Author's Note: xxSunnyXBlackxx, MistressoftheDark12, Theta-McBride, Merida, CheyenneRianne, PotterHead999 – Thanks you!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling. I own nothing.
oOo
Chapter 12: The Match and the Mirror
Acquila was finally discharged from the Hospital Wing in the evening, after three thorough check-ups by Madam Pomfrey. As Harry, Ron and Hermione walked beside her on the way to the Great Hall, Harry kept looking sideways at Acquila, as if worried that she would fall or hurt herself.
"Can you walk, Acquila? Do you need help?" he asked her softly.
"I'm fine," she replied, smiling to assure him that she was alright.
"Don't worry about classes, Acquila," put in Hermione. "I've taken down notes for you, for Charms, History of Magic and Astronomy—"
"Let the girl breathe, Hermione!" exclaimed Ron. "She's just out of hospital and you saddle her with talks of studies!"
Acquila had expected Hermione to launch into a full-blown lecture on why studies were important, but she was astonished to see the girl respond with: "You're right, Ron. I shouldn't be talking of studies now."
"Actually, you were right, Hermione," responded Ron, reddening slightly. "Studies are important …"
Acquila looked at Harry, wondering what had brought about the change in Ron and Hermione, but Harry just shrugged.
"Fred and George gave Ron a piece of their mind," he whispered, "threatened to put Bubotuber Pus in his pants if he was rude to Hermione again."
Acquila chuckled.
"And when we realised the Troll might hurt Hermione, he was genuinely worried about her. And you can't not be friends after defeating a fully grown mountain Troll together, can you?" Harry grinned.
As they reached the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, almost all the students stared at the four Gryffindors, knowing that they were involved in the troll incident.
Harry helped Acquila into her chair, and began piling sausages onto her plate.
"I can serve myself, Harry," she said.
"But Madam Pomfrey said you shouldn't exert yourself," said Harry.
She grinned, pressing an affectionate kiss on his cheek, before she dug into the food hungrily.
"He cares a lot for you," observed Hermione, as Harry discussed something with Ron and the twins. "He was so scared when the ceiling fell on you. He kept saying that if something happened to you, he wouldn't know what to do with himself."
Acquila stilled, as Hermione's voice dropped to a soft whisper. "Ron said Harry didn't sleep at all last night, kept turning and tossing in his bed, and then paced around the dormitory…he kept worrying about you. And now that you're finally discharged, I think he's scared you'll exert yourself and land up in the Hospital again."
Acquila nodded quietly, gazing at Harry as he laughed at a joke the twins cracked. She knew he cared a lot for her. But knowing that he spent the entire night worrying about her, that he loved her so much, made something flicker deep within her – an emotion she just couldn't identify.
"What are you girls whispering?" asked Ron between swallowing mouthfuls of food.
"We were just discussing Lavender's new robes," said Hermione brightly.
"Ugh! Girls and their gossip!" groaned Ron.
But Harry looked at Acquila curiously. "What's the matter?"
"Thank you," she said softly.
"What for?" he asked, bemused.
She didn't reply, merely smiling at him. And a moment later, Harry grinned, too, as he realised why she was thanking him: for always being there for her.
oOo
"The Gemino Curse or Doubling Charm is a spell used to duplicate an object, creating an exact replica of the target entity. It can also be used to bewitch an object into multiplying repeatedly when touched…" Acquila heard Nymphadora muttering furiously under her breath as she neared the Metamorphmagus, who was sitting at a corner of the Hufflepuff table.
"Umm… Dora?" she said, but Nymphadora seemed not to have heard her, glancing at the thick book in her hands.
"—the charm was invented by a pair of reclusive twin witches, Helixa and Syna Hyslop, who used it to create duplicates of every item inside the mansion, in which they lived together their whole lives. After their deaths, their relatives finally learned of this practice, discovering two, duplicated sets of hand-written instructions for the spell, one left by each twin—" Dora continued.
"DORA!" exclaimed Acquila, and the book fell to the floor with a loud 'thump'.
"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you—" exclaimed Acquila.
"It's alright," said Dora, smiling as she retrieved the book.
"If you're studying, we can talk tomorrow—"
"No, sweetie," said Dora brightly. "I'll always have time for my little cousin. Come, sit here." She patted the chair next to her.
"Umm… can we talk elsewhere?" Acquila asked, as she noticed the Hufflepuffs at the table eyeing her inquisitively.
"Where are your friends?" asked Dora, as they walked out of the Hall. "I thought Harry wouldn't have let you out of his sight. He was very worried about you."
"He wanted to come with me, but I told him to go back to Gryffindor Tower. I wanted to talk to you alone. What were you studying for, by the way?" asked Acquila.
"Charms!" Dora groaned. "Flitwick has scheduled a test for Friday. And I have to get a good grade at charms or I won't be able to get into Auror training."
"You want to be an Auror?" asked Acquila curiously. She had read about the Auror force, their strenuous training programmes and the life-threatening situations they inevitably faced in their careers.
"Yeah! I've wanted to become an Auror since I was a kid!" said Dora eagerly. "Since Siri—" she stopped abruptly.
"Since what?" asked Acquila sharply, knowing what she had been about to say.
Dora said nothing. Instead, she led Acquila through a dark room.
In the dim light, Acquila realised that they had entered the Trophy Room. Dora waved her wand in a complicated fashion, and the next moment, bright blue flames emerged out of nothing. She levitated the flames onto the floor between them, and gestured to Acquila to sit down opposite her.
In the light of the flames, Acquila saw that Dora's face was pale.
"Dora? Have you turned pale or is this some of your Metamorphmagus stuff?" she asked her cheekily.
The older girl just mock-glared at her, then sighed in resignation."This is about Sirius, isn't it? You want to know more about him?"
"Yes."
"Can't say I'm surprised," snorted Dora. "I'd actually expected you to ask me about him long ago…"
"So?" asked Acquila, seeing that Dora seemed unwilling to speak.
"You should ask my Mum, you know," said Dora finally. "She never talks to me of him, but she might tell you."
"I wanted to ask Aunt Andy," said Acquila. "I even thought of sending Hedwig to her with a letter… but then, I thought I'd ask you first… And at the hearing, she seemed hurt when she was talking about my father—she felt betrayed by him. I didn't have the heart to ask her…"
"What do you want to know about him?" asked Dora, the light of the flickering blue flames reflecting in her eyes.
"Everything that you know… since the very beginning of his life," replied Acquila quietly.
Dora was silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She took a deep breath, and then finally began to speak.
"Sirius was the Black heir—I think you know that already. His parents were second cousins. Marrying cousins is common in pureblood society," said Dora at the disgusted look on Acquila's face.
"Mum's Dad, Cygnus, and Sirius' mother, Walburga, were siblings. Cygnus and Druella – my maternal grandparents – they didn't have a son, only three daughters. So when Walburga gave birth to Sirius, the event was celebrated for days by the Blacks. He was the heir who would carry on the Black line. Everyone expected him to be the typical pureblood bloke… hating Muggles, pushing for blood supremacy. But Sirius turned out to be exactly the opposite of what the family expected him to be," she went on.
"The opposite?" asked Acquila curiously.
"Yeah… it's tough to believe it, going by what people say about him now. But Mum says he was against all that was Dark, when he was a kid. He went against everything the Blacks stood for, even at a very young age. My Mum stopped believing in twisted pureblood ideals, but that was after she met my dad in school, in her fifth year. But Sirius was different. Mum used to say he had a very clear idea of right and wrong since he was a child. He hated his parents' thoughts on wizarding blood. He stood up to his parents—against everything they believed in: their Muggle-hating ideals, use of Dark magic, their so-called superiority by virtue of being Blacks…"
Acquila stared dumbly at Dora. Sirius Black didn't at all seem like someone who would kill thirteen people, someone who would support Voldemort.
"His parents started hating Sirius—showered all their love and attention on Sirius' younger brother, Regulus," continued Dora. "When Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor, his Mum stormed into Hogwarts, yelling at Sirius—started blabbering crap, about how he was a blot on the family, the first Black to be sorted into a House other than Slytherin… Sirius was upset at first, but then he felt at home in Gryffindor—he had three best friends… Mum said they were as thick as brothers…"
"Who were they?" asked Acquila, wondering why none of them had even contacted her if they had been best friends with her father.
"I don't know their names. Mum said they'd even babysat me when I was a kid—but I don't remember them at all," replied Dora.
"Yeah," she went on, "So Mum was disowned by the Blacks for marrying my Muggleborn Dad. Sirius grew even closer to Mum after that. They had a lot in common. And he was the only Black who kept in contact with Mum… even her own parents and sisters didn't… Walburga even threatened to throw Sirius out of the house if he contacted Mum, but Sirius didn't budge."
"That was very… loyal of him," said Acquila quietly.
"He was a loyal bloke," said Dora stoutly, "until… everything happened," she added, her face falling. "Anyway, his parents reached the end of their tether when Sirius was around fifteen, if I remember correctly. They wanted him to be betrothed to some pureblood heiress. But Sirius refused outright—he was in love with your mother, you see. I don't know what happened then, but I'm sure his parents must have tried to curse him… but Sirius left home that very night. He stayed at a friend's place, and cut himself off completely from his parents and his family. Walburga too disowned him, burning him off the family tapestry."
"Cursed him?" asked Acquila, noticing that Dora seemed rather shifty.
"Yeah, well," muttered Dora. "She used an Unforgivable on him."
Acquila shuddered, eyes wide in horror. An Unforgivable? Walburga had used an Unforgivable on her own son? That was terrible! Acquila had read about Unforgivable Curses in a book on the Dark Arts which Hermione had lent her. A mother torturing her own son was just horrible!
"So," went on Dora quietly, "Sirius passed out of Hogwarts, and joined the Aurors. I still remember the day he came home to meet us when he cleared Auror training. He was top of his class. I was just six then, but I still remember what he said. He was so determined to do some good during the War, hell-bent on capturing Dark wizards, dedicating his life to fighting evil." Dora's stared at the flames, seeming as if she was reliving the past.
"That's why I wanted to become an Auror, you know," she continued, "Because of all that Sirius told me, about his reasons behind choosing to join the force, his stories about how he fought those Dark bastards—I know he edited stuff out because I was still a kid. But it sounded great to me—fighting the bad guys, being a hero. I used to play with toy guns and fake wands instead of dolls, you know," she chuckled, "because I wanted to beat the bad guys… like Sirius did."
Acquila smiled, something that seemed eerily like pride blooming in her chest. Her father had been a good man – at least until things had gone downhill.
