With winter arriving, the atmosphere in Grimmauld Place became tense.

Calla attempted for what had to be the millionth time, the Patronus Charm. The closest she had ever come to achieving it was in the maze, right before everything had gone to shit. It had appeared as some feathery ball, probably a bird, but beyond that didn't take a real shape.

Now, she could hardly manage a shield. Anytime she tried it, it felt like there was something pulling her back, tugging at her heart and her magic. She knew what it was, had felt that feeling before, but never so strongly. Maybe it was the type of magic, that the viricaptus prevented because it was so apposite to that spell's own nature.

After two hours of no improvement, with welcome but ultimately unhelpful encouragement from Sirius, Calla wanted to sleep for a week. Her head was empty and her chest leaden, and she slumped over a chair in the kitchen, blinking back tears.

"It isn't your fault," Sirius told her firmly. "Loads of grown wizards can't do it. I still can't get mine corporeal again. After what you've been through recently, it's no wonder it isn't working as well. We just have to find a way to make it work."

But Calla was losing hope that it would. This spell was the very symbol of her failure. Failure in third year, to defend herself and her brother and Sirius; failure again this summer, to protect Harry and Dudley. And Harry, of course, excelled at it.

Maybe that was why it bothered her so much.

"It isn't going to work," she mumbled to Sirius, who was trying to hug her, but she didn't want comfort, she just wanted to run and scream. He at least seemed to understand that urge.

She shook him off and went upstairs, trying to calm herself. The door clicked shut behind her. The stack of books on the edge of her desk was beginning to gather dust, but her eyes caught on the copy of Draoidhean na h-Alba which had been sitting on top for the last few days.

She'd read and re-read the article a million times over since it came out two days ago. It had been by all accounts, a success. The paper had held strong and not given into the Ministry's demands to know who had leaked, and it had garnered such an audience at Hogwarts that the paper had been banned in the halls under an educational decree, which Isobel had ranted about at length in the letter she had sent last night. It was a good sign. The Ministry was scared, but the public were enlightened.

The tide was shifting, and Calla just hoped she was riding the correct wave.

One of the hall floorboards creaked and Calla set the newspaper aside to listen in to Kreacher's hushed musings as he shuffled past. The house was draughtier than ever and he had neither attempted to help remedy or made any suggestion as to how to heat it. Calla was deeply missing central heating. This time, Kreacher was taking care to be quiet, probably knowing she was here, and Calla scowled. Her thirst to know what he'd been talking about was simply frustrating, and at this point it was one of many mysteries that she was desperately shrouding herself in to detract from all the speculation about herself.

She read the article again, just the highlights, and sighed as the downstairs door opened and Mrs Black's portrait started screeching again. Sirius got into a blistering argument - these seemed to be the highlights of his days now - and she laid her head down on the desk, trying to shut out the sounds. Agitation crept over her arms and shoulders as the screaming went on and on. Everything felt like too much all of a sudden and she was certain that nothing was going to fix it. Her magic. Her feelings. Her never-ending frustration. The whole world that seemed to be falling apart outside the door whose threshold she was never allowed to cross.

She wished it would all just go away. Everything. It was little over a month before her brother returned for the Christmas holidays and it couldn't come soon enough. She just needed someone who understood and didn't patronise. Someone familiar. And she needed to know, too, needed assurance that he was safe and happy and that she hadn't made a colossal mistake by remaining away from Hogwarts. Maybe next term she would go back. It wasn't like being stuck here was serving her any good. But then, she didn't trust that there was anything to be gained for her at Hogwarts, either.

"Get your coat," Sirius said, and she startled, toppling slightly on her chair as she turned to stare at him, standing in the doorway. "Come on, it'll do you some good. Clear your head a little."

Her eyes darted to the frosted windowsill and back to him again. "Are you sure?"

Sirius nodded. "I think we both need it. We won't be gone long, not if you don't want to, but you haven't been out in a while."

She swallowed nervously, getting to her feet, and was quick to pull on a coat and hat, thick socks and winter boots. Her wand sat safely in her pocket. When she got downstairs, curtains were pulled tightly over the portrait of Mrs Black, but her voice still rang in Calla's head.

