A/N: I know it's been a while, and I apologise. I hope All my readers still love me.

The first part of this chap is a slight deviation away from canon. I am aware that Voldemort visited Hepzibah when he was much, much younger, but personally for me, it didn't feel right that he had started his Horcrux journey that early on. And of course, I have modified canon just a little bit to fit my fic.

To all new Follows and Faves: Thank you and I love you all with all my heart :')

To all Reviewers: You have no idea how happy you make me, so thank you all from the bottom of my heart! =)

P.S. I have been a keeping a secret, y'all =) Read on to find out...


Chapter 31: Chasing Stars


Unedited...

~oO 13th April, 1976 Oo~

- O -

Smith Manor

Darstall Keep, Riverglen

03:56 PM

She hummed lightly to herself, but it did little to mask the loud buzzing of flies hovering around the pools of blood that stained the perfectly white marble floors. The smell of rotting flesh hung heavy in the air, but the mansion's inhabitants seemed to not take notice of it at all, going about their day per usual. Hokey darted across the room holding a large tray of perfumes and fragrances above her head, doing her best to avoid staring at the limp body that silently floated in mid-air in a dark corner of the room.

"Here they are, madam! Every perfume you have ever owned, just as you requested!" Hokey squeaked, bringing a triumphant smile on her mistress's face.

Hepzibah was sitting in front of her small jeweled mirror and dabbing rouge onto her already scarlet cheeks with a large powder puff, wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. "Hufflee, Pufflee, Hufflepuff, puff, puff, Huffly-Puffly, puffety, puff!" Hepzibah sang under her breath, applying a thick coat of bright red lipstick. "You know, Hokey, getting the cup was alright, but landing the locket too was a bonus, wasn't it?" she asked, pursing her lips in front of the mirror.

"It sure was, madam!" Hokey squeaked.

Hepzibah merely smirked at her own reflection, looking smug.

"Well, then, hurry up!" said Hepzibah imperiously, grabbing a tiny yellow vial off the perfume tray and spraying the utterly disgusting scent over herself. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"

She tucked away her powder puff as the house-elf straightened up. The top of the elf's head barely reached the seat of Hepzibah's chair, and her papery skin hung off her frame just like the crisp linen sheet she wore draped like a toga.

"How do I look?" said Hepzibah, turning her head to admire the various angles of her face in the mirror. It was but a miracle that she had managed to conceal all the rat claw marks that marred her face from the night before.

"Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey.

A tinkling doorbell rang and both mistress and elf jumped.

"Quick, quick, he's here! Get rid of that body at once, Hokey!" cried Hepzibah and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without knocking over at least a dozen things: there were cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers. In fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.

With a snap of her fingers, Hokey magicked Wylwen Aerloth's body to vanish in a Blip! and hurtled towards the large front double doors to usher in their visitor.

The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man, plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair trailed the small of his back and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever. Little did she know, however, that this wasn't his present face at all, that she probably couldn't stand to stare into his actual skull-like face, one that only some of his most loyal followers have seen today.

Voldemort picked his way through the cramped room as he always had and bowed low over Hepzibah's fat little hand, brushing it with his lips.

"I brought you flowers," he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah, although she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom… Sit down, sit down… Where's Hokey? Ah…"

The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow.

"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah, "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times…"

Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting me this time?" she asked, battering her lashes.

"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," said Voldemort. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair —"

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.

"I am ordered here because of them," said Voldemort quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire —"

"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

"I had Hokey bring it out for me… Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure… In fact, bring both, while you're at it…"

"Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, placing two leather boxes on a tray and wended her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.

"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom… Oh, if my family knew I was showing you… They can't wait to get their hands on this!"

She opened the lid and pulled out the small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.

"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. What Hepzibah was oblivious to, however, was the red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort's handsome features.

"A badger," murmured Voldemort, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was…?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here…"

She hooked the cup back off Voldemort's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Voldemort's face as the cup was taken away.

"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey."

The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap. "I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see… Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone…"

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.

Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.

"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.

"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value —"

There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort's eyes flashed scarlet at the words and his knuckles whitened on the locket's chain.

"— I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are… Pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe…"

She reached out to take the locket back and before he could protest, the locket had slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"

She looked him full in the face and for the first time, her foolish smile faltered.

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well…"

"I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose —" said Hepzibah, looking unnerved, and waving off the momentary red gleam in Voldemort's eyes as a figment of her imagination.

"Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again… The usual enchantments…" Hepzibah said, shooing the elf out of the room.

Hokey dutifully carried the heavy boxes over to the room at the end of the massive hallway where Wylwen Aerloth's tortured body continued to hover in mid-air, staring blankly ahead through unseeing eyes.

- O -

Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts

05:59 PM

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!" Lily cried out in disbelief.

Isabella frustratedly rubbed her face, but didn't say anything.

