Happy New Year! My apologies for the late update, but there's a lot happening here plot-wise so I wanted to make sure I got it all. Enjoy, and make sure to let me know what you think! I hope you're all healthy during this pandemic and that your families are faring well!
TW: Please be advised that the following chapter contains: Mentions of suicide, talk/discussion of suicide.
"Life seems sometimes like nothing more than a series of losses, from beginning to end. That's the given. How you respond to those losses, what you make of what's left, that's the part you have to make up as you go."
- Katherine Weber, The Music Lesson
Chapter Fifty-Three - The Real Enemy
Madam Vablatsky likes to reiterate, time and time again, how rare Seers are in the magical world. Normally, Seers skip generations, but I'm the second direct Seer in my family, and Vablatsky seems convinced that this is some great instance of power that transcends what our measly human minds can grasp.
She's convinced that my future children, particularly any female (since Seer abilities only pass to the females in a particular bloodline), might come to inherit the ability as well, and should she inherit this gift, the rule of three would mean she would have triple the power, a gift perfected through each generation and augmented and stockpiled until it reached perfection in the form of one body. Theoretically, it would mean my child would be invincible—should she perfect the skills, of course, Vablatsky says (she thinks if the kid is as stubborn and strong-willed as I am, it might be a problem). Medi-Magnification, the biological magnification of inherited magical traits and gifts, would not only make the child a force to be reckoned with, but also a substantial threat to Voldemort.
From what I know of my mother, her gifts looked far into the future, and the near future was an absolute mystery for her, no matter how hard she tried to grasp at it. I remember once she seemed particularly troubled at a vision and overhearing her conversation with my father, I knew she had seen her future about twenty years down the road—she was trapped in prison somewhere, looking down at her sickly hands, trembling in rage. She didn't know what lead her there since her gifts were mere glimpses into a far future that was entirely too unstable… but it was still enough to make her hyper-vigilant, and more dangerous than she already was.
It would be foolish to discredit her simply because I loathe the woman. As much as I hate to admit it, Alice Archer is an accomplished witch—of course, the range of her accomplishment stems from her indisputable hatred towards Muggles and half-bloods (Muggleborns are worse than dirt for her, and she refuses to acknowledge their existence entirely), but whatever this rage stems from, it has accelerated her, and fuelled her, into a position of power. Whatever little power she has with her Seer abilities, she's been able to harness it… Especially in times like this, where she's constantly ahead of me, having glimpses of this future (my now present) years before I am able to even imagine it. It's hard to keep her at bay, to keep her out of glimpsing into our shared future (especially mine and Sirius', or my friends'), and while it gets harder and harder every day, Vablatsky says I'm making progress. Slow, but steady.
In all this, I've learned that Seers are privy to the future in different ways. Vablatsky sees the future in prophecies, little snippets of destiny that are the vaguest expressions for what might come to pass. Alice sees short, picture-like snippets, of the far future, a jumble of flashes and images that don't make sense for at least three decades.
Unlike Vablatsky I don't see in prophecies. She suspects it might have to do with the bloodline that I descend from, and that might be one of the reasons why the Inner Eye only shows glimpses of the far-off future instead of prophecies for me.
Whatever the case, she's very clearly outlined that this ability of mine is clearly more valuable than my mother's, and if the Medi-Magnification theory is true, then my little girl's abilities will be even better. I can only see a few years into the general future (things like world events, big events with my loved ones that might take a few years to pass still), but my daughter might be able to see the immediate future, for the people she loves, for herself… anything.
With any magic there are limitations. Vablatsky keeps stressing not to over-exert myself and 'blind' my Inner Eye, but it's a bit hard to do (especially when I'm so useless). Dumbledore wants me to work for the Order as a spy, which isn't necessarily a problem, but I haven't got nearly enough experience with glimpsing the future or keeping people out of my head to be able to face Voldemort yet. The longer I wait and train (the longer I keep failing), the more likely he is to win this war. Vablatsky isn't losing patience, but I certainly am, especially when I've already glimpsed a future free of him, but that's for another time.
Tips for future practice: Empty your mind, focus solely on your breathing. In… Out… In… Out. Push away all other thoughts. Feel your Inner Eye blinking open. Reach forward, as if grasping a certain strand of time, and let your Inner Eye glance over the string, pull on it as necessary to navigate through time—
"Are you coming down for breakfast?"
Ankaa startled at the sound of Sirius' voice. She turned to find her father standing in the doorway, staring down at her impatiently.
"I've called for you three times already." His eyes narrowed down at the book in her hands, and he huffed in irritation before holding out his hand. "Eat," he said sternly. "It's been a week since we got back and you haven't eaten properly. You can read Maya's journal after you've had breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care," Sirius took the book from her hands and held it out of reach. "Don't glare at me like that, I can out-stubborn you. Get down for breakfast, now."
There was no room for argument, and Ankaa scowled before sulking out of the room and down the stairs. Behind her, Sirius tossed the leather journal onto the bed before he slammed the door shut and followed after her.
"Is your favourite child already in the dining room?"
"I don't have a favourite child," Sirius replied, rolling his eyes at Ankaa's antics. "If you'd like to be a contender for the spot, you need to eat."
