – Draco must have felt.
"He started saying nasty stuff about Harry's Mum and Hermione—and we just couldn't stand it!" said Ron. "If Hermione hadn't slapped him, I'm sure I'd have punched him in the gut!"
"God!" muttered Acquila exasperatedly. Why couldn't Draco behave decently? Why couldn't he just leave her friends alone?
This wouldn't do, she decided. She cared for Draco, and she had honestly been happy that he was so keen to have her living with him. For once in her life, she actually felt wanted by someone, by her blood relations. But that didn't mean Draco could get away with insulting her friends at every possible opportunity – especially about their blood status, and particularly when he dragged Harry's Mum into the picture.
"I'll be back," she muttered, getting to her feet.
"Where are you going?" exclaimed Harry.
"To talk to Draco."
"Acquila," said Hermione hesitantly. "I probably shouldn't have slapped him—but I was so fed up of his nasty comments. I couldn't stand there listening to him—I know you care for him, and he's your cousin—"
"It's alright, Hermione," said Acquila, wondering why the girl was clarifying to her. It was only later that she would realise that Hermione was slightly worried that Acquila, who was one of the only people friendly with her, would stop being friends if she felt offended by her slapping her cousin.
"I'll come with you," said Harry, standing up.
"You don't even like Malfoy, Harry! Why are you going?" said Ron.
But Acquila cut in before Harry could reply. "You carry on with dinner, Harry. I'll talk to Draco alone. He must have gone to his dormitory or something… I can't see him at the Slytherin table. Do any of you know where the Slytherins stay?"
"Somewhere in the dungeons—but you're mental!" said Ron. "Why do you even want to talk to him? He's such a git!"
"I'll be back," was all she said, as she walked towards where she thought the dungeons were.
"We should have gone with her," said Hermione.
"No. She'll be fine," said Harry simply, knowing Acquila would handle Draco all by herself.
oOo
Draco stormed into the dungeons, ignoring Pansy Parkinson who called out to him. He went straight to his dormitory, where he saw the two buffoons he called friends sitting, munching on pastries.
"Get out!" he snarled.
As usual, they were slow to respond.
"Uh—why?" asked Gregory slowly.
"I don't have the patience to deal with you. Leave! Before I make you get out," he threatened them, and they scampered out of the dormitory.
And it was after he shut the door that Draco looked closely into the mirror on the wall. Despite the dim light in his dormitory, he could see the red impression of four fingers on his pale cheek.
"Ah! Looks like someone got slapped today!" said the magical mirror in a sly voice.
"Shut up!" he muttered, and then touched his cheek gingerly, retracting his hand a minute later, wincing in pain.
"How about a glamour charm to hide the tell-tale sign of shame?" said the mirror.
"Shut up!" he snapped furiously.
Anger!
Anger greater than he had ever, ever felt! That filthy Mudblood! Daring to touch him, daring to slap Draco Lucius Malfoy!
And that Potter boy! He was poisoning Acquila's mind against him—and he hated him! Hated that he got to be in Acquila's house—that he got to attend all the classes with her, and get to sit with her at mealtimes! A filthy halfblood like him! Spending all day with the girl who would be Draco's wife!
"A Malfoy slapped!" cackled the mirror, making Draco's rage multiply into uncontrollable proportions.
"Oh, the shame!" it went on cackling. "You bring disrepute to Slytherin House!"
"Shut up before I punch you!"
But the mirror continued, still chuckling: "Don't tell me it was a wee lass who slapped you—"
CRASH!
His fist moved forward swifter than it ever had, his knuckles making contact with the glass at a great, great force, a vertical crack running down the middle of the mirror.
"No! Don't!" screamed the mirror, pleading voices erupting from both the sides of the crack.
But he punched it repeatedly, all the while groaning out in pain, but imagining Potter's face on it, imagining Weasley's smug face punched black-and-blue, imagining Granger punished for daring to raise her hand at him, until finally, he collapsed to the ground.
He cradled his bloodied hand to his chest, letting out a cry of pain, his stomach clenching when he noticed the amount of damage to his hand: glass shards were sticking out of his knuckles, blood streaming down in trails form his pale skin, the pain in his hand unbearable, the blood now dampening the cuffs of his robes.
Blood. His blood – the purest of blood, now dripping down onto the carpet…
Potter! Potter had made him shed his blood!
And the Mudblood – that disgusting, filthy Mudblood had dared slap him, Draco, who nobody had dared slap till date. Lucius had scolded him, threatened him with Dark curses on the few occasions that Draco disobeyed him— but never slapped him.
And today, a lowly Mudblood had had the guts to slap the Malfoy heir, whose blood was purer than most wizards in the world.
She would pay for it! Nobody slapped Draco Malfoy and got away with it. He would get her expelled from school. He would avenge every drop of the blood which she had spilt!
He stood up on shaky feet, his rage diminishing and nausea surging through him when the smell of his blood hit him.
He needed to get that healed. But he couldn't go to the Hospital Wing, where that silly nurse would ask him questions… would see the imprint of Granger's filthy fingers on his cheek… and news would spread about him getting slapped by the Mudblood… He would become the laughing stock at Hogwarts! Potty and the Weasel had probably told half the school by now! He couldn't face anyone, he realised with a horrible pang in his stomach.
But he couldn't stay in the dormitory. He had to get it healed.
Maybe he could send his mother a letter asking her to send Dobby to Hogwarts at the earliest. The elf would know how to treat his wounds. After all, most of the wounds he suffered, while playing around in the mansion in his childhood, were treated by the elf.
He walked out of the dormitory, cradling his injured hand, towards the owlery. Hopefully Elatus, his owl, wasn't asleep. The journey to Wiltshire would take long. As he contemplated over what he would write in the letter, he collided with someone, his injured hand stinging painfully, an embedded shard of glass digging deeper into the side of his palm.
It was Acquila, wide eyes staring worriedly at his hand.
"Draco! Your hand—what happened?" she gasped, her hands ghosting over his injured one, hesitating to touch the wounds.
"It's nothing," he muttered, face heating up at the thought of Potter, Mudblood and Weasel having told her everything that had happened.
"Why are you here?" he said brusquely, not meeting her eyes. "Weren't you tired? Go back to your tower."
"No," she clutched his uninjured hand and started dragging him towards the staircase. "We're going to the Hospital Wing."
He stopped in his tracks, pulling her to a stop as well. "I'm not going there," he said harshly. "Go back to your friends."
She muttered something irritably under his breath, and, deaf to his protests, dragged him to the nearest empty classroom, sitting down on the floor, and pulling him down besides her, too.
"It's so dark here," she grumbled. "Why doesn't Hogwarts have lights? Electricity?"
"Elec—what?" he asked her, his inquisitiveness aroused; ignoring the urge to wince, as pain shot up his hand again.
"Electricity! It's a Muggle thing."
He scoffed at the 'Muggle', his curiosity disappearing.
"Lumos!" she whispered suddenly, and he shielded his eyes from the bright light that shot out of her wandtip, illuminating the dim room.
"Where did you learn that spell?" he asked her.
"Read it in a book. Thankfully, it worked right or I wouldn't have been able to see your hand clearly. Now, hold my wand aloft so that the light falls on your hand. It might hurt – I'm pulling out the glass. Stay still," she said softly.
She held his hand gingerly with her left hand and quickly pulled out one shard of glass from near his knuckles.
"Look at me," she said, and he watched her, deeming her a wonderful sight compared to the nauseous view of the shards being plucked out of his hand.
"Mrs Smith taught me basic first aid," she went on, undoubtedly trying to distract his attention from what she was doing. And he found herself listening to her, trying to ignore the smell of blood, the queasiness in his tummy and the pained cries that were threatening to tear out of his throat.
"I used to get hurt often in the orphanage… so Mrs Smith taught me how to take care of injuries… in case she wasn't around—"
"Why did you get hurt?" he asked her, unable to reign in his curiosity about the childhood she'd had, wincing simultaneously as she tugged out yet another shard.
"The other kids didn't like me much," she admitted. "Most of them kept away from me… but some of them used to hurt me, in the beginning… push me when I was walking, push me down when I got on top of the slide, purposely spill hot tea on me… things like that—"
"Why would they do that?" he demanded furiously.
"Things kept happening around me – accidental magic. They were scared of it," she replied, shrugging, continuing with plucking the shards out. "But then I got mad at them, told them I'd use my freaky powers against them… and once, a book flew out of my hands and hit a guy who was annoying me! They got scared and left me alone after that…"
"So—none of the kids spoke to you?" he asked her, relieved, as she got on to the last piece of embedded glass, a tear finally spilling out of his eye – after all, he was just an eleven-year-old with an understandably low tolerance for pain.
