That Summer was a strange one. Harry wasn't as talkative as usual, and Calla noted that he sent more letters than she did, many of them to Sirius. She didn't blame him for wanting to speak to Sirius, of course; had the roles been reversed she would likely have done the same, but it still grated on her a little, and she couldn't even explain why, it just did. She supposed it was just strange, having Sirius suddenly appear in their lives and completely turn what they that they knew on its head.

And every day that passed bore no more news about Peter Pettigrew, or his capture. The writers at the Prophet seemed to be running out of things to say about the case, seeing as no one really knew where he'd gotten to or who had helped him out, and while Calla and Harry both had some suspicions - and she knew Remus and Sirius had more - the Prophet seemed not to have any clue. Maybe they just weren't allowed to say anything about it; Daphne had written to say her father had heard he was in Finland, but she wasn't technically meant to tell anyone. Calla would have thought they'd have been informed though.

Sirius was being called back for a trial at the end of the month, and hopefully his name would be cleared, but without Pettigrew, Calla was still nervous. Not just for Sirius, but for everyone. She rarely went outside without her wand, just in case. It couldn't really do much, but it was something at least.

She and Harry were waiting, very impatiently, for Sirius' trial. If he was declared innocent, and a free man, then they might have a chance of being able to go and live with him. Calla didn't want to live with Sirius, not necessarily - Remus had been in their lives the whole time they were growing up, and it wasn't fair to suddenly decide they wanted to live with Sirius and not him, after all he'd done for them - but she really didn't want to live with the Dursleys any longer than she needed to. The whole Summer had been awful, even worse than last year.

She'd been feeling tired lately, too, though she tried to sleep as early as she could. Working on homework for school was her only outlet, taking her mind off of the Sirius case, off of Pettigrew and Voldemort. Harry said he thought she was tired because she was worrying, and she was, but she also felt very uneasy. She was sure now, after trying to consult three different methods of Divination, and to harness her own visions in the way Dumbledore has asked her - not that the latter method had had much success - that Pettigrew had made his way back to his master. They hadn't helped her discern how she escaped, but she was determined that she must be able to find some information. She had suspects, of course, not that she could exactly go around pointing the finger without proof. But something was coming, she could tell, and she could feel it like a tension in the air. Yet there wasn't much she could do about it, as a thirteen year old, even if she seemed more inclined to act than most of the adults in the Wizarding World. Cornelius Fudge seemed to be very quiet about it all, or at least that was the impression she got from the Daily Prophet.

Harry at one point suggested that her fatigue was due to lack of food, which was entirely possible. Their diet this year had been very out of the ordinary. Though Calla and Harry had never been given significantly large portions to eat at Number Four, the Dursleys had been told in the end of term report that, to put it mildly, Dudley had managed to become roughly the size and weight of a baby whale. Which, for a fourteen year old boy, or indeed anyone who wasn't at least part-giant, was not a healthy weight at all.

And so they were on rations. Dry grapefruit, mostly, but occasionally apples or bits of celery. Calla was even less fed here than in summers past, which was why the two of them had written to their friends at the start of the holidays to ask for food parcels, which they'd provided. Padma's mother's cooking, she'd discovered, was excellent, and Daphne had not only sent plenty of cakes and snacks of her own but had also at some point told Isobel, who had sent a massive box of shortbread. Calla was also extremely relieved that she'd thought to exchange some of her wizard currency to Muggle pounds last summer. She and Harry were able to go out and disappear for a few hours at a time each day, and often went for meals the likes of which the Dursleys would never treat them to - fast food, pizza, the works. Calla had gained a new love for burgers. It wasn't Hogwarts good, but anything was better than dried grapefruit every day.

But that wasn't the only strange thing.

There was a new family in Privet Park, just around the corner from Privet Drive. Calla'd seen them move in while she'd been out for a walk one day, trying to find somewhere she could go with Harry to have a meal for their birthday. Two parents, the mother dark haired and tall and the father fair and short, and three children. The youngest was about ten or eleven, a short but stocky boy with red hair, while the older two looked about Calla's age or a bit older, a tall, dark haired boy, and a slightly shorter blonde girl, high-cheekboned and sharp-elbowed.

The area of Little Whinging in which Calla and Harry lived was not prone to changes. It did not like anything out of the ordinary, and neither did its inhabitants. Harry seemed mostly oblivious to their new neighbours, but Aunt Petunia would sniff every so often when she returned from errands and tell a woeful tale of those "Awful Baird children, running around like nobody's business, the little one screaming and getting in the way." She did seem to enjoy the new gossiping opportunities, though.

