Black Bond Chapter 25 - Mysteries Galore Part II, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: Same as the last chapter

Chapter 25: Mysteries Galore- Part II

Sirius tossed and turned in his bed, glancing at the Mirror every few minutes. He hadn't even gone for Auror training. Remus and Nymphie had been quite shocked at the Daily Prophet report. And Nymphie had proceeded to question him about his disagreement with Acquila. But he hadn't told them much about it. She was his daughter, his responsibility. And he would deal with her. Nor had he spoken to anyone about his confusion about Nigella.

Hell, he wasn't even confused about his attraction towards her anymore! After Harry had told him of Acquila's reaction to the Daily Prophet report, all thoughts of Nigella had jumped out of his mind! He couldn't lose his only daughter over some witch, no matter how attractive she was. And his guilt over getting aroused by a woman who wasn't Athena was already eating at his heart. He'd reasoned with himself that his arousal was only because he hadn't got laid since years. He was a man, after all. And he'd always had a rather high libido. And with Nigella being a captivating witch, his body was bound to react! It didn't mean that he liked Nigella romantically or something. It had been a temporary attraction-one which had seemed quite trivial when he had woken up that morning after a tired sleep.

"Dad! Sirius Black!"Acquila's voice echoed through the silence.

"Acquila!" he exclaimed in relief, grabbing the Mirror.

"Hey," said the Acquila in the Mirror.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you, love. I was—" Sirius paused suddenly, noticing that she seemed quite flustered. Her cheeks had splotches of pink, and she wasn't really meeting his eyes.

And she reminded him of the one time Athena had blushed in mortification, when McGonagall had walked into the empty classroom in which they had been occupied in a rather heated make-out session. Acquila hadn't—she hadn't kissed someone, had she? He made to ask her that, but then, he remained silent. She wouldn't tell him what the matter was...just like he hadn't told her about Nigella...

"Harry told me you didn't go for training today," she remarked suddenly, finally meeting his eyes with her own.

"Yes, I didn't," he admitted, "I couldn't have trained anyway knowing you were angry with me. Look, sweetheart, I'm really sorry for yelling at you—I shouldn't have snapped at you—"

"It's okay," she cut him off. "I yelled at Harry as well...so—I think being short tempered runs in the family..."

"It does," he snorted, thinking of his mother.

"So, are you going to tell me what exactly happened at the ball?" she asked him.

And Sirius took a deep breath. He'd racked his brains over what to tell her all day. And he'd decided that being honest with her would bode well for both of them.

"I'll tell you if you promise not to react angrily till I complete saying what I have to," he said finally.

She remained silent for a moment, before nodding in acquiescence.

"I did dance with Nigella...I did talk to her all through dinner...and—and I did get attracted to her—"

"YOU CAN'T!" cut in Acquila. "She's Marcus Flint's aunt! And I didn't like her when I met her at Malfoy Manor!"

"You said you'll listen to me before you react," he said quietly.

Acquila glared at him. "Fine! Continue!"

"I'm—I'm a human being! I'm a man...and I'm bound to—to feel attracted to women...but that doesn't mean that I'm going to date someone or—or marry someone. I loved Athena...Damn! I still love her! There hasn't been a single day since I've been acquitted that I haven't thought of her! I loved her since I was fourteen! I dated her since I was sixteen! I married her...and we had you! And I'm never going to forget her, Acquila! You don't know how I feel— we were supposed to bring you up together! She wanted to see you grow up...to drop you and pick you up from the Muggle kindergarten school...to dress you up in those frilly clothes she'd bought for you and click loads of pictures so that we could always remember your growing up days...watch you squabble with your younger siblings…she wanted to see you off to Hogwarts...see you get sorted in Ravenclaw...watch you fall in love...but she could do none of that! And believe me, love, there hasn't been one moment when I haven't missed her. And no one, absolutely no one can replace her. We dreamt of a life together...she made me what I am...and she gave me you!"

Acquila silently studied her father; inwardly thinking over what he said. This was the most he'd spoken to her about her mother in the recent past.

"Are you understanding me, sweetheart?" he asked her. "There will be times when I might feel attracted to some woman...especially with Andy deciding that I have to make myself a lot more visible in wizarding society to reconnect with Houses...but that doesn't mean that I'm going to date someone...or marry someone. I still love your mother...I always will! And do you think I'll date someone if you don't accept her? Your opinion matters a lot to me, love...and I won't do anything that you don't agree with! I'd told you this the last time we'd spoken about this, as well...you are my only child, Acquila...you're my daughter...my own flesh and blood. And you mean the world to me! I've got you back after a decade of thinking you were dead...you're Athena's greatest gift to me...the one thing that she's left behind. And I swear I love you more than anyone else in the world. And it's going to remain that way, love..." he trailed off, knowing he was rambling a little.

"I love you too, Dad," she said softy. "And I—I don't like the idea of you with someone like Nigella...I spent a decade without you...and—and I don't want to share you with some silly witch...and her future children," she admitted in small voice, "You're my father...I don't want you hanging out with witches and—and sleeping around like you did when you were younger—"

"That's not going to happen," he said tersely, not liking the idea of discussing his sex-life with his daughter of all people. Damn! How was his daughter completely open with discussing his sleeping habits, while Harry blushed in embarrassment while even talking of kissing?

"You don't need to sound so prudish, Dad," snorted Acquila. "Aunt Andy told me all about sex and—"

"I didn't tell her to give you the talk so that you could discuss my—my private life with me!" he grumbled.

"Alright, alright," she said, chuckling, before she turned serious again. "If—if at all in future, you do like some woman, you—you wouldn't forget Mum, will you?"

"Of course not! How can I forget Athena?" he exclaimed. "I told you, Acquila, even though she's no more, she's still the first and only girl I truly fell in love with…I can never forget her. I swear I can't. I think of her in even the smallest of things…like when I see the flowers blooming in the garden and I remember her walking through the McKinnon garden when she was pregnant with you…when I see some ancient book in the library, I think of how Athena would have liked reading it…when I look into your sleeping face, I try to find something of Athena's in you—"

"But you find nothing," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, wishing she was in front of him in person, rather than in the Mirror.

"I don't have anything of hers…no auburn hair, no blue eyes…none of her features…I'm just a Black! Tall and thin and black hair and grey eyes…and a short temper…and powerful magic…Harry at least has his mother's eyes and her nature. But I'm a Black in everything!"

"That's not true—okay, okay, that is true…" he amended at her sceptical expression, "But I don't know how that matters! You're just as Athena wanted you to be…you know, before you were born, when we knew we were expecting a girl, I always told Athena that I wanted a little girl with blue eyes like hers, and curly hair and a kind face…I hated being a Black, and I wanted nothing of my evil family in you. But Athena wanted you to look just like me…she was so happy when you were born, because Andy said you looked just like I looked when I was a baby…your eyes were blue when you were you were born like most babies, but after a few weeks, when your eyes began turning as grey as mine were, Athena was so glad…you even smiled like I did! She—she knew that there were chances that I wouldn't survive the war…and though she never told me, I knew she thought that if something happened to me, she'd always have you…a little feminine version of me…she thought I'll keep living through you—I know it sounds a little strange now, but it was wartime, and Athena just…" he trailed off., before he spoke again.

"But you know what sweetheart, though you look nothing like Athena, I do see glimpses of her in you…like the way you sleep on your stomach, with one hand tucked under your head…Athena used to do that, you know…and the way you raid the library for books so that you can learn everything that there is to learn…like your handwriting…it's just like hers…with the rounded 'e's and the long 'f's…and believe me, Athena would have been proud of you! She always wanted a daughter who'd be unlike all the other pure-blood girls…someone who wasn't narrow-minded, who stuck to her stand, who would speak her mind rather than act diplomatic…someone who'd be loving and affectionate, who'd really care for the people around her…You're all that she wished you'd be, love…you've grown up with all that she wanted to see in you…and that's what matters, isn't it? Not your looks, or your magical powers…but what you are from within!"

Acquila nodded, her throat a little choked with emotions.

"Will you—will you take me to her grave one day?" she asked Sirius quietly, noticing a sudden shadow on her father's features.

"I haven't been there yet…I couldn't see her there—I didn't want to think of her lying there dead—but—but I'll take you there…maybe when you come home for Christmas," he muttered.

"And—" she paused, knowing that perhaps her father wouldn't like taking her there and be reminded of old memories; but she wanted to go there, to know more about her mother. "And will you take me to the house where we lived…I mean, the house you bought…where Mum—where Mum died…if you don't want to, it's alright!" she added hastily, "But I want to see…I want to know…"

"Okay," said Sirius after a long moment, "whatever you want, love."

"Thank you, Dad…and I love you a lot," she said, managing a small smile.

"I love you too, darling. I always will," he replied. "Now, will you tell me why you seemed so flustered at the beginning of our conversation?" he asked her, wanting to change the topic.

"Oh, that…" mumbled Acquila, her cheeks beginning to suffuse with a light shade of pink again.

"Why are you blushing?" demanded Sirius incredulously. "What did you do? Where were you before you called me on the Mirror?"

"In Harry's bed," she blurted out.

"WHAT!" exclaimed Sirius, almost choking on his own breath. "I told you that you aren't supposed to—what happened there? What did you do? Tell me!"

"You won't hex him or something, will you?" she queried wryly.

"It depends on what he did!" said Sirius, his mind bringing up all possible scenarios. He'd begun his romantic dalliances at an absurdly early age; and he could very well imagine his feisty daughter walking down his path.

"I'm not telling you, then!" she said indignantly.

"Fine, I won't hex him," he gave in, "And I know that you must have done whatever it is, because Harry is too shy to attempt something with you! So I'm going to hex you if something—"

"I kissed him," she cut him off, "accidentally!"

"Accidentally?" he asked her, undecided on how to react to it, but sighing in relief. A kiss was acceptable; and an accidental one, even better.

"It was dark in his dorm…and I wanted to kiss his cheek, but I kissed him on his lips because I couldn't see his face," she admitted, a sudden warmth spreading through her at the memory.

"How did he react?" he asked her.

"I think he was shocked…I told him it was by mistake…he just mumbled a good night…and I fled…"

"You fled? Dear Merlin! Not a very Black thing to do," he chuckled. "Do you like him? In a romantic way—"

"NO!" she exclaimed vehemently. "Of course not! He's my best friend!"

"But people do fall for their best friends."

"That's only in books and movies, Dad," she responded, rolling her eyes. "I don't like Harry like that…he's just my friend…my best friend…that guy I share everything with. And I'll tell you when I like someone! I told you about the kiss, didn't I? So I'll tell you if I fancy someone enough to want to date him."

"Okay…and you better keep your word."

"As if Harry won't tell you if I don't," she replied, snorting.

"True," agreed Sirius. "Now go to bed…and if you read anything in the newspapers, just ignore it. I'll tell you if—"

"I know, Dad," she interrupted him, not wanting to talk of Nigella again. "Good night, Dad," she added, smiling brightly at him.

"Good night, sweetheart," he replied, before her face in the Mirror got replaced with his own reflection.

He got into his bed again, his forehead a little creased as he thought. His little girl was growing up far quicker than he liked. From deciding that she didn't want to see her father turning into the randy teenager that he had been, to kissing Harry, even if it was accidental. She was growing up…from a girl to a teenager…and he didn't like it at all!

He fell into a fitful sleep, accompanied by dreams of holding a tiny infant in his arms, which suddenly turned into a grown-up Acquila.

"Acquila, wake up!"

"Go 'way..."

"Wake up! We'll be late for breakfast!" Hermione shook a sleeping Acquila by her shoulder.

"'Right, alright. 'M getting up," mumbled Acquila sleepily as she sat up, yawning softly.

As she looked up into Hermione's face, she saw the bushy-haired girl looking a little apprehensive.

"Are you okay, now?" asked Hermione. "You aren't angry with me, are you?"

Acquila threw her a questioning look, before the events of the previous day came back to her still-awakening mind.

"No, no! I'm not mad at you anymore...I shouldn't have snapped at you, anyway...you just spoke your mind—" Acquila paused suddenly as she suddenly remembered what had happened the previous night...she remembered making to kiss Harry on his cheek, but finding his soft lips instead...and the tingly feeling that spread from her lips to her entire being. And she reddened at the recollection.

"Why are you blushing?" asked Hermione in astonishment.

"It's nothing," she mumbled.

"Come on! Tell me!" said Hermione.

Acquila looked at the other girl. If she'd unabashedly told her father about it, she could might as well tell Hermione. And Hermione was her best girl pal, anyway.

"I accidently kissed Harry last night," said Acquila finally, and Hermione let out an excited squeal.

"How was the kiss?"

Acquila gaped at Hermione. The girl had always seemed more into books and less into boys and kisses, but Acquila somehow liked this suddenly girly version of Hermione.

"Tell me!" said Hermione.

"It was awkward! Obviously! I said I kissed him accidently, Hermione! I meant to kiss his cheek, but I kissed him on his lips instead—"

"A kiss is a kiss," said Hermione bossily. "And I knew this would happen someday—"

"What do you mean you knew it would happen?"

"Well," began Hermione, "Harry and you...you know...I knew you'd kiss him someday…fall for each other someday—"

"No!" groaned Acquila. "Not you, too! Even Dad asked me if I like Harry—"

"But you do like him! And he does like you!"

"He doesn't! And I don't!"

"But—but haven't you ever noticed? He always looks at you in this strange way...as if when he looks at you everything around his doesn't exist...as if it's only you and him—"

Acquila's eyes widened.

"—and his eyes sort of light up when you enter the room! And he's always stealing glances at you! And he said you were looking pretty that day when we went to watch his Quidditch practice! And he got jealous that day when you were talking to Cedric—"

"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" exclaimed Acquila. "You're sounding like you're spouting out lines from one of those trashy wizarding romance novels Lavender reads!"

"I don't read those books!" Hermione sounded scandalised. "And come on, haven't you noticed Harry and you together? You both seem to fit in…and you even have that weird connection between you…hearing each other's thoughts…and not being able to cast spells at the other—"

"That doesn't mean I like Harry that way, Hermione," said Acquila. "He's my friend…but I've never seen him in that light! And he wasn't jealous about Cedric! There's nothing for him to feel jealous about Cedric anyway…it isn't as if I fancy Cedric—"

"Because you fancy Harry!"

"I don't!" grumbled Acquila. "I'm off for a bath, now!"

Half an hour later, Acquila entered the Common Room with Hermione, Hermione's words still swirling in her mind.

"Hey, Harry," she said on spotting him, and he smiled back brightly at her.

"Hey!" said Hermione, and Harry smiled at her, as well, though a little shyly; and she knew he hadn't forgotten what had happened last night.

"Did you see? He smiled differently at you, than at me," whispered Hermione to her.

"That's because he remembered the awkward kiss," Acquila whispered back.

"What are you two whispering?" Ron asked her, before Hermione gave him some vague answer and the four of them walked to the Great Hall.

"So, did you sort out things with Sirius?" asked Harry to Acquila.

"Yes, I did," she replied. "And we're cool, now. And I told him about last night…that I kissed you by mistake…"

"Oh," muttered Harry, hoping Sirius wasn't going to hit him with a hex the next time he saw him. "What did he say?"

"He said it's alright…He asked me if I fancy you…and I said I didn't, of course! We're just twelve for Merlin's sake! I don't fancy anyone! And you're my best friend! I wouldn't like you that way…"

"Oh," said Harry vaguely, not knowing why he suddenly felt a little disheartened.

"And Hermione thinks you fancy me!" said Acquila. "I told her you don't! You—you don't, do you?" she asked him a little hesitantly.

"No…" he mumbled.

"That's great, then…" she muttered, not knowing why she felt a slight twinge of disappointment. "Then let's just forget what happened, alright? I don't want us getting all awkward around each other…"

"Yes," said Harry slowly. "So, what else did Sirius say?" he changed the topic, and she told him all that he said about Athena, while Harry slowly tried to shake off the thin wave of gloominess that seemed to have enveloped him.

One evening in early October, Severus Snape walked through the rather damp streets of Hogsmeade, his feet treading firmly on the path that led to the one place which had played a big hand in him changing his allegiance.

To an onlooker, Severus would have seemed a rather formidable man, with his firm feet that trod determinedly, each following the other in sync; his obsidian eyes that contained a certain glint that made one presume that he wasn't a man to be crossed; the grim set of his features that portrayed a sense of his self-conviction. But beneath the mask that Severus wore, his mind was abuzz with wariness.

Why had Sirius Black wanted to meet him? It was a week ago that Severus had received a letter from Black's handsome owl— an owl that Severus thought was unfortunately more majestic-looking than suited a fool like Black. Severus had, of course, expected the letter to be written on the absurdly expensive parchment that Blacks like Regulus used to use-parchment made from the skin of naturally perished baby unicorns. And he had expected the letter to carry the Black and Gamp family seals, for Sirius to highlight the Lordships that he held. Because with Black having been all over the newspapers recently-especially for mingling with pureblood witches- Severus was certain that Black would want to show off his popularity, like he used to do in their school days.

But Black had surprised Severus, not that Severus would ever admit to being surprised by that bullying hound. The letter was written on a fairly common type of parchment in Black's aristocratic handwriting, with a polite request for Severus to meet Black at the Hog's Head. A request from Black!

Severus entered the Hog's Head, remembering the last time he'd been here and heard the prophecy...and indirectly led to Lily's death. No, No! He wouldn't think of that, now.

Severus wondered whether Black had purposely called him called him to the Hog's Head,to make him relive the darkest moments of his life… But Black didn't know that it was Severus, who had heard the prophecy, did he? Because if he did, they would probably have a duel unto death...Black would kill him for conveying the prophecy to the Dark Lord. And Severus would kill Black for suggesting Pettigrew for the secret-keeper...and leading to Lily's death.

Lily...Lily...How he still loved her...still drew life from the memories of being with her...lived in the hopes of protecting Potter's imbecile brat, only because he was her son...and carried her eyes...and because Lily had died to protect him.

This was true love, wasn't it? The love that Severus carried for Lily?

But Black on the other hand, thought Severus, snorting contemptuously. For all of Black's tall claims of loving McKinnon, Black had gotten over her death so soon, going by Lucius' account of Sirius at the Flint ball, as well as at a couple of other social gatherings.

Severus entered the Hog's Head, where Aberforth seemed to have been expecting him. The Dumbledore brother met Severus' eyes suspiciously, probably remembering the last time he had caught him eavesdropping on that fateful conversation.

Severus made to speak, but Aberforth beat him to it.

"Lord Black is in the second room on top," said Aberforth making Severus' eyes widen slightly in surprise. Black being present before time, without making Severus wait...Black certainly needed a big favour from him if he was taking such great pains at courtesy.

"The room you know so well," added Aberforth in a snide whisper, making Severus shudder at the recollection of listening to the prophecy all those years ago. And he walked to the room after a glare at Aberforth.

"Snape," said Black as Severus entered the room, surprised to see Black in normal robes rather than the expensive ones with his family crest.

"Black," said Severus, as he sat on the chair facing Black.

To Snape's further surprise, Black uncorked an ancient-looking bottle of liquid and poured it in two glasses.

Severus unhesitatingly picked up the glass before him with his long fingers, knowing that for all the hatred they shared, and despite Black's juvenile attempt at having him killed by the Werewolf, the current Lord Black certainly wouldn't have poisoned the whiskey.

The two men said nothing, the silence only broken occasionally by the clink of the glasses and the drink slipping down their throats.

Severus stared impatiently at Sirius, who said nothing for a long moment, and who, Severus realised, was probably gathering his wits in an effort to act civil with his arch-enemy.

"I haven't got all day, Black," drawled the Potions master impatiently. "You certainly haven't called me here to enjoy the silence, have you? Because if you have, I might as well go back to my dungeon, where the silence is not intermittently broken by the almost-audible whirring of your thoughts," he added, unable to stop himself from making a snarky remark.

Severus saw Black's eyes blaze with anger for an infinitesimal moment, before they turned impassive again.

"Snape," said Sirius finally, his eyes meeting Snape's guarded ones. "To get straight to the point, the purpose for meeting you here tonight is because I need certain information, which owing to your former loyalties, I'm sure you possess."

Snape's eyes darkened with rage at Sirius alluding to his Death Eater past, but he remained silent as he realised that Sirius hadn't said 'former loyalties' in the spiteful way that the Sirius Black of old would have said it; rather, he had uttered the words as a matter of fact.

At Snape's curt nod, Sirius continued.

"How did Regulus die?"

Snape's dark eyes widened at Sirius' words.

"I wonder why it took you so long to remember that you did have a brother other than Potter," sneered Snape after a silent pause, as his mind began flooding with memories of the young boy, who had befriended Severus despite his half-blood status, who had strived for his idiotic brother's love for years, and who had hated James Potter as much as Severus did.

"That," said Sirius coldly, "is none of your concern. I just asked you to tell me about how Reggie died and—"

"My, my, Black," sneered Severus, "Reggie, is it, now? But he wasn't Reggie when he spent sleepless nights wondering why you chose Potter's friendship over your own brother. He wasn't Reggie when you targeted him just for having been my friend...when you left him alone with your deranged mother...when you made no efforts to lead him onto the right path...efforts which you probably would have made even for Pettigrew—"

"Shut up," snarled Sirius, though he made no attempt to speak further, knowing that every word that Snape spoke, was nothing but the truth. And Remus had repeatedly drilled into Sirius' mind that getting to verbal blows with Snape, would do nothing to make Snape part with the information that Sirius needed.

"How dare you tell me—" began Severus furiously, but Sirius interrupted him.