"No. I didn't have friends until I met Harry—here, all done! This was the last shard—" she stopped abruptly, eyes widening as she noticed the silent tears trailing down his cheeks.
He braced himself for her pointing out that he was crying, that he was weak.
But instead, he found her putting her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.
He stiffened, unused to such affection, unused to anyone other than his Mother embracing him.
But as her hand rubbed gingerly on his back, he found himself relaxing into her hug, his uninjured hand which was holding her lit wand snaked around her, pulling her even closer into him.
It took him a long moment to recognise what he was feeling: comfort. He was feeling comforted, and loved, cared for. And he realised that he loved feeling those sentiments, loved being in her arms, having her care for him despite all the disagreements they'd had.
The only person who had ever comforted him was his Mother. His Father had forbidden him from ever shedding a tear, saying it was unbecoming of a Malfoy male. But Acquila didn't seem to mind that he had cried out in pain. She seemed to accept him as he was.
"Come with me, now," she said, gently letting go of him. "You're losing blood, and I'm afraid to bandage your hand to stop the blood flow – if there's still some glass left, it'll get pushed deeper into your hand. I'll take you to the Hospital Wing—don't worry. Madam Pomfey won't tell anyone about it. I read in Hogwarts – A History that she's bound to maintain patient confidentiality."
He nodded slowly, wondering how she'd figured out that that was the thing bothering him.
"And Hermione, Ron and Harry won't tell anyone… I'll talk to them about it," she added.
"Does it hurt?" she asked him quietly, taking the lit wand from him and pointing it as his face.
He shielded his eyes from the bright light, realising that she was asking him about his red cheek.
"It doesn't matter," he growled.
"Of course, it matters," she replied. "You're my cousin, Draco. No matter how much I hate your father, you're my cousin… my blood. It matters if you're hurt—"
"If you really care for me, then stop hanging out with Potter, Weasley and Mudblood—"
"Don't call her that!" Acquila flared up, her voice stern now. "Look, Draco, I care for you, I want to be friends with you," she said firmly. "But I don't think I can do that if you keep insulting my friends—"
"You're not supposed to have them as friends! Why can't you understand that?" he exclaimed. "You're the Black heiress—"
"Before I was the Black heiress, I was Acquila – just Acquila! And Harry was the only friend I had! You need to understand Draco that I will never, ever stop being friends with Harry. He's my best friend… he's been with me when no one else was… You know, when the Dementors attacked us, he pushed me behind him and faced them himself! He'd have given his life to save mine – that's how much he cares for me! He loves me, and I love him, too… and I won't give him up for anything in the world."
"I would have saved you, too," Draco mumbled, but then stopped, knowing that he would have saved himself first.
"As for Hermione," Acquila went on, seemingly not having heard him, "she's a nice girl… a bit of a bookworm, but a nice friend to have. And I don't care about her blood status! She's my friend no matter what you think of her—and if you wouldn't have insulted her, she wouldn't have slapped you! So it was your fault," she said bluntly.
"Potter insulted my father, too. He called him a murderer!" he retorted angrily.
"Your father is a murderer, Draco," she hissed; and he cursed himself for even having brought up the matter of his father.
"Look," she went on, "I want to be friends with you. But if you're going to go on and on about blood purity and all that tosh and insult my friends, I—I don't think I want to talk to someone as bigoted as that… I'm not expecting you to befriend my friends. But the least you can do is be civil to them…"
"Fine," he muttered reluctantly, deciding that tolerating the three idiot Gryffindors was better than never having Acquila talk to him. And once she came to Malfoy Manor, he could teach her all about being a proper pureblood, couldn't he? It was just a matter of time.
"Great," she said, grinning, making him smile in return.
"Come on, now. Hospital Wing!" she said brightly, ushering him out of the door.
Unbeknownst to them, a pair of black eyes had been watching them all along, hidden in the shadows. Severus Snape had seen Acquila go towards the dungeons and had followed her. Seeing Draco walking towards them, he had slipped into an empty classroom, which the two children coincidentally entered into a few minutes later.
He thought of what the daughter of his childhood tormentor had told Draco.
She, somehow, reminded him of Lily: caring, loving, wanting to be friends with Draco despite knowing that his father had killed her mother's family. Even at her young age, she had managed to look past Draco's father, and see Draco for what he really was.
Severus suddenly loathed himself slightly. If the girl could treat Draco well, keeping aside her hatred of his father, couldn't Severus do the same for the Potter boy? And for Acquila Black, too?
oOo
Half an hour later, Draco and Acquila walked out of the Hospital Wing.
"No more punching mirrors, boy. Or I'll make you stay here for a couple of days next time," Madam Pomfrey called out to them.
"Thanks a lot!" smiled Acquila at the nurse, as Draco nodded grudgingly.
"I'll drop you till your Tower, Acquila," he said, as they walked.
"No, I'll go. You go back to your scary dungeon, and sleep. I don't know how you Slytherins can live in there. It's so dark and gloomy. Our common room's always bright and cheerful," she said.
He shrugged. "Most Slytherins are Dark, Acquila. We like being in dark places."
"I hope you don't turn out to be Dark like some people from our family, Draco," she said. "I know you're a good person at heart. You just hide your goodness under your arrogance."
"Hey! I'm a Malfoy! Malfoys are supposed to be arrogant!" he exclaimed.
She chuckled. "Now, get going. Sleep well and take care of your hand. And remember what you promised me!"
She kissed him softly on his cheek, before flouncing off towards the staircase. And he stared at her retreating figure for a long time, her long black hair glimmering in the light falling from the floating candles, before he walked towards the dungeons, deep in thought.
Could he really be civil to the Gryffindors? Was Acquila correct about her views on blood purity? But then, she couldn't be correct. She had entered the magical world just over a month ago, while his father was a true pureblood, deeply entrenched in the ancient pureblood culture. His father couldn't be wrong.
Acquila was wrong. And Draco would have to change her views – after all she would be the future lady of the House of Malfoy.
But he couldn't bear Acquila angry with him. Each time he saw her interacting with Potter, he felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach which he didn't like at all. She was supposed to be smiling and laughing with Draco and not Scarhead. Draco was supposed to protect her, not Potty. He had seen the gleam in her eyes each time she talked of Potter – a gleam which she should've had while talking to him, not that brat!
He would have to do something, to be as good a friend to Acquila as Potty was – and not just because she would marry him some day, but because he had realised that he quite liked being with her. She cared for him like few other people did.
She tended to his wounds, when she could have very well left him alone.
She came to look for him when she could have stayed angry with him.
She understood his thoughts without him even having to explain them to her.
And going by the way she was thoroughly loyal to Potter, Granger and Weasley, Draco knew she would be a true friend to whomever she befriended.
And he wanted himself to be her friend, too! To have her trust him like she trusted Potter, to have her love him like she loved Potter… And if he needed to be civil to Potty, Weasel and the Mud—Muggleborn for that, he would tolerate them.
He would do whatever it took to get Acquila, because she was one of only two people in the world who seemed to care for him.
oOo
"Where were you? Fred and George told me you were in the Hospital Wing. What happened?" exclaimed Harry as Acquila entered the Gryffindor Common Room.
"How did they know I was there?"
"Ah! Her Highness, Ms Black—" exclaimed one of the Weasley twins, startling her.
"Heiress of the Noble Houses of Black and Gamp—" exclaimed the other twin.
"We were privileged to serve—"
"Your noble friend here—"
"Who was worried about your whereabouts—"
"Hey," she said warily, wondering what was up with the two. After the day on the train platform, they had never bothered to talk to her, shunning her like the rest of the school did.
"We realised that you aren't as bad as people say you are," said the boy she supposed was Fred.
"And so, Messrs Fred and George apologise for ignoring you the past month and extend a hand—or rather, two hands of friendship towards you!" put in George, as the two twins took hold of a hand each and shook them.
"Oh! Umm, thanks," she smiled tentatively at them, before her curious nature took over. "But how did you know where I was? I'm sure you weren't in the Hospital Wing. I didn't see you anywhere."
"Ask us no questions—"
"And we'll tell you no lies—"
"Fine," she replied. "But I'll find out how you knew."
"Ah! Ms Black here seems to have an investigating streak in her!"
"Come on, Gred. Let's get going. We don't want our secrets to be revealed, do we?"