"We'll be back before Remus, at any rate," Sirius said briskly, pulling on his gloves by the door. "Got your wand? Not," he added firmly, "that we'll need them."

"Got it," she said, swallowing the knot of apprehension in her throat. "Are you sure about this?"

"Completely," he said in a self assured voice.

Usually they would go out with a slightly bigger group, often Remus and Tonks, but Calla couldn't deny that she needed something to get her mind off of her own problems. "We won't be long? I don't want Remus to worry."

"Half an hour at most," Sirius promised, opening the door. It slammed shut behind them, Calla took ahold of his arm, and then with a crack, they disappeared.

She blinked as she adjusted to her new surroundings. A sprinkle of snow coated the buildings around her like icing sugar on a cake, but here on the ground it had turned to muddy brown slush. White buildings stood, picture perfect, curving round a wide street through which cars and buses ran, hot engines clouding the cold air. Calla rubbed her hands together as Sirius led the way down the street.

"I thought we could take a walk by the river. It's been years since I had a proper look around London."

Her eyes darted around. Something about this scene felt familiar, and that made her nervous. She shuffled on in the cold, arms wrapped tightly around her chest. It was cold, but it was still oddly comforting. "Are we going anywhere in particular? I haven't seen Diagon Alley since the summer."

"I wasn't under the impression that you would be particularly keen to get back to it," Sirius remarked lightly.

"I'm not sure I am," she admitted, glancing at the green-fronted bookshop they passed just before the opening of a small alley, advertising the publication of a long-neglected manuscript by Louisa May Alcott. She grinned at the rose on its cover: A Long Fatal Love Chase. The first line was printed on a stand, and Calla moved closer to read it, adjusting her glasses on her nose.

"I often feel as if I'd gladly sell my soul to Satan for a year of freedom."

"What's that?"

"This book... By the author who wrote Little Women. It's only just been published."

Sirius frowned. "Rather morbid start to a book." He grinned. "I think I quite like it."

"She's a wonderful writer," Calla told him with a faint smile. "I love Little Women. It's-"

She broke off. A shadow had appeared behind her in the dark glass of the bookshop window and her chest went cold, spreading to her arms. "Siri-"

She was in the midst of turning when she was grabbed by the shoulders. Sirius yelled but before either of them could whip their wands out, he was pulled around the corner into the alleyway. Calla shrieked, and there was the sound of someone yelling from across the road, but they were too late.

"Stupefy!" she yelled, for all the good it would do, and bit down against her captor's hand, shoving. He reeled back but shoved her towards the wall. Another grabbed her, pulled her back, and then with a final, resounding crack, she was pulled away into darkness.

Xx

North Tower was sleepy as always, and Harry's Divination class just as dull. At least when he had his sister with him, he regularly thought on his way to class, he had someone who understood what Professor Trelawney was babbling on about and could help him make sense of it. Now, between himself, Ron, and Padma, they could hardly make sense of anything.

This class started out as any other. Umbridge sat in the corner, scribbling away on her notes, no doubt criticising Trelawney's every move. No doubt if Calla was here, she would be rallying everyone she could against Umbridge for her treatment of Trelawney. But Calla wasn't here. He hadn't even been getting many letters from her. If he hadn't seen the recent Witch Weekly article about her, she could have all but fallen off the face of the planet. And that article itself... It didn't sit right that she'd seen their parents' graves for the first time without him. And it sat even less right that Witch Weekly had written an entire article about it when he sincerely doubted she would have given any sort of permission for them to be near her.

He sighed, drawn out of his thoughts by Padma, who was poking him with her quill. "Hey," she whispered, when Umbridge was on the other side of the classroom talking to Parvati, "any chance you could teach us Patronus Charms next, Harry? Lisa suggested-"

A pain went through his scar and he gasped a little. "Maybe," he struggled out, as pain gripped him for a second and then disappeared.

Ron gave him a concerned look and Padma turned discreetly away. "You alright, mate?"

"Yeah. Yeah, just... Scar."

Ron went white, which didn't help the pool of nerves gathering in Harry's stomach. "What? But why — I mean, he's not-"

"I do hope we are focusing," Trelawney said suddenly, descending upon them with a shivering smile. "Tell me of your latest dreams."

