The rest of the holidays was spent in a very awkward area. Ron and Harry had forgiven Calla for agreeing with Hermione, but had by no means forgiven Hermione. They seemed to be avoiding her as best they can, which also meant avoiding the library; which unfortunately was one of the places Calla liked to frequent, as well as one of the few places they could all meet since she hadn't been allowed back inside their common room.

As such, she had tucked herself away in various corners of the castle, reading and making notes and thinking a lot about runes and the Marauder's Map. Remus had told her that they'd used a Homunculus Charm to track people's location, which was a very advanced piece of magic that Calla was certain she'd never be able to achieve with wand work. But with Runes... She wanted to at least give it a go. It likely wouldn't work, and she knew Runes could only rarely be used, but maybe that was because most people didn't try, resorting to spellwork. But that had never been her strong suit - she performed best in Charms, especially with Defensive magic, as she'd realised, but it was her essays and theory work that got her grades. She figured it at least couldn't hurt to try when she had a bit of free time, and honestly, she was curious what she could do.

So far she'd managed to set her sights on three potential Runes that could be used or combined to recreate the charm. The mannaz rune would definitely be useful, but she had also looked at the raithō rune, which meant journey and which she thought might be able to track a person. The last was the cēn rune, which was from the Anglo Saxon Futhorc rune system, which had developed from the Elder Futhark system. It meant torch, and she thought possibly it may be able to illuminate a person's path.

But the writing of the map also interested her. Clearly, her godfather and father had managed to enchant it to respond to people, whether by a specific coding and rotation of insults or by using a sort of system for their essences or memories to speak. She didn't want to replicate it exactly, but it had raised an idea. Wizards were very behind with Muggle technology - as proved by the fact that neither Daphne or Ron could use a telephone - and there had to be a quicker method of communication than owl post. That was when she'd considered enchanting the parchment to relay messages; but she didn't know how she could do that. The ōs rune did by some interpretations mean mouth, but it also meant God, and she didn't think it would be very successful.

She'd thought on it for days but didn't get much further forward, and decided that she'd have to ask Professor Babbling about it when her teacher returned from her Christmas holidays, and ask Remus more about the original enchantments. Instead, she'd taken to drawing again; she was out of practice, but the familiar sound of pencil over Muggle paper was comforting in the quiet. Nothing she drew seemed to turn out right, though, and she found herself redrawing everything over and over again trying to get it to look how she pictured it.

When the rest of the school returned it was both a blessing and a curse. It was nice for the common room to be filled with chatter again, but it also meant that Calla was again surrounded by people asking questions about her holiday and what she'd done and telling her all about what marvelous times they'd had. Daphne was particularly excited about a Muggle Polaroid camera that she seemed to have all but begged her parents to get her for Christmas. She insisted on taking a picture of all the girls in the dormitory the first night everyone was back, and beamed as it came out.

"You look tired," Padma observed later on that night, while the two of them were playing with Matilda. "Didn't you sleep over the holidays?"

"I did," she said shortly. "I've just been working on a lot of stuff, that's all."

Padma frowned at her. "Like what? We only had that essay from Snape and the Ancient Runes homework - did you manage it alright?"

"Yeah," she said. "It's just... Extracurricular stuff." Padma was looking at her very strangely. It was fair, considering Calla didn't really do any official extracurricular like Frog Choir; usually mystery solving and saving the school didn't really allow for any of those. "I'll explain later."

"Alright," Padma said, still looking confused as Daphne and Isobel came over.

"What's up?" Isobel asked, crouching by Matilda. "Here, kitty." She glanced up at Calla expectantly.

"I was just talking about the Ancient Runes homework," she lied. "I think it was okay but the part about differentiating younger runic systems confused me."

"Merlin, I know," Daphne sighed. "There's so many but I'm sure they all look the same."

"They really do," Isobel agreed, frowning. "I'm sure Babbling'll go over it, though. I just don't know what the runic expansions are going to be like."