It was when Calla, bored of only Harry's company - Dudley was too miserable to speak to anyone even to taunt them, and she stayed out of her aunt and uncle's way as best she could - decided on a hot Tuesday morning that she was going to introduce herself to the Baird children, that the Summer really started to get interesting.

They weren't hard to miss. Calla went by on her rmorning walk after breakfast after leaving Harry to struggle over his Potions essay, and sure enough the youngest boy was already out in the front garden, doing cartwheels while his sister watched from the step. Taking a leap of faith and praying her boredom would cease, Calla leaned as casually over the fence as she could and said, "Hello."

The girl looked up, frowning like she expected someone such as Aunt Petunia to tell her off for letting a child do such a ridiculous thing as cartwheel in a garden. Her face cleared a little, but she still looked a bit confused as she stared up at Calla. "Hello?" she asked. Calla blinked. She hadn't expected her accent, soft and smooth and distinctly Scottish, but it was pleasing nonetheless. "Do I know you?"

"Calla," Calla said quickly. "Sorry, I live round on Privet Drive, I... I thought I might come and say hello. It's boring as anything around there."

The girl grinned in a way that reminded her a bit of Ginny Weasley. "Everywhere is around these parts," the girl said. Her brother tried to look up mid cartwheel and landed in a heap on the grass, causing him to whine loudly. "Bobby, what the hell are you doing?"

At that, the woman in the house next door opened her curtains and glared suspiciously out of the front window. The girl scolded her brother, who muttered something rude under his breath and stomped off into the house. "He's an idiot," the girl said, rolling her eyes. She made her way up to the fence, and Calla could see she had a smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks, and warm, brown eyes. "Sorry. What did you say your name was - Calla, right?" Calla nodded. "Cool. I'm Mairi. We just moved here, obviously. What number are you?" Calla blinked. "Privet Drive?"

"Oh, right." Calla smiled awkwardly. "Four."

Mairi made a face. "I think Bobby and I've run into your brother."

From the expression on her face, Calla could tell it was Dudley Mairi had run into, and it didn't appear to have been a pleasant encounter. She glanced at the window where Mairi's little brother was leaning out. "Dudley's my cousin," Calla said, with a wince of apology. "The blond one. He is a bit of a bully. I do have a brother, though, Harry. He's got dark hair, like me, but his is messier."

To Calla's relief, Mairi laughed. "My brothers are both idiots. Bobby gets away with it 'cause he's little and people still think he's cute sometimes, but Andrew's sixteen and he's just an idiot."

"Yeah, Harry's a bit of an idiot too," Calla said, as it struck her how easy it was to talk to Mairi already.

"I think it's a boy thing," Mairi said airily. "Do you want to come in, by the way? You look a bit pale, Mum'd kill me if I let someone get sunburnt standing in our garden."

At that, Calla laughed, though her stomach gave a nervous flip. She barely knew this girl... But she was very different from the usual Privet Drive crowd. And she was nice. So she smiled. "If that's alright," Calla said, though Mairi was already unlatching the gate.

"So what's your story then?" Mairi asked, leading Calla down the path and into her house.

"Hmm?" she asked, too distracted by the numerous family pictures hanging on the wall, one of which was in front of one of the few castles she knew, Edinburgh Castle. Definitely Scottish, then, and the seemed quite happy to flaunt it.

"Well, how come you're living with your aunt and uncle? I mean, I'm assuming the other big guy isn't your dad, and they're blonde anyway."

"Oh." Calla bit her lip. It wasn't something she liked to talk about, and she also couldn't tell this girl the truth, because she was fairly certain she wasn't magic - even if they were a bit different to the rest of their estate. "They died in a car crash, when me and Harry were about a year old."

"Oh." Mairi looked down, flushed red. "Sorry, that was rude of me, wasn't it? Mum says... We're meant to make friends, but I'm not that good at it."

"Oh, right."

Mairi, who seemed to have stopped with the questions, looked at her for a moment, before biting her lip and asking, "Do you go to Stonewall, then, I take it?"

Calla shook her head, and hesitated. Did she tell her a vague description of Hogwarts, or the story Uncle Vernon spun, that she went to St Beatrice's Institute for Delinquent Young Girls, the sister School to St Brutus' Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys? Deciding she didn't really want what may have been her first real Muggle friend to think she was a delinquent, she said, "I go to this boarding school my parents went to. My aunt and uncle don't like me talking about it, because they didn't like my parents. It's in Scotland actually."

Mairi brightened at that. "Where about? It's not Loretto, is it? Or Mary Erskine's?"

"Uh, no," Calla said awkwardly, not knowing where either of those were. "It's near Inverness."