She was still numb with shock. She had had no time to recover from whatever had gone down at Borgin and Burkes because frankly, she still hadn't fully grasped the intricacy of the betrayal. She still didn't fully understand what had happened, how it had happened or how she could have been so blind about it all... How had she simply taken the word of a fourth-year student, whom neither she nor Peter hadn't interacted with in over a year? Why hadn't she paused even for a second to think that it may not be Broadmoor at all, that perhaps there was an impostor in her place with a more sinister motive?

And no matter how many times she told herself there was no way she could have known they were being tricked by an impostor, she still couldn't shake off the gut-wrenching guilt of having dragged her friends in on such a dangerous errand, one that could have gotten them all killed...

Looking to her right, she saw Peter and Claiborne looking just as white-faced as she did, as they silently sat around an unreadable Dumbledore and an enraged Lily in the headmaster's office. Lily had been the first to discover that Claiborne and Isabella were missing from their beds and alerted McGonagall, who in turn, alerted Dumbledore and Filch. Incidentally, the whole thing had blown out of proportion when Dumbledore thought the bunch of them had left the castle with the 'real' Carlyn Broadmoor and assumed something unthinkable had happened to her since she was missing amongst the homecoming party. By the time Isabella had explained what had actually happened, ALL the Heads of Houses had been summoned to the Great Hall for an emergency meeting, leaving Isabella, Peter and Claiborne spluttering helplessly on the side.

And just when she thought the day could not get any worse, Slughorn proved her wrong by jumping the gun mid-conference and sounding the school alarms prematurely, plunging the whole castle into an awful pool of ear-splitting clinging of trinkets and bells followed by the slamming down of barricades at every House's entrance. It was absolute chaos from then on for the next several hours, with classes being cancelled and students being kept under lockdown inside their own towers until Dumbledore himself stepped up and took control of the situation, finally bringing some sense and order back in the school.

By the time everything cleared up and the four Gryffindor fifth-years were safely ushered into Dumbledore's warm, quiet office, Isabella had had enough. It left her wishing this day and everything that came with it had never happened in the first place...

A large clock on the wall at the far end chimed six times, indicating that it was six o'clock already. The sun was setting, leaving them all in the dull hue of the chilly, Scottish dusk. It has been around fourteen hours since Isabella, Peter and Claiborne had returned to the castle via the Vanishing Cabinet, except, it felt like several days had gone by in between...

"I honestly didn't know my friends could be this stupid, professor," Lily continued, sending death glares particularly in Isabella's direction, making hot blood rush to her ears. "And if I were you, I would expel them all in a heartbeat, no questions asked!" she spat out, not mincing words in the slightest.

Dumbledore sighed resignedly. "I am glad you feel the same way too, Lily," he said quietly.

A sound as that of a cat being strangled escaped from Peter's mouth, indicating that he too had had a mini panic attack at those words as did Isabella.

"As happy as I am to see the three of you unscathed and safely back within these walls, I still feel much obliged to echo Lily's words at this point — the way the matter of the missing Hufflepuff cup was handled was, forgive me if you will, stupendously stupid."

"But, professor —" Isabella jumped up.

"— It doesn't matter what your intentions were, Isabella," Dumbledore cut her in holding up a finger. "In all honesty, I would not have cared even if the cup had gotten lost forever. I care about all of your safety more," he said, hushing her up at once. "Nothing would ever be more important than your lives and your well-being, which is why something like this can never. Happen. Again," he said sternly.

Isabella had never heard Dumbledore speak this way, not even to the Marauders. In fact, she didn't think he had ever been this mad in all of his ninety or so years of existence...

Her face flushed deeply in shame as she sat there, not moving an inch.

"Just to put things into perspective, in just the last two days, the Auror force received reports of nearly seventy two deaths and about two hundred and fifty cases of missing witches and wizards," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing them all carefully. "Times have never been graver..."

Isabella looked up to find Dumbledore looking straight at her.

"The emphasis on safety measures of students and wizards alike has been increased by ten fold in recent times strictly because we still do not understand this new Dark Lord as we did the previous one, Isabella. His followers are nothing like the ones we have been used to... They stop at nothing. Nothing at all," said Dumbledore, allowing the weight of his words to sink in.

"The Knights of Walpurgis..." Claiborne muttered, seemingly shaken to death.

"No," Lily said from her right, making the others swing their heads in her direction. "They're called the Death Eaters now," she said, shivering lightly in her chair. "His followers had a falling out recently. They split into two groups, but eventually the larger clan overthrew the latter and renamed themselves as 'Death Eaters' to show their devotion to the Dark Lord... Bellatrix Lestrange leads them now."

The hairs on Isabella's hand stood up as a thrill of shock swept through her.

"Sirius's cousin? That Bellatrix?" she asked.

