By Monday, classes had resumed as normal and Harry had returned to them. The cold, though, still followed Calla around, like a shadow of ice. She shivered between classes and curled up when she could, holding herself tightly. No matter how far the Dementors were, still just outside the grounds, she was sure that she'd never be able to shake that chill that they gave her. She was glad for the distraction that Monday's classes brought her. They started off with Charms, which Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and between chats with her classmates and her brother, Calla found herself to actually be rather good at counter-spells. She'd been the first to undo the charm on the feathers Flitwick had levitated for them, and had managed it four minutes before Hermione.

"Well done, Miss Potter!" Flitwick had chirped, beaming. "That was very quickly picked up!

She'd beamed back, and grinned at Harry. It was nice to know there was something she could do; who knew stopping spells from working was a talent? "Nice one," Daphne'd said, just before she tried to cast finite and made her feather levitate even higher. "Merlin. How'd you do it?"

Calla shrugged. "I just kind of got it to stop. It helps to imagine the spell itself and it being blocked from the start."

Daphne frowned, clearly concentrating very heavily on her feather. By the end of the class, both she and Padma had managed it, as had Lavender.

Transfiguration went a lot less successfully, but that was hardly unexpected. Herbology, though, felt awful.

Professor McGonagall had held her back a moment to ask how she was feeling after the Dementors, and by the time she'd assured McGonagall she was somewhat okay, she was running late. She sprinted down to the greenhouses, almost slipping on the still-soaked grass, and had mud all over her shoes already by the time she arrived.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Sprout," she said quickly, panting a little. "I was speaking to Professor McGonagall."

"That's alright, Miss Potter," said Sprout with a smile. "Join your group up the back there, we're starting on growing Valerian. I've given you different groups for this lesson; you'll join Miss Moon, Mr Goldstein and Mr Malfoy."

Calla held back her sigh as she passed Daphne and Padma, who were sitting with Goyle and Theodore and looked at her sympathetically. Anthony gave her a smile, though, when she joined him.

"Morning, Potter," Malfoy greeted her with a sneer. "What was it this time? Another Dementor?"

"Leave her be, Malfoy," muttered Lily Moon, rolling her eyes. "Here." She handed Calla a plantpot and a handful of pale, pink-white seeds. "These are the diagrams, and these are the planting instructions."

"Thanks," Calla said quietly, glancing over the diagrams. She'd heard of Valerian before - it was used widely in medieval Healing, and was still very useful in the modern day as a sedative and in some cases as a sort of magical anaesthetic. She shuffled over to stand between Anthony and Moon, taking the pot that stood before her.

"What'd McGonagall want?" Anthony asked.

"Just to see how I was feeling," Calla admitted quietly, glancing at Malfoy. "I think she's worried."

"Yeah," Anthony said. "I'd be too." She frowned at him, wanting to ask what he meant. "You did great in Charms, by the way; Terry thinks so too. Neither of us managed it."

"To be honest, I'm not sure how I did," Calla admitted, taking out the seeds for the Valerian. They were to put seven in per pot, and she counted them carefully in the palm of her hand. "Think it was a bit of a fluke."

"Potter got a spell to work?" Malfoy asked, mocking incredulity. "That must have been a one-off."

Calla turned her back on him, steadfastly focusing on her plantpot.

When the time came for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Calla already found herself tired, trudging up the steps with the other girls. "Do you think Lupin'll be back in today?" Mandy asked. "I couldn't stand another lesson with Snape."

"He should be," Calla said. If they did have to deal with Snape again she didn't think she'd manage to keep from losing another fifty house points.

They lined up outside of the classroom, as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs filed out, all grinning and chattering excitedly. "He must be back," said Padma. "Thank Merlin."

But Calla frowned. "Where's Harry?" she called over to Ron.

"Talking to Lupin," he replied over a startled Lavenderms head. "Bloody glad he's back!"

They went on to their class, and Calla leaned against the wall, waiting on the door to open and Remus to let them all in. "How is Harry doing, Calla?" Isobel asked, frowning after Ron.

"He's fine," she said, glancing at where Malfoy and his little band of Slytherins stood gossiping. "He got lucky, all things considered."

It took a long few minutes for Harry to leave the classroom so the rest of them could enter. "What was that about?" Calla asked as he past, and he shook his head.

"Tell you later!" he told her, grinning, and she was rugged along by the rest of her class into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for a lesson on Hinkypunks which was far better than anything Snape ever could have done.

After the lesson was over, she and Daphne went to speak to Remus and agreed that they could go to his office that night to fight a Boggart together. He'd managed to procure one for practice, and it was already set up by the time the two girls arrived.

"Promise you won't tell anyone what my Boggart turns into?" Daphne asked Calla urgently just before they went in.

"Of course not," Calla said, squeezing her hand. "You'll be alright. Don't worry."

"Yeah." Daphne squeezed her eyes shut. "I just... Never mind."

"Are the two of you ready?" Remus called from behind the large wardrobe, and they nodded, getting their wands out. "Now, I don't expect either of you to be perfect. If it doesn't go as you want, that's fine, and it is nothing to be ashamed of." Calla thought she might have more of a use for that advice than Daphne did. "Who wants to go first?"

Calla really didn't want to, but she caught the nervous look Daphne was giving her and smiled weakly. "I'll go. I've tried before, after all." Her mind was already starting to go over funny or amusing things for Tom Riddle to transform into; she'd compiled a list the evening before in the common room, with some input from Daphne, Padma and Isobel, and come up with no less than seven different ideas. Hopefully at least one of them would help her.

