For the next few days it seemed Sirius Black was the only thing anyone in Hogwarts knew how to talk about. There were various theories flying about, with the Hufflepuff Rachel Harris telling Calla and Daphne during Transfiguration that she'd been told Sirius Black could turn into a flowering shrub. Calla had thought Daphne was going to burst from trying not to laugh right in front of Rachel's face, and she'd had to drag her away to sit on the other side of the classroom.

But the morning after the night they spent in the Great Hall, Harry had relayed a conversation to Calla that she found rather concerning; that Snape had commented to Dumbledore on his dislike of a certain new teaching appointment, who he thought might be helping Sirius Black, and who he didn't think could be trusted. When Calla had heard she'd been furious, of course. Remus would never help Sirius Black to hurt them or anybody else, and she and Harry both knew that. She was sure Dumbledore must, too.

Her Monday evening tutorial with Trelawney had been unusually tense. Though she didn't say what was bothering her, Calla could tell that there was something on Professor Trelawney's mind. "The Inner Eye is preoccupied as of late," she told Calla when she asked about it. "I must let it roam as it wishes."

Calla didn't know what that really meant - she didn't want to let her Inner Eye roam, but it always seemed like she had no choice - and she'd returned to staring into the fireplace morbidly. She was sure that by the end of this part of her study she'd either have a very odd tan or a burn on her cheeks. Lisa had commented on how red her face had been when she'd gotten back to the dorm, too.

In the flames she'd seen the usual images - the dog and wolf and rat and stag and crows and pegasus which was possibly a hippogriff - as well as what appeared to be a goblet, and had been about to note that down when a face flickered in the fireplace, just for a moment, but long enough to give Calla a fright and set her pulse racing. She startled, scuttling back, and Trelawney hurried over. "Are you alright, my dear?" she asked worriedly, peering into the fireplace.

"Y-Yeah," Calla said. "I just got a fright, I thought I saw-"

"You saw what, dear?"

A face. But not just any face... Maybe she was paranoid. It had looked like Sirius Black. Her mind went to Floo networks - of course they must operate on some level inside Hogwarts, too, but surely they would be being watched? Would it really be so simple for Sirius Black to come into Hogwarts through a fireplace? "Professor," Calla began tentatively, "is this fireplace connected to the Floo network at all?"

"My dear, why would you need to know that?" Calla looked at her. "Well, yes, it is. But it is secure," she added hastily, at the look on Calla's face. "Dumbledore has all the Floo places in Hogwarts linked only to very specific grates, and mine is rarely used. It interferes with the Sight, you see, when I am looking for fire omens."

"Right," Calla said, not totally believing her. "I suppose that makes sense." She scribbled a hasty note in her Divination notebook. "Can I go now, Professor? My Inner Eye is feeling weary," she lied, and Professor Trelawney took a moment before she nodded.

"On you go, my dear, on you go. I suspect I shall be seeing you later this week."

Calla hurried down the stairs and went to the place she realised she ought to have gone to yesterday. She knocked quickly on Remus' office door and he welcomed her inside in surprise. "I wasn't expecting to see you this evening. You are cutting it fine with the curfew."

"Remus," she said anxiously, and he frowned.

"Yes?"

"Was Sirius Black one of the friends who helped you and Dad to make the Marauder's Map?" Remus paled, and she had her answer.

"I'm afraid so, yes."

She sagged, leaning against his chair. "Do you - do you think he's using one of the passages to get in? I - I haven't really ventured outside Hogwarts but Harry said Fred and George told him they knew a passage to Hogsmeade from the map, he wanted me to show him on Saturday, but if the passage is still open, he could be using it!"

"I know," Remus said quietly. Then he didn't say anything after that and Calla frowned.

"So has it been blocked up?" He shook his head. "Why not? Haven't you told Dumbledore?"

"I fear Dumbledore already knows," Remus told her wearily, "and he has not sought to block it."

"Wh-what?" Calla asked, catching her breath. She stared at Remus, her stomach churning. She didn't understand. "Why wouldn't he?"

"I do not understand Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps it is for the same reason he wishes me to be here."

"And why's that?"

"I do not believe that Dumbledore is... Entirely convinced of Sirius' guilt."

The words shocked Calla like a punch to the stomach. "How?"

Remus shook his head. "Sirius was always James' best friend. They were like brothers." He clenched his jaw. "He rejected everything that his old, pureblood family had stood for, including their support of Voldemort. For the Ministry, Sirius looked entirely guilty, and with his family background there was very little reason for them to believe him innocent. In the days after the war, everyone wanted to rush all the Death Eaters into Azkaban immediately." He clenched his fist. "I don't see how Sirius could not be guilty. He was Secret Keeper, and even if it was tortured out of him, he killed Peter, and all those Muggles." Calla found herself shaking, holding the chair tightly. "Dumbledore I find, is often eager to give second chances to those who may not deserve it. He did not give one to Sirius, but that does not mean he doesn't... Want to believe it wasn't him. I believe he thinks I may have been guilty."

"Y-you?" Calla asked, hardly believing her ears. "Why would he think you were guilty?"

"In the last days of the war, I was with a group of werewolves who were loyal to Voldemort, gathering intelligence and information. I believe Dumbledore thought there was a possibility I was not so firmly on his side as I was. But I would never have betrayed my friends; more than that, I would never have betrayed myself like that." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. You've gone quite pale, Calla, take a seat." She sat, staring at him. "This is why Dumbledore didn't like me to take care of you and Harry for too long a period; I feel he has only recently began to trust me." Remus shook his head again. "This is an awful lot for a Monday night; I apologise. Truthfully, I don't think Sirius could be using the old passages; he would be sighted in Hogsmeade, and a very conspicuous form if he were to enter Honeydukes."

