Calla Potter

by LeFoxxx

AU. Calla Potter has always been hiding. From bullies, from the Dursleys, from the teachers who only ever noticed when she didn't pay them rapt attention. But she is also the twin sister of Harry Potter, the so-called Boy Who Lived, and when they begin at Hogwarts, she must come out of the shadows and face the world, no matter what it means for her. (Slow-burning canon divergence.)

104. Owls in the Kitchen

It took her brain a minute to catch up and acknowledge that yes, there had been Dementors in Little Whinging, and yes, that was Mrs Figg trying to get Dudley to stand up. Because he had been attacked. By Dementors. In Little Whinging.

"What?"

"He left!" Mrs Figg looked very anxious, trying to heave Dudley on her own, so Harry apologetically left Calla to stand a moment while he helped, and slung one of Dudley's arms over his shoulders. She swayed a little on the spot, leaning against the wall. "Left, to see someone about a load of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broomstick! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! Here! Oh, it's just a good thing I put Mr Tibbles on the case - can you imagine! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we've got to get you two back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!"

"Great," Calla said feebly, as Mrs Figg came over to her, helping her to stand upright.

"Are you alright, my dear? Not going to faint again? You gave me an awful fright when I saw you on the ground like that, I can't tell you."

Calla flushed. So she had fainted, again, in the Dementors' presence. Meanwhile Harry, from the looks of things, had fought them off. She winced, her mind still reeling.

Mrs Figg knew what Dementors were, somehow. Their weird, cat-loving, cabbage-eating Privet Drive neighbour, knew about Dementors.

"Are you a witch?" she asked, though she couldn't quite believe that.

"A witch? No, no, I'm a squib." Oh. That made a bit more sense. Though it didn't explain what on earth was going on. Was she someone Remus knew, one of the people keeping an eye on the twins? "Which Mundungus knows full well, so how on Earth was I meant to help you fight off Dementors? He left you completely without cover when I'd warned him-"

"This Mundungus has been following us?" Harry asked. "Hang on, it was him who Disapparated in front of our house?"

"Yes, Yes, yes. But luckily I'd stationed Mr Tibbles under a car just in case - I couldn't be too careful after you ran off a few weeks ago and heavens wasn't Dumbledore furious - and Mr Tibbles came to warn me, but by the time I'd reached your house you'd gone! And now - oh, what is Dumbledore going to say?"

"You know Dumbledore?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore?" But she was in contact with Dumbledore. Which was more than Calla could say for herself or her brother right now. Was Mrs Figg in the Order of the Phoenix? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it? But she'd known they'd run away. But she was their weird cat lady neighbour. It was too strange to think of. "But come on, I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag!"

Harry tried to get Dudley standing upright, though he still looked on the verge of fainting; his eyes were rolling back in his head, and his face was pale and sweaty. He swayed dangerously on the spot, and Mrs Figg hurried back over. Calla braced herself, chest cold and shaky, but she knew she could make herself walk back to Privet Drive.

"Keep your wands out," Mrs Figg said as they started back down the dim alleyway. "Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we may as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery... This is exactly what Dumbledore was worried about! Who's that at the bottom of the street? Oh, it's just Mr Prentice. Don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no good?"

Harry seemed to be struggling with carrying Dudley and holding his wand at the same time; though he gave Dudley an abrupt poke in the chest, he just let out a grunt and made no other effort to move himself. Calla supposed, for it to be his first encounter with the Dementors, and being a Muggle, he would be very affected... But then again, most people she knew didn't faint. What had freaked Dudley out so much, when he'd been with the Dementors, that had caused him to have such a severe reaction?

"Why didn't you tell us you're a squib, Mrs Figg?" Harry asked. His voice sounded strained. "All those times we were round your house - why did you never say anything?"

"Dumbledore's orders. Same as with her godfather." Mrs Figg nodded abruptly to Calla. "I was to keep an eye on you but not to tell you anything, you were too young. He didn't want you to know anything until the right time. I'm sorry I gave you both such a miserable time, but I didn't think the Dursleys would have let you come if they thought you were enjoying yourself. It wasn't easy, you know... Oh my word. Course, you just had to go running off the other week there! Heavens, I didn't know what to think when the Knight Bus left with you. And when Dumbledore hears about this - how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight! Where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what happened? I can't Apparate."

"I have an owl," Calla said. "So does Harry."

"An owl is no use!" Mrs Figg told her. "Dumbledore will need to act as soon as possible! The Ministry have their own ways of detecting magic, they'll know already, you mark my words!"

"But I had to get rid of the Dementors," Harry protested, "I had to use magic. I'm sure they'll be more concerned with why there were Dementors running about Little Whinging than my using magic!"

"Oh, my dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid - MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

There was another loud crack and Calla jumped back. The strong smell of alcohol filled the air, mingled with tobacco smoke. Calla wrinkled her nose as a short, unshaven man appeared in front of them, with straggly ginger hair and sunken eyes. He was clutching an Invisibility Cloak, too, Calla realised - that was how he had been following them without them noticing. "S'up, Figgy?" he asked, glancing between Mrs Figg, Harry, and Calla, and then on the clammy Dudley. "What happened to staying undercover?"

"I'll give you undercover!" Mrs Figg cried loudly. It was quite frightening. "Dementors, you skiving, sneak thief!"

"Dementors?" Mundungus repeated, going pale. He looked quite aghast. "Dementors?"