This term, as Babbling had told them before the holidays, they were going to be focused on expansions of Runes, which included amalgamated Runes as well as, in time, Runes that didn't belong to linguistic systems but to Magical practices; these were what Calla was most excited about. "I'm sure we'll get the hang of it," Padma said confidently. She gave Matilda's head a delicate little pat before she stood up. "I'm going to sleep now, the train journey always tired me out. I'll see you all in the morning."

After that, they all began to drop off slowly, though Calla found herself lying awake for no real reason, staring at the ceiling until her eyes forced themselves shut and she curled up under the covers.

Their first classes of the new term proved to be largely unexciting. Ancient Runes was interesting, but they mainly went over and peer-marked the homework, which Calla was pleased to find she'd gotten an O on. She wanted dearly to ask Professor Babbling more about the practically Magical properties of Runes, but had been hurried on to Divination with Padma and Isobel before she could. It proved a much less fun lesson, seeing as Calla seemed to have absolutely no inclination towards Palmistry whatsoever, and Trelawney kept telling Harry that his life lines were very short. What annoyed her even more, though, was Hermione's attitude; she kept huffing and rolling her eyes and clearly didn't think Divination was worth her time at all. She was half inclined to tell her to leave the class if she hated it so much, but kept her mouth shut - she didn't think her arguing with Hermione would do any good, and Harry and Ron still weren't talking to Hermione, which Calla did feel somewhat bad about.

In Transfiguration, McGonagall had set them an awful amount of work, which was horrifying. "It's ridiculous!" Daphne declared as they left. "She can't set us this much homework on the first day after Christmas, it's a disgrace! Professor Burbage would never."

"Who's Professor Burbage again?" Padma asked, still shuffling her books about in her bag as they walked.

"Muggle Studies," Daphne told her. "She showed us a - a PacMan today!"

Isobel laughed. "How exciting."

"It is! He isn't like a portrait, but you can control him and how he moves!" Daphne was beaming at them. "You can't tell me that isn't amazing!"

Calla began to think that Daphne would get along very, very well with Mr Weasley. "It is cool," she agreed. "But most Muggles do have more advanced games than PacMan now. I'm pretty sure PacMan's older than us."

"80s," Isobel said. "So he's basically the same age." Then she grinned. "We're older than Mario, though."

"Who's Mario?" Padma asked, and Daphne grinned.

"Oh, I love Mario too! He's short and Italian, and his design..."

Daphne started talking to Padma about Mario at a rapid pace and Calla and Isobel exchanged amused glances. "Who'd have thought Daphne's favourite subject would be Muggle Studies?" Isobel asked, laughing.

"I know," Calla giggled back. "You know, she sort of tried to make out like she only took it because her parents wouldn't like it, but I don't know. I think she was interested anyway, but she seems to enjoy it a lot more than anyone thought she would." She smiled at the look of enthusiasm on Daphne's face as she talked to Padma about it. "And she seems to have paid attention, too."

"Yeah," Isobel said, then laughed. "I'd still like to see how she'd get on in the East End of Muggle Glasgow."

"Oh, she wouldn't," Calla said, giggling. "But she'd try."

Despite how well everyone else was adjusting to the new term, there was one person Calla had noticed wasn't doing so well: Hermione. The boys were both still very upset with her, but she seemed to be upset with the world, and growing more and more stressed. She and Calla had spent a few afternoons with Hagrid helping him to build Buckbeak's defense, but more often than not this ended in tears. Hermione would never tell Calla why exactly she was so upset, but Calla thought it was more than just the boys having fallen out with her.

"Why are you so stressed?" she asked one afternoon as they walked back up to the castle. Hermione had whipped around with such a ferocity that Calla had thought for a moment she might yell at her, or strike her; she'd flinched back on instinct, holding up her arms, and Hermione fell back.