"But surely we should be on the safe side? He's already gotten in once!"

Remus nodded, frowning worriedly. "Yes. I will take it up with Dumbledore, if you'd like me to."

Calla smiled nervously. "Thanks. And also - I was with Trelawney just now. I don't know if I'm just on edge, but I swear I saw his face on the fireplace. Trelawney said the Floo network for Hogwarts was only tied to certain grates, but I just wanted to be sure."

"I'll mention it to Dumbledore," Remus told her, nodding. "Now, you ought to get to bed. Have you started on your essay yet?"

"Not yet," Calla admitted sheepishly. "I've been doing Ancient Runes homework pretty much all weekend. It's really tricky."

"I'm sure it is. Well, if you need to ask any questions about the essay, you know where I am. Get some sleep now."

"Thank you, Remus," Calla said, smiling. Her godfather turned away, looking tired in the lamplight. "You too."

Xx

It seemed that apart from only Remus, all of the teachers were concerned, as was Percy Weasley. Despite not being in Ravenclaw, he still found plenty of opportunities to pop up in the corridors, like a weird and probably ineffective Head Boy superhero. It was a bit annoying, actually, especially once he got his girlfriend Penelope in on it, because she was sure she could never get her homework done with her hanging about her. "Doesn't she have N.E.W.T.s to revise for?" Daphne asked, frowning as she hung around them while they tried to map out star charts.

Calla had wound up getting called into Flitwick's office, too, about it. "Potter, I think I really ought to tell you about Sirius Black," Flitwick had begun nervously.

"I already know everything," she said quietly, and Flitwick's little self seemed to sigh in relief. "My godfather told me."

"Ah. Well, Miss Potter, I'm glad you, er, have all the facts. But I hope you'll understand that I and the other professors are going to be keeping a bit of a closer eye on you and your brother, especially after what's just happened... I'd like you to make sure you're always with someone, one of your friends, yes?"

"Of course, Professor," Calla said, smiling. "And thanks. Is that everything?"

"Yes, I believe so." Then he paused, sitting through the papers on his desk. "And you got an O on your last essay for me." Flitwick looked up at her beaming, and Calla split into a grin. "Well done."

"Thank you, Professor!" Calla cried, about to laugh of excitement. An O. She beamed. "I'll see you in class!"

Harry, as he would soon tell her, had had a similar discussion with McGonagall, but he had come away feeling far less pleased. "She was going to stop me practicing Quidditch at night!" he whined at the table in the library, while Calla copied out the new Runes of the week. "Thankfully she agreed Madam Hooch could watch us, to supervise, but I couldn't believe it!"

"Well, why not?" Calla asked, glancing at him. "If Sirius Black were to show up, and you were on your own, or even if you were with the team, outside, I wouldn't like to think what might happen."

Harry huffed. "I suppose. I just hope it doesn't interfere with training; we have to win this year! And I can't wait to rub it in Malfoy's face!"

"You'll beat them," Calla told him, grinning. "Just keep practicing. And don't tell anyone I told you so."

He frowned, a confused sort of realisation spreading across his eyes. "Did you see something?"

"May-be!" Calla sang, grinning over at her brother.

"Calla! How did I win?"

"I can't tell you that!" she laughed. "And I'm not technically really supposed to say things are going to happen until they have. Apparently it interferes with choices. So you'd better keep at it, Harry."

"I will, of course I will!" he said, grinning. "I can't wait to beat Malfoy again."

But it turned out Harry wouldn't be getting the chance to beat Malfoy quite so soon; Calla had another vision, but of the Hufflepuff team taking off against Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. She didn't know what the outcome would be, but that itself worried her. What if Harry did lose? The Hufflepuff team had entirely different tactics, as he'd told her worriedly. And he was playing Cedric Diggory - a tall and very good looking fifth year Hufflepuff who Susan and Zach said was meant to be a great player.

Harry had had to rush between classes, constantly caught in the halls by Oliver Wood who yelled instructions to him, which Calla thought was hilarious when he was already running between Divination and History of Magic.

And while she was beginning to improve in her classes, she felt, a very sour mood was put upon their whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class the day after a particularly rough full moon when instead of Remus as their teacher, they went inside to see Professor Snape standing in front of the blackboard, all he windows covered by thick black drapes that were definitely for aesthetic rather than practicality.

"Sit down," he said lowly, barely glancing up from the book he was consulting open on the desk.

"This will be awful," Daphne whispered as they sat down.

"God," Isobel muttered from the other side of Padma, "it looks like the bloody bat cave."

"I said sit," Snape said, eyes snapping to the Ravenclaw boys who were muttering amongst themselves.

All the Slytherins they shared the class with were looking horrifically smug, especially Malfoy. Calla pursed her lips, glaring at them as slyly as she could.

"Where's Lupin now, Potter?" Malfoy asked, eyes taunting. "Too shabby to show up?"

She glared at him even harder. "I see you're too sensitive to play Quidditch. How's the arm?"

Malfoy muttered something to Parkinson, who laughed, and Crabbe and Goyle glared at Calla. "It's awful," he drawled. "Thanks to that oaf."

"Thanks to your stupidity," Padma retorted.

"Simmer down, simmer down," Snape called from the front of the classroom. "I see Professor Lupin has not left any record of the work you have been studying so far this year. Quite unhelpful." Lisa put her hand up in the air. "Yes, Miss Turpin."