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here! Dementors attacking the children on your watch!"

"Blimey," Mundungus said, looking between them. "Blimey, I-"

"And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go! Didn't I?"

"I - well, I - it was a good business opportunity!" Mundungus looked very uncomfortable. "I had to go, Didn't I?"

Mrs Figg whacked him with her string bag. Calla gasped, caught on a laugh, as from the clanking sound inside it seemed the bag was full of tins of cat food. "Oi! Oi, geroff, you mad old bat! Someone's got to tell Dumbledore!"

"Yes!" Mrs Figg cried, still hitting him with the bag of cat food. "And - it - had - better - be - you - and - you - can - tell - him - exactly - why - you - weren't - there - to - help!"

"Keep your hairnet on!" Mundungus cried, cowering with his hands over his head. "I'll go, I'll go!"

With another loud crack, he vanished into thin air. "I hope Dumbledore murders him!" Mrs Figg said furiously. "Come on now," she said as they turned into Privet Drive, "hurry up. I'll walk the two of you to the door, just in case there are more of them... Oh my word, what a catastrophe... And you had to fight them off all by yourself!" Calla knew she only meant Harry. Her cheeks flared with embarrassment again, only proving what she'd been worrying about all Summer. She couldn't even fight the Dementors like her brother did; she'd just fainted. "... and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs... Well, it's no good crying over spilt potion, I suppose... but the cat's among the pixies now..."

"So," Harry panted, "Dumbledore's still having us followed then. How come-"

"Of course he has," Mrs Figg said impatiently. "Did you expect him to let you two just wander around on your own after what happened last June? Good Lord, boy, and they told me you were intelligent. Right... get inside and stay there," she said, as they arrived at the door of Number Four. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going straight home," Mrs Figg said. "I'll need to wait for more instructions. Now, Harry, Calla, you stay in the house. Goodnight."

"Don't go yet!" Harry called, but Mrs Figg was already retreating down the garden path into the dark street. "You have to tell..."

He trailed off and Calla sent him a helpless look. "Come on," she said quietly, helping her brother to heave Dudley up path and the steps. She stowed her wand away now, certain the Dursleys would be furious enough to see them without her having it out. She rang the doorbell, stepping back into shadow.

Aunt Petunia's form grew larger behind the door, illuminated by the hall light. "Diddy! About time, too, I was getting quite - quite - Diddy, what's the matter?"

Calla ducked away from Dudley just in time. He swayed on the spot, looking pale and green, and then lurched forwards and promptly threw up onto the doorstep. She exchanged a glance with Harry as Aunt Petunia shrieked, Uncle Vernon blustering down the hall. "He's ill, Vernon!"

Calla slipped to the side in the relative darkness as the Dudley's attempted to get Dudley back to his feet. "What is it, son? What's happened? Did Mrs Polkiss give you something foreign for tea?"

"Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?"

"Hang on - you haven't been mugged, have you, son?"

Aunt Petunia screamed. Calla thought it quite unlikely that Dudley would be the one getting mugged. "Phone the police, Vernon!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. "Phone the police! Diddy, darling, speak to Mummy! What did they do to you?"

None of them seemed to notice Harry or Calla, which suited them perfectly. The twins slipped inside just before Uncle Vernon shut the door and made a silent run for it up the stairs.

"What is going on?" Calla whispered once they'd closed the door behind them, shaking. She already had a fairly good idea what was going on - and who had sent the Dementors - but clung to the irrational and improbable hope that she was wrong.

"The Ministry'll know I've done magic," Harry said quickly. His face was white. For a moment they both stood still, in silence, before Harry snapped into action and started flinging clothes into his trunk. "We have to make a run for it. You heard what Remus said, they want an excuse to get us in trouble, I'll go to Azkaban-"

"You can't go to Azkaban," Calla said quickly, breath catching. "I mean - it was self-defense!" She grabbed his arm. "We can't leave. At least write to Remus first, Mrs Figg said-"

"YOU TWO!" Uncle Vernon's voice boomed furiously up the stairs and Calla jumped, hitting her shoulder against the wardrobe and wincing. Her heart hammered. "GET DOWN HERE AT ONCE!"

Calla shut her eyes. She wanted to sleep. With a quick look at Harry, she darted down to kneel, and rooted around under the bed for their stash of chocolate frogs. "NOW!" Uncle Vernon roared, as she mercilessly tore off the packaging and broke off a leg, effectively stopping her frog's magical movements. She stuffed another in her pocket, handed Harry a leg to chew on, and darted back downstairs before their uncle could get any more furious.

They were all standing in the kitchen, which was almost glitteringly clean. Dudley was green and clammy-looking, sitting motionless in a chair with his mother fussing around him. Uncle Vernon stood in front of the draining board, glaring at Calla and Harry through narrowed eyes. "What have you done to him, boy?" he snarled at Harry.

"Nothing," Harry said. Calla surreptitiously bit off another small piece of chocolate frog, feeling the warmth return to her.

"Then it was you." Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed in hatred at Calla.

"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia asked shrilly, sponging sick from the front of Dudley's t-shirt. "Was it - was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use his thing? Did she? I told you to be careful, Diddy, they aren't quite right - but what have you done to him?"

Dudley nodded slowly. "We didn't!" Harry said hotly. "We didn't do anything to him, it wasn't us, it was-"

A screech owl flew in through the window and dropped a large letter at Harry's feet. Calla stared at it, following the owl as it flew over the fridge and zoomed out of the window again into the sky. The tension in the room was tight. The last time an owl had flown into Uncle Vernon's kitchen, he had ended up sending them all to a rocky, remote island in the middle of the sea. Calla didn't really want to go there again.