Lily merely nodded grimly.

"I have grave news," a voice suddenly spoke from Dumbledore's left, making everyone jump up in their seats.

Dumbledore, however, calmly turned towards Phineas's portrait. "Just the person I was waiting for," he said, smiling lightly. "What news do you bear, Phineas?"

"I was visiting my sister, Elladora Black's portrait in Lestrange Manor where I witnessed the worst, Albus," said Phineas. "A large gathering of His followers, the 'Death Eaters' if you will, were discreetly called upon for a secret conference; the Blacks were among the invitees too..."

Dumbledore stiffened.

"So they have managed to sway Walburga over to their side as well, I assume?" asked Dumbledore.

Phineas, though, merely snorted, a sense of pride spreading over his face.

"No. She disapparated the second she saw the Dark Mark etched on the Lestranges' front door."

"Very good," said Dumbledore, nodding to himself contently. "Go on. What did they convene about?" he asked.

Phineas's handlebar mustache flared up in response. "It was a victory party for the Lord, Albus. I think he was successful in his mission."

The atmosphere in the office became tense at once as all the portraits around them came to an abrupt halt and leaned in closer to their frames.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked.

"Unfortunately, I am," Phineas replied gruffly. "Everyone was speaking in code, but Rodolphus was not careful enough... It took Rosier less than five minutes of persuasion to get him to blurt out every last detail of the Dark Lord's mission. It appears you were right, Albus. As soon as news of the Vanishing Cabinet and the ruckus down at Borgin and Burkes broke out this morning, the Dark Lord is said to have personally visited Darstall Keep himself..." Phineas said, dread dripping from his voice.

"So he knows."

"He knows," Phineas concurred. "It looks like he specifically paid Smith a visit to ensure the objects were indeed real heirlooms. Yes, objects, Rodolphus mentioned both the cup and the locket... She has them both."

A cold chill swept through the room as this piece of information settled upon them.

"And if His track record is anything to go by, we can expect a break-in at Darstall Keep or an attack on Smith herself within weeks, perhaps even days."

Dumbledore, however, didn't say anything and simply looked away, looking preoccupied.

"Thank you, Phineas," he said, bracingly. "You've done well..."

Silence fell around them once more as the other headmasters and headmistresses in the portraits curled up and pretended to fall back into a deep slumber.

"Alright," Dumbledore said, bringing his hands together and surveying the four of them through his half-moon glasses. "Let's summarise everything we know, shall we?" he said, taking the students by surprise. "Tell me everything you know, Izzy."

A tiny jerk went around her as Claiborne and Lily reacted to Dumbledore addressing her by her short name.

Ignoring the odd buzzing in her ears, she began. "As far as I know, it is clear that the Dark Lord is on a quest for ancient magical objects, professor. The first time I learned of this was when Regulus had appeared in front of my house in Islington around last Christmas, asking about a Stone to the wrinkly old witch."

Dumbledore nodded. "And have you ever seen the old witch before in your life?"

"No, never, professor."

Dumbledore looked momentarily satisfied with that answer before gesturing at her to go on.

"After Regulus failed to procure the Stone, however, the Dark Lord diverted his attention on getting his hands on the heirlooms –"

"– meaning he is already aware of the Hidden Kingdoms and the existence of the mystery witch?" Dumbledore asked.

It sounded more like he already knew the answer but he simply needed to hear someone else say it out aloud.

"It does look like it, yes," Isabella nodded before continuing. "The Dark Lord then ordered Regulus with the task of smuggling in the bunch of Portkeys and somehow have the passage to the Hidden Kingdoms opened –" Isabella stopped dead in mid-sentence, a sudden revelation crashing into her. "Hang on," she started, her mind racing all of a sudden. "Professor... Did Voldemort give the Portkeys to Regulus himself...?"

Dumbledore flashed a satisfied smile. "Good catch, Izzy. Yes, I assume so."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Isabella said confusedly. "Why did he go to the trouble of giving them to a thirteen-year-old and instructing him to 'smuggle' them into the castle when he could have just opened them himself?" she asked.

"An excellent question," Dumbledore said, nodding appreciatively.

Lily, Peter and Claiborne leaned in closer as their headmaster spoke again. "You see, the Portkeys in question were made by sorcerers from a forgotten time whose magic we still do not understand to this day, Izzy. They lived so long ago that there a came a point when modern-day wizards ceased to believe they ever existed in the first place, and deemed the Sacred Age to be nothing but a myth.

"The reason why no one has ever been able to unlock the pathway to the Hidden Kingdoms in all this time is because the Portkeys are bound by a spell that no wizard of our time, not even the Dark Lord, can crack," Dumbledore continued. "Even I do not understand this magic fully, in fact I don't understand it at all. But one thing is clear: the makers of the Portkeys were very keen on keeping their lands hidden, to be opened only once every several hundred years –"

"– Every time the Cursed Pair is born," Lily finished, her eyes as wide as mini moons.