"Sir, we've done boggarts, red caps, kappas and grindylows so far."

"I did not ask for information," said Snape tersely, and Lisa frowned, as did Calla. "I was merely commenting on Lupin's lack of organisation."

Anger flared in Calla. "Well, maybe you're not looking hard enough." The moment she said it she knew that she shouldn't have; everyone turned to stare at her, and her cheeks flared red. Even Snape looked surprised. Unlike Harry, she didn't usually talk back to him. Maybe it was just the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom that brought it out in her.

"I did not ask for your advice, Miss Potter," said Snape silkily. "Nor your cheek. Five points from Ravenclaw."

She saw Terry roll his eyes and give Snape a glare. They caught eyes and Terry winked. "We're meant to be doing Hinkypunks now, sir," said Sue, quite pleasantly, as though to diffuse the tension.

Snape turned his page. "Werewolves, I think." Calla's stomach plummeted, and she looked up at Snape with all the rage she could muster. It wasn't like she could say anything about it now, since that would be blowing her godfather's secret entirely, but she tried very hard to subtly convey her anger at Snape, who didn't seem to care at all.

All the Ravenclaws exchanges confused glances. "But, Professor," Lisa said, "none of us have done the reading for a werewolves lesson yet."

"Malfoy," Snape said, looking suddenly at the edge of the classroom where Malfoy and his friends sat. "Tell me, what time of the month does a werewolf transform?"

"The full moon, sir," Malfoy said with a smug smile, and Snape nodded.

"Very good. Well, see no reason why the rest of you need to have done any extra reading. Mr Malfoy, five points to Slytherin for being prepared for all circumstances. Clearly, Draco has a grip on the subject matter."

"That's ridiculous," Padma muttered.

"You still can't expect us to be prepared, and you've just disregarded the work we've already done preparing for a different lesson!"

"I'm sure when Professor Lupin," Snape said, voice lingering on his name, "returns he will put your preparation to use. In the meantime, Miss Potter, I am sure you have a sufficient enough understanding of the werewolf to keep up with the class. However if you are not up to the difficulty of the material, feel free to leave my classroom."

Malfoy laughed and Calla's cheeks burned, as she resisted to urge to fling something at the front of the classroom where Snape was standing. "I'm sure I'm up to it, Professor," she hissed back. "If you're sure that you're up to teaching this subject."

A very tense, nervous silence settled over the classroom. Calla glared at Snape, though she could feel her bottom lip wobbling nervously. She wished she didn't look as nervous as she was are she did; she'd put her foot in it with Snape, but she knew he knew about Remus and there was no reason for him to focus on werewolves. And what he'd said... If he did anything to try and make people find out, she swore she would never forgive him. "Sit down, Miss Potter," he said silkily. "That will be fifty points from Ravenclaw now." Padma gasped; Lisa stared at Calla in shock and fury. "And a detention. And if you criticise my teaching methods again, I will have it seen to that you leave this classroom." Another threat glittered in his dark eyes, and it was that - and only that - that made Calla shut her mouth and take a seat, blood roaring in her ears.

"Jesus," Isobel muttered.

The class passed with Snape lecturing and Calla too curious to pay any proper attention, only getting more and more annoyed. At one point in the lesson while he set them to reading on the properties of a werewolf and how to identify it - which set Calla's blood absolutely boiling - and stalked up and down the aisles, reading over and commenting on the work they'd done with Remus.

"Professor Lupin gave this an eight out of ten?" he asked when he came to Calla's essay on Grindylow. She nodded, jaw clenched. "Hm. I would have given it a one, if anything at all, though I suppose we must account for favouritism."

Clearly the relative neutrality Snape had for her in Potions didn't apply here, or now. Calla kept her head down, eyes burning with tears not of sadness but of anger, and her cheeks warming. Her hands shook with anger and she clenched them against the table.

By the end of the class she was so furious that she gathered all her stuff in an instant and made to sprint from the classroom, before Snape called her back inside. "Potter!" he called. "We have to arrange your detention."

She gritted her teeth and turned back around, marching back to the front of the class. "We'll wait on you," Daphne said as she passed her.

"Miss Potter, you have spoken poorly against a teacher," Snape said. "What do you have to say for yourself."

She considered a moment, before she shrugged. "I don't know, sir. What do you have to say for yourself? You - you shouldn't be teaching us about werewolves."

"And why is that, Miss Potter?"

She fumbled a minute. "You know why."

Snape sneered. "Werewolves pose a very real threat to the Wizarding community, Miss Potter. It is my duty as a teacher to inform my students and to protect them from dark creatures who seek to do them harm." She had to try very hard not to say anything rude in return, and instead clenched her fists, fingernails digging into her palms.

"As such," he said, "you will complete for me the essay on how to find, identify and kill werewolves that I have set the class. In addition, you will spend tonight cleaning cauldrons in the Potions classroom and tidying the cupboard. I'm sure there are all sorts of potentially poisonous ingredients in there that need dealt with. Your detention will begin at six o'clock."

She glared at him for a very long moment and then said a sullen, "Fine. Am I dismissed now, Professor?"

Snape seemed to deliberate a long moment, which only served to aggravate Calla further. "You May go, Miss Potter," he said, and she turned and marched out the classroom as fast as she could, wrenching the door open and slamming it behind her.

"Where's Harry?" she demanded of Ron, who was in the line outside for the next class and who looked extremely taken aback at her.

"Uh, Wood caught up to him, why?" He stared. "Are you alright, Calla?"