It couldn't be helped, Ankaa knew. Both Ankaa and her father were stubborn personalities and having to be cooped up in the same house, devoid of any rational human being to keep the petty arguments and snarky remarks at bay, there was an abundance of sass. And since Harry Potter had been deposited at their doorstep, nearly a week ago now, things had been particularly cold between all of them. Ankaa doubted Potter cared, especially if the conversations between him and Sirius were any indication, but Ankaa just could not bring herself to speak to him.
Perhaps it might have been easier had she not stepped into the library, and soiled her shoes with copious amounts of blood that might have belonged to her father.
"I'd like to return to Rhyther Manor once before school starts again," Ankaa told Sirius as the two of them entered the kitchen, spotting Potter sitting at the table already.
"Why? What do you need to go back for?"
"Just to look… Maybe we missed something." She paused, glancing briefly to the boy sitting across from her, who was paying rapt attention to what she was saying, before turning back to her father. "I've been thinking of how odd it all was—whoever came by trashed the Manor from the entrance to the library, but didn't touch anything else? Nothing else was missing. I can't help but think they were looking for something in the library. I want to go back and check."
Sirius gazed thoughtfully at the solid oak table, mindlessly running his nails across the edge. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ankaa interrupted.
"It's been given every protection Dumbledore could think of, Sirius, there's no reason for you to say no. And it's my house now, I have a responsibility for it. If Tipsy returns… I don't want her to come back to that."
Another missing case. Tipsy had been absent from the headcount in the kitchens when Ankaa had secured the Manor.
"It was all over quickly, mistress," One of the house-elves recounted the tale quietly in the kitchen upon the headcount. "We heard a loud crash and several voices, and Tipsy went to investigate. But when the voices all stopped, Tipsy was gone miss, and the library was destroyed."
"How many people were here do you think?"
"At least four, mistress." There was a pause, and then, a quiet admission.
And somewhere in the fray, poor Tipsy had gone missing. Whether she had Disapparated away from the threat and somewhere safe, or been an unfortunate bystander who got caught up in the mess and suffered the consequences was still a mystery.
"I'll go with you," Sirius said with an air of finality. "Extra protection doesn't hurt."
"And what of your adopted nuisance here?" Ankaa gave a none too subtle glare in Potter's direction, completely unbothered by his unpleasant expression.
Sirius' brow twitched in irritation. "He can come along."
"He's not stepping foot in Rhyther Manor again." There was little room for argument in Ankaa's tone. "Not while I'm the Mistress of the Manor."
A tense silence reigned across the room, broken only by the sound of Kreacher shuffling about none too quietly. The house-elf seemed interested by the discussion and did nothing to hide his blatant eavesdropping and pleased expression at the strife between the others.
"It's not up for discussion anyway," Ankaa stood with a flourish. "I'll take Kreacher with me, if that's what you're concerned about. Besides, I can do magic and apparate as I see fit… There's nothing to worry about. Potter needs a babysitter more than I do."
Potter muttered something under his breath. No doubt a malicious statement meant to put Ankaa in her place, but the girl did not bother looking in his direction as she strutted out of the dining room with Kreacher in tow.
"Mistress does not like the blood-traitor brat."
Ankaa nearly rolled her eyes at the house-elf. "Your powers of observation are as astute as ever, Kreacher. Shall we head out on an errand?"
Kreacher looked as if he would rather gouge his own eyes out with a spoon, but he held up his finger towards Ankaa's hand nonetheless and let her lead them back to Rhyther Manor. When the world stopped spinning and everything came back into focus, the duo was standing in front of the concrete steps leading to the familiar oak door.
Ankaa was the first one inside. Kreacher followed after her quietly, his eyes roving from corner to corner in sharp observation as they ambled towards the library. This time, the library was faring much better. The blood on the floor had been cleaned with a simple wave of the wand and the books that once lay warped and twisted on the floor were placed neatly along the shelf. To a newcomer, there might not even have been a picture of violence in the library, but Ankaa took one look at the shelves and remembered the scene a week ago.
Forget the blood. Don't think about it.
Easier said than done, of course. Her fingers ghosted over the spine of the nearest book, Magical Classifications of Aerial Beasts from the Asian Continent, before her eyes roved over the other books on the shelf. She had spent entire summers cooped up in the library, browsing through the books and remarking at the titles. Every summer, she noted new additions to the shelves, but the order always remained the same.
"It's all organized very meticulously, honey," Her father explained to her once, trailing his fingertips over the books as he spoke. "All designed to bring people in and build on their interests. Look here, if you like Beedle the Bard you'll like the one right next to it, Ensy and the Firefall. There's a method to my madness."
It was as if she had been doused in cold water. If Ankaa could organize the library as she had last seen it, and count for any missing books, she could figure out if the intruder had made off with anything. It was a long shot, but it was the most promising lead Ankaa had had in a while. Ankaa relayed her idea to Kreacher, who seemed peeved at the idea that he actually had to help with something instead of just standing back and watching the show before she began pulling books off the shelves.
The books floated into the air, hovering a few feet away from the shelves as Ankaa continued to rearrange them in mid-air.
"Does the bloodtraitor mistress remember where every book needs to go?"
"You know, you really could be nicer."