"OWLS!" he bellowed, breaking the silence. The vein in his forehead looked close to popping as he slammed the window shut. "OWLS! AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN THIS HOUSE!"

Calla ignored what he said, and slipped across the room to the table where Dudley was sitting. "Here," Calla said tiredly, and took a wrapped chocolate frog from her pocket, handing it to Aunt Petunia, who shrieked and flung it onto the floor. "It's chocolate! It helps."

"He will not be having - chocolate - chocolate frogs!" Aunt Petunia said shrilly.

"It's just the shape," she said, scooping it off of the floor. She thought it best not to reveal the animation charm. "But chocolate does help, I swear it does. You need to give him some."

Aunt Petunia glared at her. "Help? Helps with what? Dudley is on a strict boxing diet!"

That wasn't what she'd said when he was pigging out on ice cream. "It-"

"And where do you think you're going?" Uncle Vernon yelled, and Calla turned sharply to see Harry frozen in the action making his way out of the kitchen, his hand on his wand. "I hadn't finished with you, boy!"

"Get out of the way." She caught Harry's eye questioningly, and he held up his letter numbly. She rose to her feet, leaving the chocolate frog on the table, moving slowly and carefully towards her brother.

"You're going to stay here and you're going to explain what has happened to my son!"

"If you don't get out of the way, I'm going to jinx you," Harry said, raising his wand.

"Harry," Calla muttered cautiously. "Be careful."

"You can't pull that one on me!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!"

"The madhouse has chucked me out," Harry said, and cold trickled back into Calla's stomach. He had been expelled? This was why Dumbledore didn't want him using magic, he knew the Ministry would expel him. But surely, that decision lay with Dumbledore? They couldn't expel him. They just couldn't. And it was self defense. "I can do whatever I like." Harry jerked his head, beckoning for Calla to follow him, and she moved numbly, legs frozen. What would they do? If her brother did a runner, she'd join him - the Dursleys would be even more furious with her if she didn't anyway - but where would they go? They didn't even know where Remus and Sirius were living, or how to reach the Burrow or Padma's house, and though Calla knew Daphne was staying somewhere in London, London was a very big place - and she doubted the Greengrasses would appreciate them showing up on their doorstep in the middle of the house. "I'll give you three seconds," Harry threatened Uncle Vernon, whose eyes were fixed again on Calla, a thunderous vein bulging in his forehead. "Three - two - one."

A loud CRACK sound filled the kitchen. Calla jumped again, and Aunt Petunia shrieked. A rather unfortunate owl had just collided with the window and was lying dazedly on the kitchen sill. "OWLS!" Uncle Vernon yelled, waving his fists, as Calla and Harry both darted over to the window. "OWLS!"

Calla wrenched the window open and Harry tore the letter from the owl's leg. Calla frowned and stroked the top of the owl's head softly before it fluttered off again. She glanced over Harry's shoulder to read the latest letter.

Harry -

Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry and he's trying to sort things out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT LET CALLA DO ANY MAGIC OR LEAVE. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND. EITHER OF YOU.

Arthur Weasley

Calla breathed out a sigh of relief. Dumbledore would sort this mess out, she knew - she knew he wouldn't let the Ministry expel Harry. There had to be a rule... It was the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, after all. Supposedly.

"Right," Harry said after a short moment. "I've changed my mind. We're staying."

He flung himself down into the seat at the kitchen table opposite Dudley and Aunt Petunia. Calla followed suit, quietly watching as Dudley retched into a pail. "I meant it about the chocolate," she said, sliding it closer. "It will help. Releases all these… Happiness hormones and things, fights the effects of the Dementors. Very scientific," she added, hoping her aunt would prefer a Muggle explanation. "It'll help him feel better." She wrinkled her nose, adding, "Once he's stopped retching."

Aunt Petunia stared at her. Uncle Vernon was going very purple. "What are you nattering on about? And who are all these ruddy owls from?" he growled.

"The first one was from the Ministry of Magic, expelling me," Harry explained, surprisingly patient. "The second one was from my friend Ron's dad, who works at the Ministry."

"Ministry of Magic?" Uncle Vernon bellowed, looking outraged. "You mean there are people like you in government? Oh, this explains everything, everything, no wonder the country's going to the dogs!" Calla hid a weak sort of smile; she'd thought before that Uncle Vernon would be horrified at the thought of Wizarding government. "And why have you been expelled?"

"Because I did magic," Harry explained.

"AHA!" Uncle Vernon slammed his fists down on the fridge, and Calla flinched at the sound. "So you admit it! What did you do to Dudley?"

"Nothing," Harry said, slightly less calm. "That wasn't me."

"Her, then!" Uncle Vernon shouted, whirling on Calla, who despite herself, cowered back. "What did you do, girl?"

"I - I didn't - do anything, either," Calla said, rather feebly. She grimaced. "It wasn't us."

"Was," Dudley said rather unexpectedly, but he was looking at Calla, not Harry.

"Go on, son," Uncle Vernon said, flapping his large hands at Calla to shut her up. She glared. "What did they do?"

"Tell us, darling."

"He pointed his wand at me," Dudley muttered.

"Yeah, but I didn't do anything with it!"

"SHUT UP!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "Go on, son."