"Snape's the cover teacher," she said, as Hermione caught up to them brightly. Her smile immediately fell. She was about to say something that would surely have made Hermione - and Remus, if he'd been around to hear - scold her to bits. "Git. Sure you'll feel the same way, tell Harry to find me before dinner so we can see Remus, yeah?"

"Course," said Ron, as Daphne and Padma took her by the elbow and demanded to know what her cheek was all about.

"Don't get me wrong," said Isobel, "I think he's a bloody arsehole, but you haven't cracked like that since Lockhart."

"I kind of want to see what happens next," Daphne said with a morbid look in her eye.

"I can't believe he's changing the syllabus," Lisa added indignantly. "I'd prepared by reading up on Hinkypunks, and he throws all of that out of the window, of course we aren't going to know what we haven't covered, unless you're Isobel."

"And I only know because I read everything about magical creatures ahead of time," Isobel said. "But he was so completely unfair!"

"Snape's a damn git," put in Terry, as the boys caught up to them. "Wish we had Lupin back - he was the only decent Defense teacher we've ever had."

"What's up with him anyway?" Padma asked, turning to Calla concernedly.

"He's just ill at the moment," she said. "Harry and I are going to see him before dinner to cheer him up, but he should be back soon."

"Good," Sue said. "Because I did not like Snape's attitude in that class."

Herbology went awfully. Her hands were still shaking in anger from Snape's class, and it didn't help that Malfoy and his gang were constantly looking over at her and whispering, sending glared every so often. She told herself she didn't care, but she did.

"You were right, though," Padma told her. "Well, you did take it a little far with Snape, but he was being rude to you first."

"And for the record," Isobel said, leaning over Daphne, "he was talking nonsense. You earned that mark you got, like you always earn your good essay marks."

"Thanks," Calla muttered, pulling too aggressively on a puffapod; the puffs fell away in her hand.

"Now, now, Miss Potter," Sprout admonished, bustling over, "a little more delicate when handling your puffapod, or else you'll hurt the poor thing."

"Sorry, Professor," Calla mumbled, stepping back so Sprout could comfort the plant.

On the way out though, Lily Moon and Tracey Davis caught up to her, Padma and Isobel, who were all heading back into the castle for Divination. "By the way, Potter," said Tracey, "we thought Snape was really out of order there. Professor Lupin's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had." Calla blinked at her in surprise; she couldn't remembering her and Tracey ever having spoken before.

"And," Lily added, "everyone knows you're really smart. Snape's just bitter." She gave Calla a bright smile. "Well, see you in class!"

And she and Tracey disappeared off in the other direction. "Oh," Calla said, suddenly feeling a lot less annoyed. "Well, thanks."

"Come on," Padma said, laughing. "Let's get to Divination, that'll cheer you up."

Harry, Ron and Hermione were in just as bad of a mood with Snape as Calla was when she came to sit at the table with them. "He's a foul git," Ron muttered. "You know what he said about Hermione? An insufferable know-it-all, that's what he called her."

"Git," Calla agreed, looking at Hermione. "Don't listen to Snape, Hermione. We all think he's just bitter."

"He is," Harry said, looking at Calla. "Did he get you to do the werewolves lesson too?"

Calla nodded solemnly. "We kept telling him we were meant to start hinkypunks, but he didn't listen."

"Calla talked back to him, though," said Padma, leaning over from the table next to them, "it was great."

"What did you say?"

"Er," Calla said, pretending to examine Hermione's teacup as Trelawney went past, "well I sort of-"

"Said he was a shite teacher, basically," Isobel paraphrased for her. Ron snorted into Harry's teacup and Hermione turned on Calla with a scandalised expression.

"Calla, you didn't!"

"Well, not quite in those words," Calla said hastily. "But he basically implied he didn't think I was up to the course level, and I sort of implied he wasn't up to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Mate," Ron said to Harry, "your sister is actually way cooler than you are."

Harry made a face at Ron and Calla grinned. "Thanks, Ron," she mumbled, blushing a little.

Xx

Due to Snape's detention punishment, she couldn't go and visit Remus, who was still feeling very unwell, with Harry. Instead, after dinner, she made her way sullenly downstairs to the Potions classroom in the dungeons and knocked sharply on the door. The sooner she could get this over with, the better.

"Enter," came Snape's grating voice, and Calla slipped inside. "Miss Potter." He checked his watch and pursed his lips. "It seems you are on time. Come." He whirled his cloak around him as he turned and Calla rolled her eyes, following Snape to a corner of the classroom where at least two cauldrons were stacked messily on top of each other. She had no idea what had been in them, but one had brown sludge still oozing out of the top of it; Calla tried not to gag at the sight. "You will clean out all of these, first," Snape obstructed. "Without the use of magic, though perhaps magic would itself be a hindrance to your work."

She bit back a swear word that was on the tip of her tongue. "Yes, Professor."

"Once all these cauldrons are immaculately cleaned, you will tidy, organise, and clean the ingredients cupboard." He pointed to the cupboard in question, which was marked as the N.E.W.T. level ingredients.

"You are not as arrogant and unlikeable as your brother is," he said, "nor, I had thought, as reckless. But Miss Potter, I will not tolerate a student attempting to make a fool of me in front of my class. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," Calla mumbled. "I'm sorry for saying what I did. But I don't agree with you about what you said in the class. And I think what you're trying to do to Professor Lupin is wrong."

Snape pursed his lips but stayed silent a long moment, black eyes stony. "You may begin, Potter. I want to see those cauldrons spotless."