"I - I just have a lot to do this term. But it's nothing I can't handle, just a few extra classes."

"Are you sure? Hermione, I can tell-"

"It's fine," Hermione insisted in a strained voice. "Really, It is, Calla."

"You..." she started slowly, "you do know you can talk to me, right? We're friends. And I'm sorry Harry and Ron are upset with you."

"I'm fine," Hermione said. But even while her smile stretched, Calla couldn't miss the tears in her eyes.

"Hermione, you're-"

"I have to get my books from Gryffindor Tower," Hermione said in a rush, moving away. "Excuse me."

Xx

The week after the start of term, Ravenclaw played Slytherin in Quidditch. The Common Room had been abuzz the whole time, everyone discussing what tactics they thought Roger Davies could put to use and how the players would have to adapt to them. Michael was particularly excited, and the night before the match, when all their year were again crowded into the boys' dormitory, he spoke incessantly about how great the team was.

"Of course all the Chasers are wonderful, they're so together. I imagine I could have fit in with them quite well, but Stretton is a marvellous flyer, and did you see how well he foiled the Hufflepuff keeper all last match? He's one to watch, definitely."

Anthony raised his eyebrows and whispered to Calla, "I think Michael's getting ahead of himself. He barely managed that foil."

"And as for Cho Chang," Michael said, grinning. "She's a fantastic Seeker. She's got the build for it, which I suppose is the benefit of having a girl on the team-"

"Because Merlin forbid any other girls are on," Mandy muttered.

Michael ignored her. "I daresay Cho could beat Harry in the Gryffindor match."

Calla laughed. "Hardly. Harry's the best Seeker we've ever seen."

"The best Seeker who fell off his broom?"

She glared at Michael sharply, cutting him off. Daphne and Padma glanced at her nervously. "That wasn't anything to do with skill," she said tightly. "The Dementors should never have been in the grounds."

"I know," said Michael, shrugging. "But he did still fall of his broom and lose the match. Though fair enough, Diggory is a great Seeker himself; you didn't see him fall off his broom because of the Dementors."

"Well, Cedric Diggory's not exactly been through all the same things as Harry, has he?" Terry said quietly, staring hard at Michael. "You can't blame him for being affected, or Calla."

Michael shook his head. "I suppose. But even so, he did lose the match. If they show up in our match against them, we've got it in the bag."

"Don't say that," Calla said shrilly, standing up quickly. "Those things are horrible, you'd really want them near everyone for the sake of Quidditch!"

Daphne put a hand on her arm and she swallowed. Michael looked at her confused. "Well, I'm not saying... I mean, it was just a hypothetical, Calla. Of course they are horrible, I don't want to be near them, but it's... I didn't mean it literally."

Calla rolled her eyes as she sat back down. "It's not a hypothetical subject," she said and shuddered at the idea of them.

"They wouldn't came back into the grounds," Terry assured her. "Dumbledore would order them away immediately - he was furious the first time, and after the train."

She'd forgotten that everyone had heard about that - Malfoy had actually been quieter recently - but she hadn't known of Dumbledore's reaction. The thought of his anger at the Dementors was enough to reassure her; not even they would defy Dumbledore again.

When the match did dawn, everyone in the Common Room was antsy. They all headed to breakfast together, the boys and the girls, and over breakfast Michael continued to talk everybody's ears off about his strategy predictions. "I'm sure Cho will beat Malfoy to the snitch," he was saying. "Sure, his broom is faster, but Cho is really good at manouevring and working with the broom where Malfoy isn't so much."

"Well you certainly sound like you want to do some manoeuvring with Cho," Lisa huffed, and stood up. Michael stared at her quite confused, and Daphne hid a splitter of laughter. "I'm going to get good seats before the match; and I don't want to be freezing. Mandy, Sue, are you coming?"

Mandy and Sue followed Lisa out and Daphne whispered, "That was tense."

A very confused Michael stared after her. "What was that about?"