"Precisely," Dumbledore nodded. "It is crucial because before the end of the Cursed Pairs' time in their realms, the Time Turner most definitely needs to be returned to the heart of Woldorin in order maintain the balance between the Light and the Dark."

"And Voldem – I mean, You-Know-Who – was well aware of this fact too," Lily started, the wheels in her mind turning, "because the wrinkly old witch herself named Sirius as one half of The Pair... And You-Know-Who was tempted to test the theory of the Cursed Pair, which was why he gifted the bunch of Portkeys to Regulus because he knew that way Sirius would DEFINITELY intervene and decide to go down there himself!" she cried, her voice getting louder and louder with ever word.

"Yes, that is my conclusion too," said Dumbledore. "And once the heirlooms came into my possession, I knew I had to act quickly and safeguard them before it landed in the hands of incompetent Ministry officials or the Dark Lord's supporters –"

"– Because both groups pose danger to the magical community in their own stupid ways!" Isabella ground out.

A slight smile cut across Dumbledore's face. "Yes, that is correct too," he concurred. "What Voldemort hadn't prepared himself for, however, was the level advanced knowledge and magic that the bunch of you displayed down at the kingdoms... The kind of magical maturity that only very, very powerful wizards of this age possess. He underestimated you all. He underestimated me. He underestimated the might of the magical wards that lay on these ancient walls," he said, gesturing at all of Hogwarts. "Firstly, he did not think the five of you would even survive the mission. Secondly, he assumed he could simply snatch the heirlooms out of your hands if somehow, the lot you did manage to come out unscathed. But he was proved wrong both the times, wasn't he?"

"But then everything went to hell when I stole the cup?" Peter said.

Everyone turned around to face him.

Dumbledore pressed his fingers together. "Yes, Peter, things did dip in Voldemort's favour when you took that decision, I'm afraid," he said quietly, but the disappointment was more than evident in his voice. "Borgin and Burkes was one of the first places that Voldemort had worked in as an assistant in his younger days. And today the owners of that place are some of his oldest and most loyal followers, so you can imagine what selling Hufflepuff's heirloom to them meant..."

"I practically handed it over to him," said Peter glumly.

"But, it still doesn't make sense, professor," Isabella said. "How did Hepzibah get the locket too? How did she trick us...? What actually happened at Borgin and Burkes last night?"

"Hepzibah is a collector, Izzy," Dumbledore started, leaning back in his chair and surveying the four of them intently. "In Cladwell, she's popularly known for her staggering assemblage of priceless collectibles. So, when she heard about the Portkeys and rumours that the Hidden Kingdoms have indeed been opened, she naturally (and rightfully) wanted to stake claim to the Hufflepuff heirloom. That was when she visited the village of Oar's Rest in The Bronze Peak mountains and made a deal with the woodsgirl, the last of the Woodsmen.

"In the pretext of attending the Founder's Day party, the pair of them entered the castle and studied the mood within. Their suspicions were proved right when Isabella unravelled the truth about the cup and fled the party. Incidentally, with the help of the Polyjuice Potion, they pretended to be students and stayed back in Hogwarts, plotting and scheming their robbery," Dumbledore said.

"So, it was that woodsgirl all along? Was she the one pretending to be Broadmoor spying on us in the Astronomy Tower?" Isabella asked.

Dumbledore merely nodded. "Her name's Wylwen Aerloth. Post her interaction with you, she pretended to be me and entered my office to look for the other heirlooms. Fortunately, the Time Turner was with me at the time while Ravenclaw's diadem was safe inside Ravenclaw tower under the watchful eye of Frank Longbottom. But the locket, unfortunately, was in here in one of the caskets," he said pointing at the bottom draw in his desk.

"How did she find it, professor?" Lily asked timidly. "I'm sure you would have placed safety enchantments all over your desk –"

"– She is The Maker, Lily," said Dumbledore. "Windsmere Gold always answers to its Maker."

"So, they were working in conjunction all along..." Peter said, recalling the events from the previous night. "Hepzibah wasn't in Borgin and Burkes at that hour by accident, she meant to be there, she deliberately fed Borgin with Amortentia and put him a dazed state –"

"– Because that's the only potion that does not leave a trace," Claiborne concluded.

"– And she used us to steal the cup from Borgin!" said Isabella angrily. "How did we not see this coming?" she wailed desperately, burying her face into her hands.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Lily cried out again.

Everyone fell silent even as a thick wall of dread fell around them.

"So, what now, professor?" Isabella asked in a small voice. "Are we going to be punished?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything and simply leaned forward in his chair. "I just want you to promise me to never keep secrets from your friends..." he said, flashing a kind smile down at her. "It may literally cost you your life the next time, Isabella. Remember... Everyone needs a little help every now and then. Including you."