"Alright, then," said Remus gently, going to stand off to the side. "Remember, keep your focus. If you believe you can change its appearance, then you should be able to."

Right, Calla told herself, gripping her wand tightly. Would she be able to do this? She didn't know, but she tried to force that thought into her head, determined to do this right. If Remus thought she could do it, and she had Daphne behind her, then she was determined to make it work. "I'm going to let it out now," Remus said. "If you're ready."

"Yeah," Calla said, nodding quickly. "Yeah, I am. I can do it."

"That's the spirit. Alright then."

He reached out to the clattering wardrobe, and yanked the door open. Calla jumped back as something leapt out, a confused shape that took a moment in the air before it formed. Dark hair, pale face, tall. A sort of mist surrounded the young Riddle as Calla stepped back, tightening her grip on her wand. He was reaching towards her, for something. That voice rattled around in her mind. Mine.

Number one on her list... A clown. She tried to imagine him with a red wig and nose, but he was still reaching out to her, still coming closer. Her cheeks flushed as she stumbled back, head spinning. What had she been thinking of? Calla squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the rest of the room. Her gut rolled. Focus, she told herself, but that other voice found its way into her head too. Do not try to fight.

She gripped her wand tighter. Their next option had been to imagine him as a very leafy tree, based on the fact that Isobel had almost screamed at the idea and also trees weren't very prone to trying to murder people. So Calla focused on that, imagining him stopping, completely frozen, rooted to the grounds. He couldn't come closer to her. She concentrated very, very hard on that image, and shouted, "Riddikulus!"

He stopped but didn't change. The Riddle seemed stuck, swaying awkwardly on his feet, eyes wide and staring at her. She panted, stepping back and glanced at Remus. "Unorthodox," he said, "but that seems to have done something. Daphne, would you try?"

Daphne paled, but nodded. "Oh... Okay."

"You'll be fine," Calla said, grateful to be stepping away from the Boggart Riddle. "Good luck."

As Daphne took her place, she leaned against the armchair next to Remus. "Was that alright?"

"It was better," Remus told her, smiling. So, no, she thought. "Daphne?"

The Boggart was beginning to move again, jerking. Calla watched it, frowning as it seemed to flicker between forms, trying to keep a hold on one thing. It curled in on itself and then burst.

Smoke curled out from the spot where the Boggart had been, writhing like a snake. Daphne went very pale, knuckles white around her wand. She stumbled back, as the smoke seemed to form, marking a shape in the air before the wardrobe; a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Calla heard Remus gasp, as the smoke turned to blood, the shape getting smaller and it poured against a white wrist.

"No," Daphne was whispering, shaking. "No, no I don't want that."

"Daphne," Calla said quietly. "It's alright."

"I - I can't think of anything," she whispered. "Calla!"

"It's okay," she said quickly. "Just... Anything even a bit less scary."

"There isn't!" Daphne said, voice shaking. She was gripping her wand so tightly Calla thought it might break. "I... I don't know." She screwed her face up in concentration. "Riddikulus!"

There was a crack as the smoke dissipated and left a small snake squirming on the ground. Daphne stared at it in horror, then glanced back at Calla and then at Remus. "Did- did it... I'm sorry."

"Not at all," Remus said, straightening up. He looked a little shaken himself. "You performed the spell excellently, especially for your first attempt. Now," Remus bent down and picked up the snake, which slithered across his hands. "Back into the wardrobe you go, eh?"

He was surprisingly gentle with the thing, and then slammed the door. "Very good for tonight."

"What was that thing?" Calla asked, before she could stop herself. Daphne was still staring at the spot where the Boggart had been, tears glistening in her eyes. "Daphne?"

"I think perhaps we should leave this for tonight, Calla," said Remus, very gently. "You both did very well, and no doubt you'll need some time to come to yourselves."

"I'm fine," Daphne said, voice very quiet. "Thanks, Professor. I didn't want to... Do that in front of everyone. I'm glad I didn't."

"Of course," Remus replied. "If either of you need any extra help with any class work, you always know you can ask me."

Calla knew there was something odd about that Boggart. It hadn't just shaken Daphne, but it had scared Remus, too. She didn't know many things that did that. "Come on," Daphne said quietly, tugging Calla's hand, and she followed her out with a grateful smile at Remus.

"What was that thing?" she asked in a whisper, when they were down the corridor.

"The Dark Mark," Daphne said quietly.

"What?"

"It's the mark of the Dark Lord's followers. It went up in the sky over... somewhere they'd killed someone. And the Death Eaters would have it on their arms, when... When they chose to follow him."

"And that's-"

"Can we go to the dorm now?" Daphne asked her quickly, and Calla blinked.

"Oh. Yeah, of course, I-"

"I just don't want to talk about this right now. Maybe - maybe later."

She strode off and Calla stared after her, feeling chilled. That wasn't at all what she'd expected Boggart's to be... Though she didn't exactly know what she had expected it to be either.

The days faded from November to December and the world outside Hogwarts grew colder. Those Monday evenings spent in North Tower were becoming increasingly repetitive, as every time Calla looked into the fire she always saw the same things - the rat, the dog, the wolf, the stag, the crows - with only a few flickering exceptions. Trelawney decided that they'd move onto crystal balls, which the general class wasn't due to study before the end of the second term. "I sense Palmistry may not be your greatest gift," Trelawney had told her, which was fair, since she had no idea what any of the lines meant and nothing really came to her mind.