"Oh, right." Mairi gave a small huff. "I have to go to Stonewall, apparently. It's an extra year for me - I should be doing my Standard Grades this year, but instead I have to wait an extra one to do the GCSEs." Calla wasn't sure what Standard Grades were, but assumed they were Scottish and probably a form of exam. Hogwarts didn't have either, only O.W.L.s and N.E. . "It kind of sucks. Mum and Dad are making Andrew do your Sixth Form, too, even though he just wants to start working. He thinks he can find a job with his Highers, and he'd be right if we got to stay in Scotland, but I don't think your lot even realise those exist."

Calla didn't know that Highers did exist, but assumed they were another Scottish exam and just nodded. "My cousin Dudley, he's in Year Ten, so he'll be same year as you. He goes to Smeltings, though."

"What's that?" Mairi wrinkled her nose like the word Smeltings carried a terrible whiff.

"This fancy all-boy's prep school." She laughed at the memory. "He wears a hat." They wore hats at Hogwarts, too, but that was only really first years.

"Is he a Tory then?" Mairi huffed. "I guess most people round here are Tories." She gave Calla a sharp glance. "Sorry. Are you? You do go to a boarding school."

"No," Calla said quickly. She knew what a Tory was, obviously. Uncle Vernon voted for them and Aunt Petunia had supported Thatcher till the very end, so Calla was very much opposed to them.

"Good," Mairi said, just as her brother Bobby trudged into the kitchen. "What?"

"Andrew won't play football with me."

"So?" Mairi asked, looking quite unimpressed. "You can still kick a ball on your own, can't you?"

"He's being a dick."

"You're not supposed to say that," Mairi said sharply.

"You called him a dick the other night."

Mairi blanched. "Well, that's different-"

Calla covered her snort of laughter with a cough. Bobby turned to stare at her. "And why's she in here?"

"She's my friend," Mairi said. The word surprised Calla, but it still lit a sort of glow in her chest. "Now go play football or something and sod off."

Grumbling, Bobby disappeared, opening the kitchen door and slamming it behind him.

"He's really annoying, sorry," Mairi said, very unapologetically. "What year are you in, anyway?"

Calla thought for a moment, trying to translate Hogwarts years into Muggle ones. Well, English Muggle ones. "I'm just going into Year Ten here," she said slowly. But she went to school in Scotland. She had no idea if they named their years different in the Muggle system - presumably, they did, it was the kind of thing Scotland would do - but went out on a limb and said, "Fourth year."

Mairi grinned. "Same! Do you guys do Standard Grades, just I know some of the private schools are funny."

"We have our own... Exams," Calla said awkwardly. Mairi stared at her like she'd just blurted out that she was secretly Nessie.

"That's really weird," she said, and Calla cursed internally. "Your school must be posh, then."

"Nah, not really," Calla said. Was Hogwarts posh? It wasn't Privet Drive, but there were definitely a lot of... Well to do people. Daphne was definitely posh, and it was still, as Mairi had pointed out, a boarding school. "I mean, there are some posh people," she said. "Most of us are just normal and got in on, you know, chance and stuff. We don't have to pay anything, either, but there are some... Donations."

"So you're with posh people but you're not actually that posh. Even though you live in Privet Drive."

"You live in Privet Park."

Mairi gave a melodramatic shudder. "Don't remind me." She looked for a moment like she was about to say something else, but instead she got up and went to the fridge, where she took out a glass bottle of a fizzy-looking, orange liquid. "Want some?" she asked, eyes bright. "We smuggled it over the border."

"I'm fine," Calla said, eyeing the drink with some suspicion.

"D'you not like it?" Mairi asked, looking almost like she was offended.

"No," Calla was quickly to assure her. "I've just... Never had it."

Mairi put the bottle down with a clunk. "You've never had Irn Bru." She blinked, then screwed her face up like this was the greatest insult she'd ever been given. "You go to school in Inverness!"

"They're really... Strict," Calla said weakly.

"Calla, you have to try it," Mairi said, thrusting the bottle under her nose. She sniffed it nervously. "It's not drugged or anything," she said. "It's just Irn Bru. Go on, it's the best thing you'll ever taste."

Warily, Calla took a small sip of the pop and prayed that this wasn't part of some ridiculous You-Know-Who plot to poison her. It actually tasted quite nice - sweet, but not as sweet as Coke, and more refreshing. It almost tasted like bubblegum, but with a hint of bitterness underneath.

"Well?" Mairi asked expectantly.

"It's... Nice."

A grin split Mairi's face. "Calla, it's Irn Bru. It's art."