Isabella simply nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.

.

Several weeks flew by since that interaction with Dumbledore in his office and yet, the cold shoulder that Isabella was receiving collectively from her friends (including Lucius Malfoy and Frank Longbottom) did not diminish even a little bit. Claiborne hardly ever looked up anymore when Isabella approached her, and Lily kept her responses to a mere "Yes," or "No," successfully managing to drive her crazy. Peter, too, seemed far too embarrassed with himself to associate with her in public and Sirius and James pretended to not know her at all. In fact, things had gotten so strained among the Gryffindor fifth-years that the lot of them were being meaner to each other, with Lily lashing back at James more than ever now.

Remus, Mary and Alice, perhaps, were the only saving grace in these grim times, offering her a place next to them at dinner time and a shoulder to cry on when things got exceedingly difficult.

Isabella didn't know how or why, but her fifth-year will most likely go down as her worst year in Hogwarts yet, because never before had she fought this much with her friends in her whole life. And to top it all, the mean slurs and garble she constantly received from her Slytherin counterparts dampened her spirits more, but the approaching exams gave her no leeway to even mope around in peace!

She, along with the rest of the fifth, sixth and seventh years, was stuck inside the castle throughout the Easter holidays, burying her nose behind books or traipsing back and forth to the library as she prepped for the big A.P.E.s. And although she knew she was asking for a lot given the circumstances, she really wished she could have her friends back again by her side...

"Is this seat taken?"

"Huh?"

Isabella jumped up and looked around. A tiny shiver ran up her spine when she looked into the face that had said those words a second ago. Ryan Evantrap, looking leaner, taller and more dashing than ever before, was standing behind an empty chair next to her at the library table where she had been sitting alone. It was early on Saturday morning; Lily and Claiborne had headed down to breakfast, and since they didn't seem to miss her much, Isabella decided to hop into the library instead.

"R-Ryan, hi!" she stuttered, turning a deep shade of red around her ears. "Well, um... Of course not," Isabella said, distractedly pulling her books closer to her and making room for him. Goosebumps of the worst kind broke out on her hands and neck as he closed the gap between them and plonked down next to her.

"Are you dying yet?" Ryan joked pointing at the mountain of books in front of her.

A visceral sigh escaped her as she attempted at a scoff and failed.

"I'm glad you assumed I'm alive at all," Isabella said, grinning stupidly.

Ryan chuckled and opened his copy of Herbology. "You've still got that sense of humour, I see," he said.

Isabella rolled her eyes. "You're probably the only person that even finds my sense of humour in the least fascinating," she muttered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Ryan frowned playfully. "No, that's not true, Black seems to be equally fascinated by it too, if you didn't know," he said, giving her a knowing smile.

Isabella scoffed (and thankfully nailed it this time). "Are you trying to make me feel better? Because, if you are, I must tell you it's not working," she said, smiling sadly up at him.

Ryan guffawed. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying Black doesn't even care if I exist right now and that you're a big liar!" she said, playfully narrowing her eyes at him.

"Uh huh?" Ryan challenged at once, cocking one of his eyebrows, holding an amused look in his eyes. "Well, that probably explains the endless 'Izzy this, Izzy that' chatter from him lately," he mused sarcastically, grinning teasingly down at her from the side.

Isabella gasped, scoffed and rolled her eyes at the same time. "I'm ready to change my name to Biba Bagpipes if there was even ONE nice thing in all his chatter about me!" she guffawed, making Ryan roar with laughter next to her.

Isabella grinned too as she absent-mindedly toyed with her quill. "He hates me right now. You know it and I know it," she said shrugging insouciantly.

"Oh, yes, about that," Ryan started, pausing to look down at her, "what's with you fifth-years and the long faces, eh?"

Isabella slumped in her chair, the heaviness returning in her heart. "Well, I did something terrible," she started, "again," she added quickly when she caught his raised eyebrows, guilt searing through her at once.

Ryan didn't say anything, but the look he was giving her was clearly conveying something else...

So, they were finally going to speak about their messy break-up, it seemed.

An awkward silence swallowed them whole, and neither knew where to look or what to say.

"Look, Ryan," Isabella said at last, bracing herself for the worst, "it's long overdue, but I still do owe you an apology for... what how things ended between us," she said, putting her hand on top of his and finally looking into his face. "And for what it's worth, you truly did mean something special to me," she muttered quietly.

Another warm hush fell between them and, although he continued to mutely watch her, she could still discern the affection he held for her in his eyes.

"Also, not a day goes by when I don't feel bad about how things got left between us..." she continued, "and I'm glad I got to say all this to you myself."

Ryan smiled.