"Alastor Moody headed the Auror department, then," said Dora. "And he was someone who never openly praised any of his protégés. But rumour was that he admitted Sirius was the best trainee he had ever mentored…and that's very high praise coming from Moody. Everyone expected Sirius to take over as the head of the Auror department after Moody's retirement—even though he was barely twenty. But the Death Eaters were shit scared of him—and he was the only one to face You Know Who four times and survive… after Moody, Sirius was the one who put the most number of Death Eaters in Azkaban…"
"Wow," whispered Acquila, rather awed by how her father had been.
Dora frowned, as if trying to recollect what else she knew about Sirius.
"Tell me about him and my Mum," prompted Acquila.
Dora's face brightened. "Your Mum was a darling! She used to come home with Sirius when they started dating—she was so much fun! I don't remember her too clearly, but she used to always bring me gifts! Toys and sweets and even those mini-Auror robes—I even have a photograph of me in them!"
Something surged within Acquila – a mixture of sorrow, that she had never got to know her Mum at all, and happiness, at knowing that Dora so loved Athena.
"Athena and Sirius started dating when they were sixteen, I think," said Dora. "Married when they were nineteen—and you were born the following year. They were a great couple, really… they just fit well together, you know… like my Mum and Dad, like my granny and grandpa… some couples just—they just seem wonderful together. Sirius and Athena were just like that. And when you were born, they just seemed… complete—they were so happy."
Acquila's breath caught somewhere in her throat. Her parents had loved each other, from what Dora remembered. And she, Acquila, had made them happy.
"Mum helped Athena when you were born. And Dad took me to see you, some hours later—and you were so cute!" said Dora, ruffling Acquila's hair as she chuckled. "And Sirius was so, so happy that day… you meant the world to him. I'd never seen him happier than he was that day, with you in his arms…"
Acquila smiled, feeling her eyes moistening. And she blinked back the unshed tears, not knowing whether they were tears of joy or sorrow.
"Go on," she prompted Dora.
"I didn't meet you much after that," said Dora, seeming hesitant now. "We went into hiding because Death Eaters wanted us dead. And your parents went into hiding, too. We rarely met. The last memory I have of Sirius was the day before that Halloween," she said uncomfortably. "He'd promised to come take me Trick or Treat around the neighbourhood. I kept waiting for him for hours. He'd promised he'd come—and he never once broke the promises he made to me. I fell asleep all furious with him… When I woke up the next morning, Mum told me Athena and you were gone forever, and that Sirius was in Azkaban, and I was never to mention him again…"
"And Aunt Andy just believed he was guilty? Even when she knew him so well?"
"Well," said Dora gloomily, "Mum went to the Aurors office, demanded to see Moody. But Barty Crouch told Mum that the Aurors were sure Sirius killed those Muggles—said they found him laughing, unrepentant of what he did… And Mum never mentioned Sirius after that day. Dad says she took it very hard, but Crouch had her convinced…"
"Do you really think he was guilty?" asked Acquila quietly.
"Everyone says he was. Muggle witnesses said he blew the street apart—"
"I didn't ask you what everyone said, Dora. I asked you what you think," cut in Acquila pointedly.
"No," admitted Dora after a long moment. "The Sirius I knew would never have killed innocents. I'm not saying he was perfect—he was an obstinate arse, mind you – stubborn, pig-headed, even rude and short-tempered at times, and I know he'd killed people before—it was his job. But he would never have killed innocent Muggles…"
"Maybe you're right, then," said Acquila hopefully. "Maybe he really did nothing wrong—"
"What I feel about him doesn't absolve him of his guilt, Acquila," cut in Dora. "He wasn't even given a trial because they had unquestionable proof of his guilt. He wasn't what we thought he was, or he wouldn't have killed those people…"
Acquila nodded mutely, disagreeing with Dora. What she'd heard about Sirius, about his childhood, about his life with Athena, his Auror work, putting Death Eaters in Azkaban – none of it sounded like he was a man who was Voldemort's right-hand man, who killed innocent twelve people.
She needed to meet Sirius, talk to him. And if he wasn't guilty, she would fight to have him declared innocent.
"Thank you for telling me everything, Dora," she said gratefully.
"Not a problem, sweetie. But please, don't dwell on this. Sirius is guilty. I don't want you hoping that he's innocent, because that'll give you nothing but hurt."
Acquila nodded in agreement to placate her cousin.
"Let's go," said Dora, levitating the blue flames.
"Wait! What's this?" asked Acquila curiously, pointing at an ancient-looking board on which many names were engraved in golden letters.
"The list of Headboys and Headgirls of Hogwarts," replied Dora, moving the flames closer to the board for Acquila to read.
Acquila glanced at the names on the board, till her eyes finally fell on two particular names. A huge grin lit up her face.
"What are you smiling for?" asked Dora.
"I'll tell you on the way out," she replied happily.
oOo
Sirius stood by his daughter's bedside, hearing her steady breaths, watching her peaceful face.
She smiled in her sleep, probably engrossed in a pleasant dream. He took one last look at her, and then turned to transform back into Padfoot, when suddenly, he felt a soft hand grasp his. He turned around, his brain furiously searching for ways to escape.
But it was Acquila! She had woken up! She was standing right in front of him.
Her smaller fingers clasped his rough larger ones, full of calluses from having traversed the Forbidden Forest and the hills of Hogsmeade in his dog form.
"Dad," she said softly – the one word he was dying to hear.
She gently put her arms around his middle, her head resting against his chest, against his racing heartbeats.
"Acquila!" he let out a strangled sob, lifting her off the ground easily, and hugging her as if he would never let go.
After what seemed like hours, he put her down on the bed and sat facing her. And it was then, as his eyes met her grey ones, that he saw something he had wanted to see since the day he knew that Acquila was alive – Love.
And he knew then that she knew he was innocent, she had forgiven him for not having been there for her, for not being able to protect her mother, for being the reason she ended up living at an orphanage.
She smiled at him, a dazzling smile which brightened her entire face, and which made him smile in return.
"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered, voice laced with undisguised emotion.
"I love you too, Dad," she replied, "and I—
"Bow Wow!" Sirius growled in pain, his back stinging. He looked around blearily, and saw Nyx standing over his sleeping form. And it was then that his heart sunk to hitherto unknown depths.
It had been just a dream. Just a dream.
Nyx mewed, apologising for having scratched his back with her claws; but she had wanted to wake him up to tell him that Acquila had been discharged from the Hospital Wing.
He paced around, his mind jumping from joy to disappointment - joy at Acquila's recovery, disappointment at his dream being just a dream. Acquila probably didn't even know that he had visited her last night. She probably thought that her father was a murderer, hated the very thought of him.
He paced even more rapidly, until Nyx stood in his path. She rubbed herself against his leg, consoling him, trying to tell him that she would help him claim his daughter. And he knew that the feline had somehow sensed his disappointment, his grief. He nudged her with his muzzle, expressing his thanks.
And then, he snorted inwardly at the situation. When he was a young child, not yet sorted into Gryffindor and the Heir to the Black family, a single cry of his would bring the house elves scurrying over to console him, to fulfil his wishes.
In his first few days at Hogwarts, James had always been by his side, never letting Sirius brood over anything, always making him smile and laugh.
Later, it was the Marauders, even the traitor Peter. They brought Sirius out of his occasional bouts of loneliness, especially James.
And then it was Athena who stood like a rock by his side, encouraging him, loving him unconditionally, supporting him when he saw his friends and fellow Aurors falling to the Death Eaters. Sirius Orion Black had always had people who loved him, who wiped off his tears before they even reached his cheeks; people who never let him brood, who cheered him up in a trice. And whom did he have now? A cat! A feline was consoling him! Oh the irony!
But he wasn't Sirius Black for nothing. If there was one thing life had taught him, it was never to give up. He would get his daughter at the earliest. He couldn't wait anymore. He had to prove his innocence. He wanted to spend the rest of his living days with his daughter and his godson – his family. He had missed all of their childhood, and he wouldn't miss any more of their lives.
He had to prove his innocence, get the Dementors and Aurors off his back and live life as a free man. And the key to his freedom was the backstabber: Peter Pettigrew.
He turned to the Nyx, her green eyes boring into his, barking softly, trying to convey his plan to her.
And minutes later, Nyx walked off determinedly towards the Castle, passing by the Dementors, while Sirius trotted off to the cave in Hogsmeade, feeling unusually hopeful.
Nyx would catch hold of Pettigrew and bring him to Sirius. And Sirius wouldn't repeat what he did that Halloween night. He would hand him over to the Ministry!
He wouldn't kill Pettigrew – it wasn't worth going to Azkaban again. But once Sirius was a free man, he would get his revenge on the traitor.
He was Sirius Black. And the name 'Black' would always hold weight in wizarding society. He would push for Pettigrew getting the Dementors' Kiss. That would be the perfect death for Wormtail, he thought, his doggy face grinning menacingly. Pettigrew would get his traitorous soul sucked out by the very creatures which had tormented Sirius for the past ten years.
And then Sirius would live the life he deserved – with his family.
oOo
"Nyx!" whispered Acquila aloud, early the next morning, as she made her way up the staircase to the boys' dormitory. "What are you doing here?"
The cat just stared at her sternly as if saying, 'Trust me, I'm doing the right thing,' and sauntered off towards Ron's bed, peering around curiously, her green eyes glinting in the semi-darkness.
"Nyx!" groaned Acquila in a whisper, not wanting Ron to argue with her over the cat again. "Go back!"
The cat literally glared at her, mewing angrily.
"Shh!" said Acquila, and lifting the feline in her hands, she dropped her back into her own dormitory, firmly shutting the door behind her, and then going back to Harry's dormitory again.
She pulled apart the hangings of the four-poster bed where Harry slept, smiling when she saw him sleeping peacefully, his mouth half-open, his eyes almost entirely covered by his messy hair.
"Harry?" She shook his shoulder gently.
He groaned, pushed her hand away, and continued sleeping.
"Come on, sleepyhead, wake up," she whispered, brushing his hair off his forehead and pressing a kiss on his scar.
He opened his eyes, a tiny grin on his face. But when he saw her, his eyes widened. "What are you doing here—did something happen? Are you okay?"
"Shh!" She clapped her hand to his mouth. "Keep your voice down! And what makes you think something happened? Can't I just come to say good morning?" she asked him teasingly.
"When you're around, trouble generally isn't far behind. So I just assumed the worst," he replied, grinning at her as he put on his glasses.
"Ha ha," she said sardonically. "Come on, now. I want to show you something."
Minutes later, they were in the Common Room, walking towards the Portrait Hole, when two identical faces winked at them.
"Up early today, little firsties?" asked Fred jovially.
"Intending for some mischief, are you?" asked George.
"Or are you…?" asked Fred, a wide, teasing grin on his face.
"Are we what?" asked Acquila in confusion.
"You know…" said George, smirking at her.