"Oh yes, Feorge! And the two little lovebirds here need their privacy, don't they? See you!" he called out and went up to the dormitory with his twin.
Harry and Acquila both blushed, not meeting each others' eyes.
"So," said Harry, once they had both stopped blushing enough to look at each other. "What did Malfoy say?"
"So he's agreed to be civil to us?" asked Harry after she had finished narrating what had happened.
"Yes. He promised me."
"I am sure he won't," muttered Harry. "He's Malfoy. He hates us."
"I know he's been mean to you since day one… But I guess we should give him a chance," she said.
"You know what his father did," said Harry. "How could you even go and—"
"Harry," she cut in quietly. "My father killed thirteen people. But you're still here, talking to me. And you were the one who said that people's families don't matter…"
"Well, yeah," admitted Harry sheepishly. "But it's Malfoy! He's evil!"
"Evil is too strong a word," Acquila snorted. "He's not evil… just… umm—"
"A pigheaded git?" asked Harry, smirking.
Acquila chuckled. "That he is," she agreed, yawning.
"You better go sleep, now," said Harry.
"Yes," she said, but she leaned towards him, and he put his arm around her.
"Good night, Harry," she whispered, snuggling into him.
"Good night," he replied, savouring the warmth that arose in him as he held her even tighter.
"Come on, now," he said, letting go of her reluctantly. "Or you'll feel asleep right here."
"Yeah," she agreed, smiling sleepily at him and departing towards her dormitory, leaving Harry staring pensively at her for a long moment.
oOo
Minerva McGonagall sat before Dumbledore in her office, his half-moon spectacles glimmering with the light from the sunrays spilling into the room.
"Dumbledore," she said, "You are far better with wandless Magic than I am. Why don't you teach the girl?"
"Do you not wish to teach her, Minerva?" enquired Dumbledore.
"If she is anything like her parents, teaching her would be a pleasure," McGonagall replied. "But from what you said of the incident with Lucius Malfoy, she seems to be an uncommonly powerful witch. And you would be the best teacher for a girl as powerful as her."
"I would have been privileged to groom such a powerful witch, Minerva. But unfortunately, the child doesn't trust me. And I must admit that her distrust isn't unfounded. I have been forced to keep her in the dark about certain things. And although it is for her own good, she understandably resents me for it. I doubt she will ever trust me completely. And if she has to gain even a semblance of control over her Magic, she has to be able to trust her teacher."
McGonagall nodded.
"When it comes to you, however," said Dumbledore, "I think Acquila regards you very highly. And she is comfortable with you, particularly because you introduced her to our world. I am sure you will meet with far more success at helping her control her Magic than I would."
"Additionally," he added, "I feel the need to maintain a distance from her – at least for the near future. She senses that I am keeping matters secret from her. She will undoubtedly try to pry for information from me. And I do not yet want her to know of Sirius' so-called betrayal of the Potters."
"So-called betrayal?" asked McGonagall sharply.
"Yes," sighed Dumbledore. "There is a high possibility of Sirius being innocent."
"What!" exclaimed McGonagall, her hand over her heart.
"I have reason to believe that Sirius did not order for Athena's killing. But I do not wish to get Acquila's hopes high – or even yours, for that matter. I know you cared greatly for him."
"I did," admitted McGonagall. "But I despised the boy after that Halloween night," she said in a strained voice. "I hated him, for leading them all to their deaths. And you say—you say he might be innocent! To think that he spent a decade in Azkaban for something that he wasn't guilty of…"
"Minerva," said Dumbledore softly.
"I should have trusted him, Albus!" McGonagall went on, voice trembling. "I should have made an effort to hear his side of the story—pressed for a trial for him…"
"Dwelling on the past does us no good," sighed Dumbledore. "If he is indeed innocent, then I have as much to answer for as you do – more so because I had the power to grant him a trial. But we cannot change the past, now. What we can do is dig out the truth, and prove his innocence."
McGonagall nodded, her face still pale.
"Needless to say, Acquila should not get wind of this. I do not wish to give her false hopes, until I am totally certain of Sirius' innocence."
McGonagall nodded. "But what I do not understand is why you are so keen for her to have private lessons. She isn't the first powerful witch to study in Hogwarts. We have had students just as powerful, but you never saw the need for them to receive additional training."
"Certain things are necessary for the greater good, Minerva."
"Greater good?" said McGonagall sharply. "What is it that you aren't telling me about the girl?"
"Acquila gaining control over her Magic is of utmost importance, especially for the future. That is all you need for now. When the time comes, I will let you know the rest."
McGonagall glared at him through her spectacles.
"As you wish, Albus," she said icily. "After all, I cannot question you under Veritaserum, no matter how much I wish to do so."
Dumbledore chuckled, deciding to lead the talk to safer pastures. "Now, enough of this matter. Did you place an order for a broomstick for Harry?"
oOo
Acquila, meanwhile, walked towards McGonagall's office, wondering why she had been called there. She knocked lightly on the door, only to hear Dumbledore's voice.
"You may come in, Ms Black," he said. "I was just leaving."
Acquila entered the office, wand in hand.
"I will take leave of you now, Minerva. Do not forget Mr Potter's broomstick. Goodbye, Ms Black. I hope you have a nice day."
Acquila merely nodded to the departing Headmaster, her mind abuzz with what Dumbledore had said.
Were they buying Harry a broomstick? That was wonderful news! She knew Harry would love having a new broomstick, especially because he was on the team. But she wanted to buy it for him! During all the years she'd been friends with him, she had never had the money to gift him anything for his birthdays. All she could do was draw cards for him, hoping it would put a smile on his face.
But now, when she had vaults overflowing with money, she could give Harry a gift! And a broomstick would be the perfect gift! He would love it! Because he loved flying!
"Professor—a broom for Harry?" she asked McGonagall.
"Yes," said McGonagall. "He needs a broom at the earliest, with the Gryffindor team beginning training soon. We will use the school fund to buy him a broom."
"Professor," said Acquila. "May I buy a broom for him?"
McGonagall looked pointedly at her. "Brooms are costly, Ms Black."
"Please," she said. "In school, I could never give Harry a gift, because I didn't have money. But now I can… and I want to! And you don't even need to tell him I bought it for him—I just want to be the one putting a smile on his face… giving him a gift he'd like," she admitted, remembering all the times the Dursleys had given him miserable gifts like smelly socks and toothpicks.
McGonagall stared at her for a long moment. "I understand your sentiments, Ms Black," she said finally. "And I am sure the Headmaster will agree to this. I will buy it through owl order at the earliest, telling them to take money from your vault."
"Thank you so much, Professor!" exclaimed Acquila happily. "And would you buy a Nimbus Two-Thousand? Harry told he liked that broom – the Weasley twins said it's the best in the market!"
"Okay," replied McGonagall. "I will talk to the Headmaster about it. Potter should get his broom by breakfast time, tomorrow."
"Thank you!" Acquila beamed at her, surprised to see the usually stern witch smiling at her in return.
"Now, Ms Black, moving on to the reason why you have been called here, the Headmaster told me of your displays of accidental magic."
Acquila cringed. "I didn't mean to do that—it just happened! I was angry and—"
"I understand," said McGonagall. "Those events were above your control. I must impress upon you that you are a very powerful witch; and if you are taught to gain control over your magic, you will grow up to be a witch to reckon with."
Acquila was perplexed. "So you're going to teach me, then? How to control my magic?"
"Yes," came the reply. "What do you know about wandless magic?"
"Wandless magic is… well, magic without the use of a wand. Like I did at the ministry—and like Harry and I did at school once."
McGonagall nodded. "Go on."
"Umm… we're different from other magical beings because we perform magic with wands… umm… channel our magic through the wand. But other beings don't… like—like the goblins at Gringotts!"
"You're correct, Ms Black. A wandless spell is performed without the use of a wand. This form of magic can be particularly volatile, and can only be used effectively by powerful and disciplined wizards and witches. What you performed at the Ministry was indeed wandless magic, but it was accidental. What I am going to teach you is to control your magic. At a young age, most witches and wizards can perform wandless magic, even at will. But once they get their wands, they start channelling their magic through their wands, and gradually they start depending solely on their wands and lose touch with performing wandless magic. Professor Dumbledore tells me that the spell you inadvertently performed on Mr Malfoy at the Ministry was an extremely advanced one, powered with immense amount of magic. We do not want such wanton displays of dangerous magic again, do we? Which is why, you need to learn to get your magic under your control."