"Apology accepted," he murmured, taking her hand in his this time. "And I'm sorry for acting like a knobhead too... You did try to get me to talk to you, but I kept running; hiding actually... I didn't know how to handle the rejection, I reckon," he said, biting his lips apologetically.

"So, what changed now?" Isabella asked. "How come you sought me out yourself this time?"

"Well, I eventually needed to grow up at some point, didn't I?" Ryan guffawed, making her break into laughter too. "And also because it pained me to see you all by yourself all the time these days," he confessed, looking deep into her eyes. "Everyone needs friend every now and then, you know. Even you."

Isabella gasped wildly. "Have you been speaking to Dumbledore? Because I swear to Merlin, he said the exact same thing to me several weeks ago!" she exclaimed.

"Well, then, perhaps he knows you all too well too," Ryan chuckled.

They fell silent once more.

"You know, it probably isn't my place," Ryan started, looking thoughtfully down at her, "but I don't think you should let this resentment grow between you and your friends, Izzy."

Isabella gasped. "I'm not the one ignoring them!" she appealed stubbornly.

"But it looks like you're the one who did them wrong," Ryan reasoned. "Listen, I've seen you with them; with your little girl gang and the bunch of blockheads. I know how attached you are to them even if you don't make it obvious... They make you happy Izzy, they make you 'you'. And as a person who still deeply cares for you, I really think you're not doing enough to get them to forgive you –"

"– But, they don't seem to want me back," Isabella said icily, suddenly battling a painful lump in her throat. "They don't miss me in the slightest! Actually, I don't think they even care if I EXIST!" she cried, trying very hard to keep a straight face but her eyes were starting to water already. "I know I did a horrible thing, I kept secrets from them instead of letting them in, I lied and went behind their backs, I betrayed Claiborne's trust and now, I'm the sole reason she and Remus aren't talking to each other, but I only did all that because I love them with all my heart... I was only trying to protect Peter from the mess that he'd brought upon himself!" she said, blinking back hot tears. "But that's no excuse, is it?" she said, chewing her bottom lip. "None of this makes what I did right in any way..."

Ryan remained silent and simply watched her with a pained expression on his face.

"Then again," Isabella scoffed bitterly, "it seems them not associating with me might just be the right thing to do, isn't it? Seeing as nobody's life would be in danger at least –"

"– Merlin's pants! Would you stop?" Ryan chuckled looking bewildered. "Look, I don't know what really happened that day but I can say with a fair degree of confidence that they miss you awfully too. Izzy, they're mad because you nearly walked into a SUICIDE mission –!"

"YES! And I'm returning the favour by accepting my SOLITUDE!" Isabella announced stupidly, completely oblivious to the helpless amusement that Ryan held in his face. "It's been three weeks since I've linked hands with Lily or copied off Claiborne's essays, but I'm still alive, aren't I?" she whisper-yelled, a manic shrug escaping her.

"And Black? You're okay with him not talking too?" Ryan suddenly asked, taking her aback.

Isabella frowned incredulously. "Why would I – what? No...! I mean, yes! I mean..." she stuttered, fully losing track of her thoughts. Sighing defeatedly, she looked up and found him smirking apologetically.

"Be honest to yourself..." Ryan muttered, nudging her good-naturedly.

"Alright, fine," Isabella finally conceded. "Him not talking scares me the most because I've never seen him be this angry with anyone for this long ever... And this time I don't know if things would ever get better between us," she said and looked up only to find him staring deeply into her face.

After a moment's pause, however, he broke into a grin. "The Star Chaser," Ryan muttered, still holding a mysterious smile on his face. "Izzy, d'you know who first gave you that name?"

Isabella rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Potter."

"And do you know why he chose that title for you?"

"Because, he wanted to tease me," said Isabella glumly. "Because he thought I'd never make it to the team and when I did, he wanted to embarrass me and harass me as much as possible."

"No," Ryan said, holding a look of amused fascination in his face.

"No?" Isabella repeated.

"No. You're the Star Chaser because you're the star chaser," Ryan said, confusing her even more.

"What d'you mean?" Isabella asked.

Ryan grinned and simply jerked his head towards the library's entrance where a bunch of boys stood chatting and laughing their heads off.

Isabella suddenly burned red from the neck up.

"Sirius?" she asked, watching Sirius Black hi-five Martin Benkley over a joke he just cracked.

"The brightest star in the night sky, isn't it?" Ryan asked, winking teasingly down at her, making her blush even more.

Isabella blushed scarlet as she caught the drift. She defiantly shook her head even as a numbness crept up her face. "I had no idea –" she breathed, embarrassment consuming her entirely.

"You know, you make friends for life only once and I truly envy what you have with that plonker," Ryan said, bringing a smile to her face. "Promise me you won't let your ego get the better of you?" he asked, giving her a big shake.

Isabella sized him up for a bit. "I'm the devil in your life, how're you still so nice to me?" she asked, feeling genuinely touched.