Calla returned to Privet Drive later that evening for dinner - she and Mairi had gone out to get chips, because Mairi wanted to know what places did decent fried food in the area - and received a thorough interrogation from Aunt Petunia on where she'd disappeared off to. Her aunt suspected that she'd been with some wizards, which wasn't exactly a stretch, but she hadn't seen another witch or wizard apart from Harry since the end of term. Uncle Remus hadn't even seen them, and had only been able to communicate through post; apparently Dumbledore thought it best that they return to Privet Drive again until Sirius' trial, at least.

"You missed a really lovely apple today," Harry said when she arrived in their bedroom. He was sprawled out on his unmade bed, reading a copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages' for what must have been the twentieth time, and Calla's kitten Matilda was curled up next to him, glaring at Hedwig.

"Shame," Calla said, dropping onto her bed. "Here, Matilda."

Matilda purred, and leapt off of the bed, padding over to Calla. Aunt Petunia hated having a cat in the house, branding Matilda as 'abnormal' despite the fact that a cat was a perfectly normal pet to have. If Dudley had wanted a cat, Calla often thought, he would have gotten a whole litter.

"Where did you go off to anyway?" Harry asked her. "You usually come back for lunch at least."

"I've made a friend," Calla said breezily. Harry looked up - it was one of the most exciting parts of that Summer so far, after all.

"Who?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Do they live around here?" She nodded and his mouth fell open in bewilderment. Everyone around Privet Drive knew the Potter children were bad news.

"Mairi Baird, they just moved into Privet Park. I think her and her brothers are from Scotland - she made me try Irn Bru." Harry frowned. "It was actually okay."

"What are they like?"

Calla pursed her lips. "Very unDursley-ish," she decided. "Mairi's the same age as us, her little brother Bobby's about ten or something I think, and her older brother's Andrew, he's sixteen."

Flicking the page of Quidditch Through the Ages, Harry frowned. "They're not wizards, are they?"

"If they were, I'd have noticed they were at Hogwarts, wouldn't I?"

Harry made a short hum of agreement. "Suppose so, I doubt there are any other wizarding schools near here. Bit weird, though, isn't it? No one new ever moves in here, and they're all very... Dursleyish."

"Yeah," Calla agreed, just as Aunt Petunia called them down for dinner. Likely more grapefruit. Matilda whined, and Calla quote agreed with the sentiment. "Mairi's invited me over tomorrow, she says you can come too, if you want. We could get food that isn't even fruit."

"Ugh, don't, you're making me hungry. I hate grapefruit."

The next day, though, they did go around to the Bairds' house. Mairi greeted them at the door, looking somewhat surprised. "Oh," she said. "Hi. I - I didn't know if you'd actually come."

"It - it is alright, isn't it?"

"Yeah!" Mairi said quickly, blinking. She grinned, looking over Calla's shoulder. "Are you Harry, then?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said, waving awkwardly. "That's me."

"Nice. Come in, then. And sorry about my brothers, by the way. They'll definitely annoy you at some point."

Calla laughed lightly, heading inside after Mairi. They'd barely reached the bottom of the stairs when someone clattered on the steps, and a basketball came flying down. They ducked and Calla caught the ball just before it smashed into a lampshade. "Bobby!" Mairi yelled. "What are you doing?" She let out a whole stream of expletives, storming up the stairs. "Mum said not to throw that inside the house!" Calla and Harry exchanged nervous glances and then followed her up them.

"Well I've not got anyone to play with outside!" Bobby's voice yelled back.

"It's not my fault you've no pals."

"Shut up!"

Bobby slouched out of his room, glowering, but then straightened up when he realised they had company. He swore loudly and Mairi glared at him. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to hit you, if I hit you."

"Nah, you didn't," Calla said, and tossed the ball back to him. He caught it, flushing.

"Why are you shouting?" another voice asked from inside another bedroom, and a second later Andrew popped his head out. "Oh, hello. You're Calla?" Calla nodded.

"This is Harry."

"Right. Mairi, stop yelling at Bobby. Bobby, go outside and don't hit our guests."

"I didn't hit them!" Bobby insisted, stomping over and running down the stairs, muttering.

"He's so nippy," Mairi said. "What're you doing anyway, Andrew?"

"None of your business." Mairi grinned. She opened her mouth to speak and then Andrew cut her off. "Shut up, Mairi. Mum'll be back soon and we can head out." He grinned at Calla and Harry, ruffling his hair. "I've told Mairi it's not fair she's seen everywhere and no me-"

"He's jealous-"

"So we thought we could go on a walk? If yous want, I mean."