"Am I the only student who is going to…"
"Yes, Ms Black," interjected McGonagall. "The Headmaster wants only you to take lessons with me."
"Why only me?"
"As I told you, you have great power. And the Headmaster doesn't want a repeat of the Ministry incident."
As Acquila's trusting eyes looked into hers, McGonagall felt a stab of guilt for lying to Acquila. But how was she to tell her that Dumbledore had a hidden motive behind making her take these lessons?
"Let's start now," she said, wrenching her thoughts away from her guilt.
"Professor," said Acquila slowly. "If I'm a powerful witch, were my parents powerful, too?"
It took McGonagall a moment to reply.
"Your mother was an extremely intelligent witch, but not as powerful as you are. As for your father, he wasn't extraordinarily powerful, but once he joined the Aurors, he learnt to achieve the maximum out of his magical core. He became quite adept at performing wandless spells, too. But yes, none of them showed as much power as you seem to have. I personally feel that it comes from your father's side of the family. The Blacks had been known to produce extremely powerful witches and wizards till frequent inbreeding gave way to insanity rather than power."
Acquila grimaced at the 'inbreeding'.
"Now, let us get started," said McGonagall, placing a red cup before her.
"I want you to concentrate on this cup. Try to change the colour of the cup to blue. And kindly hand over your wand to me."
Acquila did as said, staring at the cup, having no idea what to do, but willing it to change colour.
But, expectedly, nothing happened.
"You aren't concentrating enough," said McGonagall. "Not that I expected you to achieve it in the first try."
Acquila stared at the cup again, at a complete loss. "I can't! Nothing's happening!"
"You had told me that you can get buds to blossom into flowers," said McGonagall. "How did you do that?"
"I just put the bud on my palm and—and then I wanted it to turn into a flower. And then—it just blossomed. I don't know how I did it. It just did!"
"You need to be strong-willed. You could make the bud blossom as you weren't under any kind of pressure – you did it because you wanted to. But now that you know your powers, you are straining yourself to change the colour of the cup. But we do not want that. Your will to change it should come from within, like you did with the bud. Divert all your inner magic towards the cup. You may touch the cup with your hand if need be. But concentrate all your thoughts and energies on the cup. Think of the colour of the cup changing from red to blue. That should be the only thing on your mind."
Acquila nodded again. And then stared and stared at the cup. But nothing happened.
"Why is nothing happening?" she said impatiently. "You said I'm a powerful witch. Then why can't I—"
"Hold the cup in your hand, Ms Black. And now, you have to focus all your magic towards the cup. It should happen from within you. Urge your magic to take over the cup and change its colour."
Acquila held the cup in her hand, thinking of nothing else, but its colour. She visualised its colour turning from red to blue. She could hear McGonagall saying something, but she couldn't make out the words, as all her concentration was centred on the cup.
And then, suddenly, she felt a spark of power flow from within her, through her arm, to her fingers and finally into the cup. And the minute she felt the power touch the cup, it turned blue!
Acquila had hardly let out a cry of joy, when the cup exploded into pieces, porcelain shards flying all around.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean to—"
"It is alright," said McGonagall, vanishing the shards with a wave of her wand. "This is what I meant when I said that you are a powerful witch. And this is exactly why wandless magic is known to be volatile and difficult to bring under control. When we use a wand, our magical energy flows through the wand. But without a wand, there is nothing to channel the magic which we put into a spell, nothing to direct the magic and to control its power. You did change the colour correctly, but what happened was that you put so much of magical power into it that the cup couldn't hold it, resulting in it exploding"
Acquila's eyes were wide, a sudden pang of fear in her gut.
"If I—if I try to perform a spell on a human, if I put too much of power into it, will I hurt the person?"
"You might. But that is why we are here – to help you gain control over your power."
But suddenly, Acquila didn't quite want any of this wandless magic! What if she had killed Lucius Malfoy that day? What if she couldn't control her magic and she ended up hurting someone else?
McGonagall seemed to have read her mind. "You have a rare gift. Do not let it go waste. You can achieve a lot with your power. Once you become one with your magic and understand the extent of your power, such incidents will not recur. And for that, we need to work hard."
"But—"
"If your mother was alive, she would have been proud to have such a daughter. Do not let your powers go in vain. Master your magic, and you can help make the wizarding world a much better place to live in. You may not realise this now, Acquila, but you will have an important role to play when you grow up," said McGonagall, remembering what Dumbledore had said. "And it is imperative for you to embrace your powers and master them, not run away from them for fear of hurting people."
Acquila nodded solemnly, half-convinced.
After a couple of more attempts at unsuccessfully trying to change the colour of the cup without exploding it, McGonagall called the lesson to a stop.
"Off you go," she said to a tired Acquila. "Your Charms class will begin soon. And I think Mr Potter and Ms Granger must be eagerly waiting to hear of what I taught you today. We will meet again next week, and continue with this."
"Thank you, Professor," said Acquila, setting off to find Harry and tell him all about the lesson.
oOo
The next morning, the four Gryffindors sat at their house table in the Great Hall. Ron was complaining to Acquila about Nyx.
"What's your bloody cat's problem? It wants to kill Scabbers!"
"All cats chase rats. It's natural feline behavior. Nyx can't help it."
"Keep her away from Scabbers or I'll—" but Ron stopped his threat mid-way, his eyes widening as he stared at the six large owls who placed a large thin packet at their table, knocking Harry's bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.
Harry opened the letter and read it aloud, his face beaming.
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o' clock for your first training session.
Professor M. McGonagall
"Oh my! A Nimbus Two Thousand! I've never even touched one," moaned Ron enviously, as he and Harry jabbered about the features of the broom.
But Hermione stared at Acquila, whose eyes were bright with a knowing gleam.
"Why aren't you surprised, Acquila?" asked Hermione shrewdly.
"Umm… I am surprised, Hermione. I just prefer not expressing it as animatedly as the boys do," Acquila replied, motioning towards Harry and Ron who were completely engrossed in their talk.
"If you knew nothing about the broom, you'd have been discussing the broom with Harry, like Ron is," said Hermione, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
Acquila just shrugged. "I'm not that interested in brooms and Quidditch…"
"You know," said Hermione conversationally, "the Sorting Hat debated on putting me in Ravenclaw. It said I have an uncanny ability to notice stuff and deduce conclusions from them."
"God!" groaned Acquila. "I told Professor McGonagall to take money from my vault for the broom. But don't tell Harry, alright?"
Hermione grinned widely at her. "I knew I was right! But don't you worry. I won't tell anyone."
"Won't tell anyone what, Granger?" said a sly voice from behind them.
Hermione turned around, and gaped at Draco. Never had he called her Granger; he usually stuck to 'Mudblood'. And she hadn't expected him to come and talk to her after the slapping incident.
"Umm… hello, Malfoy," she said hesitantly, as Acquila smiled encouragingly at Draco, happy to see him keeping his promise.
"What's that you have there, Potter?" Draco asked Harry, "A broomstick? First-years aren't allowed them," he said, a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face, which he failed to conceal.
"It's a Nimbus Two Thousand, Malfoy! What did you say you've got at home, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets are flashy, but they aren't in the same league as the Nimbus. And now leave, Malfoy. You aren't welcome at our table, unless you want another slap!"
"Weasley!" snarled Draco, losing his cool. "I'm tolerating you only for Acquila's sake, or I'd have punched you in your face right now!"
"You bloody—"
"Enough!" cut in Acquila, before Ron could complete his sentence."Stop arguing, please!"
"Acquila's right, Ronald," said Hermione. "You didn't have to be rude to Malfoy."
"What! Didn't he call you a you-know-what yesterday? Or has little Miss Bookworm forgotten all about it?" Ron retorted.
Acquila looked at her cousin. "Draco, don't you have Charms with the Ravenclaws? You'll be late. Go on to class. I'll see you later."
She smiled at him, and Draco nodded, departing after one last glare at Ron and Harry.
"What's your problem, Ron? And stop calling me a bookworm and a know-it-all! And why were you rude to Malfoy? He was perfectly civil to you!" Hermione snapped at Ron.
"Don't give me a lecture, Hermione. I know how to deal with people like Malfoy."
Acquila stood up and walked away. "Coming, Harry? Don't you have to keep the Nimbus in your dorm?"
Harry nodded and followed her in relief, glad to get away from the bickering pair of Ron and Hermione.
oOo
One week later
It had been a week since he had run off from Hogwarts. He sat on the golden sands of the quaint little beach. There were hardly any people around. He watched the sun as it sunk down the horizon, thinking of his life. Just like the sun, everything in his life had started going downhill since that Halloween night.