Ryan burst into a chuckle. "Well, let's just say Evantraps are known to be decent folks."

And just like that, Isabella was filled with the deepest sense of gratitude and peace within.

"So, friends again?" she asked, putting her hand out and watching him hopefully.

Ryan hesitated for a second but took her hand eventually. "Yeah, alright," he said rolling his eyes and grinning widely back at her.

~oO Later that evening...

After her little chat with Ryan, Isabella's mood lifted considerably and for the first time in many weeks, she felt cheerful again. Taking advantage of her current mood, Isabella buried herself behind her books and spent hours on end in the library, studying like there was no tomorrow. And by the time she was done, it was late evening already.

Rubbing her eyes, she stretched her back nice and long, before shoving her books back into her backpack and rising from the table. All day long, the library had teemed with students, nearly all of them fifth, sixth and seventh years, feverishly studying or scratching away on their quills, but Isabella had not paid any attention to any of them; because, if she had, she would have noticed the DELUGE of desperate looks that Sirius had shot her way throughout her time in the library.

~ Sirius's PoV ~

'Pads, you CAN talk to her if you like, you know?' James said, watching Sirius look like a fish out of water.

Sirius, though, pretended to look affronted at the suggestion and scoffed him off.

'Don't be ridiculous, like I could talk to her after she betrayed us like that –'

'– I'm not even that mad at her anymore, and neither should you be,' James cut in. 'Or are there deeper emotions linked to the lovely damsel?' he smirked, stifling the wide grin bursting at his lips.

Sirius graced him with a look that screamed murder.

'I will kill you, man,' he said, only to make James break into silent giggles next to him.

Catching his breath, James straightened up once again. 'Look, mate, I think we've punished her enough,' he said reasonably. 'Also, Mooney's nearly drilled a large hole in my brain about what big sissies we're being and I honestly don't think I could live through another lecture session tonight, so if Your Highness wants to talk to her, I'd gladly welcome it.'

Sirius bit his lip thoughtfully. As much as he hated her for nearly killing herself in that horrendously thought-out plan of hers, he did miss her terribly... So much so that, on some nights, he was tempted to burst into her dorm, tear her screens open and yell his lungs out for giving him such a scare, before pulling her into a bone-crushing hug and never letting go... Because, he didn't know what he'd do if something ever happened to her...

'She drives me crazy, Prongs,' Sirius sighed exasperatedly.

'Don't all girls?' James shrugged wisely.

Sirius paused to look at his best friend.

'What do I do?'

'Not be a prat to her anymore. And that advice holds good for me as well.'

And Sirius nearly agreed with that suggestion.

'Look, you've known her longer than you've known any of us,' James started, 'and this fight is far too trivial to break off your friendship entirely, you know?' he said, a slight smirked cutting his face. When Sirius didn't say anything, though, he added, 'Besides, she looks like she'd feed herself to Rordyt, the Yellow Dragon very soon if you kept this up!' before bursting into laughter.

Sirius, for his part, couldn't help break into a grin too, watching James lose his head over his own stupid joke. Sighing heavily, he finally gave in. 'Alright, fine, I'll end this rubbish tonight,' he said, kicking his chair back and swinging his bag over his shoulder, watching Isabella scuttle out of the library ahead of them.

.

Isabella darted out of the library towards the Great Hall, her stomach rumbling in hunger. She made a mental note to never skip food again, even for an exam...

"OI!" she heard someone say from behind her, and her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest.

She knew that voice all too well...

And at once a multitude of emotions seared through her. Anger and sadness consumed her whole body as she relived the moments of guilt and loneliness she had endured in the days following her return from Knockturn Alley.

Not wishing to look into the prat's face, Isabella hurried on down the passage towards the stairway that led to the lower floors.

"Izzy, for Merlin's sake!" she heard Sirius call out from the back and quicken his pace towards her.

A dizzying sense of awkwardness crept up her spine. "I'm not... I don't want to... I'm fine, Sirius, just please let me be!" Isabella stuttered and turned around to face him.

Sirius caught up with her just then. "Look, this is hard for me too, alright?" he muttered, his face hardened with emotion.

He paused and scanned the corridor to check if they were alone, when his eyes found a silent broom cupboard standing by a wall on their left.

"In here," he mumbled, and without even waiting for a response, he wordlessly swung the door open, grabbed her by the hand and yanked her inside before she could even protest.

"What in the world –?"

"Shhh! Keep it down!" hissed Sirius, before slamming the door shut behind them.

"Sirius, this is NOT funny!" Isabella said, only to invite a more annoyed 'Shhhhh!' from Sirius, as he covered her mouth with his hand to keep her quiet.

"I just wanted to talk to you, okay? Just give me two minutes!" he said, raising his eyebrows in a way of getting her consent.