"She - she tried to hit me." Calla couldn't dispute that, but she still shook her head vehemently. "Then... All went dark. Then she tried to ... push me."

"I was trying to get you away!" Calla insisted, cheeks reddening. "You were running right towards the things, I was trying to help you!"

"Then I heard th-things inside my head."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both looked utterly horrified by this proclamation. Calla took the ensuing silence as an opportunity to offer Dudley the chocolate frog again, and had some of her own to prove it was not a ploy to poison him. He regarded her very warily, and she nodded intently for him to eat it, and she supposed he was enough of himself that chocolate was still appealing.

"What sort of things did you hear, Popkin?" Aunt Petunia asked, white faced and trembling. She probably thought Dudley was going mad.

But Dudley didn't seem able to speak. He finally unwrapped the chocolate frog, and Calla was surprised to see his hands shaking as he did so. The frog made a very feeble leap, but Aunt Petunia shrieked at it all the same, batting it right towards Calla. She flinched, catching the frog, and broke off a leg before she gave it back to Dudley. "Eat it."

"YOU WILL NOT ORDER HIM ABOUT, GIRL!"

She still looked at Dudley, silently urging him to just get over it and try some of the chocolate. He looked terribly shaken and though she couldn't bring herself to quite feel bad for him, she didn't like his feeble, ill appearance. "You'll feel better," she whispered, making her voice as soft and reassuring as she could, even though it still trembled over the words. "Promise."

Dudley broke a bit of the frog's leg and raised it to his mouth before Aunt Petunia could stop him. Calla sat back, nodding. Uncle Vernon looked outraged, and Calla thought for a moment he was going to storm over there, but Dudley shook his head, a bit of the colour coming back into his face. So Uncle Vernon seemed to change tack - though he still kept his glare fixed on Calla. "How come you fell over, son?" he asked in an unnaturally quiet voice.

"Tripped," Dudley said. "And then-"

He gestured to his chest helplessly. Calla nodded in understanding. That was where Dementors affected her most, where she could feel the cold seep in and rattle her bones. "Horrible," Dudley croaked. "Really cold."

"Okay," Uncle Vernon said as though he were forcing herself to remain calm, which was, for Uncle Vernon, an extraordinarily difficult feat to accomplish. "What happened then, Dudders?"

"Felt..." Dudley seemed to struggle to find his words. "Felt... like... it felt like... felt like..."

"The worst feeling in the world," Calla said quietly. "Hopeless."

Harry looked at her. "It felt like you'd never be happy again."

"Yes," Dudley whispered, still trembling. He met Calla's eyes, an absent horror reflected in his own. What had he seen? Calla wondered.

"So?" Uncle Vernon said, straightening up. "So. You attack Dudley, and then you put some - some crackpot - trick - on him so that he'd think he was - he was doomed or something, did you?"

"How many times do we have to tell you?" Harry asked, voice rising. His cheeks were going red with frustration. "It wasn't us! It was a couple of Dementors!"

"A couple of - what's this codswallop!"

"De - men - tors," Harry said slowly. "Two of them."

"And what the ruddy hell are Dementors?"

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban."

Calla turned sharply to stare at Aunt Petunia, who was clutching her hands to her mouth as though she had just sworn. Her head spun. She knew about Dementors? About Azkaban? Had Calla's mother told her, had they once shared things like that, had Lily told Petunia stories about the Wizarding World, even as it grew darker, even as they moved on? Had she told her about Dementors?

"How d'you know that?" Harry asked her, sounding astonished.

Aunt Petunia's gaze went to Uncle Vernon almost fearfully, and apologetically. She was pale, shaking a little. "I heard - that awful boy - telling her - about them."

Her. Calla's Mother. Lily. She stared. And then, when Aunt Petunia said 'the awful boy'... "If you mean our mum and dad," Harry said loudly, "why don't you use their names?"

Calla stared between them. Aunt Petunia was silent as though she were terrified of letting anything more slip. Uncle Vernon opened and closed his mouth, as though he was stuck and trying to figure out something to say. Dudley just looked around feebly, and Calla sat in the seat next to him, watching now that her uncle seemed less inclined to throw them out the window.

"So," Uncle Vernon croaked, "so - these - these - they - er - they - er - these - they actually exist - er - these - Dementy - watsits?" Aunt Petunia nodded numbly.

Uncle Vernon looked rather as though he had expected this to be all some great practical joke - an April Fool in the middle of August. When no one else spoke, to contradict him, he opened his mouth again, but was spared from speaking as another owl zoomed through the window, landed on the table like a furry cannonball, and paused for barely five seconds so that Harry could untie its letter before zooming back out of the window. Now Uncle Vernon looked like he was about to go ballistic.

"Enough - effing - owls!" he muttered, storming over the window and slamming it shut again.

Ignoring him, Calla hurried over again and read Harry's letter.

Further to our letter of approximately twenty two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August at which time an official decision will be made.

Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has decided that the matter of your expulsion will also be decided at this hearing. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further enquiries.

With best wishes,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Calla sagged in relief. Harry's eyes tracked over the parchment multiple times before he seemed to take it in. He wasn't expelled. Not yet, anyways, but Calla was sure he couldn't be. Magic was permitted in certain high stakes situations; she was sure a Dementor attack came under that.

"Well?" Uncle Vernon asked, glaring at them. "What now? Have they sentenced you to anything? Have your lot got the death penalty?"