"What?" asked Harry, bewildered.
"Are you going out—" said Fred, grinning even wider.
"—for a snog—" put in George, nudging Harry with his elbow.
"—in one of the empty classrooms?" completed Fred.
"What!" exclaimed Acquila, her cheeks heating up.
"Snog—no!" yelped Harry, his face pink, not meeting Acquila's eyes.
"I think the lad doth protest too much!" guffawed George.
"Aye!" responded Fred, with a smirk of his own.
"Goodness! You two are impossible!" exclaimed Acquila, now noticing that Harry still wasn't looking at her.
"Oh come on, Harry," she said, taking his hand and dragging him towards the Portrait Hole. "And stop blushing!" she added, smirking teasingly.
"Hey—I'm not blushing!" protested Harry, willing the blush to die down, as he finally looked at her.
"Have fun, lovebirds!" the twins cried in unison, as they finally exited the Portrait Hole.
"So," said Harry, running a hand through his hair, and changing the topic. "Where are we going?"
"The Trophy Room!"
"The Trophy Room? Why?"
"I'll show you when we get there," replied Acquila, an excited gleam in her eyes.
They finally reached the Trophy Room, avoiding a group of early-risen Ravenclaws on the way. And Acquila led him through the door, shutting it behind them.
The trophies glimmered as the early sunrays coming in through the windows fell on pointed to the ancient-looking board on the wall, where the names of previous headboys and headgirls were engraved in golden letters.
"You wanted to show me this?" asked Harry, staring at Dumbledore's name on the board.
"No," said Acquila softly. "Look at this."
She pointed at two names on the board, engraved in gleaming golden letters:
James Potter (1977-1978)
Lily Evans (1977-1978)
"Oh," gasped Harry softly, his feet suddenly seeming frozen, his eyes glued to the glittering names.
Acquila said nothing, although, somehow, she sensed that he was stunned, that he wanted to move forward and run his hands over the names, but his feet seemed glued to the spot. And she gently pushed him forward, watching the unbidden moisture that suddenly pricked at his eyes.
And then, she stepped backwards, allowing Harry to have a private moment.
But Harry seemed to have sensed her movement. He extended his hand backwards, groping it around in the air, until he finally found her hand and pulled her beside him. His eyes were on his parents' names all the while.
"I—I don't know what to—I didn't know they were headboy and headgirl—" he whispered almost inaudibly, a lump in his throat. He was still staring at the names, the unshed tears more pronounced now, though Acquila noticed that he blinked them back rapidly.
"You don't need to…" she trailed off, not wanting him to hold back on account of her. She wouldn't think any lesser of him if the tears trailed down his eyes. It was the first time he was seeing something of his parents – proof that they had indeed existed. Acquila had at least had a photograph of her parents, and Dora had told her all about Sirius.
But Harry didn't have anything of Lily and James: no photographs, no letters, no relatives to tell him about them, nothing to prove that they had loved and lived and walked the earth. But this—these names shining on the board – they were tangible proof that Lily and James Potter had existed, that they had walked the halls of Hogwarts just like Harry and she did, that they had attended classes, and had fun with their friends… that they had been real.
Harry said nothing, merely raising the hand that wasn't clasping hers and moving his fingers over his father's name and then his mother's.
"Hagrid told me," he said softly, his voice hoarse, "that they were brave and everybody liked them—but they—they seemed—like an abstract idea—I had nothing of theirs, no link to them…"
She nodded, squeezing his hand to tell him that she very well understood what he meant.
"But this—this makes them… real," he added, echoing her previous thoughts.
He said nothing else – he didn't need to, because Acquila knew how he felt, even without words to express his sentiments.
And they stood there for a long time, Harry staring at the names, and Acquila by his side, their hands clasped, until finally, it was time they left for the Tower.
He met her eyes, making to thank her. But she beat him to it, merely pulling him into a hug, and he knew she knew just how much he valued her gesture.
oOo
"I hope you are well now, Ms Black," said Professor McGonagall, later that day.
"Yes, Professor."
"I think you know why I have called you here," said McGonagall.
"I'm sorry," muttered Acquila. "It was my fault. I tried to control my magic—but it—it just flew out of me—I didn't want it to—and then everything just began bursting and getting blasted off—"
"I want to know what exactly happened," said the older lady. "I do not want an explanation of why you were in the bathroom when you were supposed to be back in your dormitory, escorted by the prefects. Ms Granger has already told me of how she wanted to face the troll all on her own and you accompanied her to dissuade her from going in search of the troll. I want you to tell me what happened that day, with regard to your magic."
Acquila took a deep breath, and then replied. "The troll left Hermione and me no place to esacape. I got really scared—and my magic just—I felt it, Professor! It was—it was straining within him—wanting to—to lash out…" She didn't quite know how to explain what happened.
"Like it happens when I try to change the colour of the cup—I put in more magic instead of a small amount, and the cup explodes—it was similar! I felt the magic fighting me as I tried to control it—and I was worried Harry would get hurt—and then I just couldn't fight it anymore. It—it just flew out of me—but I didn't want Harry, Ron and Hermione to get hurt. So I tried to stop it. And then I saw the ceiling falling onto where Harry was standing, so I tried to push him away… and then woke up in the Hospital Wing…"
McGonagall nodded, watching her with a calculating gaze.
"May I ask you something, Professor?" asked Acquila. "How come such incidents never happened before I came to Hogwarts? At the Orphanage, I did do accidental magic, but nothing of such magnitude. Why is this happening to me now, all of a sudden?"
"That is rather difficult to answer," replied McGonagall. "Cases like yours are extremely rare. But my understanding is that since you have come to Hogwarts, you have been in situations which anger or scare you – like the incident with Lucius Malfoy for example. You were furious with him, so your magic set him aflame. Something similar happened with the troll, I presume. You were scared, so your magic tried to protect you by attacking the object which caused you fear. But since the power in the magic was immense, it hit out at everything which lay around you. Had you been thrust into such situations in the orphanage or at school?"
"Not really. The only situation I remember, where I was scared, was when Harry's cousin Dudley chased Harry and me, threatening to hurt us."
"And what happened then?"
"I hurt my ankle and I couldn't run. And the next moment, I found myself on the roof of the school building. Harry accidentally transported us there."
"I see," said McGonagall. "Now the reasons for your outbursts apart, do you realise how not being in control of your magic can cause difficulties for the people around you?"
"Yes, Professor."
"You are at risk, too. Madam Pomfrey says that you were severely exhausted physically. The amount of magic you used that day led to a massive decrease in your energy levels. Even if you hadn't fainted due to the slab from the ceiling falling on your head, you would have fainted a few minutes later thanks to exhaustion."
Acquila's eyes were wide. "I—I want to control my magic, Professor. I don't want a repeat of that day."
McGonagall nodded. "We will be having lessons three times a week, from now on."
"Thank you, Professor."
"We won't be doing any magic today. We will resume our lessons from the next time we meet. But I wish to ask you something, Ms Black. Do you fear your magic?"
Acquila hesitated before replying. "A little," she admitted. "I'm scared I'll hurt people—like Harry and the others could have gotten hurt in the bathroom."
"Fearing your magic will do you no good. You need to get over the fear. Magic as powerful as yours is a gift which very few witches and wizards are blessed with. You need to control your magic, not let the magic control you. And you will be able to do so only when you let go of the fear," said McGonagall firmly.
Acquila nodded.
"Presently, when you think of your magic, you see it as something as separate from you. The day you become one with your magic is the day it will follow your will. You need to embrace your inner magic. You need to reach out to it, without fear, and try to be one with it. You are just eleven years of age, you might not grasp what I am saying. But I am here to help you, Ms Black. And I will do my best to guide you. Now go off for your Potions class, before Professor Snape deducts points from Gryffindor."
"Thank you, Professor," said Acquila, not noticing the frown on McGonagall's face.
oOo
"Do not hide matters from me, Albus," said McGonagall sternly. She had been sitting in Dumbledore's office since the past quarter of an hour, trying to make the secretive headmaster reveal what he was hiding about Acquila Black.
"I am not a fool," she said.
"I never said you were," responded Dumbledore with a smile.
McGonagall shot him a glare. "You are taking an unusual interest in Acquila. You had her admitted to Harry's Muggle school, you are having me give her private lessons. What is it, Albus? Why are you so determined to decide the course of her life?"
Dumbledore remained silent for an entire minute, before he sighed. "Have you heard of magical bonds, Minerva?"
McGonagall frowned. "I have. Rumour goes that the Flamels are a bonded couple – soul mates, to use the general term. They share a Soul Bond."
Dumbledore nodded, eyes twinkling.
"Oh my," gasped McGonagall, everything suddenly falling in place: Dumbledore's measures to put Acquila in Harry's school, the deep friendship between the two children. "Acquila—she—she is Harry Potter's soul mate?"
"Yes," confirmed Dumbledore.
"Great Godric," whispered McGonagall, stunned.
"The Bond is one of the reasons why Acquila's magic has gained more power since she has come to Hogwarts," said Dumbldore. "The magic in the Castle is another reason. In her orphanage, she was hardly ever in contact with magic, but here at Hogwarts, magic is in the very air we breathe. And Harry and she spend almost all their time together, don't they? Her close proximity to Harry is only adding to it, making her inner magic strengthen, empowering it. It is strengthening the Bond, which is immensely important for their future."
"When are you telling them about it?" asked McGonagall, still shaken at the information.
"Never," came the reply.
"What do you mean by that?" said McGonagall sharply. "How long will you keep them in the dark?"
"I am not going to tell them, Minerva. It is up to them to discover the Bond. And they are barely eleven, now. Telling them of the bond now will do them no good."
"But they have a right to know!" exclaimed McGonagall, "If not now, then in the future!"
"And what will happen when they know of the Bond?" asked Dumbledore calmly. "They will feel obliged to be with each other because of the Bond – and that will only worsen matters for them. They need to love each other without the Bond interfering, Minerva. That is how the Bond will strengthen, forge into something unbreakable, make them a force to reckon with when they are together."
"Albus," said McGonagall sternly, "You talk of them loving each other, but you realise that they are just children? They will be teenagers in a couple of years. You cannot expect them to just have eyes for each other. They might fall in love with other people—"
"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," interrupted Dumbledore. "All we need to dwell on, now, is that Lord Voldemort—" McGonagall flinched "—is going to rise again; if not now, then in the near future. And Harry is going to play an important role in ensuring his defeat."
"But—"
"It is time we all admit the danger that we face," said Dumbledore firmly. "The wizarding world is currently living in the time of peace between two wars. And it is up to me to ensure that things go as they should. I know, you might think me manipulative, but the burden of the good of the future lies on my shoulders – especially concerning Harry."