"Look, Snape," said Sirius, struggling to maintain a semblance of calm, and to put his reluctant thoughts into words, "I know that—that we've had a rather rancorous past which we'll probably never be able to put behind us. And I know that I've acted like an immature bully with you when we were younger…I've done things, which I admit in hindsight, I should never have done…" Sirius trailed off, and Severus knew that this was all he would get as an apology from Sirius.

"But I think that both of us have grown up now…we aren't the teenagers that we were…and I know, from what Dumbledore told Remus, that you aren't on the dark side anymore…and if I'm not wrong, the change in your loyalties has to do with Lily," said Sirius quietly.

Severus' breath caught somewhere in his throat, his eyes ablaze with an inscrutable emotion, while his fingers twitched, yearning to grab his wand and send a curse at Black for daring to utter Lily's name…for having guessed the one thing that Severus never wanted the Potter brat to know…the one secret that Severus had wanted to take to the grave. His best kept-secret…now being dangled in front of him by his worst enemy

Severus made to speak…to throw a furious retort at Black…or better yet, a non-verbal curse to obliviate Black of his thoughts… But he kept silent, as he noticed that Black's expression wasn't sneering, or challenging…

"Have you told—" began Severus.

"I haven't told Harry of it yet," said Sirius quietly, and Snape breathed a silent sigh of relief before he spoke again.

"Black," he snarled, "If this is an attempt at forcing my hand, or at—"

"It isn't," said Sirius calmly, making Severus wonder about what was wrong with Black. When had Black grown up? When had he changed into the cool and collected man that sat before him?

"I am not the man that I was, Snape," said Black suddenly, making Severus wonder wryly if Black was practicing Legilimency, not that he would ever have been able to get through his Occlumency wards. "And nor am I a fool," added Black, making Severus snort. Only a fool like Black would have suggested making Pettigrew the secret-keeper instead of Lupin, or Black himself.

But Sirius overlooked Snape's snort and the derisive expression on his face.

"When Dumbledore told Remus that he had a concrete reason to trust that you have indeed changed your loyalties, I knew that it had to do with Lily…do you think I didn't see you pine after her? Do you think I didn't see the glances you kept sending her way when you thought no one was looking? The way your eyes blazed with fury when you saw her with Jamie—" Black stopped suddenly, and Severus knew that he had seen the anger in his features, which Severus had been unsuccessful at hiding.

"And no matter how much the mere thought of you loving Lily irks me, I wouldn't use that as a means to force your hand, as you put it…" Sirius continued a moment later. "I know how it is to love someone…" Sirius added in a mumbled whisper, which Snape unfortunately overheard.

"You know how it is to love someone, Black?" snarled Snape, his anger now making itself known. "Was it why you were fooling around with William Flint's sister? Is it why the newspapers are awash with articles of you tying the knot with one of those witches, who throw themselves at you? Don't you talk to me of love when you have forgotten all about your deceased wife—"

"ENOUGH, SNIVEL—SNAPE!" roared Sirius, while somehow managing to control his urge to knock the daylights out of Snape with his bare hands, while a part of him marvelled at how he had managed to correct the 'Snivellus' that he had been about to utter to 'Snape'.

Sirius stood up, all the while taking deep breaths, trying to control the rage that was building up in him.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it, Black?" sneered Snape, his already-dark eyes seeming even darker with fury. So, Black had gone back to his volcanic temper…so much for thinking of him as calm and collected, thought Snape.

"The truth, Snape? You can never begin to fathom the amount of love I had for Athena…or the amount of love that Lily had for James," spat Sirius, unable to curb the jibe about Lily and James.

"YOU!" roared Snape, as he got to his feet, as well. And the two men stood facing each other, their wands drawn out, pointing at the other's face; their visages identical masks of extreme rage.

It was a lengthy moment later that Sirius was the first to put down his wand.

"I'm not here to duel with you, Snape," he said through gritted teeth.

"You should have thought of that before you let your mouth get carried away, Black," spat Snape, his wand still raised at Sirius, before he put it down. For all his hatred of Black, Snape would never have cast a curse at the unarmed Gryffindor.

"You know that Voldemort will rise again, don't you?" said Sirius, his voice low, as he ignored Snape's sudden flinch at the Dark wizard's name.

Snape nodded curtly.

"And you will stand against the Dark side," stated Sirius, and Snape could sense a mild undercurrent of distrust in his voice.

Snape nodded again.

"So, since we are going to fight against the same evil, I think we ought to call it a truce, Snape," Sirius added firmly.

Snape glared at Sirius, while the cogs in his mind worked. He couldn't not agree with Black, could he? After all the years of thinking of Black as an immature, juvenile brat, Snape couldn't reject Black's offer of a truce…that would make Severus seem more immature than Black ever had.

And more importantly, Severus remembered deciding at the end of the last school term, that if he had to keep the Potter boy safe, he would have to call a truce with Black sooner than later. With Black being Potter Junior's guardian, the future and safety of Lily's son was now linked with Black…add to that the connection between the Potter boy and the Black girl…which Severus suspected was a much less-heard form of magic…a soul bond…it wouldn't make sense for Severus to maintain the hate-filled relationship he had with Black…

"All right," said Snape finally, and the two men extended their hands towards the other. They grasped each other's hand for a fraction of a second, before letting go, and taking their seats again.

"What is it that you want to know about Regulus?" Snape asked Sirius, deciding to take the first step.

"How did he die?" asked Sirius.

"I don't know," came the cold reply.

At Sirius' questioning glance, Snape continued.

"I never knew he was disillusioned with the Dark Lord's beliefs," said Snape, noting Sirius' mouth twitch in displeasure at Snape calling Voldemort 'the Dark Lord'. "I was present when he renounced the Dark Lord at a Death Eater meet…and it came as a complete surprise to me. A couple of days later, news came of Regulus' death…though that, admittedly, wasn't a surprise. No one can publicly renounce the Dark Lord and live—"

"Did Voldemort kill Reggie, then?" asked Sirius, his voice seemed equally laced with anger and grief.

Snape took a long moment before he spoke.

"That's what people said," drawled Snape.

"And what do you think of it?" queried Sirius.

"I think," said Snape, "that it wasn't the Dark Lord, who killed Regulus, nor was it a Death Eater. If a Death Eater had killed Regulus, he or she would certainly have claimed responsibility for it. With relations between you and Regulus having been bitter, and with your family's stock having declined in the Dark side due to Regulus' desertion, and in the Light side, due to their age-old bigotry, nobody would have needed to fear the ageing Blacks seeking vengeance on the killer of their heir. And Regulus' killer could easily have claimed responsibility for his death without fearing the Blacks, and to gain greater favour with the Dark Lord."

Sirius nodded in agreement with Snape's line of thought.

"And if the Dark Lord had killed him," continued Snape, "He would certainly have announced it to the world…declared the fate that awaited a deserter. But he never claimed to have killed Regulus. He never denied the rumours of him having killed him, of course, but he never claimed to have killed him."

Sirius nodded, deep in thought. So it wasn't Voldemort, who had killed Regulus, nor any Death Eater. But Regulus hadn't been killed by an Auror, as well…then how was it that Regulus had died?

"Is there nothing more you know about this, Snape?" asked Sirius.

"No," replied Snape. "I did try to look into his death, but I found no leads. All I know is that around a week before Regulus' death, he had met with the Dark Lord…a meeting at which no one else was present. And I believe, that it was something that happened at that meeting, which changed Regulus' outlook on the war and made him renounce the Dark Lord."

"Do you know nothing of what Voldemort told Reggie?"

"Nothing," said Snape, "Even Bellatrix and Lucius were not present at the meeting. So I assume that it was regarding something that the Dark Lord wanted to keep under a shroud of secrecy."

"Thank you," said Sirius politely and Snape nodded; and the two men knew that they had nothing more to speak.

Both of them stood up, and nodded at the other.

"I hope you keep your word, Black," said Snape suddenly.

"I won't breathe a word about Lily and you to Harry…or Acquila," said Sirius firmly.

Snape nodded curtly again, and walked to the door, before he turned around suddenly.

"If I were you, Black, I would have paid a visit to your childhood home," was all he said, before he disappeared through the door, leaving a pensive Sirius behind him.

One late Saturday evening in October, Harry walked back into the Castle from the Quidditch pitch, soaking wet with mud splattered all over his robes. It had been raining cats and dogs for a few days now; the lake rose, the flower beds were all muddy and Hagrid's pumpkins had swelled to the size of garden sheds. However, nothing had dampened Oliver Wood's spirits in respect to Quidditch training. They had been flying for the past two hours, trying to play Quidditch. But it was impossible to even see the other players through the heavy pouring rainfall. Disheartened, Wood had finally called off the training session, relieving the drenched Gryffindors of the monstrous storm which seemed to have no intention of calming.

Harry was making his way to the Gryffindor Tower when he spotted an equally dispirited Nearly Headless Nick looking out of a window and muttering to himself.

Minutes later, Harry found himself in the middle of a conversation with the dejected Gryffindor ghost. Nearly Headless Nick was going on and on about being rejected from the Headless Hunt on the grounds of not being completely decapitated. While Harry tried to search his mind for a way to console Nick, he heard a high pitched mewing from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himself staring at Mrs. Norris.

"You'd better get out of here, Harry," said Nick urgently, "Filch isn't in a good mood. He's got the flu and some third-years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place—"

"Right," said Harry, stepping away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris.

But just as he was about to leave, Filch walked in from a tapestry as if he was drawn to the spot by some weird connection with his cat.

"Nick!" Harry whispered to the translucent ghost floating next to him, "Fred and George might be on their way up by now. Please tell them to create a diversion!"

"Certainly," replied the ghost, as he sped off in search of the Weasley twins; while Filch walked towards Harry with a grumpy look on his face.

"Filth!"Filch screamed, pointing at the puddle of muddy water that had dripped from his robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of this! Potter, Follow me!"

Harry glanced at the retreating, translucent figure of Nearly Headless Nick, hoping that the Weasley twins would turn up soon; and then, he followed Filch downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints.

Filch's office was dingy and windowless. It was cramped with filing cabinets full of files stating each student he'd caught and details about their 'crime' and punishment.

Harry remembered Sirius telling him that there was an entire cabinet dedicated to the Marauders. And as Filch looked for a parchment to note down Harry's 'crime', the black-haired boy unsuccessfully looked around for a cabinet with any of the Marauder's names. He did spot an overflowing drawer with the names 'Fred and George Weasley' etched on it. The twins seemed to be heading the Marauder way too.

"Ah!" exclaimed Filch, as he finally found a long parchment which was under a purple envelope named 'Kwikpell'. Sirius had already told Harry and Acquila about Filch being a squib, and about how touchy he was about it. Not wanting Filch to get further upset with him, Harry quickly averted his eyes from the envelope.

"Name...Harry Potter... Crime..."

"It was only a bit of mud!"exclaimed Harry.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but it's an hour of scrubbing for me," Filch spat unpleasantly at Harry.

"Sentence..."

Suddenly, there was a loud cracking noise accompanied by what sounded like fireworks coming from right above them.

"PEEVES!" Filch screamed out and flung down his quill. "I'll have you this time!" He roared and left without even so much as a backward glance at Harry, followed by his faithful cat.

After Filch had gone, Harry took a moment to mentally thank Nick for alerting Fred and George in the nick of time.

He turned around and prepared to bolt, but he suddenly remembered that Sirius had told him to try looking for the Marauders' and Remus had already searched for the Marauders' Map in the office, without any success, but Harry was certain that it was hidden somewhere there itself. And he decided to look for it before Filch came came back.

Harry walked deeper into the office, trying to find the cabinet dedicated to the Marauders; and he spotted an overflowing cabinet right at the back of the room.

'James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew' read the names on the cabinet.

And Harry saw the number of drawers in the cabinet, he hoped that whatever diversion the Weasley twins had caused, would keep Filch busy for longer.

He searched rapidly through all the drawers, chuckling at some of the pranks of the Marauders.

'Made a pig sty on the second floor', 'Made bubotuber pus rain from the ceiling in the dungeons', 'Dancing chicken legs on Halloween', 'Turned Mrs. Norris into a floating balloon', and the crimes went on and on, but he couldn't find the map anywhere amidst the reams of parchment.

Harry suddenly heard footsteps nearing the office and immediately shut the drawer he was currently going through, and then rushed to the front of the office. In his haste, he banged into Filch's desk and the purple envelope fell off the edge of the desk. It was when he hastily bent down to pick it up that he heard Filch shout.

"What are you doing with that, boy?" asked Filch, a sudden hint of fear, mingled with embarrassment and fury on his features.

Harry just stared at him, not knowing what to answer.

"Have you—did you read it?" Filch demanded, snatching the envelope from Harry's hand and stuffing it into his desk drawer.

"No," Harry answered quickly.

Filch's knobbly hands were twisting together.

"If I thought you'd read my... not that it's mine... for a friend... be that as it may... however..."

Harry stared at him alarmed; he had never seen Filch go this red.

"Very well... go now... Don't you dare breathe a word... not that you read it... be off now... I have to write a report... There were fireworks everywhere, but no one in sight... have to investigate...must be the Weasley brats…"

Not believing his luck, Harry sped out of Filch's office and up towards the Gryffindor tower.

He reached the floor above Filch's office and was speeding towards the staircase, when Nearly Headless Nick popped out of an empty classroom, looking all excited.

"It worked!"

"Yes, it did!" replied Harry, beaming. "Thanks a lot, Nick! I didn't even get detention!" he added gratefully.

They set off down the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Harry noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter.

"I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt," said Harry.

Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and looked at Harry hopefully.

"There is something…but I don't think you would want to... and I would be asking too much..."

"What is it?"asked Harry.

"Well," began Nick, drawing himself up, looking very dignified, "this Halloween will be my five hundredth Deathday."

"Oh," replied Harry, unsure whether that merited a sad response or a happy one.

"The party will be in one of the roomier dungeons. My friends will be coming in from all over the country. It would be an honour if you would attend, Harry. Miss Black, Mister Weasley and Miss Granger are welcome, too... but I guess you would rather attend the school feast…" trailed off the ghost, watching Harry on tenterhooks.

"I'll come," Harry said quickly.

"This is wonderful!" exclaimed Nick, rubbing his translucent hands in glee."Harry Potter at my Deathday Party!" he added, swirling in mid air. "Do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"

"Sure," said Harry and Nick beamed at him.

It was after curfew, and Ginny Weasley searched for an empty classroom.

Ginny had never thought herself to be a rule breaker, at least not one to deliberately break rules. But here she was, after curfew, sneaking around dark corridors of Hogwart's castle, just to find a tranquil place to write in her diary.

There was something fascinating about the diary that got her hooked to it. It wasn't just that the diary could respond to her, but it also understood her, gave her advice and assurance, and most of all, it was always there when she needed someone to talk to, especially about Harry Potter, Acquila, and Sirius Black.

The diary had quickly become Ginny's best friend. She could write anything in it without the fear of anyone finding out… her deepest, darkest secrets and desires…she knew the diary would keep her secrets better than any human could. And that made her value the diary even more.

She could have written in the diary in her dorm room, but the gossipy girls, whom she shared the dorm with, would be curious enough to want to have a peek. And the Tom Riddle had told Ginny that he wanted no one to know of him. What if one of her dorm-mates stole the diary to write in it herself? What if they teased her for having the diary-dwelling Tom as her best friend? So, Ginny always looked around for places where she could write the diary in peace.

As she walked down yet another corridor filled with locked doors, Ginny felt a little guilty. Her mother had specifically told her to follow all the school rules; and Molly certainly wouldn't have wanted her daughter roaming around after curfew.

But then, didn't Fred and George break rules all the time? Hadn't Ron sneaked around with Harry Potter, the previous year? Hadn't Percy—no, Percy was no rule breaker. And if he ever knew that Ginny was out after curfew, he would surely write to their mother, deduct house points and give her detention!Being a prefect meant more to Percy than anything else.

Ginny pushed the thoughts of her brothers away, and started pushing the doors one by one to see whether they were locked.
Finally, one of the doors squeaked open. And as she entered the dark room, she spotted two figures in the corner of the room. They seemed to be entangled with one another.

As Ginny's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realised it was a couple in the middle of a make-out session. They were so engrossed with each other, that they hadn't even noticed Ginny's presence. Ginny immediately backed a few steps, not wanting to interrupt them. But in her haste to leave the room, she collided with a chair, consequently dropping it with a loud thud.

She heard a gasp from the girl and the couple broke apart. And as the boy turned to look who had caught them, Ginny's eyes widened. It was Percy!

"Ginny?" blurted out Percy, looking both bewildered and embarrassed.

The girl, who had been kissing Percy, looked like she was blushing, though it was hard to tell from the lack of light.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Percy asked her, straightening his robes, his face seemed redder than his hair in the dim light.

Ginny stared blankly at Percy, not knowing what to reply. And she did the first thing that came to her mind.

She turned around and scarpered.

"Ginny!" She heard Percy call out."Sorry, Penelope. I'll see you tomorrow…"she heard him adding, before the sounds of his frenzied footsteps followed her.

Ginny wasn't scared of Percy deducting house points or giving her detention, but she had caught him in an embarrassing situation, and she knew he wouldn't be pleased. He hadn't even told anyone that he had a girlfriend. And so, Ginny had probably stumbled onto his secret.

"Ginny! Wait! Stop running!" Percy called out to her as she ran madly through the Castle, his tone getting angrier with each word.

"A Deathday Party?" said Hermione keenly, as she sat with Harry, Ron and Acquila in the Common Room, after the episode with Filch and Nick."I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those."

"It does seem intriguing," put in Acquila.

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" muttered Ron, who was halfway through his Potion's homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me..."

"Yeah," agreed Harry absently, his gaze fixed on the Weasley twins, who were displaying how they had distracted Filch. They had 'rescued' a brilliant orange, fire dwelling lizard- a Salamander- from a Care of Magical Creatures class. They placed the Salamander on a table and George fed a Filibuster firework to it. The Salamander was now smouldering gently as a group of curious people gathered around the table. The Salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled widely in the room, and the Gryffindors cackled with laughter.

Suddenly, the portrait door opened with a bang and Ginny ran in, looking completely exhausted, followed by a panting Percy, who seemed to have just caught up with her and was holding her arm and whispering rapidly.

"What's wrong, Gin? Percy?" Ron asked them, confused by the unusual situation.

"I just—" Ginny started, but Percy interrupted her immediately.

"It's nothing—nothing at all. We were just...umm—having fun," said Percy uncertainly. "Isn't that right, Ginny?"

"Uh... yeah…" Ginny replied.

"You sure? Because Percy and 'fun' don't go hand in hand," said Ron, as a few people around them chuckled. Percy bristled in annoyance, while Ginny just nodded unconvincingly.

Ron was just about to ask them what really they had been up to, when the Salamander suddenly started showering tangerine stars from its mouth all over the room, after which it escaped into the fireplace, accompanied by explosions. And that drove Ginny and Percy out of his mind.

It was the last day of October. And Irene Summerby watched Sirius as he half-heartedly put up a shield charm against Mad-Eye's bludgeoning curse. The brightly coloured jet of light from Mad-Eye's wand broke easily through Sirius' shield and almost hit Sirius on his head, before he ducked at the very last moment. And Irene saw the hair on top of Sirius' head fly as the spell swooshed within an inch of him.

"What is wrong with you, Black?" growled Moody, as he advanced towards Sirius.

"I—I was just a little distracted, Mad-Eye…" Sirius admitted, meeting his mentor's real eye that seemed more disappointed than angry.

"Take the rest of the day off, Black," said Moody, his real eye softening, while his magical eye, too, swivelled around to rest on Sirius' weary face.

"No," said Sirius firmly. "I'm all right. I was just—"

"It's an order, Sirius!" barked Moody.

"Fine, fine," grumbled Sirius, as he walked to the door ignoring the other trainees staring at him, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Tonks," Irene called out to Nymphadora. "What's wrong with him, today? I've never seen Sirius this…dispirited…"

"Well…" Nymphadora began hesitantly.

"Is it because it's the 31st of October today?" asked Irene quietly.

"Yes," replied Nymphadora. "It's…well…you know of it, don't you? The Potters…and Sirius' wife, Athena…and well, I think this is the first year when he will…you know…be able to visit their graves on their death anniversary…" she trailed off glumly.

"Is he going there, now? To Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes."

"Won't you go with him, then?"

"No…he said he wants to go there alone…and his friend, Remus…he isn't well since the past couple of days…so it's just Sirius…"

"You should go with him, then!" said Irene.

"He told me not to," replied Nymphadora. "He … he likes keeping to himself at times…"

"He's not really over their deaths, is he? Especially his friend, James?" asked Irene.

"No," said Nymphadora softly, her eyes on Sirius' retreating figure that disappeared from the doorway of the room. "And he isn't over Athena's death, too…"

"But…but the reports in the newspapers? About Nigella Flint—"

"Oh that's a load of tosh," snorted Nymphadora. "He just shows that he's all right…but I've seen him up late at nights…with Athena's photograph in his hands…he just keeps staring at it…talking to—" Nymphadora paused suddenly, and her eyes widened, knowing that she had spoken too much. Since his acquittal, Sirius valued his privacy a lot. And here she was, running her mouth off to someone she didn't know well at all.

"I shouldn't have—I mean—you won't—" Nymphadora stammered and Irene smiled softly.

"If you think I'm going to tell the Daily Prophet about this, you don't need to worry…I won't, though I daresay it'll make the front page of the morning edition," Irene chuckled.

"That it will," agreed Nymphadora darkly.