Calla chuckled and exchanged an amused glance with Terry. "Boys," Isobel hissed at her side.

"I suppose we should all get a move on," Padma announced. "Like Lisa said, we'll want good seats to watch."

"Victory will be ours!" Michael declared as he stood up, and Anthony snorted a laugh.

Calla wrapped her scarf tight around her neck and pulled her hat on, quite bundled up as they set off down to the Quidditch pitch. "Looks like you're wearing some armour," Daphne giggled at her side.

"Looks like you're going to freeze," she retorted, gesturing to Daphne's hatless head, and Terry laughed in a way that made her feel suddenly very happy. She grinned as Padma looped their arms, half-skipping down to the stands.

It seems more or less everyone they knew had turned out for the match, and Harry and Ron shuffled into the row beside them. Ron didn't seem particularly enthused about supporting Ravenclaw, but he was certainly against Slytherin; Harry had, to Calla's delight, dressed in a bright blue hat. "Where did you get that?" she giggled, flicking the pompom that stood in top of it.

"Remus found one for me," he said, grinning. "Had to show my support. Plus, if you guys win this, it gives us a chance in the cup."

"Sure, Potter," huffed Michael. "That cup's ours."

Harry sent Calla a look as if to say, "Who does this guy think he is?"

She just grinned in response. "We are the title-holders."

"Only because it got cancelled last year," Ron argued.

"Still the title-holders," Isobel said, and the Ravenclaws all laughed.

Everyone in the stands was tight with anticipation as the two teams came out onto the pitch. The roar for them wasn't quite as loud as it had been for the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match, but a lot less people had turned out, largely on account of the cold weather. Calla stood on her tiptoes to get a view as they took to the air, in quick blurs of blue and green.

Her eyes caught on Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, who was still at one end of the pitch, though her eyes were clearly peeled and she kept turning slowly every now and then, surveying the pitch. Malfoy seemed to be taking a different approach, flying laps around the pitch. But it was the Chasers that Calla found herself focusing on; the three of them, Roger Davies, Randolph Burrow and Jeremy Stretton, seemed to fly as one unit together, which she supposed after five years on the team together was to be expected. All three of them would be leaving at the end of the year, and Calla knew they wanted to win as badly as they ever had, to end their last year with a bang.

The Ravenclaw Chasers scored four consecutive goals, and Stretton was just streaking up the pitch to try for his hat-trick when a Bludger slammed into his side and he seemed to soar across the pitch. Calla shrieked, and that all lurged forward to stare as he doubled over his broom and clung on for dear life. "Come on, Stretton," Michael was muttering, forehead creased very tensely. "Get up, come on!"

Her heart in her throat, Calla watched Stretton swing himself upright, and continue on to regroup with Davies and Burrow. "Yes!" Michael roared, and Mandy picked up Sue and spun her around. "Come on, boys, come on!"

They just kept scoring, and Calla was certain they were headed for a win once the boards hit 170-30. "A few more goals," Michael said, "and we could have this in the bag!"

"Bloody hell," Ron said, "Ravenclaw's better than I thought."

"Cho!" Michael yelled, and Calla turned to him. He was pointing to the pitch, where Cho Chang had spotted the Snitch and was barrelling towards it at what must have been her top speed. But Malfoy had noticed; he wheeled around quick as anything and sped towards the Snitch just as Cho did.

"They're going to crash!" Mandy yelled, and Daphne gripped Calla's good arm tightly.

"Come on, Cho, come on."

Then Malfoy reached for the Snitch, as did Cho, and at the last minute it darted just a little closer to Malfoy and he caught it. "Noooooooo!" Michael yelled, turning away sharply. "No!"

The score had changed to 170-180 to Slytherin. "You're kidding," Ron muttered, and Harry slumped back.

Mandy looked like she was about to cry, as did Michael. "We've lost! We can't have lost!"

"We've lost," Padma said flatly, looking a little bit dead in the eyes.