"They are children, Albus. Especially Harry. It isn't fair," said McGonagall, her voice pained.
"It is his destiny, Minerva. And if all goes well, with Acquila by his side, he will end Lord Voldemort once and for all."
oOo
Mad.
Remus Lupin was going mad.
He saw rats everywhere. Even his dreams were invaded by rats!
How was he even supposed to find Peter from among the millions of rats in Britain?
He had tried – and tried his very best. He had searched garbage dumping grounds, scoured through rubbish bins where rats were aplenty. But Peter was nowhere. He hadn't found a single rat remotely resembling Wormtail's rather distinctive rodent form.
What had Albus even been thinking when he sent him to look for a rat? It was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack—but damn! Albus didn't know about Peter's Animagus form. He had sent Remus to look for a man, not a bloody rat.
No wonder, Albus was confident of Remus locating Peter. He wouldn't have been as confident if he knew Peter could turn into a rat. Maybe it was high time he told Albus of his fellow Marauders' Animagus abilities.
He would dwell on that later, though. Currently, he had other pressing problems to deal with – his finances, for example. He had saved quite a lot of money in Ireland. Living a hermit's life with no friends and no social life definitely helped a person's finances. And his employer, who knew of Remus' lycantrophy, used to give him three days off a month. But he would find it very difficult to get a similar employment in Britain. And a job in the Muggle world wasn't possible till the Sirius-Peter issue was solved. He wouldn't leave the wizarding world till Sirius was declared innocent, if he was indeed innocent.
Thus, searching for Sirius, and now Peter, had become a fulltime, without-pay job for him. He needed to live frugally, save money for the future. He spent a chunk of his savings on the rent for his childhood home. He had still kept the house; the basement was the best place for him to transform like he did in childhood, and there were many memories of his parents associated with the house. But with rent rates rising, retaining the house would be difficult.
He wondered where his life was headed. Loveless, no family, no friends; no hopes of having his own family, because which sane girl would want a werewolf as her partner? Remus sighed again. At times like these, he wondered why luck didn't favour him at all. Since the time he got bitten by Greyback as a child, his life had taken a turn for the worse. His parents spent most of their time and money looking for a cure for his affliction and then passed away leaving, him all alone. Most of his friends had died, one was an escaped criminal, and one a legally-dead, supposedly-alive, possibly-traitorous rat. And the two children he loved didn't even know how much they meant to him.
He sat up, deciding that rooding would do him no good. He would find Peter. He would have to find Peter, no matter what. Acquila and Harry deserved to know the truth behind their parents' deaths and Sirius' possible innocence. He lay down on the bed again, preparing to sleep. Tomorrow he would start the search for Peter afresh. He shut his eyes, but then opened them again and looked at the ceiling and sent a quick prayer to the powers above, pleading for his dreams to be rat-free.
oOo
Days passed by; the weather turned very cold. The mountains around Hogwarts became icy gray, and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver-skin boots.
Acquila continued going to Professor McGonagall for lessons and gradually started improving at controlling her magic.
Nymphadora hardly got any time to spend with Acquila and Harry; she was always busy studying for her NEWTS.
But Draco and Acquila became better friends than ever before, much to Draco's delight. Of course, Acquila spent a lot of time with her fellow Gryffindors, but she always took time out for Draco.
But in the past few days all they both could talk of was the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Draco desperately wanted to see Gryffindor lose, especially because all Acquila would talk about was of Harry's flying skills.
Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had wanted Harry to be a secret weapon. But as Draco knew that Harry would be playing, the news had gradually leaked out.
Acquila walked back to the Common Room from another magic session with McGonagall. She walked in through the portrait hole, only to see Harry, Ron and Hermione deep in discussion. She wondered whether they were still going on about Snape's hurt leg. Earlier in the day, when they had been sitting around some blue flames Hermione had conjured, Snape had come up to them, and deducted points from Harry for taking 'QuidditchThrough the Ages' out of the library. The four of them had been annoyed, of course, but Acquila and Hermione had been more curious about why Snape had walked away limping.
"Still discussing Snape?" Acquila asked them, siting next to Harry.
"You won't believe what I saw!" exclaimed Harry. "I went to the staffroom to get back the Quidditch book from Snape, and I saw him holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled! Filch was handing Snape bandages—"
"Goodness!" exclaimed Acquila, wondering how Snape had got so badly injured.
"And Snapetold Filch that he was bitten by the three-headed dog!" added Harry.
"What! What was he doing there?"
"I bet he was trying to enter the trap door to steal the package which is hidden there," said Harry.
"Yeah!" agreed Ron. "We think he tried to get past that dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him! He's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my chess set he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"
Acquila's eyes were wide. "No! He wouldn't!"
"Exactly what I told these two," Hermione said dryly. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."
"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something?" snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
"Snape's a teacher," said Acquila thoughtfully. "I know he's mean and a git, but I don't think he'd do something like that with Dumbledore around."
"I'm sure it's him," countered Harry stoutly.
"Harry is right," said Ron indignantly.
"No, Ron," snapped Hermione.
"Oh come on, Herm—"
"Now don't bicker, you two," groaned Acquila, and the two of them shut up, launching into a discussion about the match.
"Up for a game of chess?" Ron asked Acquila after Hermione went to bed, saying she was going to get up early to get some studying done before the match. Acquila smiled, eager to avenge all her recent defeats to Ron, while Harry watched her, grinning.
oOo
The next morning dawned bright and cold. By eleven o'clock, the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Acquila, Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean up in the top row, while Harry was already on the pitch, smiling at Acquila as she yelled out his name.
As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said 'Potter for President', and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.
Acquila smiled back at Harry encouragingly, cheering for him loudly with the other first-year Gryffindors. Both the teams clambered onto their brooms. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—" Lee Jordon, the Weasley twins' friend was the commentator for the match.
Acquila tried to keep up with the game and the commentary but it was difficult for her as the team players were flying too fast. Finally, just as she was starting to understand the game, Gryffindor scored their first goal. Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. She saw Harry do loops with his broom to join the cheering crowd.
"Budge up there, move along," she heard a voice say.
"Hagrid!" she exclaimed happily. They squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.
"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"
"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?"
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Acquila finally spotted the snitch and she saw Harry and the Slytherin seeker chasing towards it.
"Come on, Harry!" she cheered. It was obvious that Harry was much faster and quicker than the Slytherin seeker, and she was sure Harry would catch it. But just then, Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain came in his way purposely blocking him. A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors – and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" Acquila screamed along with the Gryffindors.
Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"
"Yeah!" agreed Acquila, forgetting that Quidditch didn't have red cards. "He did it purposely!"
"What are you both talking about?" asked Ron, and Dean told him about football rules.
"But this isn't football," Ron reminded them.
Hagrid, however, was on Acquila and Dean's side. "They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."
Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. "After that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating, Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
A few minutes later, as Acquila was watching Alicia Spinnet aiming for the goalpost, she suddenly had a nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen to Harry. Just as she was about to tell that Hermione, Hagrid mumbled, "Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing." He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..."
Acquila grabbed the binoculars from Hagrid and zoomed at Harry."Oh God!" she exclaimed worriedly. "It seems like his broom is trying to throw him off. He needs help or he'll fall down!"
She kept watching Harry, afraid to take her eyes off him. And suddenly, she felt a spurt of fear surging through her – fear of dropping from the skies, her head spinning as she looked below—something wasn't right! It didn't seem like what she was feeling was her fear.
But then, as she watched Harry's eyes wide, holding on to the broomstick with all his might, the broomstick throwing him off, and then Harry hanging on to with with one hand, she felt a burst of fear that was all her own – because she could feel something within her rising, yearning to lash out, to help Harry.
She dropped the binoculars, sitting down again, trying to do what McGonagall had taught her to. She took deep breaths, trying to reach out to the magic surging within, trying to bend it to her will. But as she took one more look at Harry, who was clinging to the broom for dear life, she felt the fear turn to extreme panic. Perhaps, it would be better if she would just let the magic do what it wanted to, let it steady Harry's broom. But then she remembered the incident in the girls' bathroom. She couldn't risk having Harry's broom explode and let him plummet to the ground.
"H—Hermione," she whispered, eyes shut now, the searing hear of her increasingly unrestrainable magic coursing through her. "I—I can't—"
"Acquila!" said Hermione, grabbing her binoculars and looking through it. "Control your magic—don't do anything—I'll be right back—Snape's doing it—I'll take care of him. You take care of your magic," Hermione disappeared under the benches.
"Bloody Hell! He's dangling on only one arm now!" Ron looked scared.
The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.
But Acquila was oblivious to it all; she had her eyes tightly shut, not even listening to the sounds around her, just trying to calm down the storm brewing within her, waiting for Harry to be alright.
oOo
Minutes earlier
On the other side of the pitch, a huge black dog stood hidden behind the thick bushes. Sirius' eyes were fixed on Harry, amazed at how he had inherited James' flying skills. Harry's flying seemed just as smooth, just as skilled as James' flying was. Of course, the positions they played were different. But if Harry continued flying this way, Sirius knew Quidditch teams would be jostling to sign him once he turned seventeen – just like they had approached James, who had refused because he decided that being an Auror and saving lives was more important than playing a game.
A sudden surge of shouts in the stadium attracted Sirius' attention. He looked up, stunned. Harry seemed to have lost control of the broom! One look at the jerking and twitching broom, and Sirius recognised the remembered his father, Orion, teaching the curse and its counter-curse to Regulus and him when they were just kids. It was advanced Dark Magic.
The very next moment, without giving a single thought to the danger the Dementors around him would pose, Padfoot transformed into Sirius. He hesitated for a moment, not having performed any magic since years, except for the Patronus sent with the wand Nyx had brought him.
But he shook off his hesitation and maintaining steady eye contact with Harry and his broom, he started muttering the counter-curse, half an eye on the Dementors which were gliding towards him, ready to transform once they neared him.
oOo
Acquila, meanwhile, had finally gained a semblance of control over her magic. She looked in the direction of the teachers' stand through her binoculars, to see whether she could spot Hermione, while Harry still hovered in mid-air.
And it was while scanning the crowd that she came upon Professor Quirrell. He was staring at Harry, deep in concentration, and muttering continuously. Suddenly, Quirrell toppled from his seat, and a flash of bushy brown hair run past behind him towards Snape. And then, the crowd started cheering loudly, and Acquila saw that Harry had managed to climb back onto his broom.
"Neville, you can look!" Ron said from beside her. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.
Acquila heaved a massive sigh of relief, shouting out Harry's name with the others.
Seconds later, she saw Harry speeding toward the ground and then clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick. He hit the field on all fours, coughed and something gold fell into his hand. It was the snitch! Harry held it up in his hands and the crowd cheered.
"Make way for the lady!" yelled Fred and George together, as Acquila rushed towards the pitch and tried to squeeze through the crowds.
"Acquila," said Harry, as Fred and George put him down from their shoulder.
"Are you alright? I was so worried!" she said, as she hugged him tightly. "Don't you scare me like that again!"
He hugged her in return, assuring her that he was alright, until she finally disentangled herself from his embrace, allowing Ron and Hermione who had reached the team, to congratulate him.
oOo
A hundred pats and half an hour later, Harry was being made a hot cup of tea by Hagrid.
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
"It wasn't Snape," Acquila put in, now sharing what she had seen when she had scanned the crowd with her binoculars after she had gained a semblance of control over her magic. She had seen Quirrel muttering under his breath, just like Hermione had seen Snape do. "After Hermione left I saw Quirrell looking at Harry and muttering under his breath," she told them.
"Quirrell!" Hagrid snorted. "Scared of his own shadow, 'at man is."
"Yeah!" said Ron. "He stutters even while talking to students."
"It can't be Quirrell, Acquila," said Harry stoutly. "It has to be Snape. He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. He is the one who wants to steal the package its hiding."
Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How d'yeh know about Fluffy?"
"Fluffy?" Acquila asked.
"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—" Hagrid stopped abruptly.
"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.
"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."
"But Snape's trying to steal it!" Ron said.
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.
"I'm telling you it wasn't Snape, it was Quirrell," Acquila said indignantly.
"It was Snape! Harry got back on the broom after I put his robes on fire!" said Hermione.
"No," countered Acquila. "He got back on the broom after you knocked down Quirrell when you went towards Snape!"
"I'm tellin' yeh, both of yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Quirrell and Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"
"Aha!" exclaimed Harry happily. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself.
"Tell us about Nicolas Flamel!" said Acquila eagerly.
"I'm not tellin' yeh anything more. Now off yer go!" said Hagrid, ushering them towards the door.
"Who is this Nicolas Flamel?" asked Ron, as the four of them walked back to the Tower.
"I think I've read about him somewhere," said Acquila thoughtfully.
"Same here," muttered Harry.
"I'll go to the library," said Hermione. "There'll surely be something about him."
It was when they reached the entrance hall that Acquila gasped in triumph. "I remembered where I've read it—on the chocolate frog card about Dumbledore!"
"Oh yes!" exclaimed Harry. "The card said he's great friends with Dumbledore—they used to work together on alchemy!"
"We'll know more about him from the library," Hermione said excitedly.
"And then we'll have an idea on what Fluffy might be guarding,"said Harry, wondering what was so valuable that Dumbledore had to keep a three-headed dog in a school full of students to guard it
oOo
Padfoot dragged himself towards the hills of Hogsmeade, completely exhausted. Wandless magic – and that too such an advanced counter-curse – was extremely draining, as was the near miss he'd had with the Dementors. If he had transformed a second later, all that would hae remained of him would be his soulless body.
"Meaow!" said Nyx, laying down a packet on the ground. She nudged the packet with her paws, opening it and dragging its contents out of it: Chocolate!
Sirius' eyes flew wide open, and he greedily gulped down the chocolate, feeling warmth seep through his skin, suddenly feeling rejuvenated, while he wondered where the feline got her immense intelligence almost always knew what he needed, whether it was chocolate or just someone to listen to his thoughts.
As they trotted towards the cave together, Sirius' ears perked up at what the cat was trying to tell him through her mewings: the Dementors had known it was him, and there was every possibility of them conveying it to Fudge. Sirius would be better off living away from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade for some days.
He whined sadly, not liking the thought of being away from his children, especially after he had seen Harry in danger of getting injured today. But minutes later, his mind was made up. He would leave Hogwarts for some days and live in some Muggle locality. And he would come back in time for Christmas.
He gave the feline a pat on her head with his muzzle, letting her know he would see her soon.
She mewed softly, assuring him that she would try her best to capture the rat and take care of Harry and Acquila as well as she could, and then turned away, Sirius watching her until she disappeared into the darkness.
oOo
"Ah, Severus," greeted Dumbledore as Severus Snape walked into the headmaster's office. "What brings you here?"
"I think you very well know what brings me here," replied Severus tersely. "I am sure Professor McGonagall told you of what happened at the Quidditch pitch today – the latest spot of trouble Potter got into."
"Ah," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "I heard of it, although I am sure, that even you, Severus, wouldn't lay the blame at Harry's feet."
Severus snorted. "The boy is asinine, but not foolish enough to harm himself. It was an extremely Dark curse which was cast on the broomstick – a curse which a dunderhead like Potter, who excels only at strutting around the school, would never have been able to cast."
Dumbledore stared at Severus for a long moment, blue eyes pensive. "Aren't you too hard on the boy, Severus? He is just a child of eleven. And I have never seen him strutting around."
"He does," drawled Severus scornfully. "He is just like his fool of a father – dangerous flying skills, that unkempt hair, his incorrigible tendency for creating trouble—"
"Give the boy a chance," said Dumbledore. "He may look a lot like James, but I feel his nature is more like Lily's."
Severus winced imperceptibly, like he did everytime he heard Lily's name – the name and the memories it evoked sending a pang in his heart.
"I did try to give him a chance," admitted Severus finally.
"You did?" asked Dumbledore.
"I did," muttered Severus, not wanting to divulge what had brought about the change in thought: Black's brat conversation with the Malfoy boy. "But I can't," he said, louder. "He is too much like his father for me to view him with anything but disdain. But that is beside the point," he added, making it clear that he did not wish to talk of that topic. "Something is wrong, Albus. Nobody but a wizard or witch deeply acquainted with Dark magic would have been able to cast that curse on the broomstick. It was eye-contact alone, wandlessly. How many wizards and witches can do that?"
"Do you suspect someone?" asked Dumbledore.
"Quirrel," Severus stated.
Dumbledore sighed deeply."Keep a watch on him, Severus."
Severus nodded wordlessly. Dumdbledore held his gaze for a long, long moment, until Severus finally snorted. "Care to ask me what is plaguing you, Albus? Or should I use Legillimency, not that it will pass through your Occlumency wards…"
Dumbledore chuckled. "So you do possess a tiny hint of humour, Severus!"
It took Severus quite some effort to refrain from roling his eyes.
"Had you ever seen Sirius at a Death Eater meeting?" asked Dumbledore, unsmiling now. "Ever heard of him working for Voldemort?"
Severus stared at him. "Why do you ask, Albus?"
"There is a possibility of Sirius being innocent of the crimes he was imprisoned for."
Severus froze, before he breathed in deeply. "Are you saying," he asked finally, "that Black did not betray Lily and Potter?"
"Yes."
Severus stood up, turning away from Dumbledore until he gathered contol of his emotions.
"How could the thought of that traitor being innocent even cross your mind?" he demanded, turning back to Dumbledore, his voice unnaturally loud.
"Ah! A Slytherin yelling at the great Albus Dumbledore!" said a snide voice from a portrait on the wall.
But the two men paid him no heed as Severus continued angrily."Lily died! She died because of Black! And you say he might be innocent! He was the secret-keeper. He betrayed Lily! Or she would still have been alive today." The last line came in a rather strained voice.
"I have enough reason to believe that Sirius is innocent," said Dumbledore, proceering to explain why exactly he thought so.
"So," thundered Severus when Dumbledore had his say, "You think Black is not guily just based on what his daughter says? From what she saw when the Dementors attacked her? You trust her word over all the proof of Black's guilt?"
"What proof, Severus?" said Dumbledore softly. "Sirius did not even get a trial. And from what Alastor told me last week, they had no evidence of Sirius' guilt – except for him being found at the scene of the crime. I have begun to doubt that he was the secret-keeper. And give me one reason for why he would kill James. You know how deep their friendship was."
"And what reason did Pettigrew have?" spat Severus. "Pettigrew was one of the most miserable cowards I know. While Black – that man had darkness running in his very blood! Don't you remember what Black did? How he tried to get me killed? He sent me to the werewolf. He wanted me dead. And when Black wanted to get a fellow student killed when wasn't even sixteen years of age, you think he would have thought twice about killing Lily at twenty-one?"
"Severus," said Dumbledore softly, and it was then that Severus realised that sparks were flying from the tip of his wand, his voice was hoarse at the words he had just bellowed.
"Sit down, Severus," said Dumbledore, his gaze now firm. And Severus complied.
"If you want to overlook a man's innocence for issues which have long passed by, for mistakes which he committed in his youth, then I think it is time you grew up, Severus."
Severus glowered at the older man, furious that Dumbledore was telling him to grow up.
"I agree Sirius sent you to the Shreiking Shack, but it was an impulsive, immature decision on his part, which he repented as he grew up. And I think you ought to rememeber, that it was James, your arch-nemesis, who saved your life, putting his own life in great peril."
"How can I forget that?" spat Severus. "The great James Potter did save me, but only to save his and his foolish friends' hides. To keep the werewolf's secret intact—and I have repaid the life-debt I owed him by saving his brat's life today. And that aside, you gave testimony that Black was secret-keeper! That he betrayed Lily!"
"I am as human as the next man, Severus; I make mistakes," said Dumbledore, his voice grave. "In fact, being rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger – and that is something I regret now more than ever."
"And speaking of mistakes," went on Dumbledore, "before you continue blaming Sirius for Lily's death, you ought to remember that it was you who erred in conveying the prophecy to Lord Voldemort."
Severus shut his eyes, Dumbledore's barb hitting exactly where he had intended it to.
"You have made your point," said Severus quietly. "What do you want to know?"
"Had you ever seen Sirius at a Death Eater meeting?"
"No. I hadn't," Severus admitted.
"Pettigrew?"
"No. I knew that a spy was working for the Dark Lord within the Order of the Phoenix. But I did not know of his identity. Only those followers of the Dark Lord who were higher up in the Death Eater hierarchy than me knew of him – like Lucius and Bellatrix."
Dumbledore sighed. "Tell me truthfully, Severus. Did you ever think Sirius capable of doing what he is accused of?"
Severus stared at a spot on the wall behind Dumbledore, reluctantly giving an honest reply: "No."
"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "Now may I know the exact reason for why you came in fuming? Why do I feel that it was because I failed to protect Harry? Is that why you saved Harry? Because you did not wish to see him hurt?"
"There was only one reason I saved Potter: the debt I owed his father, as I already told you. I do not, as you are trying to imply, care for the boy. He is Potter's son," Severus drawled contemptuously.
"He is Lily's son, too," said Dumbledore slyly.
"If you are done with trying to insinuate that I possess emotions, which I never will, for Potter's brat, may I tell you something far more important than your implications?" asked Severus tersely.
Dumbledore nodded, a smug smile at his wrinkled lips.
"There was someone else who was trying to stop the curse," said Severus, as Dumbledore finally centered his entire attention away from Potter and his spawn, to what Severus was saying. "I felt magic different from my own, working on negating the effects of the curse. And it definitely wasn't a student or a teacher, because the counter-curse would only be known by someone adept at Dark Magic."
Dumbledore nodded, deep in thought. "Thank you for informing me of this, Severus," he said finally.
"Is that all you will say on this?" demanded Severus. "Who do you suspect of having cast the counter-curse?"
"I will tell you," said Dumbledore, "but after I am sure of it myself. Now proceed for dinner, Severus. I will follow shortly. And remember to keep a watch on Quirrel."
Severus left, annoyed at Dumbledore's secretive nature, leaving behind the pensive headmaster who rapidly worked out who had probably cast the counter-curse: Sirius Black.
oOo
"Acquila!" Draco called out, as Acquila walked into the Great Hall with Harry, Hermione and Ron.
Acquila and Harry had got a letter from Andromeda and Ted Tonks the previous night, inviting them both to spend Christmas with them. And the two Gryffindors were extremely excited to spend their first Christmas with a real family.
"Hi, Draco," said Acquila warmly, smiling warmly at him.
Seeing Harry and Ron bristling at his presence, the blond-haired boy purposely went up to his cousin and hugged her, kissing her cheek.
"Can I talk to you, Acquila? Alone?" he said, looking pointedly at Ron who was glaring fiercely at him.
"Sure," said Acquila happily, glad that Draco was in such an unusually jovial mood.
"Come on." He linked her arm with his, as he had seen his parents do at social events. And as Acquila chattered with him about a Charms book she had read, Draco turned behind and smirked triumphantly at Harry and Ron, happy at having annoyed them.
They walked towards the Great Lake, talking on various topics.
"What do you want for Christmas?" Draco asked her suddenly.
"You don't have to give me anything," she replied, not quite used to receiving many gifts for Christmas.
"You have to tell me what you want," insisted Draco happily. "It'll be our fist Christmas together – at my Manor!"
"Umm, Draco," said Acquila hesitantly, "I'm going to Dora's place for Christmas."
He let go of her hand. "You're going to the half-bl—to Tonks' house? You won't come to the Manor with me?" he asked her gruffly.
"No," she said quietly, hoping Draco would understand. "I want to spend Christmas with Aunt Andy and Dora."
"Potter will be with you, too?" asked Draco bitterly.
"Yes. Dora's invited him."
"Acquila," he hissed, seizing her arm and gripping it tightly. "Why do you always keep choosing Potter over me? Do I mean nothing to you? I'm your cousin—"
"Draco," she said quietly, though she firmly freed her arm from his grip. "I'm not choosing Harry over you. Dora's my cousin, just like you are—and I want to spend Christmas with her—"
"Why not with me, then?" he demanded, an edge of hurt to his complaining voice.
"Look," said Acquila, deciding to be honest with him. "I don't want to come to your Manor—because your father's there."
"So what if he's there? You won't even have to meet him—you take the room in the East Wing, you won't even see him except at mealtimes," said Draco beseechingly. "I was so excited to spend Christmas with you, Acquila. You can't not come—and Mother's throwing the ball in your honour! You have to be there!"
"No," she said, her voice firm now, though she gently took his hand in hers. "I love you a lot, Draco, and I'm sorry that you I'm ruining Christmas—as you were excited to spend it with me. But I don't want to spend it with the man who murdered my grandparents."
"Don't talk to me, then!" he snapped, pulling his hand from hers. "Go enjoy Christmas with Potter and the blood-traitors!"
And with that, he walked away, paying no heed to her repeated calls asking for him to listen to her. Nor did he notice the sudden hurt in her eyes, replacing the bright happiness which had been there just moments ago.
oOo
Narcissa Malfoy sat in her room, reading through a long parchment containing a list of things to be purchased for the annual Christmas ball at the Manor. She could have left all the preparations for the ball to the elves, but she had learnt one important thing from her mother, Druella – a perfect hostess always personally took charge of event she was hosting, if she wanted the event to be talked about by the guests for days on end.
And this was one event where Narcissa had to ensure that the ball would be the talk of the magical world; the event which had to be unforgettable one for all those who had the privilege of attending it. It would be the day she would introduce her niece to all of pureblood Britain as the Heiress of the Houses of Black and Gamp.
Since the early ages, there were major social events which would be arranged for the daughters of pureblood families. One was when the girl turned eleven – she would be introduced to one and all as a daughter of her House. The other was when the girl was deemed to be of marriageable age. Her parents would throw a majestic ball in her honour, where prospective grooms from respectable wizarding families would see the girl to determine whether she was worthy of being chosen to marry into their families. Of course, certain girls were betrothed to wizards since right after their birth; but even for those girls, the coming-of-age ball was a must.
The guests, Narcissa was sure, would be pleased with Acquila… in awe of her, even. Back during the Ministry hearing, Narcissa had observed the girl keenly. And she couldn't deny she was impressed with what she had seen. The girl was a classic Black beauty, no doubt. Those high cheekbones, her grey eyes, the long black tresses, the sharpish nose – she was a complete Black, with hardly anything of the McKinnon girl. But some of her nature, thought Narcissa, was certainly from the McKinnons: like how she seemed wise beyond her years, and her innate curiosity, the quick sense of reasoning, the dignified manner in which she had stated her displeasure at staying with Narcissa and Lucius, the affectionate manner she had had with Andromeda, and above all, the way the girl was fiercely expressive, not one to hide her true feeling behind a facade.
But her most eye-catching qualities were ones she had surely got from Sirius: how she had a way with words unlike a child of her age, the fearlessness with which she had spoken her mind, the shrewd manner she had dealt with Lucius after the hearing, and that awe-inspiring, powerful display of magic.
If only, thought Narcissa part-sorrowfully, Acquila had been born of her rather than of Sirius and McKinnon. Along with all the qualities that she had noticed in Acquila, Narcissa knew that she was a very good-hearted soul from within – Draco's letters were testimony to it. And it only fuelled Narcissa's desire of having the girl as her daughter.
Narcissa had always wanted a daughter. She loved Draco, of course. On giving birth to Draco, she had fulfilled one of the main duties of a wife by ensuring that the Malfoy line had an heir. But she wanted a daughter as well. A little girl to love and nurture, to spoil and pamper, to dress up in the finest of and robes, to throw balls for; a little girl who would love her mother unconditionally, who would be not just a daughter to Narcissa but a friend as well. However, despite their best efforts, conceiving another child after Draco hadn't been possible for Lucius and her.
But now, after acquiring Acquila's guardianship, Narcissa wondered whether she could quench her decade-old thirst for a daughter through the Black heiress. Acquila was everything a mother could want in a daughter—but, she thought, willing the thoughts away, she could never love Acquila as her own child. Acquila was the spawn of two blood-traitors, the daughter of the man who rebelled against the very ideals which their family had stood for since centuries. The girl could never be a daughter to Narcissa.
But on the other hand, thought Narcissa hopefully, annoyed with her opposing emotions, Acquila was new to the magical world, someone who could be moulded as Narcissa wished. In addition to this, the girl would one day marry Draco and become the lady of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa would probably never be able to love the girl like a mother, but she would ensure that Acquila got the best of everything.
But nevertheless, a tiny hope flickered in the very depths of her mind which Narcissa tried to subdue – maybe someday, Acquila would indeed become the daughter Narcissa always wanted.
Dobby walked in, carrying something in his arms. And she told him to lay it on the bed.
It was when the elf left that Narcissa gently opened the wrapper around the thing Dobby had brought: a set of beautiful dress robes.
The robes had been in the Black family since centuries – an heirloom. It was to be worn only by the eldest daughter of the House. The eldest daughter in each generation, ranging from Aphrodite Black, an ancient ancestor, to Aunt Cassiopeia, Aunt Walburga and Bellatrix – all of them had worn the dress robes on the first ball when they were introduced to the pureblood public. She remembered watching Bella descend the staircase on their Father's arm, years ago; with those dark tresses cascading down to her waist, the dark green robes a beautiful contrast against her fair skin, her handsome Black family features accentuated in the light dispersing from the chandeliers above.
Narcissa gently clutched the robes to her chest, thinking of the sister whose loss had left a gaping hole in her heart.
She looked at the robes again, and then put them back in the wrapper.
She would send off the robes to Acquila along with the letter stating their significance – a perfect Christmas gift. And then, Acquila would walk down the staircase wearing the very dress robes which all the eldest daughters of their Ancient and Noble House had worn. The tradition would remain unbroken. Of course, there was the matter of Acquila being unwilling to come to the Manor, but Narcissa had the perfect solution for it. No matter what, the ball would be a success.
"Cissa," said Lucius, walking up to her, placing a kiss on Narcissa's cheek.
"Good evening, darling," she greeted him, wondering when he had entered the room.
"Still preparing for the Ball? I don't understand why you can't leave the task to that wretched elf," said Lucius.
"You won't understand," she said, smiling.
"And I also don't understand why you scheduled the ball for the Twenty-ninth, when it has been held on Christmas day since years," said Lucius, a hint of disagreement in his voice.
"You know what Draco wrote – Acquila is going to the Tonks' place for Christmas. She won't come here. But if we keep the ball on the Twenty-ninth, I am certain Acquila will attend it," replied Narcissa.
"What makes you so certain she'll be here?" asked Lucius. "She detests me. And she's as obstinate as your blood-traitor cousin was."
"She will come," said Narcissa, with a smug smile. "She detests you, but she loves Draco more."
"If she comes, well and good. But if she doesn't, our social standing will take a hit. And I won't have that. You are her legal guardian. You can drag her here, no matter what she thinks," said Lucius scornfully.
"I do not want to force her to come," said Narcissa quietly.
"Is my wife developing a soft spot for the blood-traitor brat?" asked Lucius calmly, but Narcissa could the anger beneath his tone.
"Of course not, Lucius," she said, her face emotionless, though her heart was thudding with fear of what her husband would say if he knew what she had been thinking for the past few minutes. "Of course not," she repeated. "But unlike you, I prefer to deal with people without unnecessary violence. So I will wait for the girl to come here on her own."
"As you wish, Cissy," he said, kissing her lips lightly, and she sighed against his lips, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.
oOo
"Dora! What's the matter?" asked Acquila worriedly. She had been woken up by Hermione, saying that Dora was at the portrait-hole door and wanted to meet her urgently.
"I have to leave—my granny's ill," said Dora, "My Dad's Mum. She's at a Muggle hospital, and the doctors said she might not have long to live."
"Oh," gasped Acquila, squeezing Dora's hand.
"I'm leaving now," said Dora. "Dumbledore gave me special permission—I'll be back here directly when school reopens after the Christmas holidays."
"So, we won't spend Christmas with all of you," said Acquila quietly, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
"Yeah, and I'm so sorry," sighed Dora. "I was so excited to spend time with Harry and you—but listen, if we're back in time for Christmas, Mum will come pick you both up from the station. And then we'll all have fun home!"
"Okay," said Acquila. "I hope your granny gets well soon."
"I've to leave now. The Portkey is waiting for me. Take care, and tell Harry that I'm sorry," said Dora. "And listen, you both will stay at Hogwarts, right?"
"Yes," said Acquila.
"Alright, bye, sweetie," said Dora, kissing her cheek quickly, before she rushed down the stairs, stumbling on the way.
"Bye, Dora," said Acquila, still feeling rather disappointed as she walked back to the Tower to inform Harry about it.
oOo
As Christmas neared, Hogwarts often woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow.
Acquila was still upset that Draco was avoiding her. Draco had been even more furious when she had decided to stay at the Castle with Harry after Dora left. He was enraged that Acquila had chosen to spend Christmas with Harry, rather than at the Manor. Acquila had tried to talk to him several times; but each time, he would just ignore her and walk away with Crabbe, Goyle and a sneering Pansy Parkinson by his side.
Acquila hated that her cousin was mad at her, especially around Christmas time. Harry tried to console her, but he was rather pleased that Draco wasn't hanging around her now.
When Harry, Hermione, Ron and Acquila left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.
"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."
"Come on, cheer up, Acquila," said Hagrid when he saw her slightly gloomy face. "It's nearly Christmas. Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."
The four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.
"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?" said Professor Flitwick.
The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.
"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.
"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me – we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."
"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.
"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "An' just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"
"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out about him."
"What!" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it! It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'—"
"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all. And we already know he's involved with Alchemy, and is friends with Professor Dumbledore," said Acquila.
"Would you like to tell us and save us the trouble, Hagrid?" asked Harry. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere – just give us a hint."
"I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.
"We just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, as hurried off to the library, with a disgruntled Hagrid watching them.
They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape (or Quirrell) was trying to steal? They knew where to start looking: the Alchemy books, but they hadn't had any luck as yet. He wasn't in Great Alchemists of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names in Alchemy in Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Alchemical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Alchemy. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library: tens of thousands of books, thousands of shelves, hundreds of narrow rows.
Acquila and Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles they had decided to search, and headed off in different directions to find their respective books, while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling out any book with the word 'Alchemy' on it. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, they needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.
They left the library half an hour later.
"Found anything?" Hermione asked.
"No!" all of them said in unison.
"I bet he'll be mentioned in some book in the Restricted Section," said Harry.
"Yeah," agreed Acquila. "We'll have to find a way to get permission to go in there."
"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."
Ron and his brothers were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas as Mr and Mrs Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Harry and Acquila, too, would be staying back at the Castle, of course. Harry had been quite sad that they wouldn't be spending Christmas with the Tonks. But he was fine with staying anywhere that wasn't Privet Drive.
"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."
"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.
oOo
"Ugh! Stop giggling, you two!" Acquila groaned to Lavender and Parvati early on Christmas morning.
"Come on, Acquila!" exclaimed Lavender. "It's Christmas! Look at the pile of gifts you've got!"
Acquila's opened her eyes wide, suddenly excited at the thought of gifts. She sat up quickly, grinning widely when she saw the gifts at the foot of her bed. In all the years she lived at the Orphanage, she had got just a couple of gifts each year. Seeing the heap of gifts waiting to be opened, her sulkiness of the past few days was all forgotten.
She eagerly picked up the one on top – it was from Harry. She tore open the wrappings and found a wonderful wizarding chess set. The tiny chess soldiers were trying to tear open the transparent cover to get out.
"Cool!" she whispered, placing the set aside, glad that Harry had known just what she wanted. Ron's chess set was rather battered. And this new one would be great to play with.
The next package was a tiny one with Draco's name scribbled on it. She smiled happily, not having expected Draco to gift her something.
She unwrapped it, finding a small velvet box inside.
"Wow!" she gasped, when she found a delicate emerald pendant inside it. She held it to her neck, watching the emerald gleam as the sunrays from the window fell on it.
She put it back into the box, wishing she had a pretty chain to wear the pendant on, when she found a note at the bottom of the velvet box.
Dearest Acquila,
I reckon I shouldn't have been rude to you over the past few days.
I'm missing you loads.
Mother is throwing our annual ball on the 29th instead of today. I still hope I'll see you there.
Love,
Draco
She smiled. That was as close to an apology she would get from Draco for his surly surliness. But the ball on the 29th – there was no way she would attend that, even if it meant hurting Draco's feelings.
She took the next parcel. It was a rather large on, with a note pinned to it in an elegant hand:
Happy Christmas, Acquila
This parcel contains dress robes which are a Black family heirloom – meant to be worn by the eldest daughter of the House. It has been in the family since centuries, worn by the eldest daughter of each generation.
I will throw a ball in your honour on the 29th – the traditional ball which is held for every pureblood witch after she turns eleven. You are the last in the male line of our Ancient family. And I hope you will not let our ancestors down by failing to continue our age-old, noble traditions.
I expect to see you on the 28th, when I shall come to Hogwarts to escort you to Malfoy Manor for the ball.
Love, your Aunt Narcissa
Acquila snorted, keeping the note aside. The thought of continuing the family tradition was one which was quite inviting – especially because of the years she had spent wondering about her family. But she wouldn't go to Malfoy Manor, come what may.
She frowned at the parcel, not quite knowing whether she ought to accept the gift. But her curiosity got the better of her.
She opened it, gasping when she saw what lay within: the prettiest silk robes she had seen, of a dark shade of green, which looked almost black. She picked it up, feeling the softness of the silk, watching the row of little silver beads around the bust glimmering brightly.
"Merlin! Such lovely robes!" Lavender squealed in delight.
"Who gifted them to you?" Parvati asked excitedly, cooing at the elegance of the gown.
"It doesn't matter," muttered Acquila dropping the robes, only for Lavender and Parvati to take them from her.
Why were the Malfoys after her life? She had already told them she wouldn't be coming for the Christmas holidays. Why did they still expect her to come for the ball?
She picked up another gift, ignoring Lavender and Parvati gossiping about the ball and the one was from Mrs Weasley, a blue sweater with a huge 'A' on it. She loved it and wore it immediately, mentally making a note to write to Mrs Weasley at the earliest to thank her for the jumper.
Next, she opened Andromeda's present; inside was a rectangular book.
"Oh," whispered Acquila, as she saw what lay within it. There was a photograph of a pretty, kind-faced woman, smiling lovingly at the tiny infant in her arms.
And Acquila suddenly felt a little lump in her throat as she realised who it was: Athena, with a little Acquila in her arms. She ran her fingers over her mother's smiling face, watching Athena's hand lovingly caress the little black tufts of hair on the baby's head, before the magical photograph began playing again from the beginning.
She turned the page, feeling a fierce rush of conflicting emotions emerge within her: immense sorrow and loss, and something that seemed like joy, happiness…that years ago, she had lain contentedly in the loving arms of her mother…
The next picture was another one of Athena, with her parents – Acquila's grandparents, she realised with a pang. That was followed by some pictures of Athena's school days, ones with a large group of friends in which she recognised her father, another one with the Tonks family, with Athena standing with a little lookalike by her side: one of Dora's early attempts at successful morphing, she realised.
It was the very last picture that made Acquila sigh softly: one of her parents' wedding day.
Athena's dress wasn't too ornate. On the contrary, it looked a little too simple to belong to a bride on her wedding day. Sirius, too, was dressed in simple dress robes, nothing like the rich ones she had seen people wearing in photographs in some of the magical books she had read. However, both of them seemed happy, genuinely joyous… and visibly in love with each other, Sirius pulling Athena into a deep kiss, before the photograph went back to the beginning.
This was, Acquila decided as she placed the album safely in her trunk, the best Christmas gift she had ever got.
She opened the rest of her gifts: a wooden flute from Hagrid, a pair of pink stockings from Dora, sweets from Ron, a book on wandless magic from Hermione.
The last gift was a long brown package; it had no name, no note accompanying it. And she knew what it contained: a broomstick. She found that her hunch was right – the package held a brand new Nimbus Two-thousand in it!
"Cool!" she exclaimed happily, wondering who had gifted her the broom, but too excited to show it to Harry.
She rushed to the Common Room, ignoring Lavender and Parvati's calls.
Seeing that the boys hadn't come down yet, she picked the armchair closest to the fire, waiting for them. Suddenly, something touched her shoulder, and she yelped, only to find no one around.
But when she felt it again, a moment later, she turned around firmly.
"Whoever you are, show yourself right now!" she said, groping around in thin air for the sneaky git – it was one of the twins, no doubt, she thought, trying to prank her. They had probably got hold of some spell to temporarily turn them invisible.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, as an invisible hand grasped her arm and spun her around. "What the—HARRY!"
It was Harry! Appearing in front of her out of thin air – well, only half of him appearing; the lower half of him was still invisible!
"You—what—how—" she sputtered.
Harry guffawed heartily, eyes bright, as he pulled something shimmering off him.
"That's an Invisibility Cloak!" Acquila exclaimed. "I read about them when we were looking through books on Flamel!"
"It is!" exclaimed Harry, handing it over to her.
"This is brilliant!" she cried incredulously, examing it from every angle, donning it and finding herself completely invisible. "Where did you get it from?"
"Christmas gift," replied Harry happily. "No name – just a not saying 'use it carefully', and that it belonged to my Dad."
"Wow!" she said, as Ron came down the staircase. "I got an anonymous gift, too – a Nimbus Two-thousand… Look!"
She handed over the broomstick to Harry, who grinned at her. "Now, I can race you over the Quidditch pitch!" he said happily.
"How come I don't get any gifts from secret admirers?" grumbled Ron, clearly jealous. "Harry's got two of them."
"Two?" Acquila asked.
"Yeah," said Harry. "I got another gift – a Broomstick Servicing Kit."
"That's cool!" said Acquila.
"But you know what one of my favourite gifts was?" said Harry, voice quiet now. "This."
And he held out his palm, on which lay the Golden Snitch Acquila had gifted him, its little wings fluttering, with 'HP' engraved on it in glimmering red letters – golden and red, Gryffindor colours.
"The chess set was one of my favourites, too," she replied, putting her arms around him and kissing his cheek. "Merry Christmas, Harry."
"Merry Christmas," he whispered, kissing her cheek, too – the first time he had done that. And she couldn't quite ignore the wriggly little feeling that assailed her tummy, nor could she hold back her giddy grin.
oOo
Both, Harry and Acquila, had never in all their life had such a Christmas dinner: a hundred fat, roast turkeys, mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, platters of chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.