"Sure," said Calla, shrugging. "Anything except hanging around the Dursleys' house all day."

"You say that like you don't just curl up and read in that house all the time," Harry replied.

Calla rolled her eyes, and turned to Mairi. "What do you wanna do now then?"

"Dunno. TV's gotten set up now though, we can sit down in the living room for a bit. Mon, Andrew."

"Minute," he said, ducking back inside his room, and Mairi led the twins back downstairs.

"He's annoying," Mairi said, "but he's alright, Andrew. Just in a mood with Mum and Dad."

Calla and Harry nodded quietly, following her down. It was weird being in their house. It was by no means a wizarding house, but it was still so different to the Dursleys'. The walls were bright colours, yellow and red and green, and the whole place seemed to burst with life. It was lived in, and Mairi was so comfortable; it was home already, because of the people there.

"They're making him stay in school, I told you yesterday. Apparently Stonewall's a bad school for the area so he says he doesn't see the point, but I asked about it and apparently it's still really good. Something like two thirds of their kids pass all their GCSEs. Most of my pals aren't even doing seven standard grades, but apparently I'm meant to do something like ten GCSEs next year." She gave a very dramatic shudder. "I hate England, no offence."

Calla shrugged. "I don't really care about it."

"Calla said yous go to some posh school in Inverness anyway," Mairi said to Harry, who cast Calla a questioning look. "I think I'd hate that, there are enough Tories around here as it is."

"Right," Calla said nervously, as they went into the living room.

"So yous are in fourth year, yeah?" Mairi crosses her legs, sitting on the sofa in front of the little telly. "Are you doing exams this year?"

"Year after this one," Calla said. "Harry's doing nine, I'm doing ten."

Mairi raised her eyebrows. "Good luck with that then. I'm out of school soon as my GCSEs are done, I don't care what Mum and Dad say. I'm working and then heading back to Scotland, don't care where." She leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling. "Sorry, you can sit down." They were quiet as she flicked through the channels, settling on some re-run of Doctor Who. "Do you two know anyone around here, then? If you go to your other school."

"Not really," Calla said. "We didn't have many friends in primary school."

"Me neither," Mairi said. "I hope the people at Stonewall are alright, though." She looked a little nervous about it, her eyes flicking to Calla for reassurance.

"I'm sure they will be," Calla said, though she knew they stuck Year Sevens' heads down toilets the first day. Maybe they wouldn't do it to Mairi.

"Yeah." Mairi shrugged. "I could batter them anyway."

Calla laughed awkwardly. "Yeah. That'd be interesting to see."

They watched the TV awkwardly, no one actually quite knowing what to say. Andrew came down at one point, and flopped onto the armchair. "You're all very quiet," he said. "Christ, Mairi, Doctor Who?"

"Shut up," Mairi said back.

When their mum came in, Mairi introduced Calla and Harry to her hastily, and then they all ducked out into the street. "I hate having to watch Bobby," Mairi complained. "He's a bisum."

"A what?"

"Bisum." Mairi looked at Calla blankly, as if not understanding why she didn't know what that meant. "No?"

"A terror," Andrew said.

"You're meant to go to school in Inverness!"

"We don't get out much," Calla said.

"I can tell," Mairi laughed. "Come on then. Don't you know anyone else around her?"

"Other than Mrs Figg, no," said Harry.

"Who's she?"

"Cat lady. Her house smells like cabbage."

"Right. We're no going round to hers then."

"Er, no."

But they barely made it through Privet Drive before Dudley came out the house, waddling a bit. "Here we go," Calla muttered, tugging Harry away. "That's our cousin."

"I can't see much of a resemblance," Andrew said helpfully.

"Thanks."

"You two!" Dudley said, puffing. "Mum wants you in." His face was gleeful. "You're in trouble. Someone from-" He looked at Mairi and Andrew. "Who's this? Mum! Mum!"

"They moved into Privet Park," Calla snapped, striding over to him. "Calm down. Or people might think you're scared." She waggled her fingers at him and he jumped, scarpering back inside the house. "Sorry," she said apologetically to Mairi and Andrew. "If we don't go in now it'll just be worse."

"That's alright," Mairi said, looking disappointed. "Come find us when you're done? I'll try and find that park again."

"Come on," Calla muttered to Harry, ducking inside the house only to be greeted with Aunt Petunia's shrill voice coming from the living room.

"One of your friends!" she shrieked at them once the door was closed. "Phoning this house! We told you before, you are not to have anyone of - of that sort contact us!"

"Who was it?" Calla asked mildly.

