Gwyn Swann and the Prisoner of Azkaban
by Lady Dawson
Chapter Fourteen: An Unexpected Friend
The story of what had happened in Gryffindor Tower soon spread through Hogwarts like a wildfire, especially since an investigation of the castle was underway. Gwyn hadn't expected them to find Black; no, he seemed to be well-adept at getting himself out of sticky situations. What she didn't know was why she still believed that there was something wrong with the situation.
She was well aware of the fact that he was the sole person to escape Azkaban.
She was well aware of the fact that he was trying to kill her best friend.
She was well aware of the fact that he had launched an attack on the Fat Lady at Halloween.
She was well aware of the fact that he had entered Gryffindor Tower and had almost killed another one of her friends before going on to Harry's bed.
All of these things she knew perfectly well and despite all of these reasons and many more, Gwyn couldn't bring herself to believe that Black was entirely guilty of the crimes that had been committed in his name. Why hadn't he just shut up Ron before going over to Harry's bed?
Harry pointed out that he would've had a hard time getting out of Hogwarts if he had lingered, but Gwyn wasn't so sure. Maybe it was her seer powers or maybe she was just crazy, but there was something else going on.
Meanwhile, all around the castle, security was doubling. Sir Cadogan had been returned to his place on the seventh floor and the Fat Lady had returned, but now they had to walk past security trolls whenever they went back to the Tower. Gwyn tried to avoid going back to the Tower except at night, carrying everything that she needed for that day so she wouldn't have to walk past them. The smell kind of got to her.
She felt sorry for Neville though. Apart from being banned from Hogsmeade and forbidden from knowing the passwords, he had received a Howler from his grandmother, who shrieked for the entire Great Hall to hear about he had shamed their family.
That same day that he received it, Harry had gotten a letter from Hagrid, who invited the three of them down to his place for tea. Upon arriving, Gwyn saw a very terrible suit hanging from his wardrobe and immediately remembered that the hearing for Buckbeak was coming up. Hermione had been doing some research in the library for it with some help from Gwyn, but she hadn't been doing nearly as much as the bushy-haired witch.
"I got something' ter discuss with you two," Hagrid said seriously. "Not Gwyn so much, but yeh should still be doin' more than yeh are."
Gwyn immediately knew what he was talking about, just by the cryptic words. "Hey, this is between him—" she pointed at Ron, "and Hermione. I'm not getting in the middle of this."
"What about her?" Ron grumbled.
"She's in a righ' state, that's what. She's bin comin' down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Firs' yeh weren' talking to her because o' the Firebolt, now yer not talkin' to her because her cat—"
"Ate Scabbers!" Ron said angrily.
"Because her cat acted as all cats do," Hagrid corrected. "She's cried a few times, yeh know. Goin' through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin' ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind. . . . She's found some really good stuff fer me . . . reckon he'll stand a good chance now. . . ."
"Hagrid, we should've helped as well—sorry—" Harry said weakly, looking extremely uncomfortable.
"I'm not blamin' yeh! Yeh've got enough ter be gettin' on with. I've seen yeh practicin' Quidditch ev'ry hour o' the day an' night—but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. Tha's all." Hagrid shook his head. "Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an' you two not talkin' to her—"
"If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron was angry. "But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it! Tabby never went after Scabbers and he's known Scabbers for nearly three years!"
"Yeah, but I got Tabby when he was a kitten, just a baby," Gwyn pointed out patiently. "I was able to teach him what was right and wrong. It would be like your mum and dad taking some kid off the streets, about eleven or twelve, and trying to teach him morals. It's not as easy as it seems."
"People can also be a bit stupid abou' their pets," Hagrid added wisely. Gwyn chuckled as the conversation moved away from Hermione and onto Quidditch.
--
The following weekend was another Hogsmeade weekend. Not in the mood to deal with Ron's complaining and moaning about Hermione and Hermione not even going to Hogsmeade, Gwyn wandered through the shops alone, sitting alone at Three Broomsticks and drinking a butterbeer as she read a book she'd picked up at the bookstore when a deep, polite voice asked, "Is this seat taken?"
Gwyn looked up to see a fourth-year Slytherin standing awkwardly near her. He had a pleasant looking face with dark locks that hung casually into his deep, grey eyes that held a hint of mischievousness in it. "No, go ahead," she said with a shrug, gesturing to the seat. He gave her a smile before sliding into the seat across from her.