After the exultation at the news of his Acquila's survival, he had lost her all over again to that bloody Death Eater, Malfoy. Was his life destined to be this way – shrouded in darkness? Didn't he deserve any happiness? He loved his daughter and Harry more than life itself. And instead of being with them, he was here on the isolated beach, staring desolately at the sun, on the run from the Aurors and Dementors.
But he couldn't give up, could he? He was Sirius Black. He never gave up. And how long could he remain away from Hogwarts? Each moment he spent away from his daughter ate at his insides. He would have to find a way to prove his innocence, to convince his daughter that he wasn't a killer. She probably hated him, his sweet little Acquila.
He had seen her photograph in a copy of the Prophet which he grabbed from a semi-wizarding town on the way to Armadale. She stood next to Dumbledore in the photograph, head held high. She looked like a typical Black. And her eyes – she had his grey eyes, just like Athena wanted her to. Her hair was jet black like his, and she wore it long like Athena used to. And she was beautiful – far more beautiful than even Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda were… or maybe that was just the father in him talking.
But there was nothing of Athena in her – neither her auburn locks, nor her blue eyes, nor her sweet smile. She was a Black through and through. But he hoped her nature was more like Athena than his own: kind, cheerful, wise beyond her years, extremely curious… He really hoped she was like Athena and not like him… because he was far from perfect. He was reckless, short-tempered… he acted without thinking it over, he was annoyingly arrogant… and the list could go on and on. But the his one quality which he prided himself on was his determination.
And it was that very determination which would get him to Acquila. He couldn't run away from his mistakes anymore. He had been on the run for a week, trying to get over his self-despising thoughts, making up foolish plans to prove his innocence.
But there was no more time to brood and plan, now. Whatever was to be done, would be done at Hogwarts… because Hogwarts was where dwelt the two people in the world who were the only reason for his existence.
He trotted on his padded feet towards a cottage where an old lady lived. The back door of her house which led to her kitchen was always left open. And Sirius used to go in stealthily, and grab a bite of whatever lay on the kitchen platform. The old lady, who found it difficult to walk, had never once spotted him in her kitchen.
He walked in through the back door of the dark kitchen and put his paws on the kitchen platform to grab a loaf of bread which lay there. But try as he might, he couldn't reach the loaf, even when he stood on the very tip-toes of his hind legs.
He sighed, knowing he had no other option. He would pass out if he went hungry any longer. He had to have that loaf of bread to survive. Swiftly, he concentrated on his body, feeling himself turn human again, relishing the feel of standing on just two legs after an entire week of walking around on four legs. His hands and arms felt much better, too, not having to support the weight of his massive dog body.
Just as he extended his hand towards the loaf and grabbed it, the darkness of the kitchen vanished!
He froze, turning to the door, knowing what he would see: The old lady, who had put on the light, stood at the door of the kitchen, her hand on her heart, her eyes wide with fright. And before he could react, she let out an ear-splitting shriek.
"HELP! IT'S THE ESCAPED CRIMINAL!" she yelled out.
"Damn!" he swore under his breath, hating what he was going to.
He pocketed the bread loaf, and swiftly shoved the lady aside, making sure she wouldn't be able to get to her feet soon enough to see him transforming.
And then there was the sound of feet pattering into the living room – the neighbours, undoubtedly.
He flung into the bushes behind the house, transforming mid-air. And then, Padfoot sprinted away from the house, unseen in the cover of the dark evening, little knowing that 'escaped criminal Sirius Black' being spotted at Armadale would be all over the Muggle news, and that hours later, Remus would reach there to look for him and go back empty-handed.
oOo
Days later, Acquila sat before Dumbledore again, in his office, her eyes wide as she stared at the photograph Dumbledore placed before her.
It was a familiar-looking man, blonde-haired, with watery eyes, rather pudgy, and on the shorter side.
"It was him," she said, her voice trembling. "It was him—he killed my Mum."
"Are you sure, Ms Black?"
"I am a hundred percent sure—but who is he?" she demanded. "What's his name?"
"I am afraid telling you his name yet wouldn't be prudent," replied Dumbledore quietly.
"What—wouldn't be prudent? For God's sake, stop being so secretive!" she snapped, unable to curb her frustration now.
"No matter how furious you get this time, Ms Black," said Dumbledore with a small smile which infuriated her, "I cannot reveal his name at present—"
"What for—"
"—but I promise you – and know that I always keep my word – I will ensure that this man is found and punished."
Acquila curled her fingers into a fist, hating the way Dumbledore kept matters from her – especially those pertaining to her family.
"I'll find out who he is," she said warningly. "Even if you don't tell me, I'll find out who he is."
"Do so by all means," replied Dumbledore, still smiling.
Little did she know that the wise headmaster had taken all possible efforts to ensure that there was no way she could discover Pettigrew's identity. All the newspaper editions and books containing photographs of Peter Pettigrew had been vanished from the Castle, as had old student records. Dumbledore did not like keeping secrets from the girl, but he did not want to give her hopes till he was certain of what exactly had transpired that Halloween night.
Dumbledore had seen how Acquila had reacted when she came to know of Lucius' hand in the McKinnon family's murder. He did not want her to go looking for Pettigrew to avenge her mother's murder, especially when Pettigrew was very much capable of killing Acquila too.
"I apologise for keeping secrets from you," said Dumbledore, "But you will find that it is for your own good."
Acquila gritted her teeth, wondering how long Dumbledore would go on giving her own good as a reason for his secretive behaviour.
"May I leave now?" she asked him quite brusquely.
"Yes, Ms Black," he replied, watching her depart from the office with a frown.
And it was then that Dumbledore took a piece of parchment, writing a letter to Remus telling him of what Acquila had confirmed: that it was Peter Pettigrew who had killed Athena, and that Remus was to put the search for Sirius on the back-burner and begin looking for Peter Pettigrew instead.
oOo
A few days later, Acquila walked towards the Quidditch pitch accompanied by Ron and Hermione. The sun gradually made its way towards disappearing behind the hills of Hogsmeade.
As they neared the pitch, Acquila saw Harry soaring on his broom, his messy hair flying in the wind; he seemed happier than she had ever seen him. She smiled as Harry caught the snitch and zoomed towards the ground; the team rushed towards him.
"That was amazing, Harry!" she heard Oliver Wood say. "Play the same way in the match and the Quidditch Cup will be ours this year!"
The girl with braids, who Acquila thought was named Angelina, ruffled Harry's hai. "You play really well, Harry," she said. "Nobody can stop us from winning the cup this year!"
"Don't be overconfident, Angelina. Many a team has lost matches due to—"
"Let's get going, guys, before the skipper decides to bore us with more strategies," George interrupted his captain.
"Hey! Come on, be serious!" retorted Wood, but the rest of the team was already running towards the changing room. Wood bellowed after them but then finally gave up and turned to Harry. "Coming, Potter?"
"You carry on. I'll come later," Harry replied, and Oliver walked away.
Acquila, Ron and Hermione went towards Harry.
"Wow, Harry! You fly so well!"
"Yes, mate! I reckon you'll be as good as Charlie was!"
"Thanks, Ron. But I think it's all thanks to the Nimbus. It flies so much faster than the school brooms"
Harry caught Hermione nudging Acquila when he mentioned the broom. "Are you girls hiding something from us? Why did you nudge Acquila?"
"Oh! It's nothing," said Hermione, smiling slyly.
"Yes. It's nothing," piped in Acquila.
"Yeah, mate. These two are always neck-deep into books. I doubt they care about broomsticks and Quidditch," smirked Ron.
Acquila glared at him and then turned to Harry, as Hermione started bickering with Ron.
"So, Harry? I remember you promising—"
"I know, Acquila. Come on, I'll teach you how to ride a broom."
But Hermione glared daggers at them. "Are first years even allowed to fly unsupervised? You'll lose us house points! And it's dangerous, Acquila! You might fall off!"
"Let them be, Hermione. All you can think of is rules and house points. Let them have some fun," retorted Ron.
"No, Ronald! You don't understand! She—"
"Ms Know-it-all, stop lecturing me!"
"You're such an—"
But Harry and Acquila heard no more. They were already air-bound, sitting on the Nimbus. Hermione yelled at them, coaxing them to come back, while Ron gave a whoop of joy.
Harry sat behind Acquila, holding on to her, while teaching her to manoeuvre the broom.
"Harry! This is incredible!" she exclaimed delightedly.