Calla glared at him. "He's just got to go to a disciplinary hearing," she said before Harry did. "And no, we do not. It was outlawed in 1707."

Uncle Vernon seemed willing to ignore this fact. "So they'll sentence him there, then?"

"I suppose so," Harry said. He caught Calla's eye, and she could tell he was greatly relieved by this.

"I won't give up hope, then," Uncle Vernon said, and Calla glared at him harder.

"Well, if that's all," said Harry, getting to his feet. Calla made to follow, but was interrupted by Uncle Vernon's loud yell.

"NO, IT RUDDY WELL IS NOT ALL!" he bellowed. "SIT BACK DOWN!"

"What now?"

"DUDLEY! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO MY SON!"

"FINE!" Harry yelled. Red and gold sparks flew from the end of his wand, a sure sign of his temper. Calla gave him a calming look, mouthed 'let me handle it' and then she turned to Uncle Vernon.

"What do you want to know?" she asked as pleasantly as she could.

"WHAT DO I WANT TO KNOW? WHAT HAPPENED TO DUDLEY? WHAT DID THESE - THESE DEMENTEES DO?"

She flinched at his words, but nodded slowly and spoke. "The three of us - Harry, Dudley and I - we - we were all walking between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. In the alleyway, the shortcut. Dudley..." She didn't want to admit to what he had said. "Dudley was… Teasing us, and there was a minor altercation but absolutely no magic involved And... And then I did try to get him to stop, to stop him speaking, but I didn't touch him." She tried her best to keep her voice measured. "I could sense the Dementors approaching." She flushed. "I believe my godfather told you I have…. I can sometimes… See the future," Uncle Vernon's face went a purple shade again, "and I didn't see it but I could feel something was wrong. Something was coming. So I tried to warn the boys away, but it was too late. And Harry did pull his wand out and so did I, but - but we didn't use them on Dudley. And then two of the Dementors appeared."

"But what - what are Dementoids?" Uncle Vernon demanded furiously. "What do they DO?"

"I told you," Harry said, "they suck all the happiness out of you. And if they get the chance, they kiss you."

"Kiss you?" Uncle Vernon's eyes seemed to be popping out of his head, outraged by the thought. Calla flinched back. "Kiss you?"

"It's what they call it when they suck out your soul."

"Harry," Calla whispered scoldingly as Aunt Petunia shrieked. "That was a bit blunt."

"But he-" Aunt Petunia was gasping, "but he's still got - they didn't take his soul!"

She seized Dudley by the soul and started shaking him furiously. Calla watched in alarm. "They've not got his soul," she told Aunt Petunia, quietly but firmly. "If they had, we would know. They're horrible things, but we have dealt with them before. Dudley has had a powerful reaction but he will be okay, I promise. You just have to give him some more chocolate. It does help.

Aunt Petunia looked very much like she hated the idea of listening to Calla's suggestion. But she held her gaze and after a moment, Aunt Petunia seemed to bow to the fact that Calla knew far better than she did what she was doing, and if she had no other reason to think chocolate would harm her son, she was willing to do whatever she needed to help him. She stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into Dudley's mouth.

"Fought 'em off, did you, son?" Uncle Vernon was asking, as though he was trying and struggling to bring back a sense of normalcy. "Give 'em the old one two?"

"You can't give Dementors the old one two," Harry said exasperatedly.

"Why is he okay then?" Uncle Vernon blustered, as Dudley chewed morosely on the chocolate and Aunt Petunia fussed over him. "Why isn't he all empty, then?"

"Because I used the Patronus-"

A fourth owl had just shot out of the fireplace. It landed on the floor, covered in soot, and Aunt Petunia screamed again. "FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Uncle Vernon roared. "I WILL NOT HAVE OWLS HERE, I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS, I TELL YOU!"

But Harry was already taking the letter from the owl's leg, looking rather excited, like he thought this letter would hold all of the answers he wanted. Calla hoped it might be from Remus, telling them he was coming to pick them up, but it was Sirius' writing on the front. Still, that did not deter her. "What does it say?" she whispered, as Harry unrolled the paper.

It was a very short note. Arthur has just told Remus and I what happened. Don't leave the house, whatever you do.

Her heart sank somewhat. "That's it?"

Harry turned the paper over, and over again, and then back to the blank side, double checking there was nothing else written. Calla had thought that maybe, just maybe, someone would be coming to get them. Someone, she thought with an extra hint of bitterness, who should have gotten them before they'd been attacked by the Dementors. Both Sirius and Mr Weasley's letters had a certain element of a telling off. Like they shouldn't have done anything and shouldn't have gone outside. Calla wished she hadn't, but shouldn't someone have... She let out a groan, cutting off her own thoughts tiredly.

Uncle Vernon was still blustering furiously about owls. "... A peck, I mean, a pack of owls shooting in and out of the house. I won't have it, boy, I tell you, I won't!"

"I can't stop the owls from coming," Harry snapped, and his fist curled around the paper to crumple it.

"I want the truth about tonight! If it was these Demenders that attacked Dudley, how come you got expelled! You did you know what, you've admitted it! And how come she's alright if she didn't - if she didn't do anything!"

"I'm more used to dealing with them," Calla said quietly. "I fainted, though. Again. I just had a quicker recovery - I suppose it's possible the Dementors affected Dudley worse because he's a - normal person." She swallowed. "I'm not sure. But he will be okay," she added again, because it seemed to be the only thing capable of calming her aunt and uncle.