"Good book?" he asked, gesturing towards the open volume she had in front of her.
"Not bad," Gwyn answered, surprised at his polite tone. "They've got a pretty good selection on Charms books at the bookstore a couple blocks from here." She paused. "I'm Gwyn Swann."
"I know." He grinned at her expression. "It's kind of hard for people not to know who you are with the crowd that you hang with. I mean, with Potter and Granger and now that Weasley's got people flouncing around him since that incident with Black, you're pretty famous around the school." Gwyn chuckled, conceding his point. "Tristan Bennett."
"Nice to meet you, Tristan," Gwyn said, smiling at him. It was strange to see a Gryffindor and a Slytherin talking in such polite terms, but not all of them had to be like Malfoy.
"So, Gwyn, where are you friends at?" Tristan queried, taking a look around, as though he expected them to pop up out of nowhere and start lecturing about hanging out with a Slytherin. Which, if Ron knew, he probably would. Thankfully, he had headed over to Zonko's or something. He was being extremely vague, which made Gwyn worry.
"They're not here." Gwyn shrugged. "Ron and Hermione are having some sort of a fight and Harry doesn't have permission to come." Tristan nodded in understanding. "Not that I'm complaining, but why exactly are you talking to me? This is the first polite conversation that I've had with a Slytherin since I've started here."
"Well, the other Slytherins don't exactly like me very much," Tristan admitted as he cast a quick glance at a few of them, eyeing the two suspiciously. "They think I'm . . . oh, what's the word for it . . . worthless?"
"Half-blood?" Gwyn guessed.
"Worse," Tristan replied smoothly. "Muggle-born." Gwyn choked on her butterbeer as she took a sip.
"In Slytherin?!" she managed to say once she had gotten a hold of her coughing. Tristan patted her on the back as he nodded. "Okay, now I didn't see that one coming. Wow . . . that's . . . beyond comprehension. I didn't think that I'd ever hear that one."
"Well, not all Slytherins are like Death Eaters," Tristan pointed out. "I mean, there's a lot of them that are, but some are just in it because they have a lot of ambition. Take Lindsey Harrison, for example," he added, nodding to a redheaded girl at the counter. "Slytherin, fifth-year. Her parents are pretty high up on the blue blood wizarding society, but her greatest wish is to become Minister of Magic one day.
"Uh . . . let's see . . . Brian Schultz," he said, looking towards a brunette boy around Gwyn's age, maybe older. "He's in his third-year. Dad married a Muggle and his grandparents cut them off, but took pity on their half-breed grandson." He said this with a hint of disgust in his voice. "He wants to run his own business, possibly as a restaurant or selling potion ingredients.
"Hmm . . . Amy Lawrence," he added, gesturing towards a blonde girl with her arm around a taller, brunette guy that had a vague expression on his face. "Born to one of the wealthiest wizarding families around and while her family would like her to settle down with a nice pure-blood, she would rather go into the Ministry, hopefully the Department of Magical Sports and Games, and run it one day."
Gwyn stared at him in amazement and he shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with Slytherin. In fact, I think that part of the problem is that Slytherins are set apart from the rest of the school. Maybe that's why so many of them turn out to be bad."
"Or maybe it's just hereditary," Gwyn suggested.
"You don't believe that," Tristan said flatly. She blinked. "If you did, then you wouldn't be in Gryffindor. You wouldn't have followed your mum's path and chose to be friends with those who were supposed to be your inferiors. You'd be in Slytherin and treating everyone like they were beneath you."
Gwyn felt something flash through her mind, but it went by so quickly that she wasn't sure what it was. "Sounds like something I would say," she said after a long moment. "So . . . what about your parents? What do they do?"
Tristan's mouth twitched slightly and he looked down. "I wouldn't know. I was raised at an orphanage." Gwyn frowned in sympathy. "Apparently, I was dropped off there by a man, my father I suppose, and told them that my name was Tristan Bennett. I'm not even sure if that's my real name or not. I don't know who my parents are, don't know why they abandoned me, I don't even know if I'm really Muggle-born. Maybe one of my parents was a witch or wizard, I don't know."
"Maybe you'll find out one day," Gwyn offered.
"Yeah, maybe," Tristan said with a sigh. "And maybe when I find out, I'm gonna wish that I didn't."