"It would be incredible for me, too, if you could tie up your hair, Acquila! It's flying onto my face!"
She grinned as she tied up her hair. Harry held on to her tightly, lest she fall off without her hands holding the broom for support.
"This is really amazing, Harry!" she said, as he still held on her, his arms around her waist. "I never knew riding a broom would be this amazing. Remember I always wanted to travel by plane? I'm sure this totally beats that! "
"Hmmm," was all that Harry said.
They remained in comfortable silence for some minutes, flying over the Lake, the Castle, the Quidditch pitch, until Acquila finally spoke softly. "You're too silent, today."
"Yeah," Harry replied. "I'm just...happy."
"Happy?"
"Yes. Happy."
"I'm happy, too," she replied, smiling softly. "Happier than I've been in recent days."
They flew on, watching the Giant Squid in the Great Lake, and the setting sun.
"Do you want to fly alone? You can try, I think you'll be good at it," said Harry after a while.
"You think I can?"
"I bet you can… I'll tell you how to lower the broom to the ground and then you can fly by yourself."
She nodded excitedly as they descended.
oOo
Unknown to the two kids, an enormous dog stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, watching the duo. The Dementors glided around the Forest, but the dog didn't mind them in the least, for Sirius knew that if he had a wand with him, he could have cast the best Patronus ever as his eyes fell on his daughter.
He had been watching the pitch for the past hour. And watching Harry fly had been like seeing James again: the same messy hair, thin built, the same talent at Quidditch and the same love for flying. He had never missed James as much as he did today. He wished Jamie was by his side, watching his son fly. He would probably have been the proudest father on earth. Harry... The little baby, whose first foray into the world of flying had been on the toy broom which Sirius had gifted him, had grown up into such an incredible young boy.
He prepared to depart on seeing that the practice was over, but then decided to wait to watch the sunset. And thank Merlin he did wait! Because a few moments later, he saw the very person he wanted to see – Acquila!
She sat in front of Harry, her long hair flying into Harry's face, her face beaming with happiness. She then smiled and tied up her hair, Harry protectively holding on to her, not let go even when she gripped the broom with both her hands. Sirius' heart soared with happiness, as Acquila let go of the broom, leaning back into Harry, his hands locked around her waist over her tummy, his chin resting on her shoulder, as she put her own hands over his.
They were friends, then, he thought elatedly. The level of comfort they shared with each other, the way Acquila seemed to completely trust Harry as she let go of her hold on the broom… they were friends since years from the look of it. Though he hadn't been there with his kids, they were there for each other - his godson and his daughter.
And as he saw their silhouette over the lake, he thought that if he was in his human form, his smile would probably have extended from ear to ear.
He watched them descend towards the ground, and he could see them no more. He turned to walk into the Forest, but stopped on hearing a cry of exultation.
It was his daughter! Flying all alone! He froze with worry.
What if she fell off?
He readied himself to sprint towards the pitch if need be, to try to catch her before she fell to the ground. But Sirius was proud to see that she flew quite well. Not as well as Harry; but she seemed to fly fearlessly for someone who was flying for the first time. She kept quite close to the ground, not flying as high as she had with Harry.
He walked closer to the pitch on his padded paws, wanting to see her clearly. But a minute later, as he looked up at her, he saw her grey eyes make contact with his!
She gasped on seeing him (and he was surprised at how she seemed to be able to see him even in the fast diminishing light).
She hovered in the air, continuously staring at him, her eyes reflecting fear, curiosity and—what was that? Recognition?
"Come down, Acquila!" he heard a boy call out to her. Harry, probably.
But she seemed oblivious to the shout. She kept looking at him, her eyes wide, not even blinking once. And then he saw her lips part and utter 'Dad?'
oOo
Acquila zoomed towards the ground and collided with Ron.
"Oww! Watch out! You rammed straight into my arm!" Ron grumbled.
But Acquila ignored him. She grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him onto the broom.
"Come on! Get onto the broom!"
"What's the matter, Acquila?" he asked, but sensing her urgency, he clambered onto the broom; and she took off into the air, before he was even seated properly.
"Look there! Oh—where did he go?" she exclaimed, looking at where the massive dog had stood.
"Who? Where?" asked a bewildered Harry.
"God, it's all dark now! I can't see him. Can you?" Her voice was urgent.
"You aren't making sense, Acquila!" Harry shouted over the sound of the wind.
"I saw the dog! The dog in the Patronus!"
"Your father's Patronus?"
"Yes! The dog was the same as the Patronus was!"
"It must have been something else—some creature from the Forest—"
"It was my father," she said in a small voice.
"Your father? That dog? No! I doubt you even saw a dog. It's dark and the Forest is supposed to be filled with all kinds of creatures. It must have been some other animal—"
"No. It was that dog. I'm sure. He kept staring at me."
"Let us go back, please. It is dark and—"
"No. Come with me, to the Forest. That's where I saw the dog."
Harry made the broom descend to the ground and as they got off the broom, he looked sternly at Acquila. "We aren't going there."
"Fine! You wait here. I'll go alone," she said stubbornly.
"Acquila! You know there are Dementors there. And it's already dark now. Don't you remember what Professor Dumbledore said? Do you want to face those Dementors again? Please, Acquila. I doubt you saw a dog. And even if you did," he hastily continued as Acquila made to interrupt him. "Even if you did see a dog, it can't be your father. Your father's on the run from the Aurors. You think he would come here and risk getting kissed by the Dementors? You aren't going into the forest. We are going back in. Come on," he said, and pulled her towards the Castle, surprised to see her compiling.
Acquila said nothing as she followed Harry, oblivious to Ron and Hermione badgering them with questions. She knew it wasn't safe for her to go into the Forest.
Maybe Harry was right. She had probably seen some other animal and thought it was a dog.
But then, she remembered seeing the dog's eyes very clearly. They seemed almost human. And they were grey – an unusual shade of grey – just like her own eyes; just like her father's eyes were in the photograph which lay in her trunk. So, was the dog indeed her father?
None of them noticed the huge dog standing in the darkness, grey eyes staring at the children with longing and love.
oOo
It was the last day of the month of October. Acquila could hardly believe that two months had passed since she first came to Hogwarts. The days seemed to pass by in a blur – attending lessons, watching Harry's Quidditch practices, browsing the books in the library with Hermione, lessons with McGonagall and spending time with Draco and Dora (whenever Dora got time off her NEWT studies). She hadn't seen the dog again, despite her best efforts. Harry refused to let her go look for it in the Forbidden Forest.
She walked to the Charms classroom with Ron, Harry and Hermione. They were all greatly excited for the lesson, as Professor Flitwick had announced that they were ready to make objects fly.
They reached the classroom and Professor Flitwick put them into pairs to practice the charm. Acquila was paired up with Neville, who was extremely glad to have her as a partner, knowing that she would help him with the spell. Harry was paired with Seamus, while Ron was paired with Hermione.
After Professor Flitwick explained the spell, the students started attempting to levitate their feathers. Acquila saw Seamus' feather catching fire and Neville's feather just twitching feebly. Hermione and Ron seemed to be bickering again. As she looked at her own feather, imagining it floating in the air, she suddenly saw it fly up to the ceiling!
"Ms Black, Ms Granger! Well done! Everyone look here! They both have performed the charm perfectly!" exclaimed Professor Flitwick.
She saw Hermione grinning in delight; she had levitated her feather at probably the same time as Acquila had. But Acquila didn't quite care whether she had levitated the feather first. She was just relieved that nobody seemed to have realised that she had performed the charm wandlessly. She hadn't even meant for it to happen! She sighed in exasperation. She had a lot more to learn on how to control her inner magic.
Suddenly, Neville nudged her. "Acquila, you—you didn't use your wand!" His eyes were wide with amazement.
"Umm… yes," said Acquila sheepishly.
"How did you do that?"
"Well… it just happened, Neville," she said, not knowing whether she could trust Neville with her secret.
"Can you teach me how to do it? With my wand, I mean?"
"Sure. But let me try it with my wand once," she smiled at him.
By the end of the class, Acquila had successfully managed to levitate her feather. Neville, too, had somehow made his feather rise two feet high after eleven tries at the spell.
It was when she walked out of the class with Neville, that she heard Ron say, "It's no wonder nobody except Acquila can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly."
To Acquila's horror, she saw Hermione rush past her. She was in tears, having apparently heard Ron's words.
Acquila stomped up to Ron. "Ronald Weasley! That was so rude! You are so rude—uncaring of Hermione's feelings! And you, Harry! Don't just stand there with this git! Say something!"