"I used a Patronus Charm," Harry explained calmly, though his voice started rising, and Uncle Vernon reacted as though 'charm' was the worst swear word he could think of. "It's the only thing that gets rid of them."

"But what were your - these Dementoids doing in Little Whinging?" Uncle Vernon asked, and Calla shook her head. She wanted to know that, too.

"Couldn't tell you," Harry said wearily. "No idea."

Uncle Vernon turned his eyes on Calla and she just shrugged. "Me neither."

"It's you," said Uncle Vernon forcefully. "The two of you. There's something wrong with you. This is about what your godfather told us, isn't it? This Lord - Lord-"

"Voldemort," Harry said bluntly, and Calla winced, but the Dursleys seemed to have no reaction to the name. It was strange, in a way. They balked at all things magical, but the name of the worst Dark sorcerer in recent history had little effect.

"He sent these things? Or you - you've gotten yourself tangled up in something." A furious glint came into his eyes. "You're not in some gang-"

"Of course we're not in a gang," Calla snapped, then regretted it when she saw his eyes light again. She shrank against the cupboard, the silence eating up her words. "It's… It's not… We've not done anything wrong." Yet she felt Uncle Vernon had hit the nail on the head. Voldemort had sent those Dementors, and if he could send them to Little Whinging that meant he could send them away from Azkaban. He could let his followers free. Panic caught grip of her and she held the edge of the counter tightly. Tomorrow morning the Death Eaters could be free. He could have his army back. What was to stop him from sending them on to Privet Drive? If Dementors could get here, maybe his other followers could, too.

She felt like she was going to be sick, and squeezed her eyes shut. Don't think about it, don't think about it, she told herself silently, don't panic.

"Well… Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that alleyway? And how else have you got yourself in trouble with the government?"

"We're not in..." Calla started feebly, then broke off, stomach stirring. They were kind of in trouble with the Ministry, actually, if she thought about it. Oh, God.

"And you've got to be the only-" He broke off, clearly terrified to say wizard or witch in his house. "You know whats," he settled on, "for miles around."

"I don't know why they were here."

But Calla was thinking. What if the Death Eaters had broken out: the Daily Prophet simply couldn't have ignored that? Unless it had happened today. Unless the Daily Prophet was determined to be as blind as the Ministry. Unless the Dementors were only a pre-cursor to what was about to come. She shuddered, clenching her fist against the table. The thought of Death Eaters breaking out of them coming here, storming into Privet Drive, breaking down the door, bathing into the Dursleys' kitchen.

She forced that thought out of her mind, eyes blazing. She couldn't think of that. She shuddered.

"These Dementees guard some weirdo prison?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Azkaban," Calla clarified hoarsely.

"Oho!" Uncle Vernon cried, rather triumphantly, like he thought he'd got the winning answer on a quiz show. "They were coming to arrest you! That's it, isn't it? Because you are on the run from the law! What have you been up to?"

"Of course we're not on the run," Harry said, shaking his head. "If we were, we wouldn't be sticking around here, would we?"

"Then why-"

"Voldemort must have sent them," said Harry quietly.

"But he - he isn't in your… Government." He spat out the last word, still unable to bear the thought,

"He doesn't have to be. He's… Still powerful."

The Dursleys just looked blank at that for a moment before Aunt Petunia paled and dropped the chocolate bar she held onto the ground with a fright. "But..." She sputtered, "your - Remus - he said he wouldn't... that we weren't in any danger."

"Right." Uncle Vernon was moving his hands around agitatedly but he seemed to have no words to accompany the gestures. "And so. Your godfathers said he was the one who you had that… Altercation with. And he's also the one who…"

"Who murdered our parents, yes." Calla shuddered. She didn't want to talk about him, or their parents, and she certainly didn't want to discuss this with the Dursleys, in their pristine kitchen, when none of them cared, when Aunt Petunia hated the very idea of her parents. Their magic. She felt her stomach tumble. Her head rang at the mention of James and Lily, of Voldemort - the reminder of what they'd just been through and what was to come. What had, perhaps, already begun.

"And he's here?" Uncle Vernon, who always liked to act as though he'd fight any wizard who came his way, seemed to hesitate over this realisation. "You've brought that-"

"He isn't here!" Harry interrupted and Dudley grunted something incomprehensible from his chair. "I'd know if he was."

"He sent those things here, though?" Aunt Petunia whispered, in a voice Calla was sure she had never heard before. She sounded scared, and when Calla made herself look up, she was looking at them like she never had before. And it hit her then, that Aunt Petunia was still Lily Potter's sister no matter how she denied it, no matter how she ignored her world. She knew what it meant for Voldemort to be back, and she was scared. Calla swallowed heavily, finding unexpected tears welling in her eyes. She hated that. But she couldn't stop herself from looking at Aunt Petunia, from considering her. She and Harry had lost a mother, but she had lost a sister, too. Lost her to their world. She swallowed deeply and looked away.

"Hang on," said Uncle Vernon. "This — those godfathers of yours said there'd be no funny business this summer. You two were to keep your noses clean here, no people in fireplaces, no blowing people up-" Calla winced "-no BLOODY OWLS! AND WHAT D'YOU CALL THIS?"

"It's not our fault!"

"Oh ho! So this Volley-person, they sent these Dismembers out for a trip, did they? We were to be protected here, boy, and now you've brought these things and they've gotten to our Dudley! Our boy!"