The Ravenclaw Common Room was also livelier than ever with their astounding Quidditch victory over Hufflepuff. "We could win this year!" Mandy kept saying to anyone who would listen. "We could do it, if we keep this up, the team played fantastic!"

For a solid week after the match, the Ravenclaw Tower was divided by those who insisted on studying and those who, spurred on by the promise and allure of the holidays just around the corner, insisted on celebrating the Quidditch victory in increasingly ridiculous but certainly inventive ways.

"Aren't you lot meant to be the dignified sort of house?" Susan had laughed when Calla told her and Zach about it in Ancient Runes.

"I don't think anyone seems to care about dignity anymore," Calla said defeatedly; she'd been awoken the night before by a series of fireworks going off in the common room, and a massive bronze eagle that had soared into their dormitory, woken everyone else up and then promptly sat on her head and refused to move for half an hour. "I think it is a bit soon to be celebrating, though." She was just glad this was her last class of the day, so she could get some sleep.

"If I can draw everyone's attention to this transliteration chart," Babbling began loudly, pointing to her chalkboard with her wand. She opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted by an owl screeching through the window. Everyone jumped except Professor Babbling, who seemed perfectly calm as the owl settled on Calla's desk, right on top of her notes.

"Er," she said, looking around. There was a piece of parchment attached to the owl's leg. "Should I-"

"You may read your note," Babbling said with a smile. "But please send the owl on its way, Miss Turpin looks quite unimpressed with it."

Calla nodded, giggling as she snuck a look at Lisa. She took off the note and the owl flew away again, soaring out the window. Professor Dumbledore asks that Calla Potter visit his office at seven o'clock this evening, it said. The password is Sugar Quill.

"What's it say?" Zach asked, leaning over, and Calla shook her head, tucking the note safely away in her pocket.

"Dumbledore wants to see me," she whispered. "Don't know why."

Zach made a face. "Good luck."

"Now," Babbling continued, pointing to her chalkboard, "if we look at the structure of elder and younger runes, we can see a simplification of the lines and the shapes of the runes as well as a change to the origins of their meanings..."

After dinner, when Calla had finished the first part of the homework Professor Babbling had sent them on the evolution of runes as a method of writing, she set her notes down in the dormitory, straightened her tie and made sure her cloak was fastened neatly before making her way up to Professor Dumbledore's office. She could see him pacing in the corner of the Marauder's Map, and when she found her way to the office she folded it into her pocket and said to the gargoyle statue, "Sugar quills!"

There was a grinding of stone as the gargoyle moved away, revealing the winding staircase that led to Dumbledore's office. She hurried up the stairs and knocked once, loudly, on the door. It swung open for her, to reveal Dumbledore standing behind his desk. He smiled. "Ah, Miss Potter. Please take a seat."

She moved nervously to sit on the chair by Dumbledore's desk. "Good evening, Professor," she said politely.

"It is indeed," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Tell me, how are you feeling?"

"Sir?"

"I trust you have recovered from the Dementors last week?"

"Oh. Er, yes. Mostly, anyway. I still feel kind of cold." Dumbledore nodded serenely. "I don't really know why, but I - I do feel better than I did!"

"I am glad to hear it, Miss Potter," Dumbledore said. "When Professor Lupin told me of your symptoms I admit I was rather alarmed. I am glad you are feeling better; but there are also many things I think we ought to discuss." He paused a moment and sat down. "Last year I assisted you, for a short time, in managing your mind with regards to your visions. Professor Trelawney has told me that you are doing very well under her tutelage." His eyes twinkled and Calla nodded, flushing. "But I am interested in how your magic is working this year. Your teachers all report good work and grades, with Professor Babbling being especially complimentary. At the end of last year, though, you did say that you felt a certain drain on your power. I wonder if you still feel something similar?"

She contemplated his question for a long moment before replying. "I suppose, yes. It's not quite the same, but I do feel drained. And I feel weaker, when the Dementors are around but I don't think it's necessarily affecting my magic so much as it just makes me feel weak in general. Like, I was really shaky and I kept trembling and... I don't know, sir. I don't really know how to describe it. I feel cold, too, but persistently. It's not just when I'm near them, I still feel cold after."

"May I ask where you feel cold?"

"Just sort of around my chest, I suppose. And sort of where my heart is."

Dumbledore looked at her for a long moment, considering. "I don't suppose this has affected your visions at all?"

"Not really," Calla told him. "Although, I do keep seeing the same thing in fire omens. It's always the same, more or less."

Dumbledore frowned, moving forward to lean on his elbows. "And what is it that you see?"

"It's... These animals. A wolf, a dog - they're different, ones upright and the wolf has a longer snout - a rat and a stag. And crows, loads of them. Usually seven."

Dumbledore leaned back, looking thoughtful. Calla wished she could see what he was thinking, what plausibilities he was coming up with. "Are you familiar with the old rhyme about numbers of crows?"

Calla nodded. "One's sorrow, two's joy, three's a girl, four's a boy. Five's for silver, six is for gold. Seven's for a secret..."

"Never to be told." Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I do wonder, Miss Potter. Might you have any ideas what that secret is?"

She stared at him, flabbergasted. "No?" When he didn't say anything more, she added, "If it's never to be told I don't think it's anything I could know now."

"A rational conclusion to come to," Dumbledore said pleasantly. He looked at her curiously. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me about, Miss Potter?"

She thought back to that voice she'd heard, the hiss in her ear. Mine. "No, Professor," she said quietly. "I suppose I just want answers, about why the Dementors affect me like they do."