"Not by much!" Isobel said weakly. "There's still a chance..."

But everyone's eyes darted to Harry and Calla knew what everyone was thinking, the same as her. Cho Chang was fantastic but if she lost to Malfoy she'd lose to Harry, too; especially if he got his Firebolt back. They trudged back to the castle devastated. Ron and Harry muttered their goodbyes at the entrance hall and when Calla and her friends got back to the Ravenclaw Common Room, it was very somber indeed. Though there was an applause for the team when they entered, especially for the three brilliant Chasers, but it fizzled out and they ended up huddled in a corner looking quite defeated. Cho was crying on her friend Marietta's shoulder.

"Don't you feel awful for her?" Lisa said. "She lost us the match after everything the Chasers did."

"It was chance," Isobel said. "The Snitch moves at the last second, that's all. She still did a bloody brilliant job."

As January faded, so Calla's workload increased. In addition to regular class homework - an essay on Hndetectable Poisons from Snape, one about uses of fertilisers from Sprout, two about Wizarding Involvement in the Wars of the Roses and the Hundred Years' War from Binns, one about elemental Transfiguration from McGonagall, and a further expanded Rune chart to fill in for Babbling - she still had regular meetings with Trelawney every Monday evening, and a couple of evenings had been asked to Dumbledore's office to work on Occlumency.

"To utilise your magic," he'd told her, "you must be able to first control your mind."

She'd not done very well at it, and though most nights she remembered to try and clear her mind before bed, a lot of nights this proved impossible. Mostly because she was struggling to sleep. The cold had come back despite no new Dementor encounters, and in her dreams she not only saw the future but heard echoes of her past. That same voice hissing in her ear, a spitting snake winding itself around her neck. "I will take what I came for," it said. "And I will take everything."

It got worse with Trelawney, when their session was held the week before the Gryffindor match against Ravenclaw, and she had to crystal gaze. Her vision was clear; too clear for comfort. A snake writhed amidst the very thin fog, and she could see a bubbling cauldron, a sharply glinting knife, and the edge of a lake glittering with stars. Often she saw the Whomping Willow, too, swinging for her so hard she thought sometimes it might shatter the glass ball; she always jumped away from it on instinct.

Everything she reported to Trelawney was also of great concern for her Professor. "I fear greatly for you, my dear," she said. "And for your brother... Yes... I sense terrible dangers in your paths... A night of victories... Turned sour... A great fall..." She turned to Calla with wide glimmering eyes, face pale and tense. It seemed as though she was looking for it.

"Professor?" Calla said nervously.

"There is a mark on you, my dear..." Trelawney reaches out a shaking hand and Calla clasped it nervously. "A dark mark, a very dark mark indeed..." She shuddered. "On your soul..."

"Professor, what do you mean?" Her words caught in her throat and she felt cold cast over her chest as she shuddered. "What mark?" Her hand went to brush over her scar and it burned at her touch.

"Yes," Trelawney said. "You have a great many scars, Calla."

"I know," she said quietly, feeling suddenly like she had to leave. Not only did the scar on her forehead burn, but the left arm where she'd once been caught by the fire in First Year, that had mostly faded and whitened, began to ache. "Professor, I really think I ought to go now. I'm - I'm quite tired."

Professor Trelawney clasped her hand tightly, shaking her head from side to side and Calla's heart picked up in terror, beating through her ribs. "Beware," she told her, "be careful, my dear."

"Professor," Calla said, voice shaking, "What have you seen?"

"Too many things," Professor said, whole body shaking. "So, so many things, my dear. For your sake, be careful. Do not trust anyone, do not even trust yourself."

"Professor, I don't-"

"The mark," Trelawney said. She took a great shuddering breath and Calla tried to shuffle back, stumbling. Fear had gripped her now like ice, and tears burned at the back of her eyes, the pain of her scar starting to burn again. There was a vision coming, she knew, and she tried to wrench herself away from Trelawney's unusually strong grip. "The mark!"