Xx

"Remind me again what exactly happened?" Remus asked Harry, as he took a seat in his office. It was just them tonight, since Calla had gotten her detention. Remus looked very unwell, and hadn't managed to open the door for Harry himself.

"She sort of, shouted at Professor Snape, I think. He was trying to teach about werewolves-" Harry looked at Remus, whose face was surprisingly neutral, and almost resigned "-which obviously isn't our topic at the moment. I'm not totally sure what happened but I think from what Padma said that she challenged him on it, and then he made a comment about her not being smart enough or good enough to handle the subject matter, and then she shouted at him something about him not being up to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and then he gave her a detention." Remus stared at him. "And took fifty points from Ravenclaw."

Remus shook his head and there was a very faint trace of a smile of his face. "Your sister really does have her moments, doesn't she?" He sat up straighter in his seat. "I will have to have a word with Severus when I am better. Regardless of a student challenging him he had no right to say what he did about her - or about any student."

"He also," Harry put in, remembering what Padma had told him earlier and wanting to give Remus the full picture, "said that he would have only given her essay a one. And that she only got the grade she did because of favouritism."

Remus pursed his lips. "Well, I will most certainly assure Calla that that was not the case. Her essay was fantastic."

Harry smiled. "We all know that. Calla is really good at essays. But she's still probably upset, I think, though she seemed okay in Divination. Snape's such a git." Remus raised his eyebrows but didn't scold Harry.

"I'll have a word with him. And when did you say Ron's detention was?"

"Tomorrow night." Remus nodded.

"Both quite unfair. Well, I think you should get an early night, Harry. I doubt I'll be able to make it to your match tomorrow, but I wish you all the best of luck."

Harry smiled back at him as he stood up. "Thanks."

"And I'll speak to Severus about that essay, too," he added, looking troubled. "It seems he is determined to be against me in any way that he can be, but Dumbledore will see reason, should it come to it." He smiled wanly. "Goodnight, Harry. And good luck. Send Calla my love."

Xx

The morning of the Gryffindor match against Hufflepuff was a dreary grey one that turned to a dire storm in the space between Matilda waking Calla up and her getting to the Great Hall for breakfast. Snape had had her cleaning until quarter to ten the night before, and she'd had to get a start on Ancient Runes homework - she refused to write any of the werewolves essay whether Snape like it or not - leaving her with very little sleep. She was drowsy as she made her way over to the Gryffindor table where Harry and his team were all sitting looking nervous.

"Morning," she said to him as chipper as she could, stifling a yawn. She gave Harry a quick hug and dropped down to sit beside him, taking a piece of toast. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous," Harry said, looking up at the ceiling. "That really doesn't look like it's going to let up today, does it?"

"You never know," Calla said weakly, but she really didn't think it was going to. "How was Remus last night?" she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"Ill," Harry told her. Sure enough, he wasn't sitting with the rest of the staff. "But I told him about Snape's lesson."

"And?"

"He seemed annoyed. With Snape obviously, not you. He says he's going to have a word about what he says and how he talks to students, and he's going to tell him he can't have set the homework he did."

"Good," Calla said, nodding firmly. "Snape had no right to do that at all. I told him so last night."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What did he say to that?"

"Told me to get to work scrubbing cauldrons," Calla said. She grinned falsely at a surprised looking Harry. "I'm off, your captain looks like he wants a word." She nodded at Oliver Wood, who just gave her a tense look in return as she hopped off the bench and returned to Daphne and Padma.

"He looks like he's going to be sick," Daphne observed in a deceptively pleasant voice before she took a bite of a pancake.

When the time came to head out to the Quidditch pitch, the weather had worsened still, and Calla had a very bad feeling about the impending match. They had to hurry down under umbrellas and the hoods of their jackets, and Calla held her hand over her glasses to shield them from the rain. "This is ruining my hair," Daphne muttered.

"It's ruining my eyesight," Calla replied, making Padma laugh.

Once they were in the stands things weren't much better; the high altitude meant the wind was even fiercer, and colder, and the rain hurt when it hit Calla's skin. She tensed her grip around the rail in front of her, peering over when she saw the two teams begin to file out onto the pitch. The crowd cheered for both of the teams, but it was half lost in the roar of the wind. "Come on, Harry!" Calla shouted over the railing, though her brother couldn't hear her.

The rain continued to pour as Madam Hooch arrived on the pitch. Calla heard something she thought was the whistle and the two teams took off, flying in blurs of scarlet and canary yellow. She had to squint to be able to see Harry, who was circling the pitch seemingly quickly, but aimlessly. Her hands tightened around the rain slicked railing. Over the wind she couldn't even hear the commentary coming from Lee Jordan, who was on the other side of the pitch.

"Where's he gone?" Daphne shouted over the wind, staring around the pitch.

"There!" Padma said, pointing to a shadow against the clouds. Then a moment later it disappeared away, a cloud coming over.

The first strike of lightning saw Madam Hooch call the two teams down. Hermione darted onto the pitch and Calla leaned over, watching closely as she did something to Harry and then darted away. A moment later the teams took to the air again and Calla watched with her heart in her throat.

Her brother flew around the pitch at a ridiculous speed, turning sharply and then going sharply downwards. Calla leaned forward but then stumbled, clutching tightly to the railing, as the roar of the crowd faded from her ears.

She could feel Daphne's hand on her arm and Padma's muffled voice, but it was drowned out by her own scream as Harry went plummeting down. A cold that was from neither the wind nor the rain wrapped itself like chains around her, pushing on her chest. Calla's grip on the railing slipped, her hands trembling, and though she tried to steady herself she could find the strength. Then there was another scream, that same scream that haunted her, and she was pulled away from the railing, head spinning.