"Acquila—" Harry tried to pacify her.
"Don't 'Acquila' me!" she snapped, turning to Ron. "By the time I come back with Hermione, I want you to be ready with an apology! Am I clear?"
Ron gulped and nodded.
"She's sounding like my mother, mate!" he whispered to Harry as Acquila stalked away from them.
"I heard that, Weasley!" she shouted over her shoulder. Ron's ears turned red and he hastily departed, pulling Harry with him.
oOo
Half an hour later, Acquila walked towards the girls' bathroom on the second floor. She had unsuccessfully searched the Castle for Hermione, before the Weasley twins had come to her help. They hadn't told her how they'd known where Hermione was. But she had caught a peek of an ancient-looking parchment looking like it had been hastily tucked into George's pocket.
"Hermione?" she said softly, seeing the moist-eyed, bushy-haired girl sitting on the floor in the bathroom.
"Go away, Acquila. Leave me alone," said Hermione, in a rasped voice.
But Acquila walked determinedly towards Hermione, sitting down beside her on the floor, leaning against the wall.
Hermione's eyes were red, her face puffy from all the crying.
"Here," she said quietly, handing her a handkerchief. "You know, Hermione," she went on, as a sniffling Hermione accepted the kerchief, "At the orphanage where I lived, all the children kept away from me."
Hermione dabbed at her eyes, and then looked up at Acquila curiously, sniffling intermittently as she went on.
"The kids were all scared of me… frightened that I would hurt them. They weren't friendly at all to me after I did some accidental magic," Acquila continued, not quite wanting to disclose this to Hermione, but knowing that it would perhaps help the girl. "Most of them ignored me, some of them called me a 'freak', one of them pushed me off the top of a slide… things like that. But—but I wanted friends… I used to try joining them in their games, but they would run away from me. And then one day, I couldn't take it anymore… I thought I was abnormal—that nobody wanted me… I was crying into my pillow, and Mrs Smith – she took care of me in the orphanage—she told me that just because the kids called me a freak didn't make me a freak. You know where I'm getting, don't you?"
Hermione nodded, teary-eyed.
"Just because Ron said you're horrible doesn't make you horrible," said Acquila. "Mrs Smith had told me that every person is different – special in his or her own way. And when the right time comes, we finally meet people who accept us as we are—people who want to be with us with all our faults and irritating habits, who—who look for the good in us. I didn't believe Mrs Smith for years. But when I met Harry, I knew she was right."
Hermione nodded again.
"So, just forget what Ron said. He might think you're horrible—but that's because he hasn't seen the good in you… like how you were helping Neville find his toad in the train—and you didn't even know Neville, right? And you cheered me up on the first evening—when people were glaring at me and saying stuff about my father—"
"But what if he never sees that I'm not a horrible person?" mumbled Hermione. "What if he's right? And I have no friends?"
Acquila chuckled. "If you didn't have friends, I wouldn't be sitting here, Hermione!"
Hermione grinned a watery smile.
"Thank you," she said softly. "When I was in my Muggle school, I never had any friends because I was different. When I came her, I thought I'd have loads of friends because everyone here is magical like me… but then Malfoy said I'm different because I'm a Muggleborn—and then Ron hates me—"
"He doesn't hate you," said Acquila, mentally thinking of ways to curse Ron if he wasn't ready with an apology. "He's just a git. And you're not different, Hermione. You are special."
"I'm not," she said dejectedly.
"Of course, you are. Even students from magical families don't know as much about magical stuff as you do! Has there been any spell you haven't been able to do? Any question you don't know the answerer o? Any homework you haven't completed on time? Any teacher who hasn't praised your work in class, except Snape, of course," she added and Hermione chuckled. "Which other student can do that?"
"Well, you can," Hermione said sheepishly.
"Me?" Acquila chuckled. "I haven't even completed a foot of the three-foot Astronomy essay. And unlike you, I don't know any answers in History of Magic because I play hangman with Harry in class! And you are the one who helps Neville in Potions even when you know Snape will be nasty to you for that. I'm just curious about stuff, that's why I read the books over the holidays—but you're special, Hermione. Even the teachers say so. And believe me, you're a great friend—"
"I'm not."
"You are! If there's one person I can trust after Harry and my cousins, it's you. You observe things that others never do. You were the only one who realised that I bought the Nimbus for Harry. You were the only one who tried to console me at the Sorting when you didn't even know me! You understand things, you understand people. That's what makes you good!"
Hermione smiled a genuine smile, wiping off the remnants of the last few tears from her face. "Thank you," she said again.
"You're welcome," said Acquila. "Now we'd better get to the Feast. Harry must be waiting for us."
"Yes—what's that?" said Hermione suddenly, wrinkling her nose.
"Ugh!" Acquila gagged as the disgusting smell – a mixture of an unclean public toilet and soiled socks –permeated the air.
"That's disgusting!" said Hermione, holding the handkerchief to her nose.
And suddenly, they heard what seemed like the footfalls of a gigantic creature, and the sound of something wooden being dragged along the stone floor of the corridor outside the bathroom.
They barely had time to stand up when they saw the creature enter the bathroom. It was an enormous troll! It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey; a lumpy body and a small bald head. It was holding a huge wooden club which it dragged along the floor as its arms were so long. Hermione and Acquila shrank against the wall, trying to get as far away from the troll as they could, when the door of the bathroom slammed shut, and they heard the key being turned in the lock.
Hermione let out an ear-splitting shriek, staring fearfully at the troll.
"I'll try to divert the troll, you run and get help!" said Acquila, feeling her extremities turning cold, her breathing strained as she pinched her nose to avoid the stench.
"No! I'm not leaving you!" said Hermione, backing further into the wall.
The troll advanced towards them, and Acquila froze, feeling her heart thudding, her breathing frenzied, her wand pointing uselessly at the troll. And then suddenly, there was a new, although familiar, sensation – that of her magic surging within her, wanting to lash out at the troll.
"Get away!" she snapped urgently to Hermione; she couldn't risk the room exploding and Hermione getting hurt. She tried to control her power, as McGonagall had taught her, but her magic seemed to have a mind of its own.
Suddenly, the door flew open and the girls saw Harry and Ron step in, fear etched on their faces.
"Acquila!" yelled Harry at the same time as Ron yelled, "Hermione!"
Acquila tried to push Hermione out of the way of the troll towards Harry and Ron, but the troll advanced towards the girls, its tiny eyes staring menacingly at them.
"Run!" Acquila screamed at Harry and Ron realising that her magic was straining against her, wanting to release itself on the troll.
"No! Ron, confuse it!" she heard Harry scream.
But the next minute, the room exploded, taps and pieces of the wall flying around. The troll stood confused, and then took a few steps back, as Harry, Ron and Hermione tried to protect themselves from the flying debris.
And then suddenly, Acquila saw a part of the ceiling about to fall down on Harry, and she lunged at him, trying to push him away. But the next moment, she felt a sharp pain at the top of her head and then all went dark.
oOo
"When will she wake up?" Acquila heard Harry's worried voice ask someone.
"This is my fault," she heard Hermione sobbing.
Acquila tried to speak, to convince Hermione that it wasn't her fault, but she couldn't even open her eyes, let alone speak. She couldn't move at all.
"She'll take a couple of hours to wake up, dear. Now off you all go. You can come and meet her tomorrow morning."
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry said stubbornly.
"Nor am I!" said Draco and Dora together.
"Don't be silly, children. She doesn't even know you are here. And she'll wake up in a few hours. You can come meet her in the morning. Now, come on. Off you go. That applies to you too, Mr Malfoy," said Madam Pomfrey.
"I am staying here. You can't make me go. My father will hear of this."
"Mr Malfoy, Acquila is my patient. And I will let nobody affect her recovery, even your father. Now leave, before I levitate you out of the room!"
She heard footsteps walk out of the room, along with outraged mutterings about silly nurses and dumb trolls.
Minutes later, she fell into an uneasy sleep.
oOo
Sirius, in his Padfoot form, stared at the cat, stunned at what it conveyed to him.
His daughter! In the Hospital Wing! Attacked by a gigantic creature!
He sent Nyx ahead, telling it to discern whether the coast was clear. He had to go to the Hospital Wing. He had to ensure that his daughter was unscathed. He trotted away behind the cat, his thoughts centred on his only daughter.
He entered the Hospital Wing. It was shrouded in silence, except for the steady breathing of a person, which his sharp canine years heard clearly.