"That I cannot say for certain, Miss Potter. But it is possible that the particular... Horrors of your past, have drawn them to your soul. They feed on fear and sadness, and you have an awful lot of that, especially for a thirteen year old. Do not be ashamed of it, Calla," he told her gently. "You are, I think, far stronger than you allow yourself to believe."

She smiled awkwardly at him, though his words didn't feel at all that. "Thanks, Professor," she said quietly. "I wish I was."

Xx

With December came the announcement of another Hogsmeade visit, this one on the last day before the Christmas holidays. Harry had complained about it ceaselessly while she tried to help him with their Divination homework in the library. "Harry, you know it's too dangerous," she whispered. "I'd like to go, but I'm not going to risk my life for it - and I'm not letting you risk yours, either."

"Ron said that-"

"I don't care what Ron said," Calla sighed. She absently patted her pocket where the map was, just to make sure it was still there.

"You can't tell me what to do, you know."

"No, but I think McGonagall, Remus, Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge can, Harry."

He rolled his eyes. "No one will even know."

"They will if you get hurt," she hissed back. "Now do you want me to help you with your homework or not?"

Xx

Despite having asked McGonagall and Flitwick if she could be permitted to stay in Gryffindor Tower for the night, seeing as she was the only other student still there, Calla was confined to Ravenclaw for all the nights of the holiday. "You can come in in the morning, though," Harry and Ron promised her, though Hermione had frowned her disapproval. "The password's scurvy cur."

So on Christmas morning, she woke up bright and early and got washed and dressed hastily. There was a small stack of presents at the foot of her bed, though she'd promised Harry that she wouldn't open any without him. Matilda was prodding at one silver-wrapped package in particular, claws dragging over the wrapping paper. Moony, who was perched on the end of Daphne's bed, gave a very judgmental hoot and stared down at the little kitten. "Stop that," Calla told Matilda, tutting. "They're for later." Matilda stared at her with massive, confused amber eyes. "No, Matilda." Matilda mewed and then padded away to sit on top of Calla's copy of 'The Giver' with her tail wrapped around the stem of Calla's lampshade.

She scooped up her presents, as well as the ones she was going to give to Harry and Ron, into a small bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. She'd put on her blue jumper Mrs Weasley had made her last Christmas, though it was beginning to get a little short in the arms. "Come on, Matilda," she said, and the little kitten cane to follow at her heels. Moony gave a hoot and in a great flutter of feathers, sat on Calla's shoulder, one great wing hitting her in the cheek. "Ow!"

Moony huffed in response, and Calla shook her head as she led the two of them out of the common room. It was nice not having anyone around to tell her it was weird, or to stare at her. When she went up to Gryffindor Tower it was still dark outside, and Sir Cadogan, the new portrait guard, was snoozing on the back of his horse. "Excuse me?" she said quietly, and the knight snorted loudly. "Um, sir? Sir Cadogan?" Moony hooted loudly and he startled, almost slipping off of his horse.

"Aha!" he cried, hoisting his sword in the air. "Who seeks to enter?"

"Um, Calla," she said. "I've got the password! Scurvy cur?"

"You are worthy of entry!" He declared, and the portrait swung away to reveal a gaping hole in the wall. It occurred to Calla that this was not a very secure method of gatekeeping; but neither was the riddle eagle that guarded the Ravenclaw Common Room.

"Thanks," Calla said, and then, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you too, fair maiden!"

She stood awkwardly in the common room for a moment, not actually sure what way was Harry and Ron's dormitory. She found the sign above a staircase that said 'Boys' and headed that way. "Harry!" she shouted along the hallway and a moment later, there was the slam of a door, a muffled conversation, and then Ron and Harry's heads both poked out the fourth door along.

"Calla!" Harry called, and she set off towards them, grinning. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Calla called back, hugging Harry quickly. Moony flew off her shoulder in a huff, wing narrowly missing the top of Ron's head. She turned to Ron, and then paused awkwardly.

"Merry Christmas!" he said, and then turned to lead them back into the dormitory. "There's presents for you from Mum, by the way, Calla. I think it's just a jumper, but..."

"That's fantastic!" Calla said, beaming at Ron. "Tell her thank you so much!"

"Come on," Harry said, taking her by the arm and hiding her to sit on the floor with him and Ron. Matilda curled up in her lap and Ron gave her a suspicious look.

"Don't worry, she won't go for Scabbers," Calla promised. "Will you, dearie?"

"I've got you a present," Harry said, grinning as Moony settled on his shoulder instead of Calla's. "Well, I had to get Hermione to get it, technically."

"Seeing as you wouldn't let him sneak out," Ron said with an unnecessary stern look at Calla.

"I've got you something too," Calla said, taking Harry's carefully wrapped present out of her bag and handing it over to him. "And don't look at me like that, Ron, it's for his own good."

"You open yours first," said Harry, and Calla obliged, taking off the wrapping paper, which had several layers. A book fell out, followed by a soft pink and purple scarf and a slim box with a violet quill in it. "The ink automatically makes your handwriting nearer than it is," Harry said and Calla shot him a playful glare; he'd made more than a few comments about the state her handwriting got to when she was in a rush. "And I didn't know if you'd read the book or not, but it's about Runes and Hermione had recommended it too, so I thought you might."

Runes of the Past and Their Place in the Present, read the rather lengthy title. "Thank you," Calla said, beaming. From the blurb, the book seemed to be about how Ancient Runes could be applied as fundamentals of magic nowadays, and how they could still be used and understood today. "It looks fantastic!"