Another world burst into view. There was a shadowy figure lurking in a forest, with keen eyes that followed her everywhere she tried to move. The sun was setting over the trees, painting the sky red. The figure reached out a pale, trembling hand to her. "Help," it rasped, and the sound sent shivers down her spine. "I am dying." Calla felt a choking feeling in her throat. "Help me."

She couldn't stop herself from moving forward, from extending her own hand to that trembling, frail figure in the trees. Her hand seemed to almost fall into the darkness and then her other reached up, and she turned to face the sky where the full moon hung amongst glittering stars. Cold wrapped around her, and breath rattled amongst the wind. It was like all of her breath left her, but worse; it was like the wind was taking her, not only body but soul, and she found herself screaming until she couldn't, until it felt like her heart had been wrenched out and she fell, clasping the hand that was still held out and stumbled back into the Divination classroom.

Everything felt too bright, and the perfumed smoke too heavy and pungent for her too stomach. She felt suddenly faint, and her legs trembled. "My dear-" Trelawney began, but Calla took her hand away and grabbed her bag, shaking heavily, and turned to flee the classroom.

Xx

"You're expecting too much of yourself, Harry," Remus said, sitting down after yet another Patronus lesson. Harry was still panting, exhausted from the futile effort. It was his fourth practice so far and so far he'd gotten no further than producing a few wisps that might have formed a shield. "For a thirteen year old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?" Harry shook his head. "You've more than surpassed my expectations." Remus said, smiling at Harry.

"I thought a Patronus would - charge the Dementors down or something," Harry said dispiritedly. He slumped into an armchair by the fire. "I thought it might, you know, just make them disappear -"

"The true Patronus does do that," Remus said. "But you have still achieved achieved a great deal in a very short space of time, Harry. You ought to be very, very proud of yourself. And if the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground safely."

"You said it's harder if there are loads of them, though," Harry said worriedly.

"I have complete confidence in you," Professor Lupin said, smiling. "Here - you've earned a drink - something from the Three Broomsticks. You won't have tried it before, I don't think. I'll keep a couple for on Saturday night after the match; there'll be a Quidditch victory to celebrate either way." Harry knew though that, despite what he might say to Calla, Remus did always side with Gryffindor in Quidditch, and wanted them to win almost as much as Harry did. "Though don't tell Calla, I am rooting for Gryffindor just a little bit," he added hastily.

"I think that's allowed," Harry said, grinning as he took a bottle from Remus.

"Perhaps," Remus said. "Don't tell anyone this either, but I did always think McGonagall had a soft spot for Gryffindor."

Harry grinned, taking a drink. The butter beer tasted lovely, soft and sweet tasting, and a little bit creamy. This was what he and Calla had been missing out on all year. But even as he drank, his thoughts drifted to Sirius Black, to his sister and inevitably to the Dementors. Even if he could cast a Patronus... he didn't really want to think in what a Dementor could do. "Remus," he asked quietly, and Remus glanced up. "What's under a Dementor's hood?"

Remus seemed surprised by the question - it was, Harry thought, something his sister was more likely to ask if she was having these lessons with him - and lowered his bottle of Butterbeer thoughtfully.

"Well," he said, "I suppose the only people who really know... are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

Remus seemed to take a long moment before he brought himself to say with a slightly twisted smile, "They call it the Dementor's Kiss. It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and - and suck out his soul."

Harry accidentally spat out a bit of Butterbeer. "What - they kill - ?"

"Oh no. Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no anything. No you. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just - exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever... lost," Remus explained. He drank a little more Butterbeer, then said solemnly, "It's the fate that awaits Sirius. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

"He deserves it," Harry said suddenly, before he could stop himself. Remus looked at him curiously, considering, and Harry remembered with a pang that Sirius was still only one of two of Remus' schoolfriends who was still alive. Even if he'd been responsible for multiple of those deaths... Ten years of friendship was something Harry wasn't sure could end suitably with wishing for someone to have their soul sucked out.