"Oh, now you want to talk?" she asked coldly. "I'm sorry, but you're several weeks too late to do that, Sirius –!"

"– Well, excuse me if I needed some time to recover from the BULLSHIT that you pulled on yourself and our friends, Isabella!" Sirius said loudly, uncharacteristically citing her full name.

And for a split second, her whole world seemed to come crashing in on her.

"YOU THINK I HAVEN'T WALLOPED MYSELF ENOUGH FOR THAT?" she roared back. "YOU THINK I WISHED FOR ANY OF THIS TO HAPPEN?"

Sirius blinked speechlessly. "Of course, not...!"

"No, DON'T YOU DARE!" Isabella bellowed, losing control of herself entirely. "You left me to rot ALL ALONE, Sirius! ALL OF YOU!" she screamed, having burst into tears now.

"What else did you WANT us to do for the thing that you did, Izzy?" Sirius yelled back. "Do you realise what my state of mind would've been like had something happened to you, Pete or Clay? I was mad because that's how much I fucking CARE about you!"

"And yet, you didn't once, NOT ONCE, care to see if I was doing okay in all these days?" Isabella screamed back, her face gleaming with tears now. "You let me go, Sirius. You let me go like I meant NOTHING to you! LIKE YOU DIDN'T NEED ME ANYMORE –!" but the rest of her words got drowned out because Sirius had grabbed her head and pulled her into his chest, firmly wrapping her up in his wide frame and allowing her to cry the rest of her hurt out.

Isabella, for her part, allowed herself to crumble entirely at last, as she howled her eyes out for the first time in days, while he held her securely in his arms.

"I could never not need you, Izzy," Sirius said, after what seemed forever, her head still firmly tucked under his chin. "But that doesn't make me less of a clot for how I – we –" he backtracked, "treated you. And for that I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Yeah, well, apology not accepted," Isabella whimpered, her voice sounding muffled against his chest.

A look of amused incredulity flashed in his eyes. "What?" he yelped, stifling a smile.

"You heard me," Isabella said, looking up and scowling petulantly. "I'm done with you. All of you..." she sniffed. "And I've decided to live life by myself with dignity going forward!" she said, having made up her mind.

A cricket croaked nearby, as he blankly stared down at her.

A second later, however, he burst out laughing into her face, doubling up on the spot and needing on to lean onto her for support. "Wow! So you're cutting us out?" he teased, frowning mock-solemnly down at her.

"Oh, yes!" Isabella asserted pettishly. "No more friends..."

"Forever?"

"ForEVER."

Sirius spluttered, bawling his lungs out now. "All these years and I didn't know my Williams was an Ice Princess?" he chuckled, making her glare menacingly at him.

"It's not funny –"

"– I'm not trying to be funny!" Sirius guffawed truthfully. "Anyway, listen," he said giving her a little shake, "you're not going to get rid of us, unfortunately..."

Isabella hopped restlessly on the spot. "Sirius, please... I don't know how I'm going to face Lily and Clay after all this...!" she sobbed desperately. "Trust me, it's easier this way –"

"– Merlin's beard, do you not realise how ridiculous you sound to yourself?" he grinned. Still smiling fondly at her, he added, "Stop running, babe, it's only Lily and Clay... And I don't know about them, but I am definitely not ready to lose my best friend just because our group's dynamics have gotten awfully complicated because of you..."

Isabella looked up nervously. "About that. Have... Have you spoken to Remus about his thoughts on... You know... Clay and her... current situation?"

"What? About her being engaged to that blockhead twice her age?" Sirius asked crudely. "Nope, not yet."

Isabella stared looking unimpressed. "Some friend you are," she said, but Sirius simply grinned on.

"Anyway, good talk," he said, patting her head clumsily, making her frown in annoyance. "Glad I got to state my intentions clearly, hence, please don't go all crazy on me the next time I play a prank on you, alright?" he asked, sniggering mischievously at her. "It's James's idea, by the way. Thought you and I went back too far to drop things off in this fashion; also that you were behaving like a complete baby!" he snorted, bringing a murderous glare on her face. "Alright, go on then!" he said, gently rubbing his finger over her face, "before I get all too irresistible for you!" he joked, unnecessarily moving a little too close to her.

"SIRIUS!"

"What? Too early? We're still not allowed to make fun of your massive crush on me?!"

Isabella, though, let out a guttural roar of frustration even as he howled into his hands.

"I hate you, Sirius."

"I wuv you too, baby!" Sirius cooed through his teeth and pressed a kiss on her cheek, irritating her more than ever! "Oh and er... Your flying?" she heard him say, referring to their most recent flying practice ahead of the year's last and final Quidditch match.

She turned around to find him gushing on the spot, looking carelessly handsome.

"Fucking amazing..." Sirius said, genuinely swelling with pride. Only, it made her blush an aggressive shade of crimson from the neck up.