Harry rattled off a miserable sentence about Quidditch, and tuned out as Padma presented her dream diary for inspection, complete with notes on possible interpretations of her omens. He and Ron had gone to no such lengths. They had no one to nag them in this class anymore.

As Trelawney slipped off and went back to lecturing the class about the role of flying objects in dreams, Harry found his eyelids slowly closing. Thoughts of Quidditch only depressed him now, ever since Umbridge had banned him. Malfoy had deserved what was coming to him. Going on about the Weasleys, about Harry's parents, and then about Calla. He only regretted he hadn't gotten another punch in.

His thoughts slipped to that idea, of how good it had felt to see Malfoy whimpering, to just let all of his fury out on him like that. And then he was drifting, the classroom was disappearing around him, Trelawney's words were fading, and pain went through his scar as a marble floored room burst into his mind.

The first thing he saw was bright red light burning in the reflection of the polished stone. Then he heard cackling, and realised it was coming from him... He was close. The desire to know at last, burned hot within his chest. He was enjoying this, the screams echoing around the room. It felt good to cause this pain, good to let his anger rush out of him, and it was so immensely satisfying to see his plans begin to knit together once more...

Then his gaze fell through the red light to see his victim, and it was enough to, for a second, knock Harry sideways. That was Sirius, screaming, writhing on the ground.

"It could be over so easily," he said and it was not Harry's voice, but Voldemort. He was speaking through him, without his own words, but Harry didn't understand how to step them. "You just have to tell me where it is."

"Never," Sirius hissed as the curse wore off for a second, and the anger that went through Harry's mind was at that moment so painfully hot that he thought he was going to burst.

"You lie," he hissed. "You lie as your dear brother lied to me. You will meet his same fate... But I give you a choice."

Confusion flickered over Sirius' face for a second. Voldemort didn't care. He let the familiar anger surge through him again, raised his wand. Red light filled the room.

Harry felt his forehead burst with burning pain, finding himself sickened by the screaming around him, rocking forwards on his chair and slumping over the table in the Divination classroom, gasping.

Padma grabbed him and pulled him upright a split second before Umbridge looked over. His hands were shaking. Sirius... He had Sirius. Voldemort had Sirius. He lurched sideways, trying to stand, but was trembling too much to do so. Ron pushed him back down, face white as a sheet.

"Mate," he started, "what's..."

"You've had a vision," Padma said at once, frowning. She rubbed his shoulder. "Haven't you? You look just like Calla does when she wakes up after she's had one. What happened?"

He shook his head silently, nodding in Umbridge's direction. Sirius. Sirius. "I'll tell you — I have to see Dumbledore."

"What?" Padma frowned but Ron seemed to understand.

"What's happened? Who?"

"I — Sirius. How long-"

He was cut off by the shrill ringing of the school bell and stood up sharply, knocking the table in his haste to stuff his books back into his bag and run out the room. Ron and Padma were right at his heels, the latter trying to take his arm. "You need to breathe," she told him quickly, "You're hyperventilating."

"There's no time," he said, dragging them towards a passageway that would take them out onto the third floor. "Sirius - it's - Voldemort has Sirius."

"What? What'd he want with-"

"I don't know, Padma!" he snapped, and shrugged her off. He did, he knew Sirius was in the Order, but Padma didn't and Padma couldn't. "Go and find Isobel or someone, I have to talk to Dumbledore."

He hurried down the steps two at a time, his heart pounding, but Padma and Ron were both still following, Padma muttering furiously under her breath. Sirius was being tortured. Voldemort had all but said he would kill him. Why? What did he need from him? The pure anger that had gone through him said that Voldemort needed it badly.

Harry came out the passageway and immediately tore off towards the next staircase, sprinting down and then along towards Dumbledore's office. Only when he reached the front of the gargoyle, panting, did he realise he hadn't a clue what the password was.

"What," he said breathlessly as Padma and Ron caught up to him. "Pass—"

"Chocolate frogs," Padma said quickly, and Ron blinked.

"How do you know?"