"Try the scarf on, too," Harry told her, and she picked up its soft fabric, winding it around her neck.

"What do you think?"

"It suits you," Ron said, smiling. "Harry?"

"Yeah, it does. I'm glad, I wasn't sure if you'd like it or not."

"I do!" Calla assured him, grinning. "It's fantastic, Harry! Open yours now."

He grinned as he did so, unveiling a massive box of Honeydukes chocolate and new red Quidditch gloves. "I noticed your old ones were looking a bit worn," she told him, and he beamed.

"They were. Thanks, Cal!"

She found herself smiling as they both turned to Ron, who was unwrapping a present from his family; a large box of homemade fudge. A maroon jumper lay next to him. "That looks good," Calla said, looking at it.

"You can have a bit," Ron offered. "Mum's fudge is always fantastic."

He held open the box and Calla took a piece with a grin. Fudge for breakfast - she loved Christmas. Chewing, she took a soft package from her pile, and unwrapped it carefully, to reveal a woolly jumper with a shimmering silver C on it, in a midnight blue. She pulled it on immediately, and fluffed out her hair. Together with the scarf, it didn't quite go, but she thought both gifts were still wonderful. Harry had gotten a jumper too, scarlet with a lion on the front, and there was a Christmas cake for them all to share.

From Remus was a large bar of chocolate and a really lovely silver and lavender notepad, and Daphne had given Calla a set of lip products - a colour gloss, a matte lipstick, and a sheen lipstick - that all apparently changed colour to suit not only the mood but her outfit. Padma had gotten her a very pretty headband encrusted with silver and purple glitter, and a silver bangle with a small blue stone set into it. She put both on, and tried out the lip gloss, which went a pale, cool pink shade. She grinned at her reflection in her mirror.

But Harry and Ron's attention had just been drawn by something else. "Is that what I think it is?" Ron breathed, and Calla followed his gaze to a long, thin package lying at the bottom of Harry's pile. Her first thought went to a broom, but Harry already had a gift from Remus and she didn't know who else would send him a broom - certainly not the Dursleys.

Harry tore open the packaging and his mouth fell open. "It is," he whispered, staring at it. "It's - Ron, Ron, I think it's a Firebolt!"

Calla almost choked. Matilda gave a very confused purr. "A Firebolt?" she asked, leaning forward. "Are you sure?"

Harry tore off the rest of the wrapping and nodded numbly. "Yeah. It's a real Firebolt."

Who on Earth would be sending Harry a Firebolt? "Does it have a note?" she asked, and he shook his head. "Nothing."

"It must be from Remus!" Ron said. "Surely!"

"Well, I never got an extra present from him," Calla huffed. "And he would have put a note with it too." Plus, she thought but didn't say, she knew her godfather didn't have the money to spend on a top of the range broom even if it was for Harry.

"Dumbledore, then?"

"Hardly," Harry said. "He can't go around giving students things like this."

"He gave you the Invisibility Cloak, though," Ron pointed out.

"That's different," Calla said. "That was Dad's. This..."

"This is a Firebolt." Harry shook his head. "Wow."

"Imagine Malfoy's face," Ron said, giving a great whoop of laughter. "He'll be sick when he sees you on this, Harry!"

Harry laughed, but Calla stared at the broom, feeling suddenly uneasy. Who would have given Harry this broom? "What're you two laughing about?" Hermione's voice asked from the doorway. She entered in her dressing gown, holding a tinsel-wrapped Crookshanks, who looked at Matilda like he was jealous she had gotten away without any festive decorations. "Oh, hello, Calla. Merry Christmas." She turned back to the boys, and her gaze landed on the Firebolt. "Is that-"

"Don't bring him in here!" Ron said sharply, looking at Crookshanks as he grabbed Scabbers from his bed and stuffed him safely into his pyjama pocket.

Hermione didn't listen to him, though. She let Crookshanks down next to Matilda, who padded over to him happily and nuzzled his tinsel bound neck, much to the old cat's annoyance. "Oh, Harry, who got you that?"

"No idea," Harry told her. "There wasn't a card or anything."

Hermione's face turned to vague excitement into a look of apprehension. "What's the matter with you?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, but, it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, it's meant to be quite a good broom."

"It's the best broom there is, Hermione," Ron told her exasperatedly.

"So it must have been really expensive..."

"More than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," Ron said proudly.

But Calla thought Hermione was sharing the same worried thoughts as she was. "Well," said Hermione, "who would send Harry such an expensive broom as that and not even leave a note to tell him they left it?"

"Who cares?" Ron asked. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it after you, can I?"

"I don't think anyone should be going on that broom just yet," said Hermione.

"What's he going to do with it then, sweep the floor?" Harry and Ron both snorted. Calla looked at them worriedly.

"You don't think Sirius Black might have sent it, do you, Hermione?" Calla asked in a small voice. It might be cursed, whispered a voice, but then again, it didn't make sense. The Firebolt looked genuine enough, and both of the boys agreed; who would spend so much money on a broom only to curse it?

But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks had suddenly sprang away from Matilda and leapt towards Scabbers, who trembled in Ron's pocket. Moony flapped and took off, soaring over to Matilda who just stared at the scene, watching Scabbers wriggle curiously. Both of them were watching, actually, their eyes set, and Calla noticed that Moony had curled his wing around Matilda as though protecting her - or holding her back.