Kreacher simply passed her another book to survey and sort, his eyes shining with unbridled hostility as he did so.
"Yes, I know almost every book here." Ankaa surveyed the most recent one Kreacher had passed her before placing it in its spot. Finally, after another half an hour of meticulously sorting and placing books to hover over their spots in the shelf, Ankaa stepped back beside Kreacher and regarded the scene.
"What will the little bloodtraitor mistress do about the burned books?" Kreacher gave a dubious look to a few pieces of ash by the corner of the room that had been left behind. "She is not powerful enough to reconstruct destroyed matter."
Ankaa frowned at the house-elf, but she could not deny the truth in his statement. She squashed the feeling of frustration that bubbled up within her. One single lead now riddled with holes. What if the Intruders had found the book they looked for and had set it on fire. It was entirely possible that they took a few random ones off the shelf and set those on fire too, in an effort to cover their tracks. Organizing the library and tracking down books this way would be a waste of time, and if her father was out there somewhere, she could not afford to waste a single second.
Kreacher looked mildly interested as Ankaa slunk to the floor and placed her chin in her hands, staring at the gaps in the books.
Think, she told herself.
Her father is a smart man. A spy. He understands the value of information, and if there was something in this library worth taking, he would not have hidden it so plainly for intruders to find.
"If my father left a clue here, it has to be something that only I can find."
It took nearly three more hours for Ankaa to spot something of value. In all that time, she stood, rearranged books, frowned deep in thought, and returned them to their original spot with a wave of her hands. With every failed theory, the sighs of frustration and anger grew louder and louder. The entire time, Kreacher stood there watching passively.
But then, as if guided by a divine force, Ankaa's eyes roved over the titles on the bottom shelf.
Arithmancy for Beginners. Coding and Numbers for Wizards. Runes and the Language of Numbers.
A.C.R.
"That's my name," Ankaa surged forward and waved her hand, watching as the three books from the bottom shelf moved forward slowly, hovering a few feet away from the rest of the books in her father's collection.
"Has the bloodtraitor's father left something in the books?"
On any other occasion, Ankaa might have teased Kreacher for the note of curiosity in his voice, but her hands were busy reaching forward and plucking the first book from midair. Then the second, and the third, but there was nothing in them. No page markings, no other clues.
"Don't give up, Ankaa." She could hear her father's voice in her head as she returned the books and stepped back once more.
"We're on the right track Kreacher," she looked down at the house-elf, who had now come to stand beside her and was looking on at the books with thinly-veiled interest. "My father definitely hid a message for me here. Let's just hope of the clues wasn't burned up and lost forever."
Kreacher ambled over to the ashes and sorted through them uncaringly, quickly rearranging semi-legible pieces and holding it up. "Does the title mean anything to the bloodtraitor mistress?"
Ankaa hunched forward and squinted at the warped pieces of the book's spine. Period Entry: The Evolution of Select Fantastic Beasts.
"No," Ankaa frowned. "But… It's supposed to go right there," she gestured to the empty spot on the middle shelf. "Let's just put it back for now." The fragmented pieces of the leather spine clung together and rushed into the empty spot, hovering in place.
"There are others like it here, Mistress." Kreacher gestured to the bottom row, to a book titled Period Entry: The Evolution of Arithmancy. "And here," he said, pointing to the book at the end of her name, Period Entry: Old Wizarding Laws and Applications.
"They're framing select books," Ankaa mused, her eyes trailing over all the books and finding all Period Entries. "P-A-C-R-P. The Period Entries were usually used to change topics, look." She gestured to the book after Laws and Applications, noting that it changed from Arithmancy to Laws in Wizarding nations around the world.
"Period. Ankaa Carina Rhyther. Period… Telegrams!"
"Telegrams?"
"Muggles used to use them as a form of communication!" Ankaa quickly looked over the shelves, noting that most of the Period Entries had been burned. "It's his way of saying STOP, like in the telegrams. Every time they said stop, it meant a new sentence was starting. And look, most of the books that have been burned are the Period Entries. Henry knew that I would be able to put the library back together. He must have been burned those to make it look like he was hiding something when he was really just leaving us the code."
Kreacher, who Ankaa had never seen show any shred of emotion other than disgust and repulsion, blinked up at her in a manner that seemed as if he was slightly, only just slightly, impressed. It only took a few more minutes for the two of them to find the pattern.
A.C.R.
Look.
Up.
Ankaa's eyes immediately found the wooden panel at the very top of the bookcase, the one that had been specially carved for her father's library. He had been proud to design it himself, pointing out the various elements he had been sure to leave behind as Easter eggs.
"See, that's you. The Phoenix." He had told little seven-year-old Ankaa, hoisting her up higher on his shoulders and bringing her forward so she could run her fingers over the Phoenix at the very centre of the panel, wings spread wide and ablaze.
Once again, nearly a decade later, her fingers traced over the Phoenix, hoping for another clue, but nothing happened. Trying to keep her desperation at bay, Ankaa trailed her fingers over every inch of the panel and around it, until finally, her fingers grazed over a rough dip in the intricate detail. The hole was about the size of the tip of her pinky finger, but still, nothing happened. Finally, Ankaa pulled her wand from her pocket and pressed the tip of it into the opening, pressing forward gently until there was a bright beam of light, and then a soft click as a hidden chamber in the panelling swung open.