"You don't? I had to hand in a Prefect report last week."

"Oh." Ron nodded slowly as the gargoyle ground and gave way. "Hermione does that."

Padma scoffed, but as soon as there was a sufficient gap, Harry took to the stairs, running upwards towards the door of Dumbledore's office. Sirius was in danger, Sirius was dying - Sirius was meant to be looking after Calla, where was Calla, what had they done-

"Harry?"

Dumbledore looked pale, his eyes wide at the sight of Harry, his bag still open and his hair ruffled from the run here. "Professor Dumbledore," he said, holding a hand against the doorway to brace himself. "He's got Sirius."

If this scared Dumbledore - which Harry thought it should - he didn't show it, merely nodded. "Sit, Harry. Miss Patil, please return to your dormitory. Mr Weasley, inform Professor McGonagall that Harry has come to see me." Both nodded quickly. "Discreetly." He waved his hand, at once dismissing them and summoning a chair to before his desk. "Go."

They both turned, with frightful glances over their shoulders, and went running down the stairs. The door shut behind them and Harry found himself suddenly ill at ease in front of Dumbledore, who had barely spoken to him in months. Even now he seemed to be avoiding Harry's eye.

"What have you seen?" he asked quickly, standing by a portrait. He rapped on the frame, awakening an irate professor inside. "Phineas, please visit your counterpart and search for Sirius Black. If he is not there, look for Calla Potter. If there is no one there, inform me at once."

Phineas let out a scoff but a second later he disappeared from his frame and Dumbledore turned back to Harry, eyes fixed on the doorway behind him. "Well? I think we ought to keep this meeting short. Avoid suspicion."

"Yes, sir," Harry said quickly, slipping into a chair. He couldn't help but feel like Dumbledore didn't want to talk to him regardless of the situation but he couldn't worry about that now - Sirius was in trouble, and Calla could be too. He knew it had been a terrible idea for her not to come back to Hogwarts with him.

"Tell me what you saw, Harry. Exactly what you saw." And how, was the unspoken question.

"I... Well, it was in Divination. I fell asleep, again."

Dumbledore's eyes sharpened. "Was Professor Umbridge observing your class?"

"Yes, sir. But I don't think she noticed. Padma covered for me." He nodded and Harry went on. "There was all this red light, the sort that comes from the Cruciatus Curse, and then I heard screaming, and Voldemort laughing. It was Sirius screaming. He was - he was in pain, Professor." He choked on the words, in his desperation to get them out and his terror of what they meant. "He said that Sirius knew where something was and that he would stop if he'd just tell him where it was. Sirius said he wouldn't and he didn't know what he was on about and then Voldemort said he was lying - like his - Sirius's - brother lied. He didn't mention Calla but I don't know... I mean, he was looking for the weapon, wasn't he? That thing the Order's after?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said slowly, too slowly.

"We have to go get him! Save him! Voldemort's going to torture him, he said Sirius was going to meet the same fate as his brother's and his brother was murdered. I can't-"

"Ah, Phineas is back," Dumbledore said conversationally. "Well?"

"No one's home," he sneered. "The other portraits told me my great-grandson and the Potter girl left around a half hour ago and have not returned."

"Calla?" Terror gripped Harry's throat as suddenly as a fist. "He's got Calla too!"

"Thank you, Phineas." Dumbledore bowed his head. "I will have Fawkes inform the Order-"

"We have to find them!" Harry shouted, because Dumbledore seemed far too unconcerned. "What's he going to do to them?"

"Harry, my boy, I need you to stay calm for me. Professor Snape will be here soon."

"Snape?" His ears rang. "Snape? Snape isn't going to do—"

"Please return to your dormitory. Do not arouse any suspicion-"

"But what about-"

"-and do not speak to Dolores Umbridge, whatever you do. This is a matter most sensitive, but rest assured-"

"You have to do something! You can't just tell me to leave! My sister is in danger! I have to go and save her!"

"You must do no such thing, Harry."

"What do you know?" Harry yelled, the sudden volume startling a portrait out of their frame. "What do you care? You've barely spoken to us since June, you don't care, I don't care about sensitivity, my sister's in danger and I have to save her!"