Scabbers attempted an escape over Ron's shoulder, but as he tried to grab his tail he misjudged an attempt at Crookshanks and Moony shrieked, lunging forwards. "No!" Calla shouted, trying to catch Moony though she had no idea how. "Moony, don't you dare!"

Moony turned around with narrowed eyes, but Calla met his glare and forced him to relent. The owl landed on the floor again, but still glared at Scabbers. A shrill sound filled the air, spooking Matilda, who turned and ran out of the room. Calla shot to her feet, sprinting after her, while Ron and Hermione yelled at one another in the boys' dormitory.

"Matilda!" she called, but the cat had disappeared. "Matilda, for goodness' sake, come back here!"

With a sigh, she went back on down the corridor, eyes peeled for her kitten. At one point Moony flapped back over to her and sat on Calla's head, wings spread widely like he was just preparing to take flight. She finally found Matilda shivering and curled up by the fireplace.

"Hey, girl," she said gently, holding out her hand. "It's alright. Did the sneakoscope scare you?" Matilda meowed, and then yawned. "It's okay," she whispered. "Come on, come to me. I'll get them to shut it up."

But Matilda wouldn't move. Calla frowned. "What's wrong?"

Moony fluttered off of her head and stood beside Matilda. The owl blinked up at Calla in an important sort of way, but she had no idea why. "The two of you stay here," she said quietly. "I'll go speak to the others and then we'll go to breakfast."

As she stood up, though, she caught sight of something in the fireplace. A human face that turned into that of a dog, that turned into a forest where animals ran along together, flashing in the shadows of the firewood. She frowned, leaning closer and tucking her hair out of the way. "What are you trying to tell me?" she whispered at the fireplace. Its only answer was a hiss as another log sparked and she had to withdraw. "I'll be a moment," she promised Moony and Matilda, climbing the staircase to Harry and Ron's dormitory again.

The others were all just heading out, Hermione holding Crookshanks very tightly and still muttering about Ron trying to kick him, while Ron complained to Harry about how murderous Crookshanks clearly was and what a feral cat he was. "I've got your presents," Harry told Calla, holding out her bag to her.

"Thanks," she said. "I think Matilda just got spooked by all the noise."

"Poor thing," Hermione said, and Ron glared at her.

"See, Calla knows how to discipline her pets!"

"Discipline?" Hermione said shrilly.

Calla winced. "They're really annoyed at each other," she whispered to Harry as the other two started up their arguing again.

"They've been like this all year," he said, sighing.

When they got back down to the Common Room, Calla decided to take Matilda and Moony to breakfast, where she saw Remus looking tired but otherwise alright. "Merry Christmas!" she said cheerfully, and Matilda mewed happily in Remus' direction.

"Merry Christmas, Calla," he told her, smiling as far as he could. "Are the others joining you?"

"I don't know," she said. "Probably at some point, but Ron and Hermione have fallen out because Crookshanks attacked Scabbers." Remus raised his eyebrows. "Apparently it happens quite a lot, Harry says anyway."

"Well, here's hoping they'll put aside their differences for Christmas." Remus smiled.

Calla nodded. "Do you know what time lunch is? I'm just having a small breakfast, I want to start reading the book Harry got me about runes. Thank you for the present, by the way."

"You're very welcome. And lunch is at around two, I think," Remus told her. "Though I'm afraid I won't be able to join you."

She frowned a moment before she realised why. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't realise-"

"It's quite alright," he said warmly. "Though I dare say I ought to be going now, I don't feel particularly well."

"Can we see you at some point tomorrow?" Calla asked. "Me and Harry?"

"Of course," Remus said, smiling. "Enjoy your lunch - and tell Harry a merry Christmas from me, wherever he is."

"I will do!" she said, but just before they parted ways she turned around. "Remus? I - I wanted to ask. Did you get Harry the Firebolt?"

It was clear from the look on his face that he had not; Calla's stomach sank. Maybe Hermione was right. "Firebolt?" he repeated slowly. "No, I did not."

"Right." Calla floundered. She thought maybe Harry would be annoyed - no, he would definitely be annoyed - but she'd rather he be safe. Though she hadn't Seen anything that had necessarily given her reason to think the Firebolt would end up hurting him, she didn't want to risk it. "See, hes been sent a Firebolt and it didn't say who from and we - well, Hermione and I - thought it was a bit odd. We didn't know who might have sent it, and... Well, I think Hermione thinks the same as me, that it might have been tampered with." She sucked in a breath. "I haven't Seen anything to do with it, I don't think it really has because it doesn't make sense to buy such an expensive broom only for it to be tampered with, there are much cheaper options, but it is a bit suspect. I just... Wanted to check with you."

Remus shook his head slowly, looking very suddenly tired, and worried. "The broom ought to be checked, nonetheless. We can't have Harry flying something that might be dangerous." He gave a small smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine, but just in case. I'll say to McGonagall."

Calla nodded, and took a piece of toast from the table. "Thanks." She smiled. "And I hope you feel better soon!"

She spent the rest of the day until lunchtime in the library, reading her new book and making notes and fiddling with her thoughts. The book had presented the idea that runes, once drawn or etched onto an object, could with sufficient magical energy, clarity and intention, imbue the object in question with magical qualities similar to charms or enchantments. It was complicated work, apparently, and required precision as well as direction, but it made her think.

The Marauder's Map, though she didn't know how it had been created, had been made with traditional wand spells to imbue the parchment with magical qualities. If she could replicate it with runes... Well, she supposed if she could do it someone else must have by now, but she'd seen very little evidence of it in practice. The only person she'd seen use runes in that way was Professor Babbling, and she was an expert in her field. Calla was a third year who could still barely turn a rat into a goblet and was the only one who'd failed to fight off a Boggart.