Nestled inside the opening was a silver egg, sat on a purple velvet cushion, accompanied by a single piece of parchment with her father's writing.
Bide your time. Keep it close.
Ankaa pocketed the note and reached for the silver egg before passing it off to Kreacher, who held it surprisingly gently in his hands. Her hands reached into the hidden chamber, pressing against the walls and feeling for any more secret compartments, hoping for another clue as to the whereabouts of her father, for the answers to the multitude of questions that had suddenly overtaken her mind; where was he? Was he okay? How long had he planned this? How did he know this was going to happen? Was it his blood on the floor?
"Well done, Kreacher," Ankaa muttered as she took the Silver Egg from him. "Let's get back."
For now, this little victory would have to do.
Ankaa had returned to Grimmauld Place shortly after, the high of her newest discovery melting away to let the fatigue seep deep into her bones. Kreacher parted ways with her the moment the duo returned to the quiet safe house, disappearing with a pop. There were distant sounds of shuffling upstairs, accompanied by sullenly muttered curses, indicating Kreacher had taken to residing in his room, complaining about the state of his Mistress' home.
The silence reigned for a moment before a shrill screaming overtook it. The house shook ominously and portraits on the walls covered their ears as Ankaa raced past with her wand towards the sound of Walburga's shrieking and some incoherent yelps.
"It's not coming loose!"
"Keep going! The book said it would work!"
The sight before her was almost comical. Harry Potter and Sirius Black were on each side of the portrait frame, nearly parallel to the floor as they planted their feet on the wall and hooked their fingers under the frame and lifted with all their might.
"What on earth are you two doing?"
"Sticking—Charm—" Sirius grunted with each word, "almost—loose!"
"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME! KREACHER! KREACHER COME STOP THIS RABBLE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"
It seemed to Ankaa that Walburga's shrieks had reached a volume never heard before. Ankaa flinched and covered her ears, worrying that she might have shattered her eardrums at the incessant screeching of her grandmother. Alas, the hostility was only beginning.
Kreacher arrived at the scene with a resounding pop, and his eyes widened almost comically when he took it all in. There was a split second of silence, no doubt brought on by the absurdity of the scene before Kreacher joined his Mistress in the shrieking.
"LET HER GO! MISSTRESS, KREACHER WILL SAVE YOU!"
"YOU LAY A HAND ON MY PORTRAIT, SCUM, AND I WILL HAUNT YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS!"
"BLOODTRAITOR SCUM, UNHAND MY MISTRESS!"
But Potter and Sirius were undeterred, and if anything, the constant belittling from the shrieking duo only seemed to spur them into action. They struggled with a renewed vigour, faces turning red from the strain of trying to pry the frame from the wall. Slow and steady, the frame started to crack and splinter, lifting off the wall bit by bit as the magic holding it in place began to vanish.
"NOOO!"
Kreacher had now taken it upon himself to use almost any means necessary to keep Sirius and Potter at bay. He was clawing at the duo, pulling on their pants and sweaters to keep them back and break their concentration, his desperation growing by the second as Walburga's shrieks began to fade.
There was the sound of ripping fabric, and one final scream of anguish from Walburga, as the frame came apart and ripped right down the centre of the canvas, falling pathetically onto the floor with a dull thud. The silence was deafening, but no one moved to dispel it just yet.
Kreacher was the first to break away, kneeling by the frame of the portrait and taking the splintered wood and canvas into his hands as best as he could. His shoulders trembled with rage, and the look of loathing he shot towards Sirius and Potter were malevolent enough to make the latter shiver. Sirius, however, was grinning down at the house-elf.
"Serves her right," he said finally. "All these years of abuse and mockery. I think I should burn what's left of it."
Kreacher snarled at him, gathering up the splintered pieces of his mistress' last memory. "Vile bloodtraitor scum. The shame of the Black family, a disappointment to all."
"I think it's about time you accept who you serve now, Kreacher," Sirius' expression was decidedly haughty as he looked down his nose at the trembling house-elf. "Don't think I haven't pieced it together what you got up to the night Maya died."
Kreacher froze in his tracks. Ankaa blinked, momentarily stunned, before looking from the house-elf to her father.
"What do you mean? What happened?"
"He lied to me about Sirius not being at home," Potter glared at the house-elf in question.
"He lies all the time."
"No," Potter turned to Ankaa then, "this was different. The night Mr. Weasley got attacked, and Sirius told Kreacher to leave, he left Grimmauld Place altogether. You went to the Malfoy's, didn't you Kreacher? That's how Voldemort knew to use Sirius to bait me into coming to the Ministry. You must have told them about our relationship."
Kreacher's silence was damning evidence.
"That's why you lied when I asked if Sirius was home that day," Potter continued, glaring down at the house-elf with undisguised rage. "You know it was a lie to bait me out of hiding."
Ankaa wished she could say the news was surprising, but knowing how Kreacher truly hated Sirius and all those residing at Grimmauld Place, it was not at all shocking to her that he had betrayed them.
"You are never to leave this house again, Kreacher," Sirius spoke with finality. "Not unless I say so, and you are accompanied by someone of my choosing."