"She said her name was Daphne Greengrass." Calla grinned. "Apparently it was her first time phoning a - a - using a telephone. She wouldn't stop asking questions!"

"Did she leave a number to call back?" Calla asked, strolling into the living room.

Aunt Petunia thrust a scrap of paper at her and Calla grinned. "She seemed to think you would want to hear what she had to say about some man called Pettigrew."

Calla snatched the piece of paper. "What about him?"

"I did not ask," Aunt Petunia said crisply, and Calla darted over to the phone in the hallway.

She dialled the number as quickly as she could, hands shaking, and waited for Daphne to pick up. Harry hovered at her shoulder and Dudley hung in the doorway, staring at them. "Duddikins!" Aunt Petunia cried. "Back in here! You don't want to know what nasty things they're going to say! Mummy'll fix you some grapefruit."

Dudley looked horrified at the thought. Calla giggled as there was movement on the other side of the line, and then a familiar voice said, "Yes?"

"Daphne!"

"Calla! Oh, you managed to call back! Did I use the phone wrong, your aunt seemed awfully annoyed with me."

"That's just her," Calla said. "She mentioned Pettigrew, what's going on?"

"They think they've tracked him to Italy! Some French wizard saw him, though of course, he's French. Might have had a few."

"Daphne!"

"What? My cousins are French, and they're all nuts. Anyway, they've sent a team out there, and Dad's been talking to me about the case. You know he has a seat in the Wizengamot? He thinks Sirius is innocent, and he thinks there's a really strong case. Things are already moving, and have you read the Prophet?"

"We've not been getting it."

"I thought you were! You should subscribe," Daphne said, and sounded like she was scribbling something. "It's helpful."

"Where are you even calling from?" Calla asked her.

"Oh, this phone box in London. Astoria's visiting friends in Kensington and I persuaded Mum to let me have a wander. It's an amazing invention, these phone boxes, don't you think? Though I didn't quite understand how to use it, Muggle money you see, but I have a collection, remember. The coins are funny, your queen is so strange. Anyway." She breathed in and Calla giggled. "Things are moving here. The Daily Prophet think it's a disgrace the Ministry messed up, it's so embarrassing. Fudge is clinging on as it is, and even if the trial does somehow go against Sirius, the public are so furious with it, they won't let it go." She could hear Daphne quite breathless on the other end of the line. "Mum says we can put the two of you up when it's the trial," she added. "I wasn't expecting her to offer, but it would be convenient for you if you wanted to be nearby. I said I didn't know if you'd stay with Remus..."

"We haven't seen him," Calla said quietly. "And from the sounds of his letters, I don't think so. He's struggling a bit, I think."

"I'm sorry," Daphne said gently. "He was such a good teacher. Astoria's really upset about it all, too."

"Yeah," Calla said quietly. There was a beeping on the other end of the line.

"Oh! What do I do? Calla, it's doing something!"

"You probably just need to put more money in."

"I've not got-"

The line went dead. Calla stared and hung up. "Well?" Harry asked. "What's going on? Have they caught him?"

"Sighted in Italy," Calla told him. "By someone French, so Daphne seems to think he's wrong."

"Oh," Harry said. "But if he's there, that's a start, right?"

"Yup. And her dad's on the Wizengamot and thinks Sirius has a really strong case. And she said we can stay with them during the trial, for a bit anyway, if the Dursleys agree."

"Really?" Harry's eyes widened. "Alright. Yeah!"

The phone rang again and Calla snatched it up quickly. "Daphne?"

"I got some change! It's okay. So, I'll send an owl to smooth everything out, and we can get the two of you down. It'll be so nice, especially if Sirius does get it in his favour. And then... I'm not meant to tell you this, but Dad's been saying he thinks Crouch is getting worried. You know, the Head of International Co-Operation? Apparently they've got lots going on as it is, What with the Quidditch Cup, But I don't know... It's all a bit worrying. We had some of Mum's family over for dinner the other night, and I heard the adults speaking when they thought we'd gone up to bed. People are worried. But they're worried about you."

"Me?"

"Well, both of you. Not everyone believes Sirius is innocent, they think some foul play's at work, and that the two of you are under some Imperius."

"Well, we're not!" Calla said shrilly. Harry gave her a questioning look and shushed her.

"I know that," Daphne said. "But not everyone does. And no one really wants Sirius to be innocent; it's scary, that the Ministry can mess up like that. And there are some people saying Pettigrew might help the Dark Lord, and obviously the Ministry wants that idea quashed. Most people don't want to believe it anyway, but that doesn't stop people being scared." Daphne sighed on the other end of the phone. "Look, we can go over it when you get here. I'll write to you and you write back and we can organise for the two of you to come stay with us."