"This is a matter for the Order," Dumbledore said, eyes flashing, but Harry saw red for a blinding, painful moment. "It is not up to you to save them."

"Then do something! Now!"

"If you would stop shouting at me-"

"My sister-"

"Professor Dumbledore." Snape's voice curled from the doorway. "Minerva said there is an urgent matter."

"Sirius Black and Calla Potter have been kidnapped. I need you to inform Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, and Molly Weasley at once. As well as... The other relevant contacts. Harry, please allow Professor Snape to walk you to your dormitory."

"But, Professor." He felt like his heart was breaking. Why wouldn't Dumbledore listen? He had to save Calla, he had to save her now. If he didn't then who else would?

"Harry, please trust me. Trust the Order."

"I have to—"

"Remain in your dormitory until further notice. You dashing off into danger will do no one any good, and you know your sister would not want it. I promise that we will find them, and get them back safely. The Order is more than capable. Severus."

Snape took Harry's arm but he shrugged him off, anger surging through his chest. "She's my sister! You have to let me help!"

"On the contrary, it would be far more to Calla's benefit were you to stay out of the matter." Dumbledore's voice was almost cold. Harry had never heard it like that and for a second he felt the unexplainable urge to strangle his Headmaster. "But I assure you. She will be found and she will be protected. The Order will handle this. But you must trust me."

"Come, Potter," Snape snapped, dragging him away. The door slammed shut behind them and locked.

He and Snape didn't speak on the way to Gryffindor Tower. Other students continued to mill about their day, drifting between the library and common rooms, but Harry couldn't so much as think. He felt like he was trudging through mud. Calla. Calla was kidnapped. Sirius was being tortured. Was that happening to Calla, too?

He should have been there. Should have been there to protect his sister. But there was nothing he could do now, and he hated that more than anything. He didn't even know where they were, even though he could hazard a guess as to who they were with. He wanted to turn and run back up to Dumbledore and yell at him, tell him that Calla was his sister and he wanted - needed — to be a part of this.

He didn't register even saying the password to the common room. Words felt like acid on his tongue. When the portrait hole closed behind him it felt like he was being shut in; Ron and Hermione and Ginny and the twins swarmed him and Parvati demanded to know why her own sister was so worked up and wouldn't tell her why, and Harry felt like he was going to be sick if he so much as opened his mouth.

"Calla," he managed to spit out to Hermione and the Weasleys. "Voldemort's taken her and Sirius and he's torturing Sirius. I don't know... I don't know what's happening to Calla."

There was silence. "Bloody hell, mate," Fred said, and George put a hand on his shoulder.

"The Order's going to find them, though, right? That's what they're for."

"I don't know where they are," Harry said numbly, feeling like of all people, he should know. "They could be dead."

"Don't say that," Hermione said breathlessly, face pale and hands close to her lips, knuckles white. "She... they can't be. You said V-V-Voldemort wants to... Use her magic. He can't kill her."

"And Sirius. He said he would kill him. Like he killed Sirius' brother. He's looking for something."

"The weapon," Ginny said grimly.

He nodded, burying his head in his hands and breathing deeply, convinced that he would faint otherwise. He hadn't seen his sister in months and now...

"It must be. I just don't know why... Sirius." His eyes burned but he didn't want his friends to see him cry, or anyone else for that matter. Seamus was staring at him from across the common room like he was a bomb about to explode.

"Dumbledore won't let me do anything."

And what if Dumbledore was right? He remembered how in the summer, he had been angry at his sister, and how it felt like something had taken ahold of him, something furious and violent. She had fainted, and he had been terrified. What if he couldn't help? What if he made it worse, or hurt her?

"Harry," Hermione said in a small voice, "he's right. There's nothing you can do. You have to let the Order-"

He didn't stay to hear the end of her sentence. Furious at Dumbledore and Voldemort and the whole of the rest of the awful world, Harry stormed up to his dormitory and slammed the door.

Author's Note: Sorry I've been absent for so long! I really did mean to get back on top of this and then life got in the way, but my semester at uni has almost finished now, and I'm in a much better place mentally than I was a few months ago. Thank you for your support and your patience!