"We didn't bring them, and if you'll only listen, we can-"

"They were sent after you though," said Uncle Vernon with a nasty look in his eye.

That, they could argue.

"Well." Uncle Vernon took in a deep breath. "That settles it. You can ruddy well get out of this house! Both of you!"

"What?" Calla asked, finding her voice suddenly. "No. No, we - we can't go."

"You were all for it half an hour ago!" When neither of them moved, he went purple and shouted again. "You heard me - OUT!" Both Dudley and Aunt Petunia jumped. "OUT! OUT! I should have done this years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home! Half the lounge destroyed, Dudley's tail! Marge bobbing around on the ceiling! OUT! OUT! You've had it, you're history! I have put up with enough for you ungrateful brats! You're not staying here any longer with this loony after you, I don't care what that Loopy says, you're not endangering my wife and son any longer, you're not bringing trouble down on us! If you two are going the same way as your useless parents, then I'm done! OUT! GET OUT!"

Calla was shaking as she stood up but her ears rang. "You heard me!" Uncle Vernon roared. Harry stood rooted to the spot, but Calla could see their uncle's face, purple and angry, a vein bulging on his forehead. They'd pushed him far enough, and now he wasn't only furious, he was scared. In some ways, that made him even more dangerous.

Her uncle kept yelling, and she could almost feel Harry's anger, his frustration. Her scar burned as Uncle Vernon's voice grew louder and louder. "GET GOING! YOU WERE ALL FOR IT EARLIER AND I'M RIGHT BEHIND YOU! YOU GET OUT AND NEVER DARKEN OUR DOORSTEP AGAIN!" The ringing started in her ears and as she glanced to Harry, her throat began to feel blocked, and she couldn't breathe right, couldn't focus on doing so. Uncle Vernon's words became muffled, like she was hearing from a distance. Too loud, too loud, still too loud. She had to block the sound out, had to stop it. His words were like spellfire, hammering against her head

Breathe, she had to remind herself, forcing the act. Have to breathe. She couldn't quite manage it rightly; her chest felt tight. Warmth prickled the back of her neck and wrapped tightly around her, choking her. "YOUR USELESS GODFATHER... SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ORPHANAGE!" Her forehead burned and her stomach swam.

She slumped back into a chair next to Dudley, in a daze, hardly knowing where to put her feet. She squeezed her eyes shut. Breathe, breathe. Uncle Vernon's yells grew louder, the pain in her scar intensified. The pain burned and burned and burned.

Mine. The chill was sudden and sharp in her chest. Mine.

That was all she'd ever be. Her spell hadn't worked, had only hurt her. She was useless, bloody useless, she couldn't defend herself or her brother, if she hadn't been in the way then maybe he'd be alright, he wouldn't be expelled, Dudley wouldn't be like this, they wouldn't be shouting in the kitchen and she wouldn't be feeling like she was about to throw up on Aunt Petunia's polished floor. She had just been in the way. No help at all. She might as well have been dead for all the good she did, she'd be better off like that, Voldemort's couldn't use her, she couldn't burden her brother-

At the next burst of pain she gasped, feeling fire rush through her. Another world burst before her.

She was in an unfamiliar, large garden; deep shadows cast over the trees, which creaked in the evening breeze. There were hardly any stars above, a smoky haze instead covering the sky.

Spellfire raged through the air; a woman cackled, a man hissed, flames licked the grass. Calla was screaming and she wasn't the only one. Shades shifted around her, but she was struck still, frozen and suspended in time. A snake wound around her ankles, and constellations burst, shattering through the line of trees. A trophy, a tiara, a necklace and a ring, their images burning against her mind, as white-hot as dying stars. The snake sank its fangs into her but she could hardly feel it; all she felt was fire, racing up through her body, forcing her upwards, forcing her to see.

The scene shifted. It was calm, in a darkened room with milky-white orbs dotted around the high shelves. It seemed to go on for miles. A cold hand clasped around one, nails scraping the wood. The orbs seemed to breathe, seemed to be whispering, but Calla couldn't hear what no matter how she strained.

Mine, a voice whispered, and she was thrust forward, to stare at the ceiling of the Dursleys' kitchen.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

"Get away from her," Harry shouted, charging over; when he took her hand to try and pull her up, pain raced through her again and she let out a strangled shriek, falling back hard against the floor. "Calla, what is it? Did you see-"

"I don't know," she said hoarsely. Her throat felt like it had been burned. She struggled to sit up. Aunt Petunia was staring at her, gaping, and the tatters of a red envelope was clasped tightly in her hands. From here, it looked almost like blood spilling between her fingers.

"WELL, YOU CAN BLOODY WELL GET OUT!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his purple face coming into her view. "I TOLD YOU, PETUNIA - I TOLD YOU THE GIRL WAS MAD! FLINGING HERSELF ON THE FLOOR!"

"I did not fling myself-" She broke off, coughing, as the pain in her chest tightened. "I-"

"Both of you," Aunt Petunia said, quite white and shaking. "Go."

"We told you, we can't leave-"

"To your room," her aunt said sharply.

Uncle Vernon gaped. "But - but Petunia! We can't keep them!"

"We must," she said quickly, shaking her head. Her hand tightened around the red letter. It looked like a Howler. "If we throw them out, the neighbours will be sure to talk," Aunt Petunia said quickly. She was rapidly regaining her brisk and snappish manner, though she was still incredibly pale. "And those Baird children, they know her, I don't want there to be any talk about us. The mother pokes about enough as it is, has her nose in a bit of everyone's business. They'll ask awkward questions, they'll want to know where they've gone. We'll have to keep them."