"Don't worry, Tonks. I won't breathe a word of this…I just asked you because I wondered why Sirius seemed so off-colour today…the haunted, vacant look in his eyes seemed more pronounced today than it does usually…"

"You're quite an observant witch, aren't you, Irene?" Nymphadora asked her; not many people saw through the jovial persona that Sirius maintained during Auror training. Not many people saw the undercurrent of pain and loss that ran beneath his witty self. "Or is that you're observant only when it comes to my handsome cousin?" she added with a wink.

"Tonks! Stop whiling time with your idle chatter!" Moody growled at Nymphadora. "And Summerby, you know better than to act like a gossipy twit! Go, start dueling with Pomersbach!"

"Yes, sir!" exclaimed Nymphadora, as she rushed off towards Moody.

As Harry, Acquila, Ron and Hermione walked towards the dungeon where Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party was being held, Harry quite regretted his rash promise to go to the Deathday Party. The rest of the school was happily anticipating the Halloween feast; the great hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's huge pumpkins had been carved into scary lanterns which could easily fit three people. It was rumoured that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for entertainment. And Harry, along with the other three, would be missing all of it just to attend a party, which Sirius had told him would certainly be relatively boring compared to the Halloween Feast. The Marauders had once gate-crashed a Deathday party, and found out that the only food provided there was that of the rotten variety.

"Can't we just not go there?" grumbled Ron. "It isn't as if Nick will miss us…there'll be hundreds of ghosts there…what are the chances of him knowing we haven't come, in all the crowd there—"

"Hundreds of ghosts, Ron," said Hermione, cutting him off, "that will make it rather easy to spot that four living kids are missing!"
"And a promise is a promise," she added bossily.

"It's just for a few hours, Ron," said Acquila, "We'll just go, wish Nick, and proceed to the Feast—"

"Wish Nick? What do we say? Happy Deathday, Nick?" exclaimed Ron, as Harry snickered.

And as the rest of their school mates entered the brilliantly lit great hall, which looked very inviting, Acquila, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked past it and took the staircase which led down to the dungeons.

As they reached the passageway which led to the dungeon Acquila saw silver candles all around them burning with a black flame. As Ron kept on grumbling about how he didn't want to attend the party, especially after Sirius had told them about the lack of food, he gave a sudden loud shriek, as a skinny ghost walked right through him.

"Bloody Hell! Watch where you're going!" he yelled at the smirking ghost, as the other three sniggered. "And stop laughing, you three!" added Ron.

"It was funny!" said a chuckling Hermione. "Just thank your stars that Malfoy wasn't here to see you shrieking like a little girl!"

Ron just huffed, and continued walking, his stomach rumbling in pace with his grumbling.

"Ugh! What's that noise?" groaned Hermione suddenly, covering her ears.

"Sounds like someone's scratching the blackboard with nails," replied Ron, seeming very much on the verge of turning around and running back up to the feast.

As the turned a corner, they saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at the doorway in black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome... welcome... so pleased you could come..."

As Acquila looked around, he noticed that everything was just as Sirius had told him it would be.

The dungeon was filled with translucent figures, drifting around, waltzing to the dreadful noise playing. It was like stepping into a freezer. She stopped in her tracks as she spotted a familiar ghost.

"Follow me," she whispered, catching hold of Harry's hand and pulling him in the opposite direction. Ron and Hermione followed them.

"Why did you drag us here?" asked Ron.

"I saw Moaning Myrtle," Acquila replied.

"Who's that?" asked Harry, looking around.

"She haunts the girls' bathroom on the first floor," said Acquila.

"It's always out of order because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the toilet. It's awful trying to go to the loo with her wailing at you..." Hermione added.

"And that's not all," said Acquila grumpily, "Whenever she sees me, she keeps telling me of how she had a crush on Dad…of how handsome he was…Merlin! Even ghosts are attracted to him!"

"That's still better than having Nigella Flint fancying him," put in Ron, to which Hermione snapped at him, and they bickered all the way to the buffet table.

"Ugh!" groaned Ron, as they neared the food. It was just as stale, rotting and inedible as Sirius had told him it would be.

"Can we leave, now? I'm really hungry," he said, as his stomach grumbled loudly.

"I think we can leave," said Hermione, "We did come and we stayed for some time. And it's quite chilly here…I'm beginning to feel rather cold…"

"Yeah," said Harry. "We'll wave goodbye to Nick and leave."

Suddenly, the dungeon fell silent and fortunately, so did the orchestra. All the attendees looked around in excitement as a hunting horn was sounded.

"Oh, here we go," said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly and Nick's face fell. The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging; a large ghost at the front, whose bearded head was under his arm, blowing the horn, leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd and strode towards Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back on his neck.

"Nick!" he roared. "Still hanging in there?" He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nick on his shoulder.

"Welcome, Patrick," Nick said stiffly.

Patrick carried on with his antics and continued entertaining the crowd much to Nearly Headless Nick's chargin. The Gryffindor ghost tried to get back the limelight on himself, but unfortunately failed at it.

"Poor Nick," said Hermione, rubbing her hands together as the temperature seemed to drop further.

"Can we leave now?" asked Ron in a pleading tone, watching a shivering Hermione from the corner of his eyes.

"Yes…let's leave," agreed Harry.

They had barely turned around when Peeves swooped in with a vicious smile on his face.

"Nibbles?" He asked, serving them a tray filled with peanuts covered in fungus.

"Err... no thanks..." Harry said.

"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle, a few minutes ago," said Peeves, his eyes dancing. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle," he added to Acquila.

"It's not like that, Peeves," said Hermione quickly. "We were just—"

That's when Peeves called out loudly. "OY! MYRTLE!"

"Don't call her here—Oh…hi, Myrtle," said Acquila, changing track mid-way through her sentence as Myrtle zoomed towards them.

The ghost looked sulky, but her eyes lit up on seeing Acquila."Is Sirius here?" she asked her eagerly. "He'd come to a Deathday party a few years ago—"

"No, Myrtle. He isn't here," Acquila said stiffly.

"But you promised you'd get him to school," said Myrtle, looking as if she could burst into tears any moment, never mind that ghosts couldn't really shed tears.

"I think of him sometimes, you know, when I sit in the U-bend with nothing to do," she added gloomily, as Ron had a revolted look on his face.

"You sit where?" he gasped, disgusted.

"In the U-bend," replied Myrtle, "Nobody can trouble me when I sit in there…and sometimes, I even go to the Prefect's bathroom," she added, her voice suddenly dreamy. "That's where I'd seen Sirius in the huge tub—"

"YOU SPIED ON MY FATHER IN THE BATHTUB?" shouted Acquila, horrified. "You disgusting—"

"And you!" said Myrtle, suddenly noticing Harry, as she ignored Acquila's fury, "You look just like him! Sirius' handsome friend!"

"Err...I—err…" Harry sputtered, realising she was talking about his dad, as Ron began laughing madly.

"James Potter, wasn't he?" smiled Myrtle, twirling in mid-air. "You're quite as fanciable as he was—"

"STAY AWAY FROM HARRY!" snapped Acquila, dragging Harry away from the ghost. "How can you like someone who's alive when you are—"

"DEAD?" Myrtle screeched loudly. "That's what you were going to say!"

Acquila had the grace to blush, realising that she perhaps shouldn't have pointed out to the girl that she was a dead ghost, but as she started to say something, she was cut off by Myrtle's high-pitched wail. Now, almost the whole of the dungeon was looking their way.

"Acquila didn't mean it like that—" Harry tried to explain, but that just got Myrtle crying even louder.

"Just because I'm dead, doesn't mean I don't have feelings!" wailed Myrtle, as a crowd began gathering around them.

"I know—I shouldn't have said that—" began Acquila, but Myrtle threw one teary glance at her, broke into even louder anguished sobs, and fled from the dungeon. Peeves took off behind her, pelting her with mouldy peanuts.

"Merlin! That wasn't good, was it? Funny though—"began Ron, but shut up at a look from Hermione.

"Let's go before anything else happens," said Harry, and they walked towards the door of the dungeon, trying to avoid walking through the ghosts assembled around them.

Acquila was still a little furious about Myrtle, though she knew she shouldn't have been as rude to the ghost. But Myrtle was irritating! And disgusting! Who spied on guys when they were in the bath-tub? And Myrtle spied on Sirius of all people? Wasn't it enough that all sorts of living witches fancied her father, that now a ghost was added to the list, as well?

Suddenly, Harry stumbled to a halt and Acquila almost walked into him.

"Why did you stop?" asked Hermione.

"Shhhh... it's that voice again. ... Listen!" said Harry urgently, and looked up at the ceiling.

"I can't—" Hermione started, but Harry began to run.

"This way," he said running up the stairs, into the entrance hall.

"I can't hear anything!" exclaimed Acquila, her ears straining to hear the voice that Harry was hearing.

But Harry didn't answer; he simply sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor.

"It's going to kill someone!" Harry announced suddenly, taking out his wand from his pocket, as they caught up with him.

"WHAT!"

Acquila, Ron and Hermione stared at each other, bewildered.

"Harry, wait! It's dangerous! Dad'll kill me for letting you follow the voice—wait! Wait!"

But Harry sprinted up the next flight of steps three at a time, deaf to her shouts.

He hurtled around the whole second floor, the trio behind him panting for breath.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, wiping sweat off his face.

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached, slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall in what looked like blood, between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

"Merlin!" gasped Ron, his face turning white. "Let's get out of here," he whispered.

"Look!" Acquila pointed a trembling finger at something that that lay a few inches above the floor below the wall.

And Harry gasped as his eyes fell on something floating in the air.

It was Moaning Myrtle; no linger pearly white and transparent but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. She wore an expression of shock on her face.

Acquila quickly grasped Harry's hand, alert for any sign of danger.

"Harry, you were right," whispered Ron, as "I think someone…or something…just killed Myrtle…she's died again."

"Look, oh look, what they have done, the evil Potter and Black!" began Peeves suddenly, in a loud sing-sing voice, as he zoomed towards them.

"Shut up, Peeves! They did nothing!" shouted Ron, but Peeves continued; as the footsteps of hundreds of students walking towards them began to sound on the stone floor.

"They fought with poor Myrtle and made her cry, and now, she'll never come back!"

"Merlin's beard!" came a loud shriek from the passageway, from the first of the students, who saw the writing on the wall. And pandemonium followed.

"Damn!" Sirius cursed aloud as he stumbled onto the pavement of an isolated London street, half-drunk. He looked around blearily, belatedly realising that he had apparated into the wrong place.

Home...He had meant to visit home...Black Manor...to calm himself before he visited Athena's grave at the McKinnon Cemetery.

He had visited James and Lily's tomb in Godric's Hollow, and laid wreaths on them...and the loss of James had hit him all over again...struck him that the one man he'd promised Charlus he'd protect, was lying beneath the cold tombstone...unseeing, unfeeling...nothing like the James he'd loved.

And as the grief became too much to bear, Sirius had fled from the graveyard, and taken refuge into a Muggle pub a few miles away, where two large bottles of foul-tasting Muggle whiskey had helped him numb the pain that seemed to hammer at his very heart. And then, he'd tottered towards the door, only to have a brunette - who was even more drunk than he was - falling all over him. He'd apparated away just as she'd tried to place a huge, sloppy kiss onto his lips, uncaring that he had performed magic before a Muggle.

"Stupid woman," he grumbled into the relative silence of the street, before he burst into loud laughter, imagining the woman kissing thin air as he apparated away.

He kept on laughing till he finally stopped as he spotted two little boys dressed as an Egyptian mummy and a werewolf walking on the street that he stood on. And he suddenly remembered that fateful Halloween night years ago, when he'd promised to take a little Nymphie for trick-or-treat, only to keep her waiting as he was shipped off to Azkaban.

"Nice costume, mister," said one of the two boys, as they walked past him. And Sirius smiled drunkenly, knowing that they thought his Auror robes to be a Halloween costume. Oh, the innocent kids...if only they knew what he was...a wizard…a real wizard.

"Thanks," he mumbled, before throwing two chocolate frogs-which Remus always insisted he carry- into their basket.

As the kids walked away after a quick thanks, Sirius began laughing madly again, imagining the two kids jumping in fright as the chocolate frogs jumped out of the wrapper. And as his laughter mellowed down, he ran a hand through his hair. He was really, really drunk if he was laughing his butt off in front of Grimmauld Place on the anniversary of the day he'd lost everything.

Grimmauld Place? Oh yes! He was at Grimmauld Place.

"Bloody app—apparition!" he grumbled at the cold air.

He'd wanted to apparate home! To Black Manor! So how the hell had he landed at Grimmauld Place?

He took a few paces away from the looming building before him, and then shut his eyes to concentrate on Black Manor, intending to apparate there. But he opened his eyes a moment later, blinking repeatedly as the world around him seemed to sway.

Grimmauld Place...He'd been wanting to visit it, hadn't he? Why? Why couldn't he remember—oh yes!

"The sn—snivelling greasy-head!" mumbled Sirius.

Snivellus had told him to visit Grimmauld Place, hadn't he? Well, then since he was already standing in front of number eleven, Sirius thought he might as well visit the dratted house. He walked to the place where he knew the house existed, between numbers eleven and thirteen. But try as he might, no matter how much he concentrated on visualising the house, he just couldn't see it.

It was then that Narcissa's words rang over and over in his mind. 'The house sealed itself.'

"Vile woman!" he spat aloud, thinking of his mother, who had sealed the house. The hag was annoying him from beyond the grave as well!

He stumbled again as he walked even closer to the hidden house.

"I'm Lo—Lord Black!" he shouted into the silence of the street, swaying on his feet. "See this bloody ring?" He thrust his hand that carried the signet ring towards the house. "I'm the Head of Bl—Blacks! You can't keep me out of—" Sirius paused suddenly, his eyes wide with amazement, as he saw a battered door emerge out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty windows and grimy walls.

He walked up the worn steps and reached the newly-appeared door. It wasn't the majestic door it had once been…its black paint was shabby and scratched; while the silver doorknocker on it, which was in the form of a twisted serpent, was covered with dust, nothing like the gleaming knocker of old. But Sirius' drunken mind knew that he was indeed back to the much hated house of his childhood.

He stood at the door, making to pull out his wand to tap it on the door to see what spells had been cast on it. But suddenly, he felt his hand that carried the ring being pulled towards the door, as if by an invisible hand. And as he pressed the signet ring onto the impression of the Black family crest onto the door, the door creaked open.

Sirius coughed as a cloud of dust hit him; the house seemed full of a damp, sweetish, rotting smell.

"Bl—bloody hell!" he cursed, as the coughing fit refused to stop; the dust he had inhaled seemed to have stuck to his throat. As he finally stopped coughing, he cursed again, unable to see anything in the darkness.

His head ached as he tried to remember where exactly the gas lamps in the corridor were. He took out his wand and waved it haphazardly at the place where he supposed the lamps lay; and the gas lamps all along the wall lit up, casting a flickering, unsubstantial light all over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet. It cast light upon the long, gloomy hallway; the serpent-shaped chandelier that had once shone proudly over the hallway, now cast only a dim light from the high ceiling, from which it hung, covered with cobwebs and dust bunnies.

As he took a few steps ahead, Sirius gasped suddenly, as the long line of age-blackened portraits on the wall burst into loud exclamations.

"It's Sirius!"

"The Blood Traitor!"

"He's Lord Black now!"

"You're finally here!"

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE MAKING MY HEAD ACHE!" shouted Sirius, clutching his aching head, which seemed to throb even more madly with pain. The portraits suddenly fell silent, though Sirius saw their dimly-lit faces blazing with looks of outrage at being told to shut up by their Head of House.

As he took a few more steps ahead, Sirius stopped in his tracks. Before him stood the one being he had hoped he would never see again. An elf, who stood completely naked, except for a loincloth around its waist; its skin had now grown several times too big for it, and there was a large quantity of white hair in its bat-like ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and a watery grey; while its fleshy nose was just as snout-like as Sirius remembered. It dropped the thing in its hands-which looked suspiciously like Orion Black's old dress robes- when it spotted Sirius.

"Kreacher," mumbled Sirius in disbelief.

"Kreacher is imagining things…" muttered the elf, as it bent down to retrieve the fallen dress robes; its long ears brushing the carpeted floor as it did so. "Kreacher is seeing the older master Black…but older master Black has grown older now…he is being taller…and his hair is being longer…but he still has the smirk on his face which Kreacher's dear mistress hated…"

Sirius let out a loud, mirthless laugh. He probably had the worst possible fate… being wrongly put in Azkaban for a decade, losing all those dear to him…and now, when he expected the bloody house to be empty, the one elf, who had made his childhood miserable, now stood before him in flesh and blood. Sirius had thought Kreacher to be dead! Even Narcissa had thought so! But the evil midget was still alive! And muttering about his 'older master Black', just as he used to, all those years ago!

"And older master Black is wearing wizarding robes…not the filthy Muggle rags that he used to wear to make Kreacher's mistress cry…Kreacher is imagining things…" the elf continued, before it turned around and took a few steps ahead, probably thinking that it was hallucinating.

Sirius followed the elf, passing by a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains that hadn't been there when he'd run away from Grimmauld Place, only to trip over the umbrella stand made of troll legs, which he had so hated in his childhood.

"Umph!" he let out a muffled shout, as he fell face-first onto the floor; his head pounding even harder as it made contact with the worn carpet, beneath which lay the hard floor. He coughed loudly again as the dust on the floor entered his mouth and nose, cursing profusely between his coughs.

"Kreacher is not imagining things!" shrieked the elf in its bullfrog-like voice, as it turned around, the dress robes falling out of its hands again. "It is older master Black come home again—"

"SHUT UP, KREACHER!" shouted Sirius, the elf's voice adding to his headache, making it seem as if his head would pop out of his skull any moment; and the elf promptly put his hands on its mouth, its watery eyes widened almost comically.

"Damn! Bloody Hell! I shouldn't have come here—" The rest of Sirius' words disappeared somewhere within his throat as he saw what lay behind the moth-eaten curtains. To his drunken mind, it seemed that the curtains had covered up a window- a window behind which an old woman in a black cap stared at him, her eyes rolling, and the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut, a wide smile on her evil-looking face.

"MY SON!" shrieked the lady in the portrait, and Sirius felt all the blood drain off his face; and he actually stumbled backwards, tripping on the stand again and falling onto the dusty floor a second time.

"YOU CAN'T BE ALIVE!" he yelled, standing up as fast as he could, his wand pointed at Walburga's portrait.

"MY SON!" repeated Walburga. "Oh, my dear, dear son! I knew you would see the error of your ways some day! Oh, look at you! Your expensive robes, the family ring on your hand—"

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, MOTHER!" yelled Sirius, his blurry mind finally realising that he was looking at a portrait. "You made a bloody portrait of yourself? A portrait? You're haunting me from beyond your rotting grave! You vile hag! You scheming witch—"

"My darling son! You are drunk out of your mind to be uttering such blasphemous words! Kreacher!" exclaimed the portrait, Walburga's eyes gleaming with fury and elation in equal measure.

"Yes, mistress!" said the elf, bowing a ridiculously low bow before the portrait.

"Pour a large cauldron-full of water on my son!"

"Kreacher do as mistress wishes," said the elf, and a hazy-eyed Sirius found an absurdly enormous cauldron full of water appearing above his head. And before he could cast a spell, he found the cauldron tipping over and drenching him in what felt like hundreds of litres of ice-cold water.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman!" screamed Sirius, as he sputtered and coughed, his damp hair sticking to his face. And he brushed it aside with his wand-free hand.

But Walburga seemed to pay no heed to what Sirius said.

"—My son! My very own flesh and blood! You do not know how long I had wanted to see you in your true place: as the Head of my Noble House! And great-grandfather Phineas told me all about you! Of how you used your clout as Lord Black into bullying the Minister into doing your will! That was such a Black-like thing to do, my son—"

Sirius gaped at his mother, unable to believe the honeyed tones in which she was addressing him. He shook his head a couple of times in a dog-like manner to throw off the water droplets off him. Narcissa had been right! His mother had gone completely round the bend! Completely mental! 'My darling son'? He hadn't heard her say that even to Reggie!

"—and going to your grandfather Arcturus' Manor to retrieve the signet ring! Oh, it looks so good on your finger, my sweet boy! I knew it the very moment that I held you in my arms as a babe, that you would become what you were destined for! That you would fulfil the purpose that you were born for! To become the Head of my Noble House! To become Lord Black! I did what Druella couldn't! I gave my House a son! A male child! And now, your sons will take my House forward, Sirius—"

"Just shut up, Mother!" he growled, the effects of the excessive alcohol he had consumed seeming to relatively lessen. The water- no matter how goosebump-inducingly-cold it was- seemed to have taken his drunkenness with it, as it flowed off him in torrents. But his mother rambled on.

"—but great-grandfather Phineas also told me of how you are sheltering the brat of that blood traitor Potter—" Walburga snarled, her face taking on a menacing edge, and suddenly, she seemed to take on a totally different form. She peered at Sirius, as if she had just seen him, and she shrieked in an ear-splitting yell.

"YOU! BLOOD TRAITOR! ABOMINATION! SHAME OF MY FLESH!"

"Ah! This is the mother I knew and hated!" exclaimed Sirius. He'd take this yelling and cursing Walburga any day, over the falsely-loving and flattering words she'd been uttering. He realised that the mention of James had perhaps reminded her that Sirius was the son she hated, the child she had wished dead, the son she would have killed ina heartbeat if he hadn't left Grimmauld Place that fateful night.

"—YOU ARE A BLOT ON MY NAME! I SHOULD NEVER HAVE GIVEN BIRTH TO YOU, YOU BLOOD TRAITOR! YOU BACK-STABBING—"

"Mother!" said Sirius loudly, and held forth his hand, the knuckle on which the gleaming signet ring sat proudly, facing Walburga.