Kreacher remained still for a few seconds, head hunched over, clutching the canvas of the ruined portrait before he turned his head and shot a look of pure loathing at Sirius and disappeared with a loud pop.
Sirius shared a small smile with Potter before waving his wand and clearing the floor of all debris, turning to the empty spot on the wall with glee. On another day, Ankaa might have remarked at the morbidity of it, to stand there smiling and chuckling about destroying the last memory of a family member, but Ankaa knew Sirius would not appreciate that. He never considered Walburga his family, anyway.
"I need to go to Diagon Alley."
Sirius turned back to her. "Shopping for school? There's still time left."
"No. I'm going to see Fred and George."
Sirius could barely control the frown on his face. It was small, but it was there. "You spend a lot of time with those two. What about your other friends?"
Ankaa shot a look of loathing towards Potter, who was pretending to be entirely immersed in examining the surrounding portraits, squinting at them and noting their details, but every so often his eyes would shift towards the father-daughter duo.
"Which ones? The ones that hate me for being your daughter or the ones whose fathers landed in prison because of your godson? The list is extensive."
"Dial back on the sass with me," Sirius gave her a mere quirk of the brow in retaliation. "What about the Holloway girl? I thought she was going to spend the summer with you."
"Family issues."
"Is that so?" Sirius hummed, staring at his daughter intently. "I don't quite believe that for some reason."
Ankaa's eye twitched in irritation. "Yes, well, that's how it is. If there's nothing else, I'll be heading out now." She spun on her heel quickly, but before she could march away, Sirius reached forward and gripped her shoulder.
"Not so fast! Take Harry with you!"
"Eh?" Potter seemed just as taken aback as Ankaa. "Sirius—"
"It's alright, Harry!" Sirius clapped his godson on the back, giving him and Ankaa a jovial smile. "Why don't you head out and have dinner with the Weasleys? I've got to run some errands for Dumbledore anyway, and no, you can't come along."
Hence, Ankaa found herself parading through Diagon Alley, trying to find some way to get rid of Harry Potter. Neither of them was too fond of the other's presence at the moment, but Ankaa could tell he was itching to say something. Lo and behold, the boy finally had his chance when the duo stepped into Flourish and Blotts.
"How long are you going to be mad at me?"
"As long as my mother's dead."
From the corner of her eye, Ankaa saw Potter flinch. Good, she thought, he deserves it. She continued perusing through the selection of books, not picking anything in particular lest the Gryffindor boy was paying attention and trying to discern what she was researching about.
"You don't have to keep telling me it's my fault. I already know."
"Then why do you keep trying to talk to me? Are you hoping you'll change my mind?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I told you I hadn't seen anything of Sirius being in trouble. You chose to ignore it and go racing off to the Ministry by yourself to save him. Even if Sirius had been in trouble, Potter, do you really think you and your moronic group of friends could have taken on the Dark Lord?"
"That's what we had been training for!" Someone shushed him from behind a shelf, and Potter gave one subtle look around before glaring at Ankaa and quieting down. "Dumbledore's Army had been preparing for it all year. And Sirius is the only family I've got, you can't expect me not to act if he's in trouble."
"Well, he wasn't in trouble and now thanks to your actions, Sirius is the only family I've got left as well. Happy now?" The anger inside of her had solidified and turned to a deep bitterness that was all-encompassing and much more dangerous. "How many more people have to die for you to understand that you aren't as invincible as you like to think? Just because you and the DA practiced a few times over the year doesn't mean you're ready to face Dark Wizards. What would you have done if it had been one of your friends that night? Neville? Fred? George? Ginny?"
He didn't answer. Ankaa knew he couldn't. Whatever his motivation was, Harry Potter was a moron who ambled into trouble face-first and his worst trait was that he didn't do it alone. Somehow, this idiot managed to drag everyone around him into his messes with him, and that was the worst part because no matter how prepared you were about it all, being around Potter meant that you were going to lose your life in the fray regardless.
"You two are being quite disruptive, you know?"
Ankaa turned at the familiar voice, spotting the Ravenclaw witch. Zara Holloway stood at the end of the shelf sporting a large bouquet of flowers in her hands, giving the two a blank look.
"I could hear you two from the other end of the store. You're lucky it's mostly empty these days."
Holloway gave Ankaa a passing look, before nodding in acknowledgement at Potter. "How are you, Harry?"
Potter gave a pointed glance at Ankaa. Something passed between him and Holloway and the two shared a secretive look. With her irritation flaring up, Ankaa shoved the book in her hands back into the shelf much more roughly than necessary before turning to leave.
"Use the floo at the Leaky Cauldron to get back, Potter. I'm leaving."
"Actually, wait!" Holloway called quickly. "Their Floo network is under repair, something about some damage during a drunken duel… That's why I'm here actually. There's somewhere I need to be, but since I can't Floo out of Diagon Alley and I'm underage and can't Apparate… I was wondering if you might help."
"No."
"Don't be so heartless," Potter spoke up. "Is there no other way to Floo out of Diagon Alley? Have you asked Fred and George if you could use their fireplace?"
"The whole of Diagon Alley needs repair right now. More than half the shops are boarded up and the ones that are open have had their Floo networks used so extensively that they need repair."
"What do you mean?"
"There's been a few instances of vandalism… by Death Eaters. It seems they've been frequenting Diagon Alley and collecting anyone who they suspect might be against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Holloway glanced at Ankaa. "I really need to get somewhere."
If Ankaa had been annoyed at Potter's presence, she was absolutely exasperated at the addition of Holloway to their happy troupe. Holloway had asked to be Apparated to a little square a few kilometres from her home. She had turned and bid Ankaa a graceful thank-you, but Potter had insisted that they wait until she finishes so that they may drop her home.
Holloway smiled at Potter before turning to Ankaa, acknowledging that she was the one making these decisions after all. Ankaa merely gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes before nodding.
"We'll drop you home."
Holloway gave a bright smile before nodding. "If you want, you can accompany me."
Had Ankaa known Holloway was leading them to a graveyard, she might have reconsidered. The looming iron gates at the cemetery brought back an unpleasant onslaught of memories for every single person in the trio. Holloway lead the way through the rows of tombstones, finally stopped by one a few feet from the shade of a nearby tree.
Ankaa and Potter stood back by the tree, giving Zara some privacy as she lay the flowers by the tombstone.
"Do you know who that is?"
"Her sister, Jasmine," answered Ankaa. "I don't know much other than the fact that Jasmine passed away before Holloway was going to begin her second year. Something sudden, I think."
Potter nodded and the two stood in silence until Holloway returned.
"Thanks," she smiled widely. "It really means a lot that you helped. I would've come here straight from home but Jazzy really used to like the Cauldron Cakes so I bring her one every time I visit."
Ankaa cleared her throat. "It's nothing."
"It's not. It means a lot to me that you helped—both of you—when you could have just as easily said no." Zara gave them a pleasant smile. "I don't think my mom will let you both leave without a cup of tea, at the very least."
The three of them linked hands and Ankaa and Potter glanced at one another over their clasped hands before Ankaa turned on the spot and Disapparated to the alley by Holloway's house. The trio unlinked their hands before following Zara out of the alley and towards her house. The Ravenclaw girl expertly unlocked the door and ushered the others in.
"Mom! We have company!"
The thought of seeing Cassidy Holloway after Ankaa had all but cast her daughter out of Grimmauld Place crossed her mind, and she wondered if the warm welcome she had been privy to last time would melt away. Mrs. Holloway would no doubt be the slightest bit angry at Ankaa depositing her daughter home after promising to have her stay the entire summer, but that was not the case.
Mrs. Holloway, now dressed in comfortable loungewear, ambled out of the living room with a cozy blanket draped over her shoulders and a book in her hands. Upon spotting Ankaa, her curious look morphed into a wide smile, and she surged forward and wrapped the girl in a hug every bit as warm as the first time they had met.
"Oh, it's so good to see you again Ankaa! I'm so glad you could drop by!" She stepped back but kept her hands on Ankaa's shoulders. "Zara told me you had some urgent family business come up, I hope everything is alright?"
"Uh," Ankaa glanced quickly to Zara, who stood behind her mother and nodded. "Yes, it's all okay now, Mrs. Holloway. Thank you."
"That's wonderful! Please, please both of you come on in!"
"Mum this is Harry Potter. We're all in the same year."
Potter received the same warm welcome Ankaa had received, and he seemed to handle it much better than she did. Ankaa supposed it must have been the years he had spent with Mrs. Weasley around, he had learned how to handle motherly affection much better than she had.
Potter got along rather well with Mrs. Holloway. The two ambled on into the living room together, talking about school and other Muggle things (something about a show the both of them had been watching), while Ankaa and Zara lingered back. Ankaa heard the indistinct conversation in the living room, hearing Mrs. Holloway's light laughter and Potter's chuckles, before turning back to Zara.
"He must like that there's at least one person who doesn't care for his status," Zara commented quietly. "Must be nice to not be Harry Potter once in a while and just be Harry."
I suppose, Ankaa answered in her mind. "But how long can he avoid being Harry Potter?"
"As long as he is able to. He's a kid too, after all." Zara called to her mother next, telling her that she and Ankaa would be in the kitchen making some tea for everyone. Ankaa followed after the girl, noting that not much had changed since her last visit. There was, however, one single candle placed under the picture of her sister, Jasmine, upon the table in the hallway.
"Mom does it every year on the anniversary of Jazzy's passing," the Ravenclaw girl idly explained as they ventured past the setup and into the kitchen. "She says it's a way to show Jazzy they still think about her, and that wherever she is now, the light will guide the way."
"Do you believe in that?"
Zara shrugged, reaching under the cabinets to pull out a kettle before filling it up and setting it on the stove. "It's hard to believe anything other than the fact that she's not around anymore. But I can see how it comforts my mother to do little things like that."
"Is that why you take flowers to her grave every year?"
"It used to be. Now it's more habit than anything else. If I'm ever upset or sad or just need someone to talk to, I find myself there." She leaned on the island, placing her elbows upon the marble top and placing her head on her hands. "Though I think it's mostly out of guilt than anything else."
Ankaa did not say anything as she sat on the barstool. Zara reached down and deposited a tray onto the island, neatly setting up an array of biscuits, scones, and teacups.
"I lost my sister to suicide five years ago now," Zara elaborated softly, her eyes staying put on the flickering fire at the stove. "She had been in the car with our aunt—my mom's sister—when they argued about something or the other. Jazzy and my aunt were really close, she basically helped raise her when my mom would be busy with work. So I guess they argued, and Jazzy left the car at an intersection in a fit of rage. My aunt must have tried to follow behind her when a truck ran the red light and hit her head-on. She died on impact."
"Your sister blamed herself for that?"
Zara nodded. "We're half-sisters, you see. My mom had gotten pregnant with Jasmine before she finished school, and her parents hadn't been too happy at knowing her ex-boyfriend wouldn't assume responsibility for it. My grandparents threw my mother out of the house and cut her off completely… if it wasn't for my aunt, I'm not sure what would've happened.
My aunt took my mother in. She helped with everything… The doctor's appointments, the late-night diaper changes, the trips to the grocery store, watching Jazzy at night if she was sick, babysitting while my mom was off working. She really was like Jazzy's mother. Thinking that she must have been the reason for my aunt's death… It really took a toll on Jazzy.
She didn't tell anyone about it, but for all those months before she took her own life, she blamed herself entirely for being the reason our aunt was gone. More than anything, she was guilty for all the things she said to her right before it all happened, and the fact that she had taken away the only family her mother had. Of course, we never thought of it like that, but by the time we realized—"
The whistle of the kettle rang sharply through the air and startled the girls. Zara reached over quickly and turned off the gas, expertly pouring the water into the teapot. Ankaa sat still, watching the steam rise from the top before reaching for the cover.
"I'm so sorry about what happened to your sister, Zara." Ankaa's voice was quiet and meek, nothing like what she had sounded a few hours earlier, but the situation entirely called for it.
"Thanks," Zara smiled genuinely. "It's better now—talking about it and all, but back then it really felt like the end of the world."
Ankaa only nodded. She wanted to say she understood Zara's loss, having lost her own brother to such unfortunate circumstances, but a part of her mind told her it really wasn't the same.
"For a while, I really wondered how Jazzy could have left us all like that. How could she have chosen to end her own life when she knew we were all there for her? Back then, when I was so naïve, it felt all too selfish to me, and I hated her for it. But now… I think I understand. The pain was all too much for her, and she just wanted it to end." Zara deftly wiped away a traitorous tear before turning back to face Ankaa. "You know, I wonder a lot what I could've done differently. I think we all do—me, mum, and dad. Maybe there's something we could have done, something we could have said to make her think differently, to let her know that she wasn't at fault for anything. But then I think about it… and I don't think we ever did that. I don't think any of us ever told her that she not the one at fault, we just assumed she knew it was an unfortunate accident. There was no way she could've known it would lead to that… A teenager throwing a tantrum is such a common occurrence."
There was something between the lines, something Zara wanted to say given the pointed look she was giving Ankaa, but the Slytherin girl did not comment on it.
"We take so much for granted sometimes. We assume the people we love know exactly what we're thinking when we're thinking it. But sometimes things need to be said aloud, just to make sure we're on the same page."
"Do you think if you had told your sister that she wasn't the one at fault—" because honestly, Ankaa believed Jasmine Holloway to be completely innocent— "she would still be alive today?"
"I can never be sure about that. After all, there's nothing I can do to bring her back. But I will tell you one thing; when it comes to my sister, one of my regrets in life is leaving so many things unsaid, hoping that she just magically knew what I thought of her the entire time." Zara reached for the tray, gently lifting it and holding it completely steady. The scent of earl grey tea wafted over the duo. "But let me ask you this—do you think you take Harry Potter for granted?"
Of course not, the words almost slipped out of her, but Ankaa held them back. The insinuation in Zara's statement made her bristle, but she answered. "I make my opinion of Potter completely clear."
"Do you think he's to blame for all this? Much in the same way Jasmine was?"
"Your sister was innocent. It was the truck driver's fault for running the light. Your family was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Zara only gave the Slytherin girl a look. Ankaa knew what the Ravenclaw was thinking that Jasmine and Harry's situations weren't entirely unfamiliar.
"Potter knows how valuable he is in this war. How many more people have to die for him to understand that he can't just go off running towards trouble and expect everything to be alright."
"He's not entirely blameless, I'll grant you that. But he's just a child too. You must understand for him the mere thought of losing his godfather clouded his reasoning. He made a mistake… Don't you think he blames himself for all of it too? Not just for Maya but for Ceph as well?"
I know he does, Ankaa thought. He had made it perfectly clear when Ankaa had visited him in the Hospital Wing after losing her brother. She knew he would never let himself live it down now, thinking that he had been the cause of Maya's death as well.
"The only person to blame for your brother's death is Voldemort. The only person to blame for your mother's death is Alice. They cast the killing curse, and the blood is on their hands. Not yours and definitely not Harry's. The sooner you understand that the better because we've got bigger problems than fighting amongst ourselves." The Ravenclaw girl gave one more look towards her friend before turning and walking out of the kitchen. "Now come on, the tea will get cold."
Tea with the Holloways was a complete blur to the Slytherin girl. She remembered responding to some questions, but most of the conversation was carried by Potter, who gave Ankaa some looks of concern. Before she knew it, an hour or so had passed, and she and Potter stood by the front door once more bidding the Holloways goodbye. There was some talk of returning in a few days to get Zara so she could spend the rest of the summer at Grimmauld (something Zara didn't remember agreeing to, but she knew Potter had approved of it nonetheless, and she didn't have a problem with having Holloway around anymore) before the duo turned to leave the house.
The walk back was mostly silent. If Potter caught onto the fact that Ankaa was leading him the long way around, he certainly didn't comment on it. Instead, he walked alongside her dutifully, watching the people around the streets with a certain curiosity. It was only when the crowd thinned out and it was the two of them that Potter spoke up.
"That was nice of you," he said. "Bringing Holloway to see her sister. Her mother told me what happened. Did you know?"
"Only just found out."
"Is that why you're so quiet?"
"Do you have a problem with me being quiet now?" Ankaa snarked. "I would've thought you appreciated the silence."
"Not where you're concerned. If it's you, silence is dangerous."
There was silence once more. Ankaa decidedly ignored him for a few more minutes, battling her own mind on what she was about to say. Finally, when she turned to him and saw the unabashed look of concern on his face, she sighed.
"Zara might have suggested that I cease my hostility against you." Ankaa cringed at how formal she sounded. Potter did not need to know she had been rehearsing this exact conversation since they had left the Holloway residence nearly twenty minutes ago.
The boy beside her gave a surprised exhale. They walked a few paces in reflective silence and then he asked, "Did it work?"
"It might have helped me see things differently," admitted Ankaa. "I think I blamed you because you were the easiest choice. You knew how valuable you are and you still went to the Ministry. But I think if I were to do that, I'd have to blame everyone involved. My mother for not telling me of her plan. Sirius for not protecting my mother. Me for not telling you of my visions. Alice for casting the curse. And most importantly Voldemort, for starting this war. The list would be quite exhaustive, don't you think?"
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ankaa interrupted him with a quick wave of her hand.
"You're not entirely blameless, of course. But neither am I. At the end of the day no matter how much I want to admit it, Holloway is right. We can't win if we keep fighting amongst ourselves."
"I didn't think you'd ever admit the day you were wrong."
"I'm not wrong, Holloway just happens to be more right than I was," came the reflexive response. Ankaa rounded on him then, glaring fiercely. "Merlin, out of everything I just said, that's the part you want to comment on?"
"No, sorry," Harry scratched the side of his temple awkwardly, eyes snapping left to right, trying to avoid the Slytherin girl's intense stare. "I panicked."
Ankaa glared severely.
"Sorry!" Harry held up his hands in surrender. "I just never thought you'd forgive me. If I were in your place, I certainly wouldn't have. Losing your family like that, I can't even imagine what you must be going through."
"You lost both your parents."
"Well, yes, but I was too young wasn't I? Barely able to walk… or so I've been told. I don't even remember them properly."
"… Did you think of Maya as your mother, Potter?" Harry looked to her, and Ankaa noted some unidentified feeling pass behind his eyes. "You must have if you consider Sirius your family."
"I do—did. I know it must be odd for you to think about that."
Ankaa exhaled as if she had finally freed herself of a great burden. "Not entirely," she answered. "I know my mother loved you a lot. At first, it was odd. Ceph and I always found it odd how she would ask about you in our earlier years at Hogwarts. It must have been heartbreaking for her not to be able to come to get you. Sometimes I wonder why she didn't."
"She must have known that Voldemort would come back," answered Harry confidently. "Staying hidden and feeding insider information to Dumbledore about the remaining Death Eaters was much more important. I understand that."
"Do you? Even knowing you could have had a much more different upbringing than living with the Dursleys? I was only there for a few hours last year but they really were the worst."
Harry gave a short laugh. "They really are."
Ankaa and Harry shared a smile. "It would've been really odd to grow up with you, I think. I probably would've tried to stab you."
"I think I was a delightful child, actually." The boy gave her a side-long glance. "At least, that's what Maya said. She said she had visited once with Ceph and you. They had just been about to come out of hiding… and she was waiting to openly declare her marriage to Sirius before… well you know. But yes… We'd met before as children."
"Do you think we got on?"
"Absolutely not," he snorted. "Apparently, you tried to pull my hair out from the roots, and I must've thrown about a few punches here and there. I guess Ceph was the only well-behaved child then."
"Well, he was older. Experience makes us wise."
"He wasn't that old," laughed Harry.
The two walked in companionable silence. Once they spotted an empty alley, Ankaa apparated them back to the gardens across from Grimmauld Place. The air between them was not as heavy. There was a lot left to be discussed, the two of them knew that, but at least they did not want to kill one another anymore. Just before Harry reached for the handle, Ankaa took a hold of his sleeve.
"Listen, Potter," she began uncertainly. "Thank you for everything you've done for Sirius and my mother. I know it must've been very hard for them after they lost Ceph… but having you probably made it a bit easier. I deal with grief the best way I know how and after losing Ceph that meant dealing with it all myself. It didn't even occur to me that my parents had lost a child."
"I didn't—"
"I know you didn't do anything. But sometimes I think being there is enough." She let go of his sleeve, shifting from left to right under his