"We will," Calla said quickly.

"Okay. I'll see you soon, hopefully."

The line went quiet and Calla hung up again. "She's going to write to us," she told Harry, beaming. "So we can stay!"

Harry grinned. "As long as they've got something more than fruit, I can't wait."

Xx

Sirius' trial date was set for the 26th of July, just a few days before Calla and Harry's birthday. But they still had the whole of the month to wait at Privet Drive. Calla could feel time slipping through her fingers.

Her visions were getting worse. Her scar burned every time, and she saw only fleeting things; blood pouring from a hand, flashes of green light, gravestones standing grey and worn against the sky, a house falling in on itself, a cauldron stirring and boiling, hotter and hotter and hotter. They came at odd times, fleeting but painful. She knew Harry was getting worried, and she was too. "Do you think we should tell Remus?" he'd asked her quietly one time. "He might want to know."

"He has enough to deal with right now," Calla said. "I don't want to worry him."

"Sirius, then."

"Again, he's about to go on trial. I'll be fine, Harry."

She didn't always feel so certain, though. By the time the twenty-fifth of July arrived and they were due to go to Daphne's, she felt quite ill. She put on a brave face though, not wanting any reason to have to stay at the Dursleys for any longer period of time than was necessary. And this trial was very, very important. The Ministry wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible, one way or another, but Pettigrew couldn't have a trial held against him since he wasn't in the country, which complicated matters. They could only technically prove Sirius' innocence, not Pettigrew's guilt, but the wizarding community was desperate for a result, whatever that was.

Daphne and her parents arrived promptly at one o'clock in the afternoon, looking quite out of place. Daphne at least had tried to blend in, dressed in a wide pink skirt that had gone out of Muggle fashion years ago, and a black t-shirt with Queen on it along with bright violet Doc Martens. "Izzy wrote to me suggesting what I wear," she said giddily, and Calla tried not to laugh.

"You look great," she told her. Aunt Petunia looked like she was going to faint at the sight; Mr and Mrs Greengrass were coming up the path just behind Daphne, with Mrs Greengrass in long azure robes and a tall silver hat with a very wide rim, and her husband in a set of emerald robes, with a similarly overlarge hat.

"We ought to make this meeting brief," Aunt Petunia said, surveying the Greengrasses coldly. One of the neighbours, Mrs Carmody at number five, poked her face out from between the curtains to stare, and Aunt Petunia's lips thinned. "I would appreciate if you didn't... Linger. On the doorstep."

"Ah yes," Mrs Greengrass said, striding forward and right past an affronted-looking Aunt Petunia. "We weren't certain if Apparating directly into your house would be appropriate on the first meeting, so we arrived just around the corner. This is an interesting little community you have here. Daphne's been telling us all about the telephone wires you have above your houses."

"Mum?" Dudley asked, waddling into the hallway.

"You're Dudley," Daphne said, with a suddenly wicked grin. Dudley stared at her attire, and turned back to Aunt Petunia.

"Mum!"

"Yes, Diddykins?"

"What..." He stared frightfully up at the Greengrasses, who appeared quite unbothered by his discomfort. "Are they wearing?"

"I'd have a mind to ask the same of you," Mrs Greengrass laughed. "Though Daphne might protest. She's becoming rather interested in your Muggle fashions. It's rather charming."

Daphne squirmed, taking Calla's arm. "Is your stuff in your room?"

She nodded. "Come with me. Harry's still packing."

"Of course he is. We won't be long, Mum."

Calla left the tension downstairs, scurrying upstairs with Daphne. It was very strange to see her in the Dursleys' house. "How is it?" Harry asked as they entered. He stuffed socks into a bag.

"Interesting," Calla said, grinning. "Aunt Petunia hates what they're wearing, I can tell. And Number Five's watching."

"Brilliant," Harry laughed. "Hey, Daphne."

"Afternoon, Harry." She lowered her voice. "You don't happen to have a television, do you?"

"In the living room," Calla whispered. "But I wouldn't go in there, the tension could light at any moment." She was just glad Uncle Vernon wasn't home; he would be shouting by now, she was sure.

"I'd quite enjoy that. Your Aunt seems like she'd be fun to annoy."

"She's not," Calla muttered back. "Get Moony's cage for me, would you?"

"Do I look like a house elf?" Daphne asked, poking her tongue out as she got the cage. Moony hooted loudly. "Oh, hush, silly owl. It's just Daphne."

Moony did not look impressed by this declaration. Calla smirked at Daphne, who pouted.