A woman's voice screamed inside her head. "No, not my children!! Do not touch my children!"

"Step away, girl. Give me your son and you needn't come to any harm."

"You've already killed my husband! Don't kill them, please, noo, no, not Calla and not Harry!"

Green light burst before her eyes and it was like a thousand different pictures were spinning on a wheel in her mind. The screaming was replaced by a hiss and the feeling of being pulled in every direction, a burning cold pain in her scar. She thought she was going to be sick as she lunged blindly forward, that hiss following her. "Mine," it said, and ice chains seemed to wrap around her. "I will take what I came here for."

And then it disappeared.

Xx

When Calla awoke, she was freezing cold and lying on a stretcher held up by McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. She startled, turning over, and McGonagall stilled. "Be still, Potter," she said quietly, "we're taking you to the Hospital Wing."

"The - but what?" The memories flooded back to her and her stomach twisted as she made to lie back down. "Wait," she said, sitting up again, though it made her head spin and she was sure she was going to be sick in a moment. "Where's Harry?"

"He's just ahead," McGonagall told her, gesturing to another stretched carried this time by Dumbledore and Snape. "Don't worry, you'll both be quite alright; Poppy will have you fixed up and feeling better in no time."

"But-"

"Hush, Miss Potter," said Pomfrey gently. "Rest now. I dare say those Dementors will have given you a nasty shock."

She nodded numbly, lying back down and staring at the great grey clouds above her, which rolled over the sky. They were cold and menacing and looked like at any moment they would split open and let Dementors descend instead of rain. She shuddered against the stretcher, and when after what felt like a million years they made it up to the Hospital Wing, she shivered as she got off of it.

"Lie down on the bed there, Miss Potter, there's a good girl. I'll fetch you some chocolate and potion. And perhaps some hot chocolate to ease the cold. Minerva, would you see to it that Remus is informed?"

"Immediately, Poppy," McGonagall said and strode out just as a rabble of other students pushed in the door. Ron and Hermione were first, running to the other bed where Harry lay, and Daphne and Padma pushed their way through from behind the Gryffindor Quidditch team to sit by Calla.

"You're awake!" Daphne cheered, beaming. "What happened? Was it the Dementors again?" Calla nodded, her head feeling heavy. She reached up to wave to Daphne but found her arm fell back down, too much of a weight to lift.

"Miss Greengrass, I would appreciate it if you would let my patient rest rather than asking her to relive her experience," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over. "Here, Miss Potter, have some chocolate. And there's a Pepper-Up Potion there. I'll have to check for concussion in a moment once your brother's been seen to - falling from so high up, it's a miracle he hasn't broken every bone in his body."

She turned away, hurrying to Harry and scattering the mob of Gryffindor Quidditch players. Calla couldn't bring herself to watch as she checked Harry for broken bones, and instead she concentrated on the bar of chocolate Pomfrey had given her, which started to make her feel a little bit better. "Would you like some?" she offered Padma and Daphne, who both shook their heads firmly.

"You're the one who fainted," Daphne said. "So eat."

It took another few minutes for Pomfrey to come over, wave her wand and declare that Calla had no concussion or injuries apart from a slight muscle strain in her right shoulder. She disappeared into her office a moment and the Gryffindor team, along with Ron and Hermione, broke into excited conversation.

"He must have fallen about thirty feet," Fred was saying quickly to George.

"More like fifty, I'd say," George countered. "Maybe more."

"I've never seen Dumbledore so angry," Katie Bell said.

"I thought they weren't allowed inside the grounds?"

"They're not."

"Well they certainly won't be now."

"He's lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought he'd be dead for sure."

"Do you think he's waking up?" Ron asked, and Calla tried to lift herself up to sitting so she could get a look in.

"Miss Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, "you are clear to go if you want to; but if you want to remain with your brother please feel free to. I'd recommend resting for the rest of the weekend, too." She turned as Flitwick entered with a bag, and they discussed it a moment.

"What do you think Dumbledore'll do?" Daphne asked in a whisper. "Surely he can't keep the Dementors here now?"

"Maybe he'll have to," Padma said. "As long as Sirius Black's still out there..."

"I want them gone as soon as I can," Calla said, shaking. "They're horrible things." Even now she cold feel the cold clawing between her ribcage.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, and Calla diverted her attention back to her brother. "You're awake? How do you feel?"

Harry just groaned. "What happened?"

"Dementors," said Fred. "Dumbledore's furious. You fell off your broom, must have been hundreds of feet. Dumbledore managed to slow down your fall, though."

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia Spinnet.

There was a moment's pause. "Wait, Where's Calla?"

"Over here," Daphne called for her, and the sea of Gryffindors parted so the twins could see each other. Calla raised a hand weakly.

"Dementors, too?" Harry asked.

Calla nodded. "Lucky I was only in the stands and fainted." She shuddered, reliving the memory. A flash of green light; a scream. "That was terrifying, seeing you fall."

"Do you feel okay?"

"As okay as I can. You look like you've been through it."

"Yeah." Harry winced. "What's happened to the match, though?" he asked his team. "Are we getting a replay?"

Everyone exchanged solemn looks. "Diggory got the snitch," George told him. "Just before he realised you'd fallen. He wanted a rematch, said it wasn't fair, but well, he won." Calla's heart sank for the Gryffindor team, and especially Harry, who looked devastated. He'd never lost a match before. "We think Wood's trying to drown himself in the showers."