And Walburga's eyes gleamed as she saw the ring, and she stared at Sirius from head to toe, as if she was seeing him in a new light.

"My son! You have finally come back to where you belonged! The house of your fathers! You have finally reclaimed—"

Sirius shook his head in amused exasperation and walked onto the upper landings, into a room where lay the portrait of the one person he desperately wanted to yell at.

He heard a muffled sound behind him, and groaned as he saw that it was Kreacher; his hands still on his mouth. And Sirius remembered that he had told the dratted elf to shut up.

"You may speak, Kreacher," he said tersely, and Kreacher fell into low bow before Sirius, his bat-like ears sweeping the floor.

"Kreacher will serve master Black now," said the elf in his low voice, before he continued in a hushed whisper, "Older master Black is Kreacher's master now. Kreacher not like serving master Black, but Kreacher be bound to do what master says. Master broke Kreacher's mistress' heart by running away from home. But Kreacher sees the signet ring on master's finger…and Kreacher sees mistress talking kindly to master—"

"Enough, Kreacher! Go and—err—go, clean the house! It's blacker than it ever was! And the next time I come here," ('which certainly won't be soon,' he added in his mind,) "I want this house cleaned up!"

"As master wishes," said the elf, as a duster appeared in his hands out of nowhere, and he began cleaning the dusty carpet near Sirius' feet, his bloodshot eyes casting glances at Sirius every now and then.

"Kreacher wonders whether master will bring his daughter with him," muttered the elf under his breath."Kreacher has heard tell that young mistress is a great witch…and that master had given shelter to Harry Potter. But Harry Potter is a half-blood, and the brat of that blood traitor, whom Kreacher's mistress hated and—"

"Go clean mother's room!" growled Sirius, wanting nothing better than to get the elf out of his sight.

Oh, how he hated this house…and that blasted elf! And now, when he had thought that his mother was no more, he'd been faced with her portrait! Damn! Though his thoughts weren't hazy anymore, his head was still pounding. But before he went to the McKinnon cemetery, Sirius had to yell at Phineas Nigellus for keeping him in the dark about Walburga's portrait! And for feeding his insane mother with information on the children!

"You vile man! You traitor! You didn't even tell me that she's made a bloody portrait of hers!" exclaimed Sirius furiously to the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, who was chuckling aloud. He cast a quick scourgify charm on the room, not wanting another coughing fit due the dust that seemed to have occupied every part of the house.

"You tell on me to Andy! You keep passing snide comments on my job! And now, you kept me in the dark about her portrait!" he yelled, and Phineas' chuckles turned into roars of laughter.

"I—I wanted to see you reacting to seeing Walburga's—portrait!" said Phineas between his laughs. "Couldn't let go of an opportunity to entertain myself at your expense, could I? And you didn't let me down at all, Sirius! The look on your face when Walburga shrieked at you! You had turned as white as an Abraxan Horse! A tale to tell all the future generations of Blacks! And I'll also tell them of how you fell face-first onto the ground out of shock, in your drunken stupor!"

Sirius had half a mind to give Phineas sleepless nights by correcting him and saying 'future generations of Potters' since Harry and Acquila's kids would inherit the Black property. But he bit back the retort.

"What if I'd died of shock?" Sirius said instead. "What would have happened to the bloody House of Black then? It would've become as Headless as Sir Patrick of the Headless Hunt!"

"Acquila's son would have taken over as Head of House whenever he would have been born! And Acquila would have made a perfect regent until he came of age," responded Phineas smugly. "And the lass will certainly make a better regent that you are Head of House—"

"But till Acquila comes of age, Andy's going to be the regent if I'm no more," smirked Sirius.

"Sweet Slytherin!" exclaimed Phineas theatrically. "The blood traitor? Regent?"

Sirius nodded smugly.

"I dislike admitting this, but even the blood traitor would make a better regent that you are Head of House. After all, the plan for rebuilding our relations with pure-blood Houses was hers, wasn't it?"

"Yes! But how do you know that? We never discussed our plans within hearing range of your portrait!" exclaimed Sirius. "You eavesdropping, sneaky—"

"Unlike you, young man," remarked Phineas importantly as he ran his hand over his beard, gazing at Sirius, "I have many sources of gaining information—"

"Like your fellow portraits at Hogwarts?" snorted Sirius.

"Yes," said Phineas condescendingly. "One of them has another portrait at the Daily Prophet office—"

"And you coerced him into telling you of what the reporters talk? You're like a gossipy witch—"

Phineas interrupted Sirius, a mildly affronted look on his face, "Since you keep me in the dark about matters of the House, I have to resort to such means! But the moment I heard that you were dancing with the Flint girl and talking to the Greengrasses, I knew it was an attempt at beginning to gather allies. And I also knew that your Gryffindor mind would never have come up with that idea. So I concluded that the dormant Slytherin within the blood traitor must have come up with it."

"I'll let Andy know of the glowing compliments you paid her," responded Sirius dryly, before he suddenly heard a voice coming out of the inner pocket of his robes.

"DAD!"

"SIRIUS!"

"What is that?" asked Phineas inquisitively as he tried to peer into the Mirror, which Sirius whipped out of his pocket.

But Sirius ignored him.

"What's the matter, Harry?" he asked his Godson, whose frazzled face appeared in the Mirror.

"Dad, Moaning Myrtle got petrified!"

"Someone opened the Chamber of Secrets!"

"And Harry heard that voice again!"

"Calm down, calm down," said Sirius, though he was anything but calm himself. "Tell me all that happened!"

"Are you—are you drunk, Dad?" asked Acquila suddenly.

"Yes, Sirius…your eyes seem bloodshot…and are you—are you drenched in water? Are you alright?" asked Harry in concern.

"Oh…yes, yes…I'm alright…it's nothing…tell me what happened now…" mumbled Sirius.

The two kids looked warily at him, unconvinced; but they did tell him all that had happened.

"Damn!" growled Sirius after they finished their narration, with half a mind to tear at his hair.

"So, you heard that voice again? And only you could hear it, Harry? Nobody else could?"

"Yeah," replied Harry.

"Neither Ron, nor Hermione, nor I could hear any voice," said Acquila.

"And you followed that voice?" demanded Sirius. "You could have been the ones petrified instead of Moaning Myrtle!" he growled, suddenly realising how close a brush with danger his children had had.

"But we thought the voice—what if it killed someone? It was saying that it wants to kill! That it—" said Harry.

"That doesn't mean that you put yourself into danger! Where are you, now?" he asked them.

"In Harry's dormitory," said Acquila.

"Stay there! And keep your wands with you all the time! Did Dumbledore search the Castle?"

"We don't know. After he took us to Lockhart's office and questioned us, he had us escorted back to the dorm by Professor McGonagall…we don't know what happened after that!"

"Okay. Now, stay where you are! And I want no night-time wanderings! And no trying to investigate! And no going near the place where Myrtle got petrified! Am I clear?"

"Yes," replied the two children together, and before they could say a single further word, Sirius' image disappeared from the Mirror.

Sirius put the Mirror into his pocket again, and then collapsed into the dusty bed in front of him, his head in his hands.

"Damn! Damn it all to hell!" he spat into the silence. "Why is it always my kids? Why do things always keep happening around Harry? DAMN!" he growled, before he began pacing around.

"So," said Phineas, as he examined his fingernails. "Potter heard a voice that only he can hear?"

"Yes," barked Sirius. "You heard him, didn't you?"

"If I were you, I would tone down the anger," said Phineas conversationally.

"And what am I going to get by calming down?" snapped Sirius, rounding on the portrait. "He's hearing voices that no one else can! And that isn't normal even in the magical world—"

"And if you stop acting like an immature teenager and start behaving more like the grown up man that you are supposed to be, I might just consider shedding some light on the matter," said Phineas lazily, though his eyes contained a strangely triumphant glint.

"You know what it is? The voice that Harry's hearing?" asked Sirius eagerly, though a little suspiciously.

"Oh yes, I do," replied Phineas, finally looking up from his examination of his fingernails.

"What are you waiting for, then? Tell me!" exclaimed Sirius.

"I'm not going to hand it all on a platter to you, boy," chuckled Phineas, looking at Sirius with a sense of superiority. "You keep saying the boy's your godson…that he's as good as a son to you. But it took a wise old Slytherin like me to discern the boy's ability, and not an unobservant, half-witted Gryffind—"

"Argh!" groaned Sirius. "Just tell me!"

"Hmmm," said Phineas, running a hand over his beard again, as though he were evaluating the matter mentally. "I can tell you, but I remember being called a traitor, a vile old man, a gossipy witch, a wily old fox—" he added, ticking each name off the fingers of his hand.

"Fine, fine! I take it all back!" said Sirius. "I shouldn't have called you that!" he mumbled, before his voice rose in volume. "But if you're lying, old man, I'll have your portrait thrown out of—"

"Have you seen Potter combing his messy hair in the mirror in his room?" Phineas interrupted Sirius.

"What?" exclaimed Sirius, looking at Phineas as if he'd gone mad. "You've finally lost it, haven't you? Just like my insane mother and my deranged cousin? It must run in the family…my Mum and Bellatrix must have inherited their madness from you!"

"Do I count that as another insult, my dear great-great-grandson?" said Phineas snidely. "Maybe I should just tell Dumbledore of what I have observed." The Sytherin Headmaster moved, as if to walk out of his portrait, though Sirius knew he would rather keep the information a secret forever than share it with Dumbledore.

"Alright, alright! I—I take it back—now just tell me what it is!" said Sirius exasperatedly.

"Okay," said Phineas. "So, some day in July when the children were at Black Manor, I was having my daily dose of entertainment by watching Potter fighting a losing battle with his messy hair. And he was grumbling as children his age usually do, about how his hair kept sticking up at the back of his head, about how it would never lie down flat, and the like. But suddenly," said Phineas, looking very much as if he was enjoying telling the tale, "He spoke in a different language!"

"WHAT?"

"A different language!" repeated Phineas, gazing at Sirius expectantly.

"A different language? But Harry only knows English! The Dursleys never taught him other languages…" Sirius trailed off, trying to imagine Harry speaking a different language as he stood in front of the mirror in his room. It was an ancient, ornate mirror, like most other things in Black Manor. It had a glimmering silver frame, with two entwined snakes on—no! No, no, no!

"NO!" Sirius repeated aloud, his mind reaching a quick conclusion.

"Yes," exclaimed Phineas jubilantly.

"He can't know Parseltongue! Harry can't be a Parselmouth!" Sirius shouted, as if saying it aloud would wipe the ability off Harry.

"But he is, my boy! He is a Parselmouth! I saw him with my very own eyes! Hissing as he looked at the snakes on top of the mirror! I doubt he even realised that he was speaking Parseltongue—"

"But how can he speak Parseltongue! He's a Potter for Merlin's sake! A Potter! A family which has always been on the Light side! He's Jamie's son! And Lily was a Muggle-born, so he can't have inherited it from her…nor from Dorea, because the Blacks haven't had a Parseltongue since centuries—No, no! that can't be!"

"But it is true! He is a Parselmouth! Like the great Salazar Slytherin! Why do you think I was so eager to acknowledge him as my descendant? I even told you that I am proud to have him as my great-great-grandson! I kept throwing you hints, hoping your puny mind would grasp what I was hinting at—"

"That was a hint?" exclaimed Sirius incredulously. "Then you're pathetic at hinting! Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"As I told you, you can't expect me to hand you everything on a silver platter, Lord Black," said Phineas, snorting elegantly. "I expected you to observe the boy…didn't you ever notice him staring a little too long at the snakes around Black Manor?"

"I thought that was because they made him uncomfortable! Snakes all around the bloody Manor!"

"This is why the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor, and not Slytherin; because though you have been undeservingly blessed with excellent deducement abilities, you let them get overshadowed by your asinine assumptions—"

"Tell Dumbledore that I'm coming to Hogwarts right now," Sirius cut Phineas off.

"I am not going to play messenger to you, boy," said Phineas importantly.

"Please tell Dumbledore that I'm coming to Hogwarts," said Sirius, rolling his eyes at the portrait.

"Alright," said Phineas, making to move out of the portrait.

"Sirius?" he called out suddenly, as Sirius turned around to depart.

"What now?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't want to anger Acquila," remarked Phineas off-handedly.

"Huh?"

"Straighten your robes, you dolt!" said Phineas, sneering. "Look a little less drunkard-like than you're looking presently. And wipe off that red smudge on your cheeks. It looks suspiciously like something that was on the lips of a woman. Did you go to a Muggle establishment to get drunk?" asked Phineas with an outraged expression on his sly face. "Because no self-respecting witch would have—"

"Of course I went to a Muggle pub," snorted Sirius, wiping the said lip-stick mark off his cheek, where the drunk woman at the pub had forcibly kissed him. "Where else would I go? The Leaky Cauldron? The Hog's Head? And have my drunken face staring at me from tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet?"

"It's good to see you keep your negligible wits about you even during an overtly-emotional time," Phineas said reluctantly. "Went to visit Potter's grave before you came here, did you?" he added, before he disappeared from the portrait, without waiting for a reply, leaving Sirius standing in the dark room alone, with only his thoughts for company, before he exited the door to apparate to Hogwarts.

Sirius' thoughts were muddled as he apparated just beyond the wards of Hogwarts. He walked over the lawns, each step taking him closer and closer to the Castle where his children lay.

He smiled wryly as he spotted a lighted pumpkin hanging near Hagrid's hut.

Halloween. He remembered Grandmother Melania telling him that Samhain was the day the line between the world of the living and the world of the dead blurred. It was the day the dead made contact with the world of the living. And that was why Walburga used to drag Reggie and him to the Cemetery, to pay their respects to their ancestors, to obtain their blessings to take the House of Black to greater heights.

And Sirius had believed in Grandmother Melania's words when he'd been a little boy, before he outgrew the notion as he grew older. But though he had always thought of Halloween as a day to remember the dead, never had he imagined that Halloween would mark the day he lost all that meant the very world to him. James, Athena, Lily...losing Harry and Acquila...being taken to Azkaban….

That was followed by the previous year's Halloween, where Quirrell's troll had put his children in danger, with Acquila unconscious for a full day. And now, this Halloween, where his kids had been meters away from the perpetrator of Myrtle's petrification...meters away from their possible death. And he had discovered that Harry was probably a Parselmouth!

"Black!" McGonagall walked briskly towards him, at a speed belying her age.

"Minerva," he acknowledged her gruffly, not with the usual, cheeky 'Minnie'.

"Dumbledore is waiting for you—" she began, as she fell into step with him.

"Dumbledore can wait. I need to talk to my kids first," said Sirius.

"The children? At this hour?"

"Yes. I have to talk to them. In private. It concerns something extremely important," he said.

McGonagall gave him a long, searching look, before nodding. She sent her Patronus with a wave of her wand, presumably to Dumbledore.

"Go to my office. The wards will let you in. And wait there. I will bring the children from their dormitories," she said.

"They're both in Harry's dorm," said Sirius, remembering that he'd told them to stay together.

McGonagall seemed startled, and she raised an eyebrow in question.

"I know it's against the rules, but after I knew of what happened, I told them to stay with each other—"

"And how did you tell them that? I am sure an owl would not have flown from London to Scotland this soon," remarked McGonagall, "So, I assume you have other means of communicating with my students."

"Now, now, Minnie," said Sirius, smirking, though his eyes still remained weary, "I can't reveal all my tricks to you, can I?"

McGonagall shook her head in exasperation. "Off you go, Black. I'll bring the children."

Minutes later, Sirius paced around in McGonagall's office, waiting for the kids.

"Dad!" exclaimed Acquila as she rushed in through the door.

"Hey, darling," said Sirius, before covering the distance between them in two long strides and gathering her in his arms.

"Are you fine, sweetheart?" he asked her, holding her tightly to his chest, as he pressed a kiss onto her head, noticing that she had grown a couple of inches taller than when he had last seen her on the first of September.

"I'm fine, Dad," she replied, before he gently let go of her.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, moving on to Harry next, as he engulfed the boy in a hug, as well.

"Hey, Sirius," said Harry softly.

"Thank you, Minnie," said Sirius to the deputy headmistress, who stood watching them at the door, after he let go of Harry.

"I will be waiting in the next room for you," said McGonagall, before she departed, shutting the door behind her.

"You didn't even tell us you were coming, Dad," said Acquila. "And why didn't you bring Remus with you?"

"He's recovering from the full moon," said Sirius tersely, before setting up all the privacy wards he knew in the room. He trusted McGonagall not to eavesdrop. But he was an Auror after all. He didn't want to leave anything to chance. He couldn't risk anyone over-hearing them.

"But why are you here suddenly? What's the matter? And why are you putting up all these wards—"

"Serpensortia!" said Sirius suddenly, and the end of his wand exploded; a long, black snake shot out of it and fell heavily on the floor between Acquila and him.

Acquila let out a startled exclamation, but she stood her ground, knowing that Sirius wouldn't let her be harmed, and that she would be able to fight it wandlessly. The snake raised itself towards her, its fangs exposed, ready to strike.

"NO!" exclaimed Harry, as the snake slithered further towards Acquila. He rushed towards the snake, his legs carrying him forward as though they had a mind of their own.

"Leave her! Don't hurt her!" he shouted at the snake, and the snake inexplicably slumped to the floor, its eyes now on Harry.

"Evanesco," mumbled Sirius, and the snake vanished. But Harry looked at Sirius, making to ask him why he had conjured the snake, the words died in his throat as he saw his Godfather's face turn white. Acquila, too, gaped at Harry and Sirius alternately.

Sirius sunk into a chair in a corner of the room, his face wearied.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"Come here, kiddo," said Sirius, sighing heavily. Harry walked to him, wondering what the matter was.

"Sit," he said, pulling two chairs towards him magically; and Harry and Acquila sat in them.

"Since when can you talk to snakes, Harry?" Sirius asked him, a note of trepidation in his low voice.

"Since before my eleventh birthday…but why are you asking me this? Why do you seem so worried? What's the matter?"

"Can you tell me about the first time you spoke to a snake?" asked Sirius, ignoring Harry's questions.

And Harry told him of the time he had spoken to the boa constrictor at the zoo.

"But what's the matter, Dad? I know it sounded strange… but how does Harry being able to talk to snakes matter? He'd told me about the boa constrictor, but I thought it's quite normal…we live in a magical world!" put in Acquila.

"Didn't you think of looking it up in the library, Acquila? Didn't you wonder why Harry could speak to snakes, but people like you or friends couldn't?" Sirius asked her, knowing that he couldn't have expected his daughter to know that being a Parselmouth was an uncommon trait, but wishing her inquisitive mind would have sensed something amiss.

"No…it slipped out of my mind. Harry told me about it when we met at Kings' Cross last year…and I did think of looking it up…but then the next day, you escaped from prison…and—and I forgot all about it…but how does it matter, Dad? Just tell us what's wrong! You're scaring me!"

"Okay…calm down," said Sirius, before he pulled Harry's chair closer to him.

"Harry," he began, "Not many people can talk to snakes…you are a Parselmouth. You can speak Parseltongue…snake language to put it simply—"

"I spoke a different language?" gasped Harry.

"Yes, you did! You were hissing!" put in Acquila, and Harry now knew why she had been gaping at him.

"I was hi—hissing?" sputtered Harry.

"Yes, like a snake," nodded Acquila.

"But how does it matter? Even if it's an uncommon thing? Even Acquila's magic is uncommonly powerful—"

"—because Salazar Slytherin was famous for being able to speak Parseltongue. That's why the symbol of Slytherin house is a serpent…some of his descendants could speak Parseltongue, as well," said Sirius quietly.

"Slytherin?" exclaimed Harry.

"And the last known speaker of Parseltongue," added Sirius gravely, "was Voldemort."

"WHAT?" gasped Harry and Acquila together.

"But—but I'm not a descendant of Slytherin, am I? I can't be—"

"From what I know of the Potter bloodline, Slytherin wasn't your ancestor…but I'll look it up anyway…but listen to me, Harry, you cannot let anyone know that you can speak to snakes…Ron, Hermione…and even Neville…that's it! You can't tell anyone else! Am I clear?"

"Yes," said Harry. "But—but why? How does it matter?"

"You saw what was written on the wall, didn't you? That the Chamber of Secrets is open?"

The two children nodded.

"Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"No…"

"Remember Remus had told you of the history of the founders of Hogwarts over the holidays? Of how Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts after his argument with Gryffindor over not allowing Muggle-borns to study at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, we know that…Remus told us that…" said Harry.

"Legend goes that Slytherin built a hidden chamber within the Castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. He sealed the chamber so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of those unworthy to use magic, that is Muggle-borns—"

"But—but that's just a myth, isn't it? Like those other stories Remus told us…like the tale of the wizard with the—"

"I don't think it's a myth, Harry," said Sirius. "Even the Blacks spoke of the Chamber of Secrets…my grandfather had told me of how our ancestors had tried looking for the Chamber…to claim that the Blacks were the true heirs of Slytherin," snorted Sirius. "Even we looked for it…Jamie, Remus, Pe—and I…when we were making the Map. We searched every nook and cranny of the Castle and the grounds…but we found nothing. The teachers of Hogwarts over the centuries looked for the Chamber too, but they didn't find it—"

"Then how do you know that it isn't a myth?" asked Acquila. "It must be just a legend—"

"Because the legend of the myth kept coming up from time to time…almost every few years, there would be talk of the Chamber being used…and more importantly, our family believed in it. And no matter how crazy some of the Blacks were, they weren't people who would believe something without making sure it's true," said Sirius.

"So…so now, people are going to think that I'm Slytherin's great-great-great grandson or something?" asked Harry.

"They will if you let them know that you are a Parselmouth," said Sirius quietly. "Why do I think I am telling you to keep it a secret? You defeated Voldemort, and if people know that you can speak Parseltongue- which is an ability usually associated with Dark wizards- they may very well believe that you are a dark wizard, as well…that you could defeat Voldemort with your dark powers…that you opened the Chamber of Secrets since you're a Parselmouth. And since you're my ward, a ward of the Blacks, it'll give them all the more reason to think that you're a dark wizard. People already know of Acquila setting Lucius on fire at the Ministry…and the spell she accidentally used was a dark spell…it wouldn't take the students here much time to put two and two together and say that you're the one behind the Chamber opening," he said to Harry, "And you," he said to Acquila, "are probably helping him or something—"

"But—but that's preposterous!" exclaimed Acquila. "We didn't even know anything of the Chamber! We just ran towards the voice that Harry heard, and we found Myrtle petrified! We didn't even know that a ghost could be petrified! We didn't know that anyone could be petrified!"

"I know that, sweetheart…but in the wizarding world, rumours spread quicker than snake venom! And I don't want either of you in the eye of the storm…and for all we know, both of you might have been the target, and not Myrtle…Damn!" he cursed, as he imagined Harry lying petrified, "Listen to me now…I don't want either of you going out after curfew…no roaming around alone…if you're going to visit Hagrid, tell him to pick you up from the Castle…no walking on the grounds alone—"

"But—but I have Quidditch practice…and we can't take an escort everywhere—"

"I know, kiddo! But I can't have either of you in danger…you know that Voldemort isn't in Albania…and even Dumbledore has got no leads on his current location…and since the voice Harry heard spoke in Parseltongue, it might have been a snake which petrified Myrtle- which is absurd in itself since she's a ghost…or," he added gravely, "It might have been Voldemort that Harry heard, since he can speak Parseltongue too!"

Harry and Acquila's eyes widened.

"You mean Voldemort is in the Castle?" exclaimed Acquila, her hand creeping towards Harry's hand.

"He might be. I'm going to have a talk with Dumbledore about this now…and if he agrees with what I told you about Voldemort…or if I find his security measures lacking, I'm pulling both of you out of Hogwarts."

"WHAT!" exclaimed the two together. "You can't do that!"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," said Sirius with an air of finality. "Think about it! A ghost was petrified! A ghost! Who else knows magic dark enough to petrify someone who's already dead? The Chamber is open! Harry can hear someone speaking in parseltongue! And we don't know where Voldemort is! And when Voldemort was in Albania, he used to possess snakes! What does this mean? That Voldemort's probably behind this! He's possessing a snake…that's probably how he petrified a ghost—made use of dark magic through the snake, perhaps! He wanted revenge on you, Harry…you thwarted him when he tried to take the Philosopher's Stone…the second time you defeated him. You think he's going to forget that?"

"So—so you mean he's operating through a snake? Not from being stuck at the back of someone else's head again?"

"Yes," said Sirius. "From what I know of him, he won't use the same trick again, knowing it failed last time, and knowing that Dumbledore knew of him possessing Quirrell…no matter how much I'm mad at Dumbledore, I admit he's the only one whom Voldemort feared. He won't try possessing someone again with Dumbledore knowing that he can possess people…"

"But—but you can't pull us out of school, Dad! What about our education?" said Acquila.

"Remus, Andy and I can home-school you."

"What about my Quidditch match? It's against Slytherin! I'm not missing it! Come on, Sirius—" cried Harry.

"Your lives are far more important to me than Quidditch, Harry," said Sirius firmly, sounding far more parent-like than he ever had. "I've already lost Athena, James and Lily…and I'm not losing either of you."

"But—but, Dad! What about the other kids, then? What if Voldemort attacks them? And you can't have us running away from Voldemort, Dad!"

"She's right! We—we're Gryffindors," said Harry, "We're supposed to be brave! We can't run away—"

"You're sounding just like James," said Sirius, smiling wryly. "But I told you, I'm not going to have you in danger. I'm going to go have a look at the writing on the wall now…and a look at Myrtle, too. And then I'm going to have a talk with Dumbledore about Voldemort and about the security here…If I find that there's real danger here, I'm going to get in the Aurors…I'll force Scrimgeour if I have to, but I want the Aurors investigating this…"

"If—if the Aurors come in, will you let us remain at school? Voldemort wouldn't harm us with Aurors around! He hasn't even got a body if your hypothesis is correct!" said Harry.

"I'll think about it," said Sirius. "Now I'll drop you to the tower, and I'll go talk to Dumbledore. And both of you pack your trunks in the meantime—"

"No, Dad! You can't pull us out of school!" said Acquila stubbornly.

"Do you want to put Harry in danger, then?" asked Sirius, grasping at the one thing which he knew would make Acquila agree with him: her love for Harry.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed.

"Then, you're going to let me decide all about your safety…and you're going to do what I tell you to!"

"But, Dad—"

"Have I made myself clear?" asked Sirius, ignoring Acquila's protests.

"But, Sirius—" began Harry.

"Have I made myself clear?" Sirius repeated, a lot more sternly.

"Fine," said Harry dejectedly.

"FINE!" snapped Acquila heatedly.

"Come on, now," said Sirius, clasping Acquila's hand firmly, and putting his other hand on Harry's shoulder.

He opened the door, and McGonagall walked towards them.

"I've checked Gryffindor Tower, Sirius. It's safe," she said. "I'll escort the kids there."

"Okay," said Sirius a little hesitantly, before he pressed a kiss each onto Acquila and Harry's foreheads, and sent them with the deputy headmistress.

"Hello, Sirius," said Dumbledore as Sirius entered his office.

Sirius nodded in acknowledgement as he sat down opposite the headmaster.

"I saw the writing on the wall," said Sirius, getting straight to the point, "It's written in paint, and not blood." He had heaved a great sigh of relief when he had gone to the first floor and observed the words on the wall.

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore. "But the paint cannot be taken off the wall. Filius tried to charm it off the wall. Even I tried my best to make the paint vanish. But unfortunately, whoever wrote the words seems to be determined to make them remain there indefinitely."

"I looked around for traces of Dark Magic," said Sirius.

"As did I," put in Dumbledore, "But I found none."

"Who's behind this, Dumbledore?" asked Sirius wearily.

"I wish I knew, my boy. But as of now, I cannot say—"

"I think they meant to harm the kids," Sirius interrupted the Headmaster.

"Do you think so?" said Dumbledore. "But Harry and Acquila were in the dungeon at Sir Nicholas' Deathday party, while Myrtle was petrified near the bathroom on the first floor. Severus and I even asked Harry about why he went to the first floor, instead of to the Great Hall for the Feast, but Harry gave what seemed like an untruthful reply."

"Harry went to the first floor following a voice that he heard," said Sirius, deciding to tell Dumbledore of Harry being a Parselmouth.

"Did he?" said Dumbledore.

"He's a Parselmouth," said Sirius.

"Oh," said Dumbledore, not seeming surprised at all, and Sirius heard Phineas chuckling softy from his portrait.

"You knew of it," said Sirius accusingly.

"I cannot say that I knew that Harry is a Parselmouth, but I will admit that I am not surprised, Sirius." At Sirius' questioning look, Dumbledore continued, "The night Harry defeated Voldemort,Voldemort unknowingly transferred some of his powers to Harry."

"WHAT?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore.

"But how's that possible? I've read tens of books on magic in my childhood, Dumbledore, but I haven't ever come across something like this! Not even in the darkest of books!"

"Had you ever read of a soul escaping the body, then, as in Voldemort's case? Voldemort is still alive as a wraith, isn't he, despite being physically dead?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, yes—but Harry having Voldemort's powers? Are you sure about this, Dumbledore? Do you mean to say that—that Harry may have got some of his Dark powers apart from Parseltongue, as well? But that's—that's impossible! Harry's such a good lad! He's kind and loving and caring…and brave and noble…and—and he isn't like Voldemort at all!"

"That's what matters, isn't it? That he's so very different from Voldemort," said Dumbledore, smiling.

Sirius just stared at Dumbledore, inwardly feeling like he wanted to hit own his head against the ornate table. Harry? Voldemort's powers? How was that even possible?
Sirius sighed deeply. He could think of all that later. What was more important now was the safety of his children. He began by telling Dumbledore all about his theory of Voldemort being behind the attack on Myrtle.

"What you say may be quite probable, but I would advise you not to withdraw the children from Hogwarts," remarked Dumbledore finally. "Nor would I advise bringing in the Aurors."

"Do I leave my children unprotected, then? Do you want a repeat of what happened last term, Dumbledore? Let Voldemort have a chance at killing Harry again?"

"Of course not," said Dumbledore firmly. "Harry means as much to me as he does to you. I am not going to leave him unprotected. But you need to understand, Sirius, bringing the Aurors into Hogwarts is not possible, unless the Board of Governors give their approval. And do you think the likes of LuciusMalfoy would want to bring in the Auror force to investigate the petrification of a ghost? Even Rufus Scrimgeour may not be too keen to have his force while their time in investigating the petrification of Myrtle, especially when the restorative draught made from the Mandrakes will revive her in a few months."

"A few months?" exclaimed Sirius incredulously. "She's going to remain petrified for a few months? But we need her revived soon! She can give us information about what exactly happened to her!"

"Unfortunately, grown Mandrakes aren't available easily. The Mandrakes which Pomona recently managed to procure are yet to grow. And it will take a few months for them to be ready for being used to brew the potion," said Dumbledore.

"I'll get them, then! Anything can be bought with the right amount of galleons," said Sirius, and Phineas gave him an approving nod from his portrait.

"Of course, you can try, but I assure you that finding grown Mandrakes will be quite a task."

Sirius nodded stiffly. "What about the kids, then?"

"I'll make sure they aren't harmed," said Dumbledore, and Sirius barely managed to stop himself from snorting derisively.

"Will you?" he asked instead. "Like you made sure Voldemort couldn't harm them in June?" he queried sardonically.

"Are you never going to forgive me for that, Sirius?" sighed Dumbledore. "I am as human as the next man, and I am bound to make mistakes occasionally. I admit I erred in failing to realise that Voldemort had possessed Quirinus, but I will take measures to protect Harry and Acquila."

"What measures?" demanded Sirius. "Because if I feel that my kids are in even a little bit of danger, I am going to make sure that they never put foot in this Castle again. I can't lose them, Dumbledore. I can't! They're all I have…they're my very life…and I'm not going to lose them to that bastard! He killed James and Lily! I can't let him harm Harry…and Acquila, as well."

"They won't be harmed, Sirius. Since your theory of Harry having heard a snake is tenable, I will ask Silvanus, who has handled snakes in his Care of Magical Creatures lessons, and Hagrid to search the entire Castle for snakes. And Hagrid can also ensure that no snakes from the Forbidden Forest will enter the Castle. I will also have a teacher escorting Harry and Acquila to their classes, and to the Quidditch pitch," said Dumbledore.

"And think about it, Sirius," he added as Sirius made to interrupt him, "Myrtle is a ghost; whom nobody really cared about. The writing on the wall, too, was written in ink. That doesn't seem like the work of the darkest wizard of all times! And from whatever I know of Voldemort- and I know him quite well – I don't think he would have dared come to Hogwarts again after what happened in June. He knows that he cannot touch Harry; not without feeling the pain himself. He knows that Lily's sacrifice is still protecting Harry. And he also knows that I know that he possessed Quirinus. And Voldemort isn't one to repeat a failed plan. I assure you that he hasn't possessed any person in the Castle. And I am also quite certain that he isn't in the Castle himself. I know he isn't in Albania, but that doesn't mean that he's the one behind these attacks, Sirius—"

"Who's behind them, then? A ghost was petrified! A ghost! And that's the darkest of magic! And since Harry heard someone speaking in Parseltongue, who else would it be? A normal snake?One of the Ashwinders from Hagrid's cabin? A snake can't petrify someone, Dumbledore! Especially not a ghost!" said Sirius.

"That's for me to look into, my boy. But I give you my word that the children will come to no harm. A teacher will accompany them at all times—"

"Not Lockhart," put in Sirius, beginning to think that Dumbledore's measures seemed quite adequate.

"Not Lockhart," agreed Dumbledore, a hint of a smile on his face.

"And if anything else happens…even the smallest hint of danger, I will pull them out of Hogwarts," said Sirius firmly.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Good night, Sirius," said Dumbledore, as Sirius made to leave, minutes of chalking out the details of a few more points on the children's safety.

"Good night," replied Sirius, exiting the circular office to give the kids the happy news that they could remain at Hogwarts.

"She was one of my favourite students, you know," squeaked Professor Flitwick as he escorted Harry and Acquila to the Great Hall. "And a prefect, as well! And she was so friendly with the younger students! Always ready to help them with homework, always ready to answer all the questions and doubts of the first-year Muggleborns! A true Ravenclaw!" the Professor exclaimed. And Harry smiled as he saw Acquila's eyes alight with happiness as she heard the Professor talking about her mother.

"And Athena was excellent at Charms, as well! But she loved Ancient Runes the best." The tiny Professor spoke on, ignoring the students walking past them, who stared at him and the two Gryffindors he was escorting, wondering why the Head of Ravenclaw was walking with Harry and Acquila.

"She liked studying Ancient Runes?" asked Acquila.

"Yes!" squeaked Flitwick. "She was always top of her class in Runes. And she got at 'O' in her NEWTs! The examiner said she was the best student at Runes he'd ever seen! And he's been evaluating answer sheets since a century! That was how she got her job at the Department of Mysteries, too! Because she was extremely good at deciphering Ancient Runes—oh! We've reached the Great Hall already! Off you go, children!"

"Thank you for telling me about my Mum, professor," said Acquila happily.

"You're welcome, Acquila," squeaked the smiling Professor before he trotted off to the staff table for breakfast.

"You're finally here! I thought breakfast would get over by the time you reached, mate," said Ron, as Harry and Acquila sat at the Gryffindor table, joining Ron, Hermione and Neville, who had already begun eating.

"We had to wait for a professor to come and escort us here," said Harry, as he loaded his plate with food.

"It's quite annoying," said Acquila. "I didn't mind Professor Flitwick accompanying us today…but what when it's Snape? He'll probably keep grumbling about how he's been forced to act as a bodyguard to us—"

"And deduct a total of fifty points from both of you while he's at it," said Ron. "The greasy-haired git!"

"Ron!" exclaimed an outraged Hermione. "I know he isn't an impartial teacher, but he did save Harry from falling off the broomstick last year, didn't he? And Snape and Acquila's Dad have reached a truce—"

"That hasn't made Snape any less nasty, has it? He keeps deducting points for no reason…keeps passing snide comments…" grumbled Ron.

"I wish they'd just stop staring at us!" exclaimed an annoyed Acquila suddenly, as she put down her glass of pumpkin juice rather forcefully. And Harry looked around the Hall, only to see almost all eyes hooked to Acquila and him. Acquila's eyes moved to the Hufflepuff table, and she thought she saw Hannah look at her fearfully. But she then met Cedric Diggory's eyes, and he smiled brightly at her.

'You alright?' he mouthed at her, asking her about the previous night's events.

'Yes,' she mouthed back, smiling, before Hermione's voice caught her attention.

"It'll die down soon," said Hermione. "They're just looking because they're wondering why you had Flitwick escort you to the Great Hall. They'll get used to it in a couple of days, and then find something new to ogle at."

"I don't think so, Hermione," said Neville quietly.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"There are a lot of rumours floating around," replied Neville. "Peeves told the entire Castle that you argued with Myrtle in the dungeon…and the students think that you had her petrified as revenge. And your Dad had come to the Castle last night, hadn't he?" he asked Acquila.

"Yes," she replied, nodding.

"One of the ghosts saw him…and told some of the students…and now everyone thinks that Sirius was called to Hogwarts because one of you," he looked at Acquila and Harry, "had something to do with the Chamber opening, and with Moaning Myrtle's pertrification—"

"WHAT?" exclaimed Hermione.

"BLOODY HELL!" exclaimed Ron, outraged.

But Harry and Acquila just cast a resigned look at the other.

"Hannah Abbot told me…that—that Dumbledore found that one of you played a hand in it, so he had to call Sirius…and they're saying that because you're the Boy-Who-Lived," Neville looked apologetically at Harry, "And because you're the ward of Lord Black, Dumbledore can't throw you out of Hogwarts. And you're the Black heiress," he turned to Acquila, "So Dumbledore and the Board of Governors won't dare chuck you out of school, too…so the students think that they're having teachers escort both of you everywhere…so that you can't harm someone else…to keep everyone safe from you—"

"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Hermione, and Ron cut in with a few choice words of his own.

"But," Neville continued, "Susan Bones said that a few of the older students think that you both were meant to be attacked, and not Myrtle…and so, Dumbledore called Sirius over to tell him of the threat you're facing…and that's why the teachers are escorting you everywhere to keep you safe from the attacker."

"At least someone's got it right," said Acquila.

"That's what I told Susan…that neither of you would harm Myrtle…" said Neville.

"Thanks, Neville," said Harry, grinning.

Neville just smiled a little shyly in return. "My Gran wrote to me that your Aunt Andromeda spoke to her about allying your House with mine," he said. "I'm—I'm all for it…and now that we're allies, and—and you're my friends, as well…I can't have people spreading lies against you…and I know you haven't done anything wrong…so—so, I've been telling people that you aren't at fault in what happened yesterday…" he trailed off.

"Thank you, Neville," said Acquila sincerely. This was the most that the shy boy had spoken to them in the year that they'd known him. And she liked him opening up to them. With Sirius telling her of how both his parents had been, she knew that with a little bit of encouragement, Neville could very well become as confident as his parents once were. The new wand that Augusta had bought for Neville worked much better for him than Frank's wand did. And his wandwork during classes had been improving, too. And Acquila knew that with time, Neville would be as good a friend to Harry and her, as his parents had been to James and Sirius.

"Look at Malfoy," said Ron suddenly. "Looking a bit peaky, isn't he?"

Acquila looked at the Slytherin table, where Draco sat with Blaise Zabini. Blaise smiled at her on catching her eye, as did Daphne Greengrass. But Draco didn't even notice her looking at him. He seemed to be deep in thought. And he did look a little peaky…a little paler than he usually looked.

"Do you think Malfoy's got something to do with opening the Chamber?" asked Hermione.

"No," said Acquila immediately.

"But…did you see his face when he neared Moaning Myrtle's…uh…body? When I saw him come there, I thought he would say something rude about Muggleborns, since the message on the wall alluded to people like me…but he said nothing…he just kept looking at Harry and you with a scared look on his face…" said Hermione.

"Draco's got nothing to do with this," said Acquila firmly. "He must have been worried about me or something…because he saw me near Myrtle…and the Malfoys aren't heirs of Slytherin, anyway," said Acquila. "And from what Dad thinks," she added, lowering her voice to little more than a whisper, "Voldemort's behind all this."

At the mention of the Dark Lord's name, Hermione took in a deep breath, Ron's fork fell down from his hand; while the glass of pumpkin juice that Neville was drinking from, fell onto the floor with a loud crash.

"Reparo," said Harry absently, and the pieces of the shattered glass put themselves together, and the glass stood on the floor, as good as new.

"Was that—was that wandless magic you did?" said Ron hoarsely.

"I—I think so," mumbled Harry, dazed.

"That was wonderful!" exclaimed Hermione, and Neville cast him an appreciative look.

But Harry and Acquila just stared at each other. Was that another one of Voldemort's powers that had been transferred to Harry? Why had Harry suddenly been able to perform magic wandlessly with such effortless ease?

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione in concern, as she looked at their faces.

"That's a long story," said Acquila, and Harry and she launched into a whispered explanation of all that had happened the previous night, after a quick Muffliato.

"You are a Parselmouth?" mumbled Neville, his face white, after they had told them everything.

"You Know Who's after you again?" groaned Ron, his face fearful.

"The Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's heir?" said Hermione.

"Yes," said Harry, "But we'll continue the talk later," he added, spotting Snape walking towards them with an irritated look on his face.

"Come on, Potter, Black," he said from within gritted teeth. "I've been given the unenviable task of escorting both of our new celebrities to the Greenhouse." He glared at them vehemently. And the two Gryfindors gloomily followed him without a single word, with the other three following them from a little distance.

"Phineas!" Sirius called out to the portrait in Harry's room in Black Manor.

Andromeda and Remus sat on the chairs that stood in the room, while Sirius stood near the portrait, which currently was devoid of its usual occupant. They knew that Phineas could give them all the information they wanted on the Chamber, thanks to his portrait having been in the Headmaster's office since years.

"Oh, come on! I know you can hear me!" groaned Sirius, but the portrait remained blank.

"Stop laughing, Andy!" growled Sirius, as he turned around to see Andromeda chuckling, as well as Remus trying to control his smile.

"You should try being a little more respectful," suggested Andromeda.

"Fine," grumbled Sirius.

"Great-great-grandfather Phineas, would you please do me the honour of—"

"Aha!" came the voice from the portrait, and a smirking Phineas appeared into view. "See? That wasn't too difficult, was it?" he said snidely. "Addressing me correctly and the use of the word 'please' will always—oh my! Sweet Salazar! The blood traitor is here!" he exclaimed mid-way though his sentence, as his eyes fell on Andromeda, before they turned to Remus, "And the half-breed, as—"

"DON'T CALL HIM THAT!" snapped Sirius loudly.

"Do you want me to go back to watching Dumbledore conversing with that Phoenix of his?" asked Phineas lazily. "And what if I call him a half-breed?" he demanded, his voice now stern, while his eyes remained fixed on Remus. "He's a half-blood! With a Muggle for a mother! A Muggle! And he's a Dark creature, who comes into his own on full moon—"

"I am the Head of your House!" said Sirius firmly, his voice now laced with authority. "And I command you to stop calling him a 'half-breed' and to stop alluding to his affliction! Nor will you call him a 'Werewolf'!"

Phineas stared at Sirius, his mouth almost falling open in surprise. And Sirius stared back at him firmly, and Andromeda thought he looked rather like Arcturus Black used to.

"You—you—" began Phineas, failing at finding words to describe his thoughts.

"Am I clear, great-great-grandfather, Phineas? Portraits are supposed to heed what the current Head of House says, aren't they?" asked Sirius, a satisfied smile on his face, as he wondered why he hadn't remembered this point until now.

"They are," spat Phineas, "and I now detest whosoever made us so! Bound by Dumbledore's orders in Hogwarts, and now, bound by your orders here! Like a pitiable house-elf!" he grumbled, "I might just decide to make my portrait at Grimmauld Place my permanent residence—"

"And listen to my Mother's lunatic ravings all day?" asked Sirius, smirking. "Come on, Phineas! Just admit it! You like being here! And a part of you is rejoicing at the fact that I behaved as Lord Black should! Commanding people and everything…that's what you all always wanted from me, didn't you, since I was a little kid?"

"We wanted you to command those beneath us! Not your own blessed ancestors!" cried Phineas, though the satisfied glint in his dark eyes still remained.

"I am enjoying your banter," put in Andromeda, as Phineas snorted at her, "But I think we should get on with the reason for us being here."

"Yes," said Sirius, and Phineas stood up taller, looking like the proud pure-blood patriarch that he was.

"Need information from me, do you? Finally realised that I am a lot more important for you than you previously thought?" he asked, looking at the three of them self-importantly."After all, wasn't I the one, who first knew of Potter's wonderful ability?"

"Yes, yes…you are important for us," agreed Sirius indulgently. "Now will you tell us of all that you know of the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened?"

"Hmmm," said Phineas, as he smoothed his beard. "The Chamber of Secrets, you say? Let me think…let me think…" he put on a mock-pensive look.

"Come on! No need of the theatrics," said Sirius. "Just tell us! You don't want to put Acquila in danger, do you?"

Phineas' eyes widened, and Sirius thought he saw concern momentarily flit across his features, before he snorted.

"My great-great-great-granddaughter is a pure-blood! She faces no danger from the creature that lurks within the chamber! Only Mudbloods are targeted—"

"But I have reason to believe," cut in Sirius, "that Voldemort is behind it all. And you know, as well as I do, that Voldemort's main target is Harry…and with Acquila being his best friend, as well as my daughter, her life is at risk, too—"

"Just because the Potter boy heard someone speaking in Parseltongue, doesn't mean he heard the Dark Lord," snorted Phineas. "He may as well have heard a hungry snake saying it wanted to kill a couple of rodents!"

Sirius stifled a chuckle. "I—that's—look…why don't you just tell us of the Chamber? With time, I might just decide to tell you of why I think Voldemort's behind all this…you want to keep Acquila safe, don't you? She's my heiress…and I'm not going to marry again…Acquila's the last heiress…if something happens to her…you don't want the Lordship to pass on to Malfoy, do you? Our blood's a lot more ancient than theirs…and I know that you're not too fond of Draco…you wouldn't want our House to pass on to—"

"Oh, spare me the emotional lecture, boy," said Phineas. "I am much too fond of Acquila to let her get into danger. Now…the Chamber," he began, "It was last opened in the year 1943. Students of unworthy blood were attacked, before finally, a girl died—"

"What?" exclaimed Remus and Sirius together.

"Gryffindors and their extreme reactions," remarked Phineas disparagingly. "A girl died after the Chamber was opened," he repeated, "a Mudblood, of course—"

"Where did she die? Who was she?"

"Somewhere on the second floor," replied Phineas coolly. "I couldn't go there to see the site of her death, thanks to being stuck in the Headmaster's office…not that I wanted to know where the Mudblood died…and as for the identity of the victim? She had some strange name…Umm…Myrtle—"

"WHAT? Moaning Myrtle?" exclaimed Sirius aloud. "But—but she's the one who's been petrified! Her ghost, rather!"

"But—that means…the second attack on her—the attacker must have some personal vendetta against her—" began Remus.

"Or," said Andromeda, "the attacker targeted her, to render her unable to give us information about how she was killed."

Remus and Sirius nodded. That seemed the most probable explanation for why the ghost had been petrified.

"How did—how did the Chamber close, then? In 1943? When did the attacks stop?" asked Remus, and Phineas looked mildly affronted at being questioned by a Werewolf, but he spoke anyway.

"With the arrest of the attacker, of course," he replied.

"They—they arrested the attacker?" exclaimed Sirius. "Who was it? And why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"You never asked me," replied Phineas simply. "As for the attacker, his wand was snapped into two and he was expelled from Hogwarts, before Dumbledore, with his misplaced sense of Gryffindor gallantry, offered the oaf a post at Hogwarts…as Gamekeeper."

"HAGRID?" exclaimed Sirius incredulously, and Remus and Andromeda looked shocked.

"Yes…Rubeus Hagrid," said Phineas. "Now, now, don't looked so surprised…he always had a strange liking for dangerous creatures, didn't he? Oh, the things I heard about him," he added, shaking his head imperiously. "Raising dragons…raising Werewolf cubs under his bed," he continued, cocking a glance at Remus, who stiffened slightly at the mention of Werewolves.

"But—Hagrid wouldn't have!" exclaimed Sirius. "He can't have done something like this! He's a good bloke! He's got his heart in the right place—"

"He's a half-giant!" put in Phineas scathingly.

"So what?" demanded Sirius. "That doesn't mean that—anyway, what was the creature, then? The creature which attacked the students?"

"Why don't you go and ask the half-giant about it? Since you seem to be so very fond of him," said Phineas snidely. "And I think I have given you enough information for today. Now I am going back to Hogwarts…and I might just pay a visit to Walburga…to tell her that her darling son is up to his old ways again…defending half-giants…and keeping company with—" he paused, casting a look at Remus, "with—with—" he paused again, unable to over-ride Sirius' command to stop badmouthing Remus. "With people unworthy of putting foot onto the property of my ancestors!" he completed finally, and then walked out of the frame.

"The snide old coot," grumbled Sirius, before he turned to Remus and Andromeda.

"I'm writing to Hagrid…I need to talk to him!"

"I'll go instead," said Remus. "You—you were supposed to go to—to visit Athena, remember?" he added hesitantly, seeing a look of pain flit across Sirius' features. He hadn't been to the McKinnon Cemetery the previous night, after all that had happened with meeting the kids and discussing their security with Dumbledore. Athena had died sometime between the late night of the 31st of October, and the early morning of the 1st of November, 1981. And it was exactly eleven years since she'd passed away.

"No," said Sirius a long moment later. "You still haven't recovered, Remmy…and Athena…I'm sure she'll want me to get to the bottom of this and keep the kids safe than visit her grave…" he trailed off.

"And I'm not really up to visiting her now…" he added. "I can't deal with it with all this going on…I don't want to see her in there…I just…" he trailed off again, half-expecting Phineas to mock him as a soft-hearted Gryffindor, before he remembered that Phineas had disappeared.

"It's alright, Siri. I'm sure she'll understand," said Andromeda, before she stood up and hugged Sirius gently, praying to all the powers above that her cousin would some day find a life without worries, dangers and grief.

Sirius trudged through the green lawns of the Hogwarts grounds, one foot falling quickly after the other.

He had just met Hagrid at the Hog's Head. And a hesitant Hagrid had told him all about what had happened in 1943. He had reluctantly admitted that the creature, which the Armando Dippet thought had killed Moaning Myrtle, was a giant spider that Hagrid had procured. Sirius had pressed Hagrid to tell him more about the spider, but Hagrid had just said that the arachnid had fled away. His Auror senses had told him that Hagrid was hiding something, but Sirius wasn't really bothered about the Acromantula now, because from what he knew of the giant spiders, they didn't petrify people.

But what had caught his attention in Hagrid's retelling of the events, was the mention of the name, Tom Riddle. Hagrid had told him that Tom Riddle, a Slytherin prefect, had spotted the Acromantula, and concluded that the spider behind the attacks. And with Tom Riddle having been a very charismatic boy, the teachers had believed him over poor Hagrid.

Something about Tom Riddle seemed fishy to Sirius. And had Dippet been mad? How he just believed in one student's words over the other's, no matter how popular a boy Riddle was?

"Ah, Sirius," said Dumbledore, as Sirius entered the headmaster's circular office a few minutes later. This was the second time he was visiting Dumbledore in two days. And Sirius was just hoping that circumstances wouldn't add to the count in the coming days.

"Dumbledore," replied Sirius, inclining his head slightly, as he sat opposite the aged wizard.

"What brings you here?"

"I've come to ask you something about the last time the Chamber was opened."

Dumbledore sighed deeply, as did the portrait of Armando Dippet on the wall. But Phineas stared at Sirius, an unsuccessfully-concealed look of interest in his eyes.

"What do you wish to know, Sirius?" asked Dumbledore finally.

"Who's Tom Riddle?" asked Sirius, noticing that the portraits on the wall suddenly seemed to tense.

Dumbledore gazed keenly at Sirius, before he finally spoke.

"Tom Riddle is none other than Voldemort."

"WHAT?" exclaimed Sirius. "Voldemort? But—but Riddle—it isn't a pure-blood surname!"

"It isn't," agreed Dumbledore.

"You mean to say—that—that Voldemort was—is a—"

"A half-blood," put in Dumbledore, "a witch for a mother, a Muggle for a father."

"A MUGGLE FATHER?" exclaimed Sirius, even louder. "AND YOU KNEW OF THIS ALL ALONG?"

"I admit I did," said Dumbledore.

"Are you insane, Dumbledore?" growled Sirius, not caring that he was yelling at one of the most powerful wizards of all times. "You knew that Voldemort is a half-blood! That he was born of a Muggle father! And you told this to no one! Do you have any idea of what would have happened if people knew of this? Hell! We could have prevented the war! You think anyone would have followed a half-blood? You think people like Bellatrix and Malfoy would have bowed before someone of Muggle parentage? Damn you, Dumbledore! You think my family would have supported a half-blood? I lost my brother to Voldemort! You think my parents would even have forced him to join Voldemort if they knew he had a Muggle father? What happened to you doing things for the greater good? DON'T JUST KEEP SILENT! ANSWER ME!"

"Do you think people didn't know that he is a half-blood, Sirius?" asked Dumbledore quietly. "I admit that it is a far lesser-known fact, but some people do know of Tom's origins. He began collecting his followers since his school days itself. And people followed him because he was charming and charismatic, not unlike you or James were—hear me out, my boy," said Dumbledore as Sirius made to intervene. "In his days at Hogwarts, I do admit he intrigued me and I did keep a close watch on him. But he was a model student…prefect, head boy…and it was his charm that made him gather followers, since a very early age. He gathered around himself a gang of Slytherins, who believed in the same things as Tom did, as your family did- blood supremacy. And Slytherins flocked to befriend him: the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating to a leader, who would show him more refined signs of cruelty—"

"Get to the point! You mean to say that people followed him despite knowing that he had a Muggle father?" Sirius interrupted him scathingly.

"No. I doubt people like Lucius Malfoy, or your family knew that he is a half-blood. Why do you think he changed his name from Tom Riddle to Voldemort? To keep his Muggle heritage hidden—"

"Then why the hell didn't you tell anyone of this? I'd have convinced my brother to stop following a half-blood! Hell, none of the pure-bloods would have followed a half-blood!"

"They would have," said Dumbledore quietly. "They would have had no choice. Firstly, he had hidden his origins so well that nobody would have believed me if I proclaimed that he had a Muggle father. And secondly, even if they did believe me, do you think Voldemort would have let his followers desert him? Didn't you see what happens to deserters? Didn't you see what happened to your brother?"

"Nobody would've believed you? You're Albus Dumbledore for Merlin's sake! You're just making up excuses! That isn't reason enough to not have announced his origins! You've been sitting on such an important piece of information for ages! He bloody began the war to fight for the effing rights of pure-bloods, when he wasn't a pure-blood himself! He killed Muggle-borns when he himself had a Muggle father! That's it! I'm giving an interview to the Prophet about this! I'll look up his origins in the wizarding genealogy books or Muggle records! I'm going to gather proof and tell people that he's a half-blood! It'll be a bloody slap on the face of people like Malfoy! And it'll make sure that wherever Voldemort is, he can't gather followers when he's back! Pure-bloods won't support him if they know his origins!"

"I would advise you to listen to what I have to say before you take a hasty step, Sirius," said Dumbledore.

Sirius glared at Dumbledore, before nodding his head.

"Haven't you wondered of why Voldemort is still alive despite not having a body?"

"Of course, I have," said Sirius.

"The reason behind it lies somewhere between the years since Voldemort entered Hogwarts, to when he became the feared wizard that we all know. I know Voldemort a lot better than most people do; and I know that defeating him isn't going to be simple. You know what the prophecy said, don't you? Neither can live while the other survives. Voldemort still survives, Sirius, even if in a wraith-like form. And till he survives, Harry is always going to be at risk. And killing him isn't going to be an easy task. To kill him, to defeat him completely, I feel that we need to know more about the years before his rise."

"Voldemort changed his name not only to hide his Muggle origins, but also to separate himself from the Tom Riddle that he was before his dark transformation," Dumbledore continued. "And I have a hunch that the secret to finishing Voldemort for good lies in his years as Tom Riddle. And we cannot have Voldemort knowing that you have chanced upon his well-hidden secret. We can't have him knowing that we know the one thing which he has strived to keep hidden. I know I haven't given you much of a reason to trust me, Sirius. But I hope you will heed my words. I don't mean to sound immodest, but I have seen a lot more of the world than you have. And I know a lot more about Voldemort than he would ever wish me to know. Don't inform anyone of this fact as yet, Sirius, especially not the Prophet. Harry's life depends on this…as does Acquila's—"

"Stop pulling the 'children' card on me!" snapped Sirius. "I care for my kids! But that doesn't mean that you arm-twist me by bringing up their safety and life as a reason!"

Dumbledore made to speak, but Sirius stood up abruptly, not trusting himself to control his anger at the wizard. He had trusted Dumbledore before his incarceration. All of wizarding Britain had trusted Dumbledore. And for what? For their leader to keep such a big secret from them? A secret, the decalring of which would probably have prevented the war? Which would have dented the number of Voldemort's followers?

"I'll think over it," said Sirius brusquely, and departed out of the office.

Days later, Harry woke up early on the day of the Gryffindor - Slytherin match. He lay awake thinking of the match he was about to play later that day. They had to win; especially with Malfoy playing Seeker for Slytherin. Harry had to catch the snitch before Malfoy; or he would have to spend weeks of Malfoy taunting him about it, along with Oliver's fury. Never had he wanted to catch the snitch so badly. And winning today would come with the added bonus of putting a smile on Sirius's face. Harry knew that his Godfather had been quite stressed recently, and Harry catching the snitch would surely give Sirius something to smile about.

Sirius had told them all about Voldemort being a half-blood. And Acquila had launched into an angry tirade at the Headmaster. But Remus, and strangely, Aunt Andy, had convinced Sirius to listen to Dumbledore and keep Voldemort's origins a secret. Remus trusted Dumbledore's thinking, and Aunt Andy hadn't wanted to take a chance with Harry's life if it depended on keeping Voldemort's secret hidden. Sirius had argued vehemently with the two of them, but had finally given in; with Uncle Ted and Dora helping in convincing. But Sirius had been quite stressed recently, Tom Riddle's connection with the last time the Chamber had opened reinforcing his belief that Voldemort had something to do with the Chamber and the attack on Myrtle. And Sirius had taken to calling them on the Mirror almost five to six times a day to check in on their safety. His over-protectiveness and teachers escorting them everywhere quite irritated Acquila, but she put up with it because she preferred it to the alternative of being home-schooled. As for Harry, well, he wasn't quite worried about it. He knew that he could trust Sirius to keep him safe. And he somehow trusted Dumbledore, as well, knowing the Headmaster wouldn't let Voldemort get to him.

He got ready for the day at a slow pace, not knowing what else to do to while the time away. An hour later, he finally made his way to the Common room, after Ron was up and ready. Acquila and Hermione were already sitting by the fireplace and seemed to be involved in a discussion regarding the uses of Dragon blood.

"Hey, Harry!" said Acquila, "Prepared for the match?"

"Yeah," he replied. "As prepared as I can be, after all the hours of practice Oliver's made us put in."

"It's time to show Malfoy who's the best seeker, mate!" exclaimed Ron, patting Harry encouragingly on his shoulder, with a look at Acquila for to gauge her reaction to that.

"Of course, Harry's the best Seeker, Ron," said Acquila, shaking her head. "You don't need to give me that look. Draco may be my cousin, but I'm supporting Harry."

"So you aren't going to cheer for Malfoy?" asked Ron slowly.

"Of course not!" exclaimed Acquila indignantly. "I'll be glad if he plays well…it's his first match and everything…but I'm rooting for Harry."

A few minutes later, the four of them walked into the Great Hall, along with Neville. The whole of the Gryffindor team was seated at the table, munching away. Wood seemed to be deep in thought, probably revising his before-the-match speech.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked Acquila, as they neared the Gryffindor table.

"I'll be back in a minute," she replied and walked towards the Slytherin table, where Draco seemed to be telling Goyle of the many ways in which he was going to knock Harry off his broom.

"Hey," she said, as Draco stood up to hug her.

"Are you supporting me, today?" he asked her hopefully, as she put his arms around him.

"I hope you play well, but I'm supporting Gryffindor," replied Acquila when he let go of her.

"I knew it," he grumbled. "Potter and his stupid team-mates! I'll beat him to the snitch…I'm a lot better than him…"

"We'll see," she smirked, before she kissed him on his cheek.

"Good luck, Draco," she said, smiling.

"Thank you," he replied, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips, before she walked back to the Gryffindor table.

"Why did she have to go and wish Malfoy?" grumbled Ron, watching the two cousins.

"He's her cousin, Ron," said Harry. "And he's her friend, as well. You can't expect her not to wish him luck."

"But he's Malfoy! I still don't get why she likes hanging around with that git, cousin or not! He's your cousin, as well, isn't he? I don't see you getting all chummy with him!"

"That's because I don't like Malfoy…but Acquila does. I can't stop her from talking to him, can I? Even Sirius hasn't been able to stop her from talking to him," said Harry, smiling at Acquila's stubbornness.

"Don't you mind her talking to him?" asked Neville suddenly. "I mean she's your best friend…and Malfoy and you are more like enemies…but she's always good to him…"

"It did irk me in the beginning…but it doesn't anymore…I've noticed that Blacks tend to value their blood relations…and Acquila has her reasons for being friends with Malfoy," Harry replied, thinking of how she didn't want Malfoy to walk down Regulus' path, "despite his—his—"

"Pigheadedness," put in Ron, between swallowing a pie.

"His snot-nosed attitude," said Neville.

"And his arrogance," put in Hermione.

"Whose arrogance are you talking about?" asked Acquila as she sat beside Harry.

"Your dear, dear cousin's," quipped Harry, and Acquila rolled her eyes, before she begun breakfast.

As eleven 'o' clock approached, the school started making their way to the Quidditch pitch.

"Good luck, Harry," said Acquila, before Harry left for the pitch with his teammates.

"Thanks," he smiled at her. She took a step closer to him, to kiss him on his cheek, just like she'd kissed Draco, but she saw Harry reddening slightly, possibly from the remembrance of the last time she'd made to kiss him on his cheek and caught his lips instead.

"Still haven't forgotten the last time, have you?" she whispered in his ear, smirking, before kissing his cheek anyway, and then, she flounced off after Ron, Hermione and Neville.

"I hope Harry catches the snitch soon," said Neville as Acquila took a seat next to him. "Have you seen the Slytherin team's brooms? Only catching that snitch can win us the match…"

"I'm sure we'll win, Neville," Acquila assured him.

"Yeah! Harry's way better than Malfoy; and he's got a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, too!" said Ron. "Look, there they come!" He pointed at the pitch as both the teams walked in.

Two minutes later, they were all airborne and flying in every direction possible. Acquila could now see how fast the Slytherins' brooms were, compared to the Gryffindors'. Only Harry's broom flew as fast as the seven Slytherin brooms.

The Slytherins had already scored a goal, swooshing past Oliver at the goal-post in almost a blur. But Acquila's eyes saw none of that. They alternated between glancing at Draco and Harry, desperately hoping Harry would find the snitch before Slytherin scored another goal. She noticed Harry barely avoiding a Bludger as he ducked in time. But strangely, the Bludger came zooming at Harry again, only for Fred to hit it hard, sending it in the other direction. And Acquila's eyes widened as the Bludger switched its course and came flying again at Harry like a boomerang.

"Another goal for Slytherin..." Lee Jordan drawled gloomily from the commentary box, but Acquila heard none of it.

This time, it was George, who hit the Bludger away with all the force he could muster, but it came back at Harry! Again!

"What's wrong with that Bludger?" exclaimed Acquila, her heart suddenly quickening its beats as she thought of Harry being in danger.

"I can't see him!" exclaimed Hermione, as the sudden heavy showers of rain blocked Harry from view; the thick curtain of the pouring rain making them unable to see the flying players.

"Wood's called for time-out," said Ron, his eyes glued to the binoculars. "I think the Bludger's been tampered with, a Bludger usually never concentrates on a single player! I bet that's why they called time-out."

"You mean someone purposely charmed the Bludger to attack Harry?" gasped Neville, and Hermione and Ron nodded in reply.

"What if it's Voldemort?" exclaimed Acquila. "I'm going down to Harry!" she rushed down the stairs to where the Gryffindor team stood in a huddle, with Ron, Hermione and Neville running after her.

"Look, they're flying up again!" exclaimed Ron, as they rushed down the stairs leading to the ground; and the four of them stopped mid-way through the stands.

"The Bludger's still after Harry! And Fred and George aren't even near him to hit it away!" Hermione pointed out, her hair even bushier as she ran a frazzled hand through it.

"I'm—I'll vanish the Bludger!" said Acquila, pointing her hand towards it, hoping to channel her inner magic.

"You can't!" exclaimed Ron, pulling her hand down. "Students can't throw spells at the players! Only teachers can perform magic! Or wouldn't the Slytherin spectators have hexed our players all through the match? And they'll award the match to Slytherin if you vanish the Bludger—"

"VOLDEMORT MIGHT KILL HARRY WITH THAT BLUDGER AND YOU'RE BOTHERED ABOUT SLYTHERIN WINNING?" shouted Acquila, as Ron actually took a step back in fright.

"Look at that!" exclaimed Neville suddenly.

And Acquila spun around to watch Harry face to face with Draco in an exchange of words.

"NOO!" shouted the four Gryffindors together, as they saw the Bludger zooming at an air-borne stationery Harry, who was glaring at Draco.

"EVANESCO!" shouted Acquila, but her vanishing spell missed the Bludger by inches and it zoomed towards Harry, hitting him on his elbow.

"Aaargh!" screamed Acquila, as she sunk down onto the ground, holding her elbow.

"What happened?" exclaimed Ron, but Hermione sunk to the floor, beside Acquila.

"It's the connection between them…she's feeling Harry's pain," she said, while Neville, who hadn't known about the Bond gaped open-mouthed at the girl.

"I—I can't move my arm—I think his bones are broken," Acquila gasped, her eyes scrunched shut as she felt waves of pain pass through her arm. She winced as she thought of the amount of pain Harry was in…her pain was surely a paler version of what he was feeling.

"Hermione—do—do something! Stop the Bludger before it hits him!" gasped Acquila, her teeth gritted as she tried not to concentrate on the pain.

"Merlin's saggy pants! He's flying right at Malfoy! And with his hands off the broom!" Ron yelled suddenly, and Acquila looked up at Harry, still clutching her arm.

Harry was speeding towards Draco looking like a crazy stuntman through the haze of rain.

"He's going to slip off his broom," shouted a frightened Neville.

"He's seen the snitch," said Acquila, as inexplicably, she could sense Harry's thoughts…he was determined to grab the snitch that fluttered near Draco's ear…determined to do better than Draco…to help Gryffindor win…to see the proud look on Sirius' face when he told him that he'd won Gryffindor the match…to have Acquila hug him with happiness…

She saw Harry lunge at Draco, who seemed to be yelling in fright, and then, he headed straight for the ground. The crowd gasped as he landed with a thud on the muddy ground.

"Oh no! He's fallen off the broomstick!" shouted Ron.

"He's caught the snitch," gasped Acquila, sensing Harry's exhilaration, his joy at having his fingers around the wet, fluttering, golden ball; joy that overshadowed the pain in his arm, coupled with that of hitting the ground with a loud thud.

And that very moment, Harry opened his hand and the crowd cheered madly as they saw the snitch struggling to escape his fingers.

"Gryffindor have won the match!" Lee Jordan announced triumphantly as Acquila rushed towards the pitch, still clutching her arm that throbbed painfully. She passed Fred and George, who were wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box.

"Wait for us!" gasped Neville, as her three friends followed her. But she kept running, sprinting like a graceful gazelle through the cheering crowds, through the stands, as if some unseen force was pulling her towards Harry. But she couldn't sense Harry's thoughts…had he fallen unconscious?

"Oh no," she mumbled as she neared Harry and saw him lying senseless on the ground, Lockhart looming over him.

"Harry," she exclaimed, trying to walk through the crowd. Harry's eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes, spotting Lockhart.

"Oh no, not you," he moaned.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd surrounding them.
"Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm." Lockhart pointed his wand at Harry's arm.

"Expelliarmus!" whispered Acquila, pointing her own wand at Lockhart, not trusting her wandless magic to work through her pain, and Lockhart's hand went zooming out of his hands and fell onto the floor.

"Whoops! My wand seems a little tizzy, today. Never mind," exclaimed Lockhart, as he walked to the wand to retrieve it. Nobody seemed to have realised that Lockhart had been disarmed, as the crowd around Harry crept closer to him, Colin Creevey's camera madly clicking away.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, finally rushing towards him, parting the crowd.

"H—hey," he smiled at her blearily, on the verge of unconsciousness again.

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron, as Hermione, Neville and he finally reached them.

"Ron, Neville, please help him to the Hospital Wing before Lockhart tries some spell on him," said Acquila, the pain in her own arm increasing.

"But—but Professor Lockhart can treat him, Acquila!" exclaimed Hermione. "And why did you disarm him? You can't disarm a teacher!"

"I don't trust Lockhart…he'd have probably vanished the bones in Harry's arm or something," sighed Acquila, as she followed Harry, who was being carried by the boys, to the Infirmary, where Madam Pompfrey assured her that Harry's arm would be healed in a trice.

"One more incident, one more time either of them is in danger, I'm pulling them out of Hogwarts," growled Sirius as he sat with a concerned Remus after a quick visit to Hogwarts. "I'll keep them locked up at Grimmauld Place if need be, but I'm not letting them be in danger!"

"I agree with you," said Remus slowly.

"What? No playing advocate to Dumbledore?"

Remus rolled his eyes.

"I want to see the kids safe, Padfoot. So I don't mind pulling them out of school if things worsen. But you can't blame Dumbledore for today's incident. He couldn't have foreseen an elf charming a Bludger! Even we couldn't find the elf which blocked the mail and the Kings Cross barrier. You even got Moody on the case but got no leads—"

"But we have to find the elf this time, Remmy! He charmed the Bludger to kill Harry! He'd have died if it wasn't for his flying skills! He was lucky to get off only with a broken arm."

"What did Harry say about this?"

"He was more concerned about Acquila being in pain," said Sirius, smiling at Harry caring more for Acquila than his own pain, before he scowled.
"The bloody bond!" he grumbled. "And Acquila told me she could sense his thoughts...I've had enough of this, Moony! The next time they come home, I'm going to tell Ted to teach them Occlumency. You think they're going to want to let the other know their private thoughts when they grow older? If she can sense his happiness and his pain, she'll be able to sense a lot more of his feelings and thoughts...and I'm sure Harry wouldn't want Acquila to know when he's, you know, wanking or something in future."

Remus almost spat out the water he'd been drinking.

But Sirius carried on, ignoring the look on Remus' face.

"Dumbledore said he can't put on anti-disapparition wards for the elves. Since the house-elves at Hogwarts keep coming and going in the Castle…but I spoke to the elves…they've said they'll keep an eye out on some unknown elf walking around…they were all rather furious that an elf tried to harm Harry…they seem almost worshipful of Harry, you know!" said Sirius. "When I entered the kitchen with Andy, they addressed me Harry as Potter's Godfather, and not as Mister Black or Lord Black or something—"

"You still think the Bludger attack is linked to Voldemort?" asked Remus.

"Of course, I do! Would an elf even have had the guts to harm Harry? I'd told you when the Chamber opened itself, that I think it's all linked together! But you were the one, who told me that the elf, who blocked the mail and the King's Cross barrier, was trying to stop Harry from going to Hogwarts to protect him and whatnot…what do you have to say to this, now, huh? The bloody elf charmed a Bludger to hit Harry! Not protect him!"

"What—what if the elf wanted to send Harry back home…what if he thought Harry would return home if he was seriously injured?" suggested Remus.

"No way, Remmy! You always see the good in everyone and everything! But your theory sounds a little too far-fetched! And the Bludger would have knocked Harry's head off if he hadn't swerved away in time! That doesn't fall under 'protecting' in my book! Ron told me of all that happened at the match!"

"Maybe you're right…so that's another mystery we've got to solve," sighed Remus.

"I can't wait for Christmas, Moony…I just want the kids home…and once they're home, I'll convince them to stay here rather than going back to Hogwarts…at least till the Chamber and the elf situation is solved…I can't sleep at night! My hands keep itching to take the Mirror and make sure they're fine…Hell, Mad-Eye threatened to throw me out of training if I keep taking breaks to talk to the kids in between combat sessions," Sirius sighed.

"Don't worry, Padfoot…it'll all end up well…I'm sure," said Remus, though he was unconvinced himself. The mystery seemed to be deepening with each passing day.

Remus yawned as he woke up from his dreamless sleep. He stared at the clock opposite his bed. It was two thirty in the morning. He groaned and fell back onto his pillow, trying to sleep. After five minutes of unsuccessfully shutting his eyes to go back to sleep, he decided to go for a walk around the Manor. He slipped on his robe and slippers and left the room.

As he passed Sirius' room, he noticed the door ajar and decided to check if Sirius was asleep. Sirius had told him of how the children's safety at Hogwarts was giving him sleepless nights. And Remus was quite worried about all the stress taking a toll on his friend.

He looked in Sirius' room and was surprised to find it empty.

"Merlin," said Remus under his breath, hoping Sirius hadn't gone to another Muggle pub to get drunk. He didn't do it often of course, but he had heard an account of Sirius' drunken antics at Grimmauld Place on Halloween from Andromeda, who in turn had been told of it by Phineas' portrait.

Remus swiftly descended the staircase to look for Mopsy and ask her if she knew where her master was. As he stepped onto the last step of the staircase, he heard excited mutterings coming from the direction of the library. A little relieved, he walked towards the library, the door creaking slightly in the silence of the night as he opened it.

Remus spotted Sirius pointing at something on a dusty book. And beside him was seated Nymphadora. Neither of them had heard him enter, and they were busy chattering away, their heads close to the other's, as they peered into the book.

Remus cleared his throat, and his voice echoed through the silent library. Both Sirius and Nymphadora jumped at the voice and their wands were pointed at him before he could even speak a word.

"You scared me there, Remus!" exclaimed Nymphadora, her hair red, as put down her wand.

"Merlin! How did I not hear you?" muttered Sirius.

"Because you were busy engrossed…in the book," said Remus, a little stiffly."Why didn't you tell me you were looking up on the Parselmouths?" he asked them, glancing at the first few words of the page that lay open. "I'd have joined you."

"You were asleep when we came back from training. And we didn't want to disturb you," said Sirius.

"You could have woken me up," said Remus, "Anyway, did you find anything useful?"

"Not really. We were just reading through an unofficial record of known Parselmouths through the centuries. All of them were descendants of Slytherin…no one with Potter blood…"replied Sirius, yawning as he covered his mouth.

"You look tired, Sirius. You ought to sleep now. And you don't want to be late for training tomorrow," said Remus, as he sat down opposite Nymphadora, who was silently listening to their conversation.

"Yes," said Sirius, yawning again. "Why don't you join Nymphie in reading up on petrification?" asked Sirius, winking slyly at Remus. "Good night, my little Nymph!" he added to Nymphadora, before walking out of the library.

"You want to read some more? Or do you want to sleep, too? I'm sure you don't want Mad-Eye hexing you for turning up late tomorrow," said Remus.

"I think I'll go to bed," said Nymphadora slowly, standing up too quickly and knocking down two books in the process.

"Damn!" she swore, bending down to retrieve the books, but Remus was already lifting them off the ground, his fingers brushing against hers softly as he did so.

"Thanks," she said to him, smiling absently at him.

"Good night, Remus," she said softly, before she followed Sirius up the stairs.

"Good night," he replied, gazing at her retreating figure, and biting back a fond smile as she clumsily stubbed her foot against the base of the door.

Nymphadora and he had become quite friendly with the other recently. And the Metamorphmagus seemed to be sticking to her promise to remain just friends. The pre-Albania Nymphadora would have been grinning from ear to ear at a chance to spend time alone with Remus; and probably turned him bright red with a few suggestive comments.

But since the Chamber had been opened, since her cousins had been under threat, the Metamorphmagus seemed to have matured. She still joked around, she was still as clumsy as she had been, just as cheerful as she had been…but she had grown as a person. She thought of Harry and Acquila's safety as much as Sirius and Remus did. She seemed to want to get to the bottom of the mystery as much as they did…she loved her cousins as much as they did. And suddenly, Remus had begun seeing her as a lot more than a carefree nineteen year-old. And he quite liked being friends with her a lot more than he had thought he would.

Acquila walked down the staircase of the Girls' dormitory and walked towards the Common Room. She spotted Harry sitting on an armchair, his head hanging in an odd position and his spectacles almost at the tip of his nose. They had decided to visit the Shrieking Shack tonight. Remus hadn't been able to ocme to meet them with Sirius at Halloween as he had been recuperating from the full moon. And Harry and Acquila had taken to discussing his affliction a lot. And they had decided to visit the place where Remus had transformed into the wolf for seven long years…the place where their fathers had helped their friend cope with his pain. With the teachers escorting them everywhere, they had decided to sneak out tonight. Harry hadn't heard anyone speaking Parseltongue since Halloween. And with Acquila's powerful magic, and Harry's strong shield charms, they deemed themselves quite capable of defending themselves against the wraith that Voldemort was.

"Harry," she said softly, brushing off the hair from his forehead.

"Wake up, Harry," she whispered again.

"Harry! Wake up!" she exclaimed in a louder tone, before she shook him by the shoulders.

"What! What happ—" Harry began to yelp, as he sat up suddenly.

"Shhhh...Lower your voice!" Acquila hissed. "You look too tired," she noted in a softer voice.

"Yes…Quidditch practice was a little too tiring today," he admitted.

"We can go some other day—" she began, knowing how hard Oliver made them work at practice, but Harry shook his head.

"No. I'm awake anyway. Let's go," he said, getting up from the armchair.

"Come on," he said as he held the Invisibility Cloak, and she walked to him. And a moment later, both of them disappeared, not noticing the pair of eager eyes that observed them from afar.

"Who's that?" called the Fat Lady, as they stepped out of the portrait hole. "Oh Merlin! Potter and Black under that Invisibility Cloak, isn't it?" she sighed. "I should have known that Sirius would teach you to wander around after curfew! And don't you keep silent! I know you're here!" she exclaimed indignantly.

The two Gryffindors did not reply, though Acquila chuckled softly under the Cloak; her hand inadvertently groped around till it found Harry's hand, and he entwined his fingers with hers.

"Are you feeling a little guilty?" she whispered to Harry as they walked down the stairs.

"I am," he replied, "Sirius isn't going to like that we're sneaking around at night with Voldemort possibly around somewhere in the Castle…" he trailed off.

"He's going to lock us up in Black Manor if he knows we're out this late at night," agreed Acquila. "But we couldn't have gone there during the day, now that the teachers are escorting us everywhere...but I'm feeling rather Marauder-like now…sneaking around under the cloak when we aren't supposed to—"

"Shh!" said Harry suddenly, and Acquila fell silent.

"Did you hear that?" he asked her in a whisper a moment later.

"What? You heard the voice again? Is it Parsel—" she began. Perhaps they shouldn't have been sneaking around.

But Harry cut her off. "Footsteps," he whispered almost inaudibly, as he tightened his grip on her hand.

Acquila listened keenly for any sound of footsteps, but she heard nothing.
"No. It's nothing," she said a moment later.

"I thought I heard something," he muttered, though he sounded less convinced now.

"Aargh—" Acquila's scream stopped abruptly, as something brushed passed her feet, before she realised that it was Nyx.

"Hey, Nyx," whispered Acquila, as she picked up the cat in her arms.

"See? It was just Nyx," said Acquila to Harry.

"Maybe," said Harry uncertainly.

"Shhhh!" Acquila shushed Nyx, as the feline squirmed and mewed in her arms, as if trying to tell her something.

"Do we go back, Harry? Maybe we shouldn't have—"

"No…we're already out…and it must have been Filch for all we know…or one of the teachers patrolling the corridors… Let's go," said Harry, and the two children along with the squirming cat proceeded towards the Shrieking Shack.

Colin Creevey, meanwhile, walked stealthily into the direction towards which he thought Harry and Acquila had gone. His camera was clutched tightly in his hands.
He had walked into the Common Room, unable to sleep because of the biting cold. And it was there that he had come across the two black-haired Gryffindors preparing to go somewhere.
He had almost called out to Harry Potter, when to his utmost astonishment, he had seen them both disappearing under a Cloak!
He had followed them, of course, deaf to the Fat Lady's warnings, hoping to click a photograph of them appearing from under the Cloak. But he hadn't been able to see them, obviously, invisible as they were.
It was when he descended a few staircases, that he heard a sound from the end of a corridor.
He walked towards the source of the sound, his eye glued to the camera to snap a photograph quickly.
But as he reached the end of the corridor lit by magically suspended candles, all he saw was a pair of gleaming eyes, before everything went dark.

Acquila and Harry walked onto the grounds of Hogwarts, till they finally neared the Whomping Willow.

"There's the knot!" exclaimed Harry, as he spotted the knot in the base of the willow, whose branches started swaying wildly. Harry grabbed Acquila's arm and pulled her backwards, out of the reach of the wild branches.
Nyx leapt out of Acquila's arms and walked towards the Whomping Willow, before she pressed the knot on the tree, whose flailing branches fell immobile.

The feline turned her glowing green eyes to Acquila as if saying 'It's safe. Follow me', before she crept through the tunnel.

"Sometimes, I think Dad's told Nyx to look out for us," snorted Acquila as she followed Harry and Nyx, and slid down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel, after they had taken off the Invisibility Cloak."I swear Nyx acts like our personal security guard at times!"

Harry just hummed in agreement, not knowing that Sirius had indeed told the cat to follow the two kids everywhere.

"Oww!" exclaimed Harry suddenly as he hit his head on the ceiling of the tunnel, while Nyx turned behind and cast a glance at him.

"You alright?"Acquila asked him.

"Yeah," he replied, sighing softly. The tunnel seemed to go on and on.

"It must be easier to walk through here as an animal, mustn't it?" Harry wondered after a moment of silence.

"I think so...despite Padfoot's rather large size, I'm sure it's easier to walk here on all fours without having to bend double...Pettigrew had it easiest, I guess...the slimy rat," she hissed vehemently. "And your father...I wonder how he walked through here with his antlers..." she trailed off, before she spoke again.

"You're thinking of him, aren't you? Your Dad?" she asked him quietly.

"Yes," he admitted as they saw a patch of dim light through a small opening.

"I wonder how life would have been with my Mum and him...I'd probably have had a couple of siblings...I heard Remus say that my Dad always wanted a large family because he knew how it was to be an only child...and I—I wonder where we'd have lived...Potter Manor, perhaps, or maybe the house at Godric's Hollow..." he trailed off pensively.

"Oh Harry," said Acquila softly as she followed him to the end of the tunnel, wanting to clasp his hand, but unable to do so as they crawled beneath the low ceiling if the tunnel. "I know you miss them…but you do have all of us, don't you? I know…that Dad…no matter he does won't be your father…and Aunt Andy won't really take your mother's place in your life but—"

"But they do mean a lot to me…" said Harry. "I'm sure I wouldn't get a better man to fill in my father's place than Sirius…and Aunt Andy's done more for me in a few months than Aunt Petunia did in years," said Harry smiling softly. "I finally have what I always wanted…a real family…with Sirius, Remus, Uncle Ted and Aunt Andy, Dora and you…and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world."

Acquila stayed silent, her thoughts still on Harry's parents. Though she knew that Harry had never displayed any sense of jealousy at her having gained a father; she knew that perhaps it did hurt him at times. She had no qualms in admitting that if their places had been exchanged, she would certainly have been rather envious of Harry regaining James. They had been the best of friends since they were eight…two orphans who had bonded because they each knew what it was to live without parents. But Acquila had got Sirius back in her life…and Harry hadn't. And just like no one could ever fill the void that her own mother had left in her life, she knew that no one would ever replace James and Lily in Harry's life…not even her father.

"Look," said Harry suddenly, as they reached the small opening. Harry pulled himself up the hole, before helping Acquila. And the two of them glanced around the place that they stood in.

It was a room; a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls and there were stains all over the floor. Every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

Acquila took in a deep breath, only to begin coughing as she inhaled the dust that inhabited the room.

She looked at the broken chair that lay in a corner of the room, and then, at the wooden table, which had teeth-marks on it.

"I can't even imagine what he goes through," said Harry suddenly, his voice pained. "To not be able to control his own self…bite everything in his sight…not have a semblance of control over his mind…how do you think he does it?" he mumbled, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed over the teeth-marks on the table. "Go through so much pain every month…and still be the Remus that he is…calm and collected…and never cursing his fate…taking it all in his stride…"

Acquila made to speak, but Harry carried on, as he walked into the shadowy hallway and up the rickety, crumbling staircase, as if his feet had a mind of their own.

"He's never complained, has he?" Harry continued softly, as they came upon a magnificent, but dusty four poster bed in the room, and Acquila could imagine a young Remus Lupin sitting on the bed, waiting with resignation for the moon to rise, and for him to turn into the monstrous creature that took over his mind and body.

"Tergeo," mumbled Acquila softly, and with a wave of her hand, the dust on the floor at the foot of the four poster vanished. She held Harry's hand and he suddenly sank onto the floor. And she sat beside him, putting her arms around him while he held on to her, his mind still whirring with thoughts.

"He lived alone for a decade…he must have had to bury their bodies alone…no one by his side…all his friends gone…" Harry continued, thinking of how they had once overheard Remus talking to Sirius about James, Lily and Athena's funeral. "And he must have transformed for more than ten years with no Prongs and Padfoot to calm the wolf within him…with no Wolfsbane to help him keep his mind…ten years…that's more than a hundred and twenty full moon nights…" Harry trailed off, his voice now muffled as he nestled his head into the crook of her neck, while her hand ran in calming circles on his back.

He wasn't crying, of course, but as his eyes had fallen on the destroyed and chewn furniture, on the room with all its windows boarded up; he had realised the magnitude of what Remus went through each full moon night. Once he had found out that Remus was a Werewolf, Harry had read up a lot more on the topic, seen illustrations of Werewolves, read about the pain that each transformation put the Werewolf through. But it was now, when he had seen the tiny boarded-up room and its destroyed furniture, that Harry realised what Remus had gone through since he was a little five year-old boy.

And it was now that he realised why exactly Sirius and James had decided to take the risk of becoming Animagi. Even apart from the punishment that being a illegal Animagus bore, Sirius had told Harry of the risks that attempting an Animagus transformation in the initial stages took. If an attempt went wrong, it had horrible results; there was a possibility that the witch or wizard could get stuck in their half-transformed forms. But James and Sirius had taken the risk when they were merely thirteen…when they had thought of becoming Animagi…and Harry now understood why. Because they wanted to be there for their friend during his pain…support him when he was at his lowest…help him when the wolf took over him.

And suddenly, he knew what he wanted to do…do what his father had done for Remus…what Sirius had done for Remus.

"You want to become an Animagus?" Acquila's soft voice rang through the silence of the Shack before Harry could even voice his thoughts; and he lifted his head up from her shoulder.

"Yes! How did you—never mind—I want to…I want to be there with Remus when he transforms…at least during the holidays…I can help him…like my father did…like Sirius does…" the words tumbled out of his mouth in a frenzy. And he gripped both her shoulders with her hands, his green eyes lighting up as they looked into hers.

"And…and you could become one as well! And there'll be three animals with Remus again! Just that it'll be you and me instead of my Dad and the rat…and—and we it can help us in the fight against Voldemort!" he exclaimed excitedly. "It'll be like a—a secret…I mean we don't have to register…I'm sure Sirius wouldn't mind…he's never been one for rules, anyway! And if we're ever in a duel and we're losing, we could just transform and—and escape! Our opponents won't even expect it! And—and we could roam the forests behind Gamp Manor with Padfoot and Moony…I mean, after we're done with Hogwarts, we could accompany them every full moon night…Remus, Sirius, you and me! I know it'll take time to get it right…but we'll surely get it till we're seventeen, won't we?" he asked her, his words still flowing swiftly as his eyes continued to meet hers.

"And Sirius can help us…I'm sure he won't say no…he'll be happy on the contrary that we're following in the Marauders' footsteps…and they took around two years to perfect the transformation…out of which they spent a year gathering information on how to do it and—and…we don't need to do that! Sirius already knows all that! And he can help us! And I'm sure we'll be able to transform in far lesser time than they took! You'll get it even sooner because you're powerful and everything…I mean, you shook Dumbledore's office and set LuciusMalfoy on fire…an Animagus transformation wouldn't be tough for you…you'll perfect it in a year…I'm sure you will…"

"Oh, Harry," said Acquila, shaking her head." You're such a humble prat! You never give yourself credit, do you? I think you get that from your mother…because Prongs certainly was rather arrogant…" she said, smiling. "Why just me? I'm sure even you'll get it in a year!"

"I doubt it…I'm not that good at magic as you are—"

"Of course, you are! Didn't you beat Remus at the last duel that we fought? Didn't you repair Neville's glass wandlessly that day? Didn't you transfigure the vase before I did? And that Charms lesson where Flitwick gave you ten points—"

"That was…that was just…" mumbled Harry, his cheeks seeming to redden in the dim light as he smiled sheepishly.

"You can never take a compliment, can you?" she said, still smiling. "You're so cute at times, Harry!"

"I'm not cute!" he protested, grimacing.

"You are cute," she repeated, before she began to stand up. "Let's go now…Better we get back before someone finds us missing..."

"Yeah," said Harry as he stood up as well,his mind still on Remus.

"Nyx!" Acquila called out to her cat, who came out from under the bed.

"Let's go," said Harry, and the three of them walked out of the tunnel again.

"Watch out," whispered Harry as the staircase they were walking on began moving suddenly.

"Nyx! Wait, Nyx!" Acquila hissed at the cat, who crept towards a corridor as soon as they climbed up the staircase.

"She'll come back to the tower, Acquila. Let's carry on," said Harry. Something wasn't right. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

"No-Nyx! She won't be able to get into the tower! The Fat Lady won't let Nyx in without the password-Come with me, Harry," said Acquila, making to follow the cat.

"Acquila...I think there's something wrong...let's go back to the tower," he said, clasping her hand tightly under the Cloak as he made to pull her in the direction of the Gryffindor tower.

In all the times that Sirius had trained them over the holidays, he had always insisted upon them remembering that when their intuition told them of something being wrong, or when they had an inexplicable sense of foreboding, they were supposed to heed their intuition, even if it seemed irrational. And Sirius had warned them not to venture out at night, with Voldemort most possibly having been behind the attack on Myrtle. If something happened to Acquila, Sirius would certainly hex Harry within an inch of his life, uncaring that he was his beloved godson. Harry himself would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to Acquila because of him…after all, the Shrieking Shack plan had been as much his as it had been hers.

"Let's not—Hey! Wait, wait!" Harry called out in a panicked whisper to Acquila, but she disentangled her hand from his grip and ran after the cat from under the Cloak.

"Nyx! Come back, Nyx!" she called out to the cat, her feet sounding loud in the thick silence.

"Black stubbornness," he grumbled under his breath as he took off the Invisibility Cloak and sent a silent prayer to whichever higher power there was, praying that it wasn't Voldemort who was lying in wait for them.

"At least wait for me!" he bellowed, uncaring of keeping his voice low now. "It could be dangerous! We promised Sirius—"

"COLIN!"

Harry heard Acquila's panicked shout, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw Acquila standing over Colin's motionless body; while Nyx stood at Acquila's feet, her furry ears seemed alert, listening for the minutest of sounds. He knew the moment he looked at Colin that the boy had been petrified, just as Moaning Myrtle had.

"Colin! Wake up, Colin!" Acquila exclaimed as she kneeled onto the floor and began shaking Colin. "Ennervate! Ennervate!" she shouted urgently. But Harry took out his wand immediately and looked around, while trying to listen for any sound of Parseltongue being spoken.

"STAND UP!" Harry yelled at her suddenly, his eyes still looking all around for signs of the attacker.

Acquila gaped at him.

"STAND UP!" he repeated, and grabbed her hand, pulling her forcefully to her feet and pushing her against the wall. He stood in front of her, his back pressed to her, protecting her against whoever had harmed Colin; his wand raised, ready to hit at whatever came out at them.

"LET ME GO, HARRY! IF IT'S VOLDEMORT, HE'LL COME FOR YOU!" she shrieked, struggling against him. But Harry didn't budge.

"Nyx, call for help!" He said to the cat, and Nyx ran away, as quick as her paws could carry her.

"LET ME GO—" Acquila finally managed to push Harry off her.

"ARE YOU NUTS?" she bellowed at him, as she stood next to him, her hands held out to channel her magic, while her heart hammered madly in her rib-cage. And she tried to control the magic that threatened to lash out, threatening to explode from inside her, just as it had done in the girls' bathroom during the Troll incident the previous year.

"I can't let anything happen to you," said Harry, his eyes darting all around them. But he could hear nothing except for their frenzied breathing.

"You idiot!" she snapped at him, her magic still swirling within her at a frenzied pace. "Voldemort will come for you, not me! I can't let anything happen to you!"

But he seemed to have heard none of that.

"Acquila! If Voldemort attacks us right now...I need you to run..." he said urgently.

"I'm not going to run away like a coward, Harry! I am staying by your side and fighting…no matter what!" she replied furiously. She wasn't some damsel in distress, who needed to be protected. If Voldemort came for Harry, she would try her best to protect Harry, or die fighting.

"But Voldemort wants me, not you! And I think poor Colin got petrified because of me!" he said, a sick feeling beginning to form in the pit of his stomach as he worked out what had possibly happened. "I bet he followed us till we disappeared under the cloak...and all this to just get a picture of me..."

"Don't blame yourself, Harry! And I suggested the Shrieking Shack visit," said Acquila indignantly. Talking to Harry seemed to help in controlling her wild magic.

"Think, Acquila! If he didn't want my picture, then why's he holding a camera in his hands, as if he was just about to click a picture?" said Harry. He could still hear nothing, see nothing. Perhaps, they needed to walk out of there towards a place of safety…towards Dumbledore's office…they could carry Colin together…or levitate him.

But Acquila's brow furrowed in thought.

"Harry! What if Colin clicked the picture of his attacker?" she exclaimed.

"Oh yeah!" Harry said realising it too. Now they could know what exactly attacked Colin.

"Harry, you look out. I'm checking Colin's camera—" she made to walk crouch towards Colin, but he grasped her hand tightly.

"Don't you move! And the camera may have been charmed by magic for all we know! Wait for Nyx to get help—" Harry stiffened, hearing something in the distance. Acquila heard it, too. And they both turned to the source of the sound, ready to attack, only to lower their guard when he spotted Nyx, followed by another cat.

The second cat turned into Professor McGonagall a moment later- a Professor McGonagall, who seemed much unlike their usual impeccably well dressed teacher, as she wore tartan night robes in her haste to get to the kids.

"Potter is right, Black! Don't touch the camera!" said McGonagall firmly, apparently having heard them.

"Great Gryffindor!" McGonagall gasped softly, her hand to her heart as she spotted Colin.

She whipped her wand out in a quick motion and sent what seemed to Harry like a Patronus, which appeared and then disappeared into thin air.

"Nyx already informed me about Mr. Creevey but seeing him like this..." she trailed off, apparently still shocked by Colin's unmoving form. She then cast a number of spells all around them, probably scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger, before she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Come with me! Now!" she ordered them sternly as she levitated Colin's form with her wand.

They silently followed the deputy headmistress into the Hospital Wing, where a frazzled Madam Pomfrey began frantically checking Colin.

"Potter, Black, I wish to know what exactly happened," said McGonagall, eyeing them both sternly.

"Professor! We reached there-"

"Colin was lying on the ground petrified-"

Harry and Acquila launched into simultaneous explanations of what happened, before McGonagall stopped them with a look.

"What I first want to know, is what both of you were doing out of bed at three in the morning when you know exactly what kind of danger is threatening you! This could just as easily have been both of you. Sirius had fully trusted us to protect both of you. But if both of you are so careless about your own safety…I expected better from you, Acquila," said McGonagall to the girl.

And Acquila stared at the ground, feeling a hot flush of guilt in her gut as McGonagall's disappointment washed over her. The deputy headmistress had begun increasing her efforts to train Acquila in gaining control over her magic to defend herself against the person behind the attack on Myrtle. And Acquila knew she had terribly let down her teacher by sneaking out unprotected.

"And you, Potter," McGonagall turned to Harry. "What were you even thinking—"

"Minerva!" Came a calm voice from the doorway.

"Dumbledore!" exclaimed McGonagall, relief evident on her face.

Dumbledore entered, followed by and irate Snape and a tense Hagrid.

As Dumbledore looked at him, Harry looked away, feeling ashamed to meet his eyes. Why had he been so stupid? He had not only led to Colin's petrification, but put Acquila in danger, as well. He shuddered as he thought of what Sirius would say when he knew of this. He had let down McGonagall, Dumbledore and Sirius in the matter of a few minutes. If only he hadn't been so stupid!

Meanwhile, Dumbledore keenly observed Colin, saying nothing.

"I presume Black and Potter were found at the scene of crime," remarked Snape, the corners of his grim mouth seemed to be widening in a satisfied smirk, or perhaps that was just Harry's imagination.

"'Arry an Acquila are not guilty, Professor Dumbledor'! I can vouch for 'em! They would neve'—" Hagrid started defending the two Gryffindors.

"I know, Hagrid," Dumbledore said calmly, having finished his examination of Colin, and the half-giant heaved a sigh of relief.

Snape sneered at Hagrid and then turned to glare at the kids.

"Riling up trouble again, Potter?" he sneered at Harry.

"And you, Black! What were you doing out of your bed after curfew, especially given recent events? I thought your conceited father, who prides himself on his Auror skills would have taught you better than to roam around late at nights, especially when he's forced the teachers of this school to act like your personal guard," he said to Acquila.

Harry made to retort to Snape, but Acquila grabbed his hand and silenced him, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the Potions professor.

"Or is he too busy gallivanting with wealthy witches to pay attention to his daughter by his supposedly beloved wife?" added Snape snidely.

"Don't you-" began Acquila furiously, now unable to control her temper.

"Enough, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, while McGonagall looked torn between reprimanding Acquila for raising her voice at a teacher, and reprimanding Snape for bringing up something that had no connection with Colin's petrification.

"Hagrid, please escort Harry and Acquila to the Great Hall. I have informed the heads of the other Houses to escort the children from their dormitories to the Great Hall. The entire school will be searched. And Severus, why don't you take a closer look at Colin? I would indeed welcome your opinion on the matter," he added to Snape, who still looked mutinous.

"Professor!" Harry called out to Dumbledore. "Colin's camera—he must have taken a photograph of his attacker…"

"Yes. You are quite right, Harry," said Dumbledore, as he neared Colin's form on the hospital bed again.

He carefully held his hand a few inches away from the camera as if gauging whether it was charmed, and then, he proceeded to pick up the camera after being convinced that it wasn't tampered with. As he opened the compartment containing the film roll of the camera, black smoke erupted out.

"The film is burnt," said Dumbledore. "Whatever it was, it destroyed the film. Now, Hagrid, take Harry and Acquila to the Great Hall," said Dumbledore and Hagrid finally stepped out of the infirmary, dragging the two reluctant kids along.

Acquila looked at Harry, trying to say something.

'We need to tell Dad,' she mouthed to him, as Hagrid led them to the Great Hall. They hadn't carried the Mirror with them. It lay in Harry's trunk in his dormitory. And they had to inform Sirius of this new development.

"Thank you, Hargrid, for sticking up for me and Harry back there, against Snape," said Acquila suddenly, smiling at Hagrid.

"Err...uh…t'was no problem…I spoke the truth," said Hagrid, blushing through his beard.

"Uhh…Hagrid," said Harry. "Will you please take us back to Gryffindor Tower?"

"No...no... I've ter take both of yeh to the Great Hall!" said Hagrid.

"Please...I need something from my room!" said Harry, trying to convince him.

"No, 'Arry! Dumbledore's orders! I've ter take yeh straight to the Great Hall," said Hagrid firmly, pulling them both behind him.

They entered the Great Hall, all the while trying to unsuccessfully trying to convince Hagrid to let them go back to the Tower. But they gaped at the Great Hall, when they stepped into it. Instead of the usual House tables, there were hundreds of sleeping bags in place of the tables. The bags were of the House colours of Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

"Please, Hagrid—" They continued trying to convince him, but the half-giant refused to go against Dumbledore's orders, and lingered around them like a bodyguard.

Around ten minutes later, the Gryffindor students walked in in a single line and picked their places, each of them glancing at Harry and Acquila, probably wondering why they had reached there before them.

Ron, Neville and Hermione sprinted towards them as soon as saw the two, relief on their faces.

"Thank goodness, you both are alright!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Neville and I were so worried!" exclaimed Ron. "Percy woke us up, and your bed was empty! We thought something happened to you!

"And your bed was empty, too, Acquila!" Hermione added. "We thought something had happened to both of you!"

"We're sorry," said Harry. "We would have told you but—"

"It's alright," cut in Hermione. "Do you know what happened? Why have they called us all here? Is it something about the Chamber again?"

"Colin's pertrified," replied Acquila and Hermione gasped as Ron swore, while Neville turned pale. "We found him in a corridor…his camera in hand…lying frozen…It was terrible," she continued.

"Dumbledore checked his camera but—" Harry paused suddenly, spotting Malfoy coming towards them.

"Acquila!" exclaimed Draco."Are you alright? "

"I'm fine," Acquila answered, as she saw the Slytherin's entering the Hall, followed by Ravenclaws.

"Thank Merlin!" He said, genuinely relieved, before he sneered at Harry. "I was worried. I thought Potter put you in trouble again."

"He didn't, Draco," said Acquila wearily.

"Anyway, do you know what happened?" asked Draco. "No one knows and Professor Snape isn't telling us!"

"Colin got petrified!" Acquila whispered to Draco, not wanting the Gryffindors around them to hear her and get panicked.

"Creevey? The one who roams around with the camera?" asked Draco.

Acquila nodded.

"Isn't he a Mud—Muggleborn?" asked Draco, smirking at Hermione.

"Yes," sighed Acquila.

"But how do you know about this incident? Were you around?" asked Draco, looking at Harry suspiciously.

"Slytherins, all to the left! That includes you too, Malfoy," came Snape's stern voice, and Draco walked away reluctantly, with a last glance at Harry.

"Potter, Black, Granger, Weasley, Longbottom!" said McGonagall. "Get into your sleeping bags! And there will be no more discussion!"

The five of them got into their sleeping bags, with Acquila and Harry adjacent to each other. And when McGonagall went further away, they relayed the incident to the other three, leaving out the part about the Shrieking Shack, not wanting them to know Remus' secret. Hermione and Ron prodded them for answers about where they had gone in the middle of the night, but they avoided the questions each time, before they all fell into an uneasy sleep.

As Crabbe- who slept beside him- snored loudly, Draco stared at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, still wide awake.

Nothing was going as per plan. Nothing at all!

His father had told him that slipping the diary to Potter would make certain that Potter would get distanced from Acquila…that he would be out of Draco's way.

But the diary seemed to have had none of the effect that his father had promised him it would. On the contrary, it seemed to be making Potter more powerful.

Draco shivered slightly as he thought back to what had happened on Halloween. He had heard Peeves yelling out for all to hear that Potter and Black had harmed Moaning Myrtle after having argued with her. Of course, Draco knew that Acquila wouldn't have petrified Myrtle, no matter how much she'd have argued with her. Acquila had a kind heart beneath all her Black pride and her stubbornness…his mother said that she had got it from her McKinnon mother.

But Potter? Had the diary been giving Potter more power rather than keeping him away from Acquila? Potter had been with Acquila in the argument with Myrtle, too. And Draco knew that Potter was rather protective of Acquila. And when he had seen Myrtle's petrified form floating off the floor and heard Peeves screaming, Draco had wondered whether Potter had hurt Myrtle because she had angered Acquila…Potter didn't seem the vengeful types, but Draco had seen all his power, all his protectiveness come to the fore when Acquila was involved.

And now, Colin Creevey. Everyone had seen that Colin kept irritating Potter by running after him like a lapdog, with that stupid camera of his. Even Acquila had taken to telling Colin to stop annoying her with the constant clicking of the camera. And when Potter had been injured at the match, Colin had been there as well, madly clicking away.

And when Acquila had told him a few hours ago, of Colin being petrified, Draco had been terrified from within, wondering whether it was Potter who had harmed Creevey. Of course, Potter didn't seem the types who would harm people, especially a fellow Gryffindor. But—but hadn't Potter defeated the Dark Lord when he had been only a toddler? Hadn't Potter defeated Quirrell in June? He would have had to have some hidden powers to do that, wouldn't he?

And the diary…the diary seemed to just be adding to Potter's powers. Or why would Potter be found at every crime scene? Acquila hadn't confirmed that Potter had been the one to find Creevey, but he had known from the look on her face that Potter had indeed been there.

So, Moaning Myrtle had annoyed Acquila…Creevey had annoyed Potter…did that mean that Potter was behind the petrifying? Was he—was he petrifying the people who annoyed him, people who argued with Acquila?

If it was so, then—then Draco would certainly be Potter's next target! Draco felt a shiver down his spine. Everyone knew that Potter hated him…detested him…for being Acquila's cousin…for being one of her closest friends…what if Potter went for him next? What if Draco would be the one lying petrified next?

His thoughts stopped suddenly as he heard raised voices coming from the entrance to the Great Hall.

"How could you not tell me of this, Dumbledore? My daughter and godson's lives in danger!" He heard an angry voice nearing him. And he knew it was Sirius Black.

He could hear only an indecipherable low reply. Dumbledore was keeping his voice low.

"NO! I've had enough of your assurances, Dumbledore!"

Sirius' voice seemed to be nearing the Hall.

"I'm bringing the Aurors in! I don't care what you say! The Aurors are coming in! And I'm going to get to the bottom of this! And once I find the person, who's behind all this, I swear I'm going to see him rotting in Azkaban!"

Draco's eyes widened. The Aurors coming in? And Sirius swearing to get to the person behind all this? Draco knew that he was in a great, great spot of trouble! What if Sirius found out that Draco had planted the diary in Potter's books? And he gulped, straining his ears to listen to Sirius' further words, while shutting his eyes and feigning sleep.

Little did he know that another pair of eyes lay shut, feigning sleep just as he was…that another heart was thudding in fright just as loudly as his heart was. Ginny Weasley's entire frame trembled in fear as she heard Sirius' words, knowing that she would have to get rid of the diary soon, or see herself in Azkaban.

A/N- I didn't have enough time to read all the 59k+ words again, so if there are any mistakes, I'll correct them soon. Do let us know how you found it. A little of diversion from canon, thanks to Sirius being in the picture...the next chapter should be up in a few days :-)