"Or maybe not," Gwyn said gently. "Maybe they're gonna be wonderful. Maybe you're going to be glad that you know. Maybe they always wanted you, they just got lost."
Tristan's mouth turned upwards into a smile. "Are you sure that you're only thirteen?" he asked. Gwyn laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. "I don't have to ask about your mum; pretty much everybody knows about Aurora Swann. But how about your dad?"
Gwyn looked down, images of her dad getting married the past summer flashing through her mind, along with the one of the day he had thrown her out of her own house, to be living in the streets, if Madeline hadn't taken her in.
"My dad doesn't really like the whole magic thing," she admitted. "I live with one of my mum's friends. Things are . . . better than they used to be, I suppose. He doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore, but he isn't trying to push me and my stepbrother apart. And that's something."
"You've got a stepbrother?"
"Yeah, Evan Taylor. He's okay. Pretty thrilled with the whole magic part of it, once I finally got around to telling him."
Tristan looked distracted for a second, but then he smiled. "I think that's great, that you're able to confide in family. Kind of sucks about your dad, though. I guess sometimes families suck." Gwyn smiled and nodded just as Morgause and Alaric walked through the door, heading towards the counter.
"You know, they really do," she said with a sigh. "I'm gonna head out of here, okay? Go walk around a little bit."
Tristan glanced behind him and saw who she had looked at, his eyes raising in understanding. "You don't mind if I come with, do you? It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't treat you like dirt."
"Not at all."
Gwyn and Tristan headed out towards the door, but Morgause's words stopped her in her tracks.
"Draco swears he saw the whole thing. He and his friends were up at the Shrieking Shack when all of this weird stuff started happening. Someone was throwing mud at them and sludge and then they threw a stick at them. And then he saw it."
"What?"
"Harry Potter's head. Sitting in midair."
The blood drained from Gwyn's face as she stared back at Morgause, only for a minute. "Oh, boy," she muttered.
"Unbelievable," Tristan muttered. "Some of the things that she can come up with, it's unreal. I mean, who'd believe something like that?"
Gwyn let out a weak laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty unbelievable. Uh . . . I'm sorry, I have to go check on something. Excuse me," she added, leaving a confused Tristan behind as she raced out the door, heading for the castle.
Racing through the gates, she sped across the grounds, keeping an eye out for any of her friends. She didn't have to look for very long. Not a second than she passed through the doors, Gwyn saw Harry, Ron, and Professor Lupin walking towards her. "Thank goodness!" she said, relieved, but she kept her mouth shut about what she had heard. "What happened?"
"Long story," Harry muttered before looking at Lupin. "Professor, I—"
"I don't want to hear explanations," Lupin replied, casting a look around the four of them. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he added to the trio's expressions. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry."
Harry, to her great surprised, didn't even argue. Instead, he asked, "Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?"
"Because . . . because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of the school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."
"You know them?" Gwyn asked, glancing at the Marauder's Map that was in Lupin's hands. She guessed what must've happened. Harry must've run back to school, caught by Snape, and Lupin had bailed him out of trouble. She wasn't sure who she wanted to throttle first: Harry, Ron, or Snape. Gwyn wanted to slap all three of them.
Lupin nodded. "We've met," he answered, turning to look seriously at her best friend, who was looking guilty as he looked back at Lupin. "Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Back seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive. A poor way to repay them—gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."
Without another word, Lupin walked away from them and Gwyn turned to look at her friends, hands planting on her hips. "You two," she said in an annoyed voice, "are the most daft, moronic idiots that I have ever come across. I hope that you are well aware of that and that you aren't gonna be trying this again anytime soon." She was looking at Harry more than Ron, but both of them nodded miserably. "Good, because I swear, right now, I could throttle the both of you and think nothing of it. You two are such idiots!"
Turning on her heel, she headed up to the common room, knowing that they would be following her shortly, but stopped when she saw Hermione walking towards them. "Hermione?" she asked, seeing the bushy-haired witch's expression. "What's wrong?"
"Come to have a good gloat?" Ron wanted to know. The boys had come up behind her and seen Hermione. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"
"No," Hermione whispered. Gwyn realised that she was holding a letter and her hands were trembling slightly. She knew, she realised, a second before Hermione said it. "I just thought you ought to know . . . Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed."