"What the hell was that?" What, indeed?

I stared into the depths of George's eyes and saw hurt and anger and confusion and hope?

There was so much within him, so much bursting to come out.

"I- I-" I don't know.

Lately that seemed to be my response to everything going on around me.

"Did you- did you do something to me? Potter!" He snapped his fingers in my face, focusing my attention back on him.

I felt weak, my body ached at the sensation of what I went through and it pulled something out of me, something foreign and not right.

"I don't know what that was." Finally, a sentence.

By the look on George's face, he didn't believe me.

"Yes, you do. You don't just-just force people to relive things and then see them to. That's not- that's not possible. There is no magic that can do that." George took a step forward. He was about to put his hands on my shoulders, but he stopped.

I looked back at him and I knew he had to do it, there was no other way that I could think of and I- I just wanted to have an answer. For once.

"Do it," I said. I took a step forward and put his hand on my shoulder.

We both breathed in sharply.

Nothing happened.

A moment after, he withdrew his hand with a slight tremble, eyeing me with wariness.

"Do it again."

I was about to tell him I didn't know how I did it, but…

I reached out my hand and he looked at it. I indicated to my hand and he got it. We had to recreate the moment. With a second's hesitation, he pulled up his opposite hand and met mine in a handshake.

A spark. And then-

-You watched him scream. He was screaming. Heat seared but there was no flame. Yet it burnt. It burnt hot and livid and angry.

"Ron!"-

This time, George was the one to pull his hand back. He held it to his chest, rubbing it. His whole body shook, tears gathered in his eyes. His lips trembled and he uttered a few sounds, but nothing that could turn into intelligible words. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

"How?" He finally enunciated.

I was lost in the vision I saw. I felt the terror, the fear, the abject horror of a child as he was burnt to dust.

I had no words to offer him.

#

I sat in contemplation in the Hufflepuff Common Room. My 'talk' with George ended on an abrupt note as he rushed out of Professor McGonagall's office, hand clutched to his person and fear bouncing off of him.

What had happened? What was that? How had I…

I pulled up my hand that triggered those memories in George, I stared at it, studied it. What had I done? Earlier with Cissy too, I hadn't shook her hand. She had touched my chin and then…

A tall, tan form planted itself next to me. A hand draped over my shoulder and I looked over.

Cedric looked pleased. Proud even. I thought of the moment he looked at me with endless disappointment. That flash of a memory was enough to scramble my thoughts.

"Harry. It's okay." He patted my back and squeezed my shoulder. "You did the right thing and it all worked out in the end. It's alright."

I nodded.

I sat in silence, thinking back to George and Cissy.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

I blinked a few times and turned again to Cedric. He seemed as normal as usual, but he was probably concerned. He never liked to leave me alone to my thoughts for too long. I loved him for it.

"Harry…?" This time the concern was evident.

"Cedric…is it normal in the wizarding world to see someone's memories and make them relive them?" The question came out of me without much deliberation. All I knew is that I needed to talk to someone who would understand, or at least try to. The list of people I could rely on for that was painfully short.

Cedric narrowed his eyes and looked away. He turned his head up and pushed his legs out, leaning backwards. "I think it's possible. My Mum once mentioned something, she used to be an Obliviator before she retired. There's a spell called Lelli-something. But it's really tough stuff. Even then, it's not like seeing someone's memories. It's like- getting impressions and feelings. Not everyone thinks the same. Some people remember ideas, or smells, or feelings, not pictures or sounds as well. So it's a mixed bag." He turned back to me and shrugged. "But even then, it's not normal. It takes a lot of training and it's very high-level. Even Aurors don't have to learn that kind of stuff."

I looked away and stared into the distance. Mysterious high-level magic, sounds about par for the course.

Cedric squeezed my shoulder and pulled me tight into his embrace. "Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

I stared at the floor and exhaled. "You wouldn't believe me, if I told you."

Cedric smiled wide. "Boy Who Lived rendering more miracles? Spill."