"Do you really think so?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows. His voice sounded light, but Harry wasn't so sure he felt it. "Do you really think anyone deserves that, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said defiantly. "For... for some things..."

Remus took a moment before he nodded. "Perhaps you should get back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry," he said. "It is getting rather late."

Harry nodded and made to stand, but just as he did, the door to Remus' office banged open and both of them jumped as Calla ran in.

"Remus, I just-" She stopped abruptly, looking at Harry. "Oh. I didn't think you'd be here, Harry."

He looked awkwardly at Remus. "Yeah, I've just been learning how to do the Patronus Charm."

Calla frowned between him and Remus. "What's that? We haven't covered it yet, have we?" He could tell she was confused, trying to comb back through her memories.

"No, no," Remus said kindly. "It's a very advanced charm, but it's used to drive away Dementors. Harry asked me to teach him."

Realisation and then hurt flickered on Calla's face. "Oh." She blinked. "Alright. I - I didn't know that. You never said."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I need to learn it in - in case they come back to a Quidditch match. All I can do now is a sortnof wispy shield but-"

"It's still very, very good," Remus said.

Harry smiled but when he looked at Calla, she was only frowning. "You never told me about it."

"Well, it was-"

"Why didn't you tell me? I want to learn too, you know how the Dementors affect me. I - I can't let that keep happening, if there was a way you know I'd want to learn it!"

"Calla," Remus said gently. "I was reluctant to even teach it to Harry. The Patronus is very advanced magic, especially for someone your age."

"But Harry managed it." Calla's voice seemed to be shaking as she spoke, and her eyes looked almost angry. "Why'd you teach him and not me?" Her voice was going shrill, too, getting higher. "I need it too!"

"Calla-"

"You don't think I'm good enough, do you?" she asked Remus, who startled at the ferocity in her voice. "I thought you said..." Calla trailed off, lip wobbling and cheeks reddening, and she grasped her bag tightly. "Never mind," she told them, voice breaking over the word. "I'll let you get back to your lesson."

She turned and stalked out of the room, bag banging against her hip, and Harry stared after her. "What was that about?" he said, but Remus was already making his way out of the office to go after her, so he followed as quickly as he could. She'd ducked down a corner, though, and neither of could see where she'd gotten to.

Just as Harry made to try and find her, Professor McGonagall came around the corner, followed by a very enthusiastic looking Ron. And she was carrying his Firebolt. His confusion over Calla dissipated quickly as he looked at McGonagall, grinning.

"Ah, Potter, I was just looking for you. And Remus," she said, smiling. "We've done everything we can think of and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with your broom at all. You must have a very good friend somewhere, Potter."

In his excitement he missed Remus' look of confusion, and simply beamed at McGonagall. "So I can have it back? Seriously?"

"Seriously," McGonagall said, smiling. "And I daresay you'll need to get a feel for it before Saturday's match. And, Potter," she added as Harry was about to turn back to Remus, "do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape is so kind as to remind me."

She left with a smile and Ron rushed over to Harry. "You got it!" he cheered. "Bloody hell, Harry, you're going to play on an actual Firebolt! Oh, sorry, Professor," he added bashfully to Remus.

"Quite alright, Ron," Remus said with a warm smile. "I daresay we're all very excited at the prospect." His eyes fell to Harry and he gulped, shifting from foot to foot. "Be careful with it. And if you see your sister..."

"Yeah," Harry said, as Ron gave him a quizzical look. "I will." Then Remus went back into his office and Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"Come on," Ron said. "Let's go show it off, eh?"