Nyx came up to him, mewing softly, telling him that there was no one in the Hospital wing.
And it was when he neared the bed that he smelt her: his child, his flesh and blood, the only link he had to Athena. His breath hitched in his throat. And he noiselessly transformed into a man.
He stood transfixed by the side of the bed, his eyes drinking in the sight of his daughter.
Her hair wasn't the short curly ringlets that framed her toddler face, but the curls seemed to have straightened out considerably, and grown to her waist. Her face was illuminated by the moon rays which fell on her through the window. Her face… which was just like his – her long eyelashes were Athena's, but the shape of her jaw was his, so was her nose, and the high cheekbones, and her slender neck like Walburga's.
His daughter… his little princess—but she wasn't little, anymore. She was a grownup girl of eleven.
He stared at her in wonder, not even realising that tears were gradually trickling down his face – tears of happiness at finally seeing his daughter with his own eyes, tears of sorrow at missing all her growing up years, her childhood.
"Acquila," he whispered, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. And then, his fingers were brushing her hair off her forehead, his lips were pressing a kiss onto her cheek, his arms were going around her, pulling her up into his chest, breathing her scent, hugging her to his heart's content.
"Acquila," he whispered into her hair, wondering how he would ever be able to let go of her, wondering whether there was a way he could never let go, keep her with him forever, make her wake up and tell her that her father was here… tell how much he loved her, how sorry he was that he hadn't been there for her, that she had to live in an orphanage when her father was fucking alive!
"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered, not noticing her robes dampening with his tears, uncaring that Madam Pomfrey could come in any moment and have the Dementors called in.
And then, Nyx was mewing softly, signalling that someone was coming towards the Hospital Wing.
He let go of Acquila reluctantly, placing her back onto the bed, straightening the sheets, and kissing her forehead one last time, before he took one last look at his daughter, only to see grey eyes staring back at him.
"Acquila!" he whispered, startled, and then eager to have her see him, talk to him.
But she shut her eyes again, unmoved.
Nyx started tugging at his robes, wanting him to leave before someone entered the room. And he transformed back into Padfoot and exited the room, following the cat through the cover of darkness.
Acquila probably hadn't even know it was him. She was in the strange place between consciousness and unconsciousness. But he would forever her eyes looking into his – the all-too-familiar shade of grey, the exact pair of eyes that would stare back at him if he got access to a mirror.
"Who's there?" called out a voice. It was Madam Pomfrey!
Nyx, smart cat that she was, started mewing loudly, sprinting into the Nurse's view.
"It's you! Acquila's cat, aren't you? No animals in my Hospital Wing. Off you go," said Madam Pomfrey. But Nyx remained unmoved, and started walking towards the Hospital.
"Merlin!" exclaimed an exasperated Madam Pomfrey and picked up Nyx, taking her towards the staircase.
Sirius made use of the diversion and crept through the darkness, towards the end of the corridor leading to the exit.
oOo
"I am fine!" exclaimed Acquila, the next morning.
"Oh no, you're not!" replied Madam Pomfrey. "You're still exhausted, and your head has yet to heal completely."
"Please, Madam Pomfrey! I am fine. Really! And my head isn't hurting! I don't feel tired at all. I'm just hungry…I need some food… and Harry."
"Harry," said Madam Pomfrey, shaking her head. "Had to send the boy away five times since you've been brought here! Stubborn lad, he is."
"He's waiting out, then?" asked Acquila eagerly.
"Yes," sighed Madam Pomfrey. "I'll let him in, if you promise to lie down until I get a bowl of porridge for you."
"Acquila!" exclaimed Harry, as he came in, putting his arms around her.
"Hey," she said, her fingers threading the hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the warmth of his hug, until he reluctantly let go.
"You scared me!" said Harry.
"I couldn't help it. I had to—" she stopped abruptly, noticing people walk in through the door.
"Acquila! I'm so sorry," said Hermione, proceeding to apologise profusely for leading Acquila to the girls' bathroom. Acquila fended off her apologies, telling her it wasn't her fault.
The Weasley twins had come in, too, as had Ron, and Draco and Dora.
"How are you?" asked Draco, elbowing Ron away and sitting by the side of her bed. "You weren't waking up when I came to see you. I thought—I thought something would happen to you…"
"I'm fine," she said, smiling as he leant in to kiss her cheek.
"This is all because of you, Potter!" exclaimed Draco, turning to Harry with a dark look on his face. "Look where you've landed her!"
"Malfoy! Don't blame this on Harry!" snapped Ron.
"This is my fault, Acquila," put in Hermione morosely. "You came to the bathroom to look for me—"
"Oh no, Hermione," put in Dora. "It isn't your fault."
But it was only Harry who noticed that Acquila wasn't seeming fine.
"What's the matter?" he asked quietly, his voice soft over the loud voices of the bickering people.
"Did someone come to visit me last night?"
"Last night?" said Dora, putting an arm around her; Acquila's voice seemed to have attracted all their attention. "No. We wanted to wait, but Madam Pomfey made us all leave."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," said Harry. "Why?"
"I thought I saw someone… I must have just imagined it," replied Acquila, not wanting to tell them that she thought she had seen her father by her bedside last night. "So, what happened? How did I land up here? I don't really remember much…"
Harry, Ron and Hermione launched into a lengthy narration of what transpired in the bathroom.
"Wow! So you guys defeated a fully grown troll by sticking a wand up its nose and knocking it out with its own club!" she exclaimed as Ron grinned at her proudly.
"And our little brother also apologised to Hermione," said George, winking at the bushy-haired girl.
"He did," confirmed Hermione, flashing Ron a small grin.
"Out! Come on, leave now! Acquila needs to eat!" came a loud voice: Madam Pomfrey.
They all left reluctantly, promising to come back in the afternoon when she would be discharged. The Nurse handed over the bowl of porridge to Acquila and she started gulping it down hungrily. Ten minutes later, just as she had expected, she saw Harry come in again.
"Madam Pomfrey will make you leave again," she told him, as he sat at the foot of her bed.
"As if that'll make me leave," he replied, smiling teasingly. The grin slid off his face soon, though.
"Don't do that again, Acquila. Please," he said quietly.
"Do what?"
"You shouldn't have saved me," he muttered, green eyes boring into hers. "If you hadn't lunged at me to push me aside, you wouldn't have been here—you wouldn't have hurt your head!"
"I couldn't just stand there watching the ceiling fall on youhead, could I?"
"You don't know—how I felt when I saw you lying on the ground, not moving, blood gushing out from your head," he said, his voice shaky. "I—I thought you were dead, Acquila! I tried to wake you up—but then the troll rushed towards Hermione, and I jumped onto it. And by the time we defeated the troll and I got back to you, you had turned so pale—I thought you weren't breathing—what if—what if I'd lost you?"
His eyes were full of an emotion Acquila had never seen earlier. She realised, with a jolt, that it was fear, and something deeper which she just couldn't recognise.
"Promise me you won't do anything like this again," he said sternly.
"I can't," she said simply. "If you're in danger, I'll obviously try to protect you—"
"But not at the cost of your life."
"Wouldn't you have done the same thing if you were in my place, Harry?"
"I would have. But—"
"No buts. I can't just stand around watching you getting hurt. Didn't you put yourself in front of the Dementors, to save me? It's the same thing, Harry."
He smiled at her, realising the truth of her words. And then, his arms were around her again, hugging her tightly, as if he didn't want to let go, reminding her of something similar.
"Harry?" she said, extracting herself from his hug.
"Hmm?"
"I think I saw my father yesterday."
Harry stared at her, as if he thought the hit on her head had affected her mind.
"What?" he said.
"You heard me," she muttered.
"You know he can't enter Hogwarts," said Harry. "There are Dementors at the Castle entrance, to capture him."
"I know someone was here," she said quietly. "Someone hugged me—and I remember looking at his face—my father's face—his eyes are just like mine… It was him, Harry. I know it was him."
"I don't think so," said Harry stoutly. "Must have been a dream… Someone would've spotted him if he really entered the Castle."
Acquila nodded reluctantly, realising that Harry was probably right. But a nagging feeling told her that it was indeed her father… even if nobody would believe her, she knew she had seen Sirius Black. And that meant he was around the Castle! Somewhere near her!
She remembered looking into his grey eyes, the kiss he pressed on her forehead, the dampness of his tears falling onto her gown as he held onto her tightly… It was her father. And the fact that he'd visited her showed that he did care for her. And she would find him, no matter what.