Harry snapped his bag shut. "We should get down there before Aunt Petunia starts shouting."

"That's fair," Calla said, grabbing her own bag and beckoning Matilda into her arms. "We didn't know how much to bring, and thought the trunks would be too heavy if you're Apparating."

"That's fine," Daphne said. "We can come back if need be, and it's not like you can't borrow any of my clothes, Calla. Well." She frowned. "You have gotten a bit taller. Actually, quite a lot."

Calla stuck her tongue out. Her jeans had been a little shorter recently. "You and Harry are just midgets," she said, and Harry scoffed. "You are. Come on, then. It's too quiet down there."

With their bags and pets, they traipsed down the stairs, entering the living room. Mr and Mrs Greengrass stood stiffly by the wall, facing Aunt Petunia, who was also standing, and Dudley, who looked like he was trying to melt into the sofa. "We're ready," Calla chirped, as Daphne edged closer to the television, her eyes wide.

"Lovely," Mrs Greengrass said. "Well, Dursley, it was ... Nice? To meet you."

"Quite," said Aunt Petunia sharply, her eyes on Daphne like she thought she would steal the television.

"Is this real?" Daphne asked, tapping the screen.

"Get away from that!" Aunt Petunia told her in a shrill voice and Daphne jumped back, giving Calla a look. "If you two are ready, then you had best be off. Dudley and I have a lot to attend to today."

"Of course," said Mr Greengrass, frowning. "We won't take up any more of your time; Astoria is waiting with one of the family, we didn't want to encroach on you too much."

Aunt Petunia's lips pinched even further. "Good day to you then."

Harry and Calla exchanged amused grins as they backed out of the room, followed by Daphne. "Is she always so stiff?" she whispered, and Calla nodded. "Merlin. No wonder you can't wait to get away. I don't think she liked my outfit either. At least I'm dressed Muggle-ish."

"Ish," Calla said, as the Greengrasses and Aunt Petunia followed them down the hall. "Well, see you later then."

"We'll keep you updated by owl," Mrs Greengrass told Aunt Petunia.

"I'm not sure that will be necessary. Have the children telephone when they are returning."

Mrs Greengrass frowned. "This case is very important for Calla and Harry. Are you sure you wouldn't like to know how they are doing?"

"I'm sure they will be quite alright. Goodbye, now."

Mrs Greengrass looked utterly confused at being ushered from someone's home. Calla suspected she had never been spoken to the way Petunia was speaking to her, like she and her family were nuisances. Harry opened the door and slipped out, tugging Daphne and Calla with him. "I want to watch," Calla whispered, peeking back around the doorframe.

It seemed most of Privet Drive was watching too. "Can I say hello to your neighbours, Calla?" Daphne asked mischievously, and Calla laughed loudly.

"You'd scare them all out of their homes."

"Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Good day for now then," Mr Greengrass was saying to Aunt Petunia. "Perhaps we can help you to learn our ways of communication. Sending letters by Muggle post sounds an awful ordeal; I'm sure owls are far more reliable."

"I am perfectly happy with the Royal Mail," said Aunt Petunia in a clipped voice, and closed the door behind the Greengrasses. They turned out to face the street, blinking.

"Is your Aunt typical of Muggles?" Mrs Greengrass asked.

"Um, no," Calla said. "Not really. Most of them are alright, same as wizards, she just doesn't like magic. Or us."

"How peculiar," Mr Greengrass said.

"I think we could learn from them," Daphne said. "Some of their inventions are quite ingenious, Dad. And did you see the television in the sitting room?"

"Yes," Mr Greengrass said in a clipped voice. "Come along now, don't dither. I'm not sure I like all these people staring at us, they seem rather bewildered. And their clothing is odd."

"So is most Wizarding clothing," Calla replied, skipping along. "And Daphne's clothing."

"Isobel said this is what Muggles wear!"

"Daphne, you should never trust Izzy's fashion advice," Calla giggled, looping their arms together as they headed around the corner.

Then the Greengrasses held them all very tightly, Calla and Daphne with Mrs Greengrass and Harry with Mr Greengrass, and a second later they had apparated.

Author's Note: So I guess this is the start of the Goblet of Fire-ish chapters, but because of Sirius' trial and the introduction of a couple of new characters, we're starting a little early in the Summer. I debated for a while whether to make the trial later or longer, but I think it would be in Fudge's interests to try and get it over and done with and forgotten about as quickly as possible, to save face. Also I really wanted a Greengrass-Dursley interaction. There will be a bit more about Pettigrew later on, too, but I'm also very excited for the World Cup events ahead. Hope you all enjoy and have a lovely week! :)