"So we lost?" Harry asked, voice dry.

The Gryffindors nodded firmly. "I'd be worried about more than Quidditch if that was me," Padma said quietly to Calla and Daphne. Calla nodded; she still faint vaguely ill.

"It's not over though," Angelina Johnson said. "We lost by a hundred points, but if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin..."

Calla drowned out the sound of the Gryffindors discussing probabilities of them winning the cup this year, and fell back against her pillow, eyelids heavy. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep and wish that she could get rid of the brittle cold that had wrapped itself around her and sank into her bones. Eventually Pomfrey shooed the Gryffindor team out of the infirmary, so it was only Ron and Hermione left at Harry's bedside. "Can you walk, do you think?" Daphne asked Calla, and she trembled as she swung her legs off of the side of the bed, getting hazily to her feet. She felt a bit shaky, but with Daphne and Padma's help ultimately managed to make it over to sit on one of the stools next to Harry's bed. She clasped his hand tightly and tweaked a smile.

"Dumbledore's furious," Hermione told them in a shaking voice. "He's really angry, I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field when Harry fell," she told Calla. "He waved his wand and he sort of slowed you down as you went towards the ground, and he shot this silvery stuff at the Dementors. They left the stadium right away... He was furious they'd come onto the grounds, wasn't he, Ron? We heard him..."

"Then he magicked Harry onto a stretcher," Ron said. "And Calla-"

"You didn't faint right away," Daphne told her. "I think you went to see what was happening and we - we thought you were going to fall off of the railing." Her voice shook a bit. "So Padma and I, and Isobel - Isobel's with the others, we didn't want to crowd you - we pulled you back and then you fainted onto Padma. We took you down and McGonagall and Pomfrey managed to get you on a stretcher, too."

"Did someone get the Nimbus?" Harry asked, and Calla frowned. Was that really his priority?

"That's the thing," Hermione said awkwardly.

"We went looking for it," Ron said. "But it sort of... Flew into the Whomping Willow. And you know the Whomping Willow. It doesn't really like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it in just before you came around." And she picked up the bag by her side, tipped it upside down and out came the splintered, broken remnants of Harry's broom.

"Oh."

Xx

Though Madam Pomfrey insisted Harry remain in the Hospital Wing for the remainder of the weekend, Calla was free to go once she felt up to it. A bar of chocolate, hot cocoa and a pepper-up Potion later, she was able to walk by herself again, and though she couldn't soothe the ever lingering, almost brittle feeling of being helpless in the face of a lurking threat, she was at least functional.

She'd stayed with Harry until dinner, when she headed down to the Great Hall with Daphne and Padma. It felt better to be able to walk around the Hogwarts castle than being stuck in the Hospital Wing, though she found herself longing for the touch of Summer to warm her. After dinner, which had been mostly tasteless, she made excuses with her housemates, all of whom seemed concerned after her fainting, and went to visit Remus before the moon could make a true appearance.

She turned down the corridor towards the Defense corridor when something came around the other direction, colliding with her. Calla leapt back with a small shriek, apologies on her lips, until she recognised Malfoy lurking under a hood. "What, Potter?" he sneered. "Scared I was a Dementor?"

More than being aware of the truth of Malfoy's statements, she was becoming aware of their repetitiveness, too. "Leave me alone, Malfoy," she said smallly, wrapping her arms around herself.

He smirked. "Seen Sirius Black anywhere yet? I'm sure he'll be back for you any day now-"

"I said leave me alone," she told him, clenching her fists and meeting his eyes, words cracking and breath sticking in her throat. "Please."

For a long moment he just stared at her, and then muttered, "Scaredy Potter," and slunk off towards the Great Hall. Holding in her agitated sighs, Calla went down the corridor to Remus' office.

"It's just me," she told him through the crack in the door. "If you're up to visitors."

There was the sound of a bolt sliding and Remus, looking pale and very tired, opened the door for her. "I must warn you," he said, "I've had my potion for tonight, but my transformation will no doubt arrive within the hour."

"That's alright," she told him. "I just wanted to see you. I think McGonagall was supposed to tell you what happened at Quidditch?"

He nodded heavily as Calla shut the door behind her. "How are you feeling? How's Harry? I wanted to see him as soon as I could, but given my condition I wasn't sure..."

"He's doing okay," Calla told Remus with as much of a smile as she could muster. "But his broom... Well, it got a bit of a beating."

"Oh dear."

"By the Whomping Willow." Remus squeezed his eyes shut.

"Poor thing. They put that tree up for me, you know, my first year. It leads to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade - as I'm sure you've seen - and it allowed me to transform... Safely."

Safely for the other students. But it wasn't safely for him, Calla thought, imagining her godfather as his eleven year old self, younger than she was, curled up alone after a night he couldn't remember. "You don't still use it now, do you?"

He shook his head. "Thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion I have no need for it anymore. I can curl up in my own quarters and sleep the night as a tame wolf." He smiled; it was then Calla noticed truly the lines of scars along his face, scars made by claws. She wondered for the first time if they were his own. "And how are you, Calla?"

"I'm... Better. I think." He tilted his head. "I just feel cold."

"Cold?"

"It's like it's around my chest, sort of near my heart. I think it's just a side effect of the Dementors." She smiled. "I am okay, though. I don't feel as frail as I did the first time!"

Still, Remus frowned. "I've not heard of that being a side effect of Dementors," he said. "At least not as long lasting as this."