Uncle Vernon sagged, deflating. Calla caught Harry's eye, confused. She didn't feel as relieved as she thought she ought to. Already the walls of the house seemed to constrict around her, suffocating. She clenched her hands against the tiles.

"But Petunia, dear..."

Aunt Petunia ignored him, turning to Harry and Calla. "You're to stay in your room," she told them, and Calla nodded hastily. "You're not to leave the house. Now get to bed."

Calla nodded and Harry helped her to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly as she leaned against him. Harry, though, didn't make a move towards the door "Who was the Howler from?" he asked.

"Don't ask questions," Aunt Petunia snapped.

"Are you in touch with wizards?"

"Harry..."

"I told you to get to bed!"

"What did it mean? Remember the last what?"

"Go to bed!"

"How come-"

"YOU HEARD YOUR AUNT! NOW GET OUT AND GET TO BED!"

Sensing that her uncle was about to blow a gasket, Calla tugged her brother's hand and the pair of them hurried out the room. "What was that about?" Calla whispered. "A Howler?"

"It said 'remember my last'. It just burst right as you passed out. Did you not see it?" She shook her head. "Oh. Well. What did you see?"

"I don't know," she told tiredly, shivering as they started up the stairs. "These... Stars. Spellfire. And then this strange, dark room... I don't know where it was."

"A dark room." Harry frowned, contemplative. "I suppose it'll make sense at some point."

She shook her head as they reached the landing, pushing into their room. "Not soon enough."

Before her brother could question her more - his presence was setting her on edge and she couldn't explain why - Calla rushed to her desk, scribbling out hurried messages to send off.

We've just been attacked by Dementors. Harry got expelled and then he didn't, he has a hearing in a couple of weeks. No idea what's going on. If you know anything or if you've heard anything, please let me know. I'll write if there's any developments; we're basically grounded in our rooms at the moment.

Calla wrote this three times, and sent the letters off with Moony to Remus, then on to Daphne and to Padma. She paused, thinking hard over how to let Mairi know. She couldn't leave, and she didn't think it would end well if Mairi showed up at the Dursleys' house. Hedwig was still out hunting, and Harry had taken to pacing the room rather than ask Calla to use Moony. She left him to it, flinching when he kicked his school trunk, and changed for bed, curling up under her covers.

After all the drama of the evening, she was ready to sleep. Her eyes felt heavy.

"About time," Harry snarled, startling her awake.

"What?"

He jerked his head towards Hedwig, who had just arrived in through the window with a dead frog clutched in her beak. "You can put that down. I've got a job for you to do!"

Hedwig looked reproachfully at him and then around at Calla as though to ask if she treated her owl like this, too. "Come here," Harry said, attaching his letters to Hedwig's leg. "Take these straight to Sirius, Ron and Hermione, and don't come back until you've got good, long replies." Matilda clambered up onto Calla's bed, curling into her stomach and purring loudly. "Keep pecking them until they've written decent looking answers if you've got to. Understand?" Hedwig gave a muffled hooting noise, her beak still full of frog. "Get going, then."

She took off immediately and Harry flopped down sulkily onto his bed, still fully clothed and looking miserable. Calla glanced over to him, his sullen and silent form. He looked tired, and he looked brittle, and guilty and confused. She smiled gently at him. "Thank you, by the way," she said quietly. "You saved me in that alleyway. I was useless."

"I let them get to you," he said, not looking at her. "I'm sorry. I messed up."

"Don't be," she said in reply, chest feeling heavy. "If I'd gotten my Patronus, we'd have been alright. I wouldn't have fainted. Maybe Dudley'd even be alright." She gave a loud, heavy sigh and turned to stare at the ceiling, hands gently running over Matilda's soft back. "And I'm glad you're not expelled." Her mouth felt dry and she struggled to get her words out. "I don't know what I'd do at Hogwarts without you." She wasn't entirely sure what she'd do at Hogwarts anyway, now.

Harry nodded slowly, considering her. "Me too."

"Do you think we should still leave?" she asked, surprising herself as she stared at the ceiling.

"What?"

"I know what Sirius said, but it's pretty obvious we're not safe here. And I doubt the Dursleys are even going to feed us for at least a week." She shook her head. "If no one comes to find us… To tell us what the hell is going on. I don't want to be cooped up here. We've plenty of gold in Gringotts and muggle money too. But if the Dementors could find us…"

She trailed off. "They won't be the only ones," Harry finished for her, and she nodded.

"I'm scared," she admitted to the darkness. "And I guess I can't even blame Uncle Vernon for wanting us out. He doesn't understand any of it. I barely understand what's going on these days. I just wish magic… Would just leave us alone."

At that, Harry made a confused sound and rolled over on his bed to look at her. "It's never going to, though."

"I know," she said tiredly, and her scar pulsed as she shut her eyes. "But I can wish. Half the time I think we'd have been safer if we'd never gone to Hogwarts. If we'd just kept to the Muggle world and, I don't know, hidden from it all. Then I think what absolute hell another seven years with the Dursleys would be. I'd still have gone crazy." She was sure Harry could hear the bitterness in her voice. Calla sighed. "I'm just tired. Wake me up if you need me."

"Night, Calla."

She smiled faintly and pulled the covers up under her chin. "Night, Harry."