She snapped her book shut, scraped her notes together and went to lunch.

As it happened, she ran into Harry, Ron and Hermione on the way down. "Where did you run off to?" Ron asked of her when they met.

"Breakfast," she said simply, "and then I went to the library for a bit."

"The library? On Christmas. Blimey, you're getting worse than Hermione!"

Calla laughed, though Hermione didn't. "I was reading the book Harry gave me. It's really interesting, actually!"

Harry grinned. "Good. I didn't understand any of it, but I'm glad you do."

She bumped against his shoulder, grinning. "One day I'll explain Runes to you," she told him, and he shuddered.

"You really don't have to."

As they entered the Great Hall, Calla realised that it had been set up differently than this morning. All the other tables had been pushed to the side and the staff table was set out for thirteen. Calla recalled a superstition Trelawney had told her - when thirteen dine together, the first to rise shall be the first to die - but banished it. Superstition was not the same as Divination; but she did wish there was one other person there to even the numbers.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, rising as they entered, "good afternoon, and Merry Christmas to you all. Please sit." His eyes twinkled in Calla's direction and she smiled as she sat in between Harry and a Hufflepuff first year who was a cousin of Zach's and whose name she was fairly certain was Rosie.

"Are you Rosie?" she asked, glancing around the table as Dumbledore persuade a very sour looking Snape to pull a Christmas cracker with him.

Rosie jumped, surprised at having been addressed. "Em, yes. Rosie Smith. This is my friend Derek, he's in Hufflepuff too."

"Nice to meet you," Calla said politely. "You're Zach's cousin, aren't you? I'm Calla."

"I know," said Rosie in a small voice. "He's told me about you." Calla tried to still the heat of the blush that rose to her cheeks.

"Oh," she said awkwardly. "That's nice." Hermione shot her a curious look, and the the door slammed open again.

Calla turned around to see Trelawney gliding into the Hall, in a long emerald shawl, a glittering green dress and her glimmering oversized spectacles. She beamed at her. "Hello, Professor," Calla greeted cheerfully, and Rosie stared.

"Ah, Sybil," greeted Dumbledore pleasantly, standing. "This is a pleasant surprise!"

"I have been crystal gazing," said Trelawney mystically, "and to my surprise I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and comin to join you. Who am I to resist the promptings of fate? I at once hastened to leave my tower, and I hope you will forgive me my lateness..."

"Certainly, certainly," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you a chair."

"Thank you, Professor," Trelawney said, but as she moved forward Calla caught her pause, taking in the number gathered at the table. She stared at Dumbledore, eyes wide, and sat down very suddenly, squeezing her eyes shut nervously.

"Tripe, Sybil?" McGonagall asked in a weary sort of voice.

Trelawney opened her eyes again and looked around. "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is unwell again," said Dumbledore calmly. "Quite unfortunate that it would fall on Christmas Day."

"But surely you know that already, Sybil?" McGonagall said thinly.

Professor Trelawney gave McGonagall a cold look; Calla stared at her, surprised. Clearly McGonagall was not a fan of Trelawney's at all.

"Certainly I knew, Minerva," said Trelawneycoldly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous." Calla really didn't think that was the case, but she kept her mouth shut. Hermione had a smug look on her face, like she was about to burst into laughs at Trelawney's expense.

"That explains a great deal," said Professor McGonagall tartly.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly took on a far harder edge and she leaned forward, eyes intense and hard. "If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, this his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him —"

"Imagine that," said Professor McGonagall dryly.

"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but louder and certainly authoritative voice, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Professor Snape, eyes sweeping the table.

"Then I am sure he will be quite alright." Dumbledore's eyes glimmered. "Derek, have you tried any of the chipolatas? They are quite scrumptious."

They sat there for hours, chattering and eating, and when Calla was beginning to full nth full and pleasantly tired, she, Harry and Ron all rose to leave the table. "Are you coming, Hermione?" Ron asked, and she shook her head seemingly nervously. Calla frowned.

"I'll just be a moment," she said, and the boys shrugged, leading Calla along with them.

She made to turn down the corridor towards the part of the castle where the Ravenclaw Tower was, but Harry put a hand on her arm and pulled her back.

"Come on, you can stay in the common room for a bit, surely? It's not like anyone's going to mind."

"Alright, then," she said, quite pleased by the offer especially after she'd already left them earlier on in the day. Clearly none of them had taken it as an affront.

Harry was just talking to her about the Firebolt and its "excellent manoeuvrability" when the portrait hole opened and Hermione came in, followed by McGonagall. Hermione hurried into an armchair and buried her head in a book, looking quite anxious.

McGonagall looked like she was about to speak and then closed her mouth sternly as she looked at Calla. "Miss Potter, I thought I told you that you were not permitted to stay in the Gryffindor Tower dormitories over the holidays?"

"I'm not staying the night, Professor," she told her quickly. "But I wanted to spend time with Harry and our friends, and there's no one else in Ravenclaw Tower. I'd just be sitting on my own. And it is Christmas."

McGonagall pursed her lips, indecision flickering on her face. "Very well. I'll permit it now and now only. And not a word to anyone else about this exception; these are special circumstances." Her gaze turned to the Firebolt that Harry was still holding. "Is that it, then, is it?" She walked over, eyeing the Firebolt beadily. "Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."