"Oh." Calla frowned, not knowing at all what to make of that. Yet another thing to add to the list of ways the Dementors affected her worse than anybody else. "What... What do you think of that?"

"You said it was around your heart?" She nodded. "I don't know. I wish I did. I'll speak to Dumbledore." He shook his head. "It seems I have rather a lot to speak to Dumbledore about."

"Does Dumbledore have to know?" Calla asked before she could stop herself. Remus looked at her strangely. "I - it's probably nothing. I don't want to cause any fuss, you've got enough to deal with and so does he."

"Even so," Remus said. "We had best be cautious." He smiled at her warmly. "Would some tea warm you up? I must admit I'm running low, I should get some more soon."

"Madam Pomfrey gave me hot chocolate and a pepper-up potion, and Daphne and Padma made me have a tea with my dinner. I think this is something that has to go away on its own."

"If you're sure, then."

"Er, Remus," Calla said, another thought occurring to her. "This time when I fainted, it was different in another way too. The first time, I'd heard a woman screaming, and so did Harry and he didn't say but... I heard more. I think the woman I heard was my mother." She left out the part about that snake like whisper in her ear that had made her tremble and fall apart, that had lodged the ice in her. She didn't think she could bring herself to tell anyone about that. Mine. I will take what I came here for.

Remus dropped the parchment he'd been holding. It fell to the floor and drifted away. "You - you think you heard Lily?"

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes. "When she - when You-Know-Who-"

Remus wrapped his arms around her suddenly. "Oh, Calla," he whispered as she let herself cry. "It's alright. I'm so sorry you had to hear that."

"I wish... I'd always wanted to know what Mum and Dad sounded like. I wanted to hear their voices, just once. But not like this! I don't want..." Her voice shattered. "I don't want this."

"I know," Remus said, holding her tightly. "I know, Calla."

The next day she'd wandered the castle on her own, thinking over things - History essays, Ancient Runes work, visions she'd had - and trying to avoid what really worried her. That voice, that seemed to haunt her now, always in the back of her mind. It seemed to grate over her skin, giving her the same shivers she might feel when someone raked their nails over a chalkboard. And she couldn't shake it, either.

With that and her visions combined, she felt entirely unsettled, not to mention hopeless. She'd yet again fainted at the Dementors' presence and been unable to hold her own ground, and she told herself that she should have, she should have been better than this, but she couldn't be. She shuddered, arms wrapped tightly around herself. No matter how many books she read about Magical theory and how to better work with her magic, she wasn't able to. She hated that.

She wandered for what felt like ages, not wanting to speak to anyone yet wishing that someone would come and find her. In the end it was Zach, Susan and Hannah who found her wandering herself, arms wrapped around her chest tightly, and her whole body shaking. "Calla," Zach said, as they caught up to her. He reached out to touch her shoulder but Hannah shook her head. "We- we just wanted to say we're sorry how the match ended. It wasn't fair."

Hannah stepped forward to her. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm feeling..." Hopeless. Ill. Weak. "Better."

"You're shaking," Susan pointed out. The three of them glanced between one another. "Come on," she said, and Hannah took her arm with a smile.

"Where?" Calla asked nervously, before she would move with them. Even Hannah's warm touch felt cold and numb to her.

"Greenhouses," Hannah said warmly. "Sprout always lets students go down if they want somewhere warm to sit, and the plants are relaxing. She told all us Hufflepuffs the first night of first year, if we ever needed somewhere to go, to go there."

"Oh." Calla blinked, and then smiled at the thought. "Thank you."

They went out together, and the fresh air, though cold, was kind to ease the nervous flush of her face. "Is your brother better?" Hannah asked quietly, with a nervous glance. "We wanted to check on him, but Pomfrey didn't want him crowded, and we didn't think any of the Gryffindors would be very keen on the idea."

"Oh," said Calla. She felt like she was saying that a lot. "Yeah, he's feeling better. Madam Ponfrey's brilliant. We're going to see Remus - Professor Lupin - tomorrow morning when he's better. Hopefully," she added and hoped no one noticed the slip. "Harry's broom got wrecked, though."

Zach winced. "Ouch. What happened?"

"Hit the Whomping Willow, from the sounds of what Ron said."

"Poor broom," said Susan, shaking her head just as they turned and the Greenhouses came into sight. "See, Sprout's in there already."

And indeed she was; so was Neville Longbottom. He looked up, surprised, when Calla entered with the rest of the Hufflepuffs, and then smiled. "How's Harry?" he asked, setting down a pot. "I saw him fall-"

"He's fine," she said, and smiled at Professor Sprout. "Hello, Professor. Um..."

"We told her you let students come here when they need it," Zach said, smiling apprehensively. "We figures Calla needs it."

"Oh, of course," Professor Sprout said kindly, smile lighting up her warm face. "Now, dear, there are some plants everywhere if you want to tend to anything, those along the left wall all need watered and no doubt Neville here could keep you straight." Neville flushed pink, and Calla found herself grinning at him. "If you just want to sit in a bit of warmth and company, well, you're more than welcome to do that, too." Sprout moved over to her, smiling. "You look cold, dear. Come, take a seat. Zacharias, you know where the hot drinks are."

"I'm alright, really, Professor," Calla said, sitting down. I think I'd just like... Somewhere to be."

Sprout looked at her for a long moment before she eventually smiled. "Alright, dear. I'm always here if you'd like anything."

Zach smiled as he sat down next to Calla, Susan and Hannah opposite. "You do look like you're shaking a little," he said. "Are you sure-"

"I'll be fine," she told him. "It's just the Dementors."