So I told him and his enthusiasm considerably dampened.

#

"Terrible things-"

#

I slept on it, blissfully, not thinking about anything. I was so tired and so ready for that day to be over, sleep overcame me like a warm blanket that melted away the cold of my worries. When I woke up the next morning, I felt ready to face anything.

I leaned back in my bed and sighed as the morning sun came filtering in. I stretched and yawned and for some odd reason, felt lighter than I did in days. I felt the echo of a dream in the back of my mind, but nothing that stuck with me.

I was distracted by a hoot. A large eagle-like owl sat at my windowsill, pecking on the wood, a letter tied to its leg. The bird flew to my bed and rested on one of the four posters, holding its leg out.

Odd.

I plucked the letter from it and it flew off without another thought.

Curiously, I opened up the letter.

Dear Harry

Apologies for the delayed response. I did track down my historian friend and he told me the most fascinating story about a cover-up involving Hagrid of all people. I was going to send you my note immediately, but I caught up with our mutual mentor, Mad-Eye, and he told me that he had you in hand. In any case, my search led to a dead end.

If there's anything else I could help you with, please feel free to write to me anytime. But if I may make a suggestion, for Hogwarts History, there is no better resource that our dear former headmaster. I think he would be very pleased to hear from you.

Yours

Sirius Black.

I folded up the letter and put it aside. A new thought wormed its way into my mind.

I made my way to my desk to the side and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment.

Dear Professor Dumbledore

I need to talk to you about something strange-

#

I made my way down to the Great Hall with a half-asleep and heavily yawning Cedric by my side.

When we seated ourselves and I pulled up some bacon and fruit onto Cedric's plate, he had the energy to nod and then fall asleep in his food. I giggled to myself. This never got old.

I felt someone settle into the seat next to me. My smile reduced as I spotted Fred, or was it George.

"Harry," he said with a nod. So Fred then.

"Morning, Fred."

We looked at each other in silence for a moment.

He sighed at last and leaned against the table. "I'm really not a fan of what you did to George by telling on him. But he says that he let it go and you did everything you could to make sure he wouldn't get expelled, so I guess…" He shrugged. "If George is letting it go..."

I smiled at him and he winked back. I didn't know I had been holding my breath while he spoke, but I was grateful to let it out in relief. I was glad to not have lost my friend.

"Did George mention anything else to you?" I asked.

Fred scrunched his brows. "No. He was acting funny when he got back and hid himself under the covers and refused to speak. I just let him be, he'd been through a lot. Should he have?"

I debated what to say. I didn't want to create more friction between us. Also, I didn't have any more answers than yesterday.

I shook my head no and plastered a smile. "No, nothing."

He nodded once and got up. I turned away and then felt his hand rest on my shoulder, pressing sharply.

"If you mess with my brother again, I won't let it go." I froze. It was a warning.

"If your brother messes with Harry again, I won't let it go." Cedric spoke the words calmly, but he stood up to stare Fred down using his greater height. A smudge of strawberry on the side of his mouth.

Fred left soon after, I wasn't paying attention. Hearing Cedric say those words caused a warmth to blossom in my chest and I held my knife and fork tight.

Cedric patted my back once and went back to snoozing on his breakfast.

I wondered, is this what it felt like to have a brother?

#

The rest of term passed by in a blur.

Suraj studied the map and declared there was nothing to glean from it.

Cissy invited me to tea on three occasions, I begged off each time claiming the need to revise for exams. It helped that the Professors took my side no matter how weak my excuses.

Before I knew it, my First Year at Hogwarts was coming to a close. I followed the file of Hufflepuff Third Years towards the Hogwarts Grounds, my belongings being transported to the train by magic.

I paused as soon as I saw the rows and rows of carriages and the scaly, decaying winged horses that seem to be pulling them.

"Cedric…?"

"Yeah?"

"What's pulling the carriages?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. "Nothing Harry, they're pulling themselves like always."