All three of them turned to stare at Hermione, who reddened and sank further down in the chair to cover her face entirely. "May I?" Professor McGonagall asked, not waiting for Harry's answer before she took the Firebolt from him. She examined it carefully from top to tail. "And there was no note, Potter? No card? No message of any kind, at all?"

"Um, no, Professor," said Harry.

Her mouth settled into a thin line. "I'm afraid I shall have to take this."

"What?" Ron spluttered.

"What for?" Harry asked, staring at McGonagall as if she'd gone completely out of her mind.

"It will have to be checked for jinxes," McGonagall said. "Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch will want to strip it down."

"Strip it down?" Ron asked hollowly.

"What do you mean, strip it down?"

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," McGonagall told him crisply. "You will have it back as soon as we are sure it is jinx-free."

"But there's nothing wrong with it!" Harry insisted. Calla was on the verge of correcting him but didn't want either Harry or Ron to turn their growing ire on her.

"You cannot know that," McGonagall said kindly. "Not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is quite out of the question until we are absolutely sure it has not been tampered with. And Miss Potter," she added, and Calla jumped, "I expect you to be out of this tower by ten o'clock this evening, you understand?" Calla nodded fervently. "Good. Mr Potter, I will keep you informed about the state of your broom."

Then she swept out of the common room, holding the broom tightly in her hands. Harry and Ron both rounded on Hermione.

"What'd you tell her for?" Ron exploded. "Why'd you have to go running to McGonagall, eh?"

Hermione shrank back, looking quite upset. Calla lingered silently, not wanting to disrupt anything by taking a side. "I can't win on a school broom!" Harry told her. "And we have to win our next match!"

"I know, but I-"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because," she said, trembling, cheeks having gone quite pink, "I think - and McGonagall agrees with me - that that broom might have been sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"

The common room fell into silence. "I think," Calla said nervously, voice very quiet but still loud enough to break the silence, "Hermione might have a point."

"You just don't want Ravenclaw to be beaten!" Ron said, pointing an angry finger at her.

"No!" Calla retorted, quote offended at his conclusion. "I just think we ought to be on the safe side! And McGonagall will do everything she can to make sure you can fly it by the time the match comes, you know that, she loves Quidditch." Harry was staring at her incredulously.

"What're you taking her side for?"

"I'm not taking sides," Calla told him irritably. "I just don't want to see you getting hurt." She left out that she'd told Remus about the Firebolt before Hermione had told McGonagall. She didn't want them even more angry with her.

"The broom's fine! I've been with it all day!"

"I know," Calla said as kindly as she could. "And I'm sure it will be fine, but if McGonagall thinks it could be dangerous, we should at least let her check."

Ron muttered something under his breath and stomped up to the dormitory. Hermione sent Calla what looked like a grateful smile, but Harry was still staring at her. "Fine," he said at last. "But I'm still not happy about this. That was the best broom in the world."

"I know," Calla said. "I'm sure you'll get it back fine."

They sat in a slightly uneasy silence after that. Hermione went to her dormitory alone and didn't return, and Ron only came down after she'd gone, and didn't talk to Calla very much. By the time it reached twenty to ten she was not too upset at all to be returning to Ravenclaw Tower; it was silent and lonely, but at least no one there was angry with each other.

Xx

On Boxing Day, just before twelve, Calla abandoned the silence of the Gryffindor Common Room and made her way down to Hagrid's hut at the edge of the forest. It was quiet in the grounds, and peaceful among the cold. Smoke was rising gently from Hagrid's chimney and Calla smiled as she raised a hand to knock on the door.

The door was wrenched open and Hagrid appeared, looking around and then focusing on her. His eyes widened. "Calla, you oughtn't be out here on your own!"

"It's still perfectly light out here," she insisted. "And the middle of the day. I know my way about, Hagrid, don't worry about me."

Hagrid looked like he was debating something very heavily indeed, but then he sighed. "Well, I suppose you oughta come in then, Calla. The others not with you?"

"They've all fallen out again," Calla explained with a sigh, as she slipped inside Hagrid's warm hut. "Crookshanks - Hermione's cat - has been attacking Scabbers. Well, more like chasing him, and Ron's furious. And then Harry got given a Firebolt but Hermione told McGonagall about it because she thought it could be dangerous - and I agree, I think it should be checked - but they're both furious over that, too! I agreed, and I think Ron's still a bit angry with me about that, too." She shook her head. "But I don't want to talk about that, I don't think I've seen you in ages, Hagrid, outside of classes, at least."

Hagrid nodded. "Aye. Well, as a matter o' fact, I've - I've got a bit o' bad news about that."

"About your classes?" Calla felt like kicking herself. She knew that the governors had still been debating Hagrid's fate as a teacher, and she'd meant to ask and help him, but she'd entirely forgotten with one thing and another. "What's happened? They're not sacking you, are they? We can't let them - Dumbledore won't-"

"Naw, it's worse than that," Hagrid said. He blew his nose loudly on his tablecloth. "I got off but Buckbeak. Well, Lucius Malfoy was pushin' and pushin' and there - there'll be a hearin'. 20th of April, the letter says."

"Well we've got time then!" Calla said urgently. "I can help you, I'm good at researching, collecting eveidence, everything like that! And I'll ask Hermione, and Ron and Harry'll want to help, and Daphne and Padma!" She flung herself at Hagrid and hugged him as tightly and as reassuringly as she could. "I promise we'll all help you, Hagrid! We'll make sure you win your case, I promise!"