After the meal, they had spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds with Ron and the twins, after which Acquila and Harry had raced on their respective Nimbus, Harry easily beating her.
Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they all returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Acquila broke in her new chess set by beating Ron narrowly, much to the redhead's chagrin and the twin's pleasure.
After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge. Ron went up to the dormitory to sleep and Harry and Acquila continued to play chess in the common room.
Minutes later, Ron came running down, with a bedsheet in his hand, looking furious.
"Acquila, look at what your cat did!" Ron yelled, showing her the blood stains on the bedsheet. "It killed Scabbers!"
"She couldn't have!" cried Acquila indignantly, looking around for Nyx. "Nyx wouldn't do that! Scabbers must be there somewhere in your dormitory!"
"He isn't anywhere!" snapped Ron, beetroot-red with anger. "I looked! The only thing left of him is this blood and some of his rat hair around it!"
"Ron," put in Harry uncomfortably. "I don't think Nyx did it. And anyway, Scabbers didn't look too well recently. Maybe he just died—"
"No!" snarled Ron. "Nyx had an eye on Scabbers since the very first day—in the train—"
"But Nyx wouldn't have killed Scabbers!" exclaimed Acquila.
"Where's Hermione when we need her," muttered Harry.
"What!" Ron and Acquila asked him together.
"Nothing!" he said hastily. "Look, even if it was Nyx, Ron, you don't need to yell at Acquila for it. It wasn't her fault—"
"Of course!" spat Ron furiously. "You'll support her, of course! You've been friends with her since long before you even met me—"
"Stop that," cut in Acquila firmly. "Harry's your friend, too. He's taking my side because he knows it's not my fault."
"There's no point arguing with you," said Ron, seething. "Your bloody cat killed my rat! And I don't ever want to talk to you again!"
"Git," huffed Acquila, sinking into the couch.
"He'll be fine," said Harry, trying to cheer her up.
"Do you really think Nyx killed Scabbers?" asked Acquila.
"Maybe," muttered Harry vaguely.
"But she wouldn't! I know she used to chase him all over the Tower, but she knows Scabber was Ron's pet. She wouldn't have killed him, Harry."
Harry nodded placatingly. "Cheer up. It's Christmas time."
Acquila said nothing, staring at the floor. "I thought Ron was warming up to me. I knew he hated me in the beginning… but I was happy we were friends now."
"He'll come around," said Harry. "Now put that frown away and smile!"
She managed a half-hearted smile.
"That won't do," he said. "But I know what'll cheer you up."
"What?" she asked him curiously.
"You'll have to wait for tonight," he replied with a grin.
oOo
Harry crept down the staircase leading out of his dormitory silently, covered by the Invisibility Cloak. He had thought of taking Ron along with him, but he wanted to share the only thing he had of his father's with Acquila first. If something could cheer up Acquila after the Scabbers-Nyx debacle, it had to be prowling around the Castle invisibly.
He walked up to the Common Room, wondering how to go up to the girls' dormitory to wake her up. But to his utter surprise, Acquila was sitting in an armchair by the fire.
"Hey," he said softly, pulling the Cloak off him.
"Hey," she replied, smirking. "I knew this was what you'd planned!"
He punched her arm playfully, wondering how she had guessed what he'd planned. But well, she sometimes knew him better than even he himself did.
"Come on," he said, holding the Cloak and draping it over both of them. "So, where do we begin?" he asked excitedly. "We can go to the Restricted Section… to look for stuff on Flamel—"
"Library? Seriously?" She shook her head. "I have a better idea! Let's explore the school and search for the secret passages I heard the twins talking about!" Her eyes were alight with eagerness.
"Never thought I'd see the day you decline a trip to the library," he said, grinning. "Let's go."
He pulled the Cloak securely over them, clasped her hand, and walked out of the portrait hole.
"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady, but they ignored her, creeping away to the staircase, both thrumming with uncontrollable excitement.
They had the whole of Hogwarts open to them! Free to wander where they wished, without anyone able to see them.
They crept down the staircases, Acquila almost missing a trick-stair till Harry pulled her up in time.
"Thanks," she whispered, as he pulled her towards the next staircase.
"Where do we begin from?" he asked her.
"Let's begin with the Third Floor," she said, picking a floor at random.
It was there that they noticed a door which stood ajar.
"Let's go in there, Harry," she whispered.
"Alright," he agreed, curious as to what lay within.
They walked into the room, Cloak held tight around them. It looked like an unused classroom; chairs and desks were piled against the walls, along with an upturned waste-paper basket.
But propped against the wall facing them was something which seemed quite out of place in the unused classroom. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet.
"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru on wohsi," Acquila read out the words carved on the top of the mirror.
She went and stood in the front of the mirror. But what she saw next had her screaming involuntarily, until Harry clamped his hand shut over her mouth.
"What's wrong with you?" he hissed.
She silently grabbed his hand and pointed to the mirror, her heart beating frantically against her rib-cage.
"Can you see him?" she whispered, grabbing at the air behind her to see whether she could touch him, but her hands felt nothing. It was her father, standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He smiled at her widely. He seemed nothing like the prisoner in tattered clothes, whom she had seen in picture in the Daily Prophet. On the contrary, he wore a rich-looking set of black robes. His black hair fell gracefully onto his forehead, and he seemed much younger than he looked in the photograph. His grey eyes which were so similar to her own, bored into hers lovingly, full of affection for her – a different kind of affection, like what she'd seen in Athena's eyes in the photograph. He bent down and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"Can't you see him?" she whispered to Harry, heart sinking when she realised she couldn't feel the kiss Sirius pressed to her head. "He's not a convict," she mumbled. "He's a free man!"
But Harry seemed to be lost in staring at the mirror. He then turned to look behind him as if expecting to see someone standing there. Before she could ask him if he could see her father in the mirror, she heard say in a whisper full of longing and love:"Mum? Dad?"
He turned to her. "Can you see them, Acquila? My Mum—look, her eyes are just like mine! And Dad—his hair is messy just like mine, look—and that man there, he wobbly knees like mine!"
Harry's voice was heavy with longing, and slightly hoarse with the lump she thought has lodged in his throat.
She looked into the mirror again, but all she could see was her Sirius.
"Can you see my dad, Harry? Behind me?" she asked Harry hesitantly.
"No," he replied, voice low. "I can just see my family…my parents. But—but I can't see you, or me—how's that happening?" He sounded more alert, now.
"I can't see us, too. I can just see my father," she replied, as Harry moved closer to the glass of the mirror, his face almost touching it.
"Hey!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I've seen my parents earlier! In the photograph! With your parents!"
"What!"
"Yes! It was them! I'm sure!"
"You mean—our parents were friends, too?" she gasped.
"I think so!" he exclaimed, suddenly pulling her into a rib-crushing hug, which she returned with equal fervor.
"I miss them," he whispered when he let her go, and then turned back to the mirror.
They stood there, for a long time, both gazing into the mirror to their hearts' content, sitting down on the stony floor, Acquila's arm around Harry, holding him close.
"I think we should leave," she said finally.
"Yes," he agreed.
"Do we explore some more."
He nodded, seeming a little happier than he had been when he had been staring at the mirror.
And that was how they found themselves on the Fourth Floor, hearing voices in the distance.
"—yes… Poor child…don't think she knows…Black did—" It was Madam Pomfrey, talking to someone.
"Come on," said Acquila, pulling Harry with her, wanting to know what the nurse was talking about her, since she'd said 'Black'.
"—don't you know?" continued Madam Pomfret "Had you ever seen one of them without the other?"
"Oh, I remember!" said the other voice. It was Professor Sprout. "They were like two peas in a pod – James Potter and Sirius Black. Best friends since their first year."
Harry clasped Acquila's hand beneath the Cloak, smiling at the words. Their fathers were best friends, too, then – just like Acquila and he were.
"Professor Flitwick told me the other day – very few people know of it. Do you know the Fidelius charm?" asked the Nurse.
"Fidelius? Isn't that the charm that conceals a secret inside an individual's soul."
"Yes. The witch or wizard who houses the secret is known as the Secret Keeper. And Sirius was the Secret Keeper for James and Lily's house in Godric's Hollow," said Madam Pomfrey.
Professor Sprout gasped. "Sirius? But—but he wouldn't betray James…they were like brothers!"
Harry's grip suddenly tightened on Acquila's arm, while she shivered.
Betrayed?
What did Professor Sprout mean by Sirius betraying James?
"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey. "Sirius betrayed the Potters to He Who Must Not Be Named. He told him of the Potters' location."
Professor Sprout gasped.
"Do you remember Peter Pettigrew – the small boy who always hovered around James and Sirius?" the nurse continued.
"I do," said the Herbology Professor, her voice strained.
"He went after Sirius to avenge the Potters' death. And Sirius blew up the street – killed twelve people with a single curse."
"Holy Helga!" whispered Professor Sprout. "And Acquila and Harry know nothing of this?"
"No. Nothing. The poor children are the best of friends, but they know nothing of this," said Madam Pomphrey.
Acquila was rooted to the spot, unable to believe her ears.
Her father betrayed Harry's parents?
Her father was responsible for Harry having to live as an orphan all these years?
And she had begun to believe Sirius—begun to think that he was a good man, that he hadn't done what he had been accused for! She had been wanting to meet him for God's sake! But he had gone and led to Harry's parents being killed…
Hot tears trickled down her face, without her even realising. Nor had she realised that Harry had abruptly let go of her hand. He was breathing deeply, saying nothing.
"Aaaah!" came a strangled voice from one of the beds.
"My patient beckons, Pomona. Thanks for the asphodel," said Madam Pomfrey.
"Good night, Poppy," said Professor Sprout, as she walked away, passing an invisible Harry and Acquila.
Harry grabbed Acquila's hand roughly and dragged her towards the staircase as soon as both the women were out of sight.
"Harry?" she whispered, fear gripping her heart at his angry demeanor.
Of course, he had every right to be angry. She would have been angry, too, if she knew that her parents were dead due to being betrayed by their best friend. But Harry wouldn't blame her for her father's crimes, would he? He was the one who had told her that her family didn't make her what she was.
As they entered through the portrait door, her heart was thudding like never before. He let go her hand by which he had been dragging her up the staircases. He took the Invisibility Cloak off them in one wild motion, and threw it at the armchair.
He then looked straight into her eyes, the words she had been about to utter dying on her lips as she saw his eyes blazing with anger and hatred, something she had never ever seen before.
"I hate your father," he spat at her, voice trembling with fury. "And I hate you, too."
And she felt something within her shattering into pieces at his words.