Xx

Calla didn't go back to Ravenclaw Tower. She was too upset, and shaking and felt like she might just start crying and not stop if anyone saw her and asked what was wrong. So she ran through the castle's secret passages and tired herself out before she curled up in a quiet alcove behind a thick tapestry and tried to calm herself down. She wasn't really sure where she was, but she was fairly certain it was somewhere no one would find her for a while.

Her vision, coupled with what Trelawney has said, had spooked her. She shook at the thought of it; of reaching out and falling, of that sense of weakness that still lingered, and she remembered that rattling breath on her neck. She was sure now that it was a Dementor, and what she'd felt... It was even worse than being near them. That had felt like her whole soul was being sucked out, like it was being torn apart and flung in a million pieces in a thousand different directions. She'd felt scattered and she wasn't actually sure she'd pulled herself together.

And then when she'd gone to see Remus, she'd been so scared but she knew he'd help, knew that he'd know what to say to make her feel better, and stronger but he'd been teaching Harry the charm and not her. Because it was advanced magic and like it or not, she thought with a choked sob, she wouldn't be able to do it. Worse than that, Remus and Harry didn't think that she could do it's

And Harry could, because of course he could! Because he was a brilliant wizard and he was Harry and she didn't want him to be upset or to struggle but she just wished she wasn't so weak where he was so strong. She wished she wasn't so scared.

Something brushed against her shin and she looked down, wiping her tears as she saw Matilda standing there, staring up with such wide eyes. "Oh, Matilda," she whispered, scooping her kitten up into her arms. There was nothing else she could say, and so she just held Matilda to her chest and cried until Matilda pawed at her arm, mewing loudly. There was another lumpy shape at the edge of the alcove, in the shadows, and squinting through her tear-stained glasses, Calla could see that it was Crookshanks.

She frowned; what was Crookshanks doing out of Gryffindor Tower? "Here, dear," she said quietly, bending down to stroke the top of Crookshanks' head. "Aren't you with Hermione?" Crookshanks pawed at Calla's leg and Matilda went to nuzzle him gently. Calla frowned at the sight, but then Matilda looked up at her, and then jerked her head as though to say, "Come with us."

The two cats padded out of the alcove and, wiping her glasses, Calla followed. She took out the map and checked for names, but there were none that worried her, so she went on with them down the corridor to a large open window. Crookshanks jumped up onto the ledge, and pawed in an almost frantic way at the edge of the pane of glass. "What is it?" Calla asked, frowning now as she leaned forward. She looked out into the grounds, though she could see nothing. "Lumos," she whispered, pointing the tip of her wand out of the window to shine on the ground below.

There was a massive black dog staring up at her. Calla almost dropped her wand at the sight, stumbling back with a pounding heart. The black dog, that Remus had told her and Harry to stay away from. She rounded on Crookshanks, who just stared back at her and slowly, in a very uncatlike way, nodded. "What is this?" she whispered, as Matilda hopped up onto the ledge. She butted her hand with her head and flicked her tail towards the window. "What are you trying to show me, Matilda?"

She glanced out the window again, and startled. This time, there was an owl perched on the massive dog's head: Moony. All that Calla could do was stare, as the dog's eyes seemed to glitter up at her. It was the same one from Magnolia Crescent, she was sure. And it didn't seem dangerous, even now. If Moony was sittin with him, seeming comfortable... It put Calla a little at ease, but she still didn't understand.

"Hello?" she called out to the dog, who just stared up at her. It was a dog, she reminded herself. It probably didn't even know what hello meant. But then again, Crookshanks and Matilda both seemed to have understood her, and Moony - like most owls - was very intelligent. She waved foolishly out of the window. "Sir?"

The dog shook its head, and then as Moony flew off, it made a strange gesture sort of between kneeling and sitting. Then before Calla could really begin to understand, it sprang up and sprinted away. She checked the map hastily, but saw nothing coming. Even so, the dog had left her rattled.

She was still thinking about it when she went to bed that night, Matilda curled up at the foot of her bed and Moony perched, watching with unblinking eyes, on top of her lampshade.