I shook my head no.

"Run along, Diggory."

We turned together at the booming voice of Hagrid. He looked down at me, still a little guarded, but nowhere near as hostile as the last time I saw him.

I looked to my shoes, not wanting to meet the eyes of the gentle giant. My first friend.

Cedric gave me one last look and then ran off. He waited for me a little distance away.

Hagrid bent down and we were still not at eye-level.

"I got yeh somethin', Harry." He rummaged in his large coat pockets and pulled out a curious book. No, an album.

I took it from him and opened it and my breath caught in my throat. Red hair. Green eyes. An angular face with knobby knees. My mother. My father.

I looked up to Hagrid, I didn't know how to- how could I ever-

"Th-thank-" My voice choked up.

Hagrid placed a heavy hand on my head. "Owled all yeh parents' old mates to get as many of these together as possible. Figured yeh didn't have many of 'em. It's a- uh- an apology."

I blinked. "Hagrid, you don't have to- I was wrong to-"

He shook his head and his black mane swayed hypnotically. "Yeh have nothing to apologise for Harry. I shoulda been better minded. Tha's a dark time in my life I don' like ta think too greatly of. Bu' tha' was no reason to treat yeh poorly. Yeh didn't know after all."

"Even still, I'm sorry to have brought that up for you."

He waved it away. "All in tha past, I promise yeh."

I looked down at the album and smiled at it. "This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me, thank you, Hagrid. Truly."

He beamed.

I stared at the photo in the centre of the page that it was open on. There she stood. Bright-eyed and smiling. There he stood, spiky haired and grinning. His hand around someone else's shoulders, someone who looked equally brash and unpredictable, someone who looked familiar…

"Hagrid, is that- is that Mr. Black?"

Hagrid considered the photo I was looking at and smiled. "Tha' it is. He was like a brother to your dad, Harry. Best Man at his wedding too. The two of 'em, always in trouble together and inseparable."

But why didn't- why didn't he-

"Harry."

I looked up and Hagrid looked sombre. "To answer yeh earlier question, the carriages are pulled by beasts. We call 'em Thestrals."

#

I didn't pay much attention to the rest of the ride back. Some of the others played Exploding Snap and Gobstones, but Cedric made sure they left me alone. I spent most of the ride leafing through the pages of the precious gift from Hagrid.

There he was again.

Sirius Black. My father's best friend. His brother. Yet, why didn't he tell me?

I twice got up to pull out some parchment and write to him at once, asking him, accusing him. But I held myself back. If Mr. Black didn't want to tell me about his connection to my father, that was his choice. And I- I didn't want to know if he didn't want anything to do with me. A fearful thought niggled at the back of my mind.

Did he blame me too?

Before I knew it, I was back at King's Cross Station and making my way out of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

Cedric gave me one last garbled goodbye. "I've told my Dad. We'll come get you next month from the Dursleys. You will not spend all summer there. As soon as we're back from Macedonia. I promise."

I nodded and smiled and watched as my best friend trod off to his parents.

I looked around, hoping to catch sight of the large mass that was Uncle Verson or the horse-like neck of Aunt Petunia.

I wouldn't put it past them to leave me stranded in London and expect me to make my own way back to Privet Drive.

"Mr. Potter," a familiar voice said.

I turned to see a tall man in a shocking purple suit that looked out of a Doctor Who episode.

I blinked in surprise. "Professor Dumbledore?"

He smiled through his large white beard, the end of which was tucked into his crisp white shirt.

"My muggle attire. Curious thing, so tight, yet very dashing."

"Uh…"

Passersby at the platform gave him sidelong looks, but he seemed blissfully unaware. "Come now, I am your escort back to your relatives. I was so delighted that they were more than happy for me to receive you on their behalf."

I fell in step behind him, pulling my trunk, which he used a quick spell to shrink and place in my pocket with a sly wink.

I smiled back at him.

"We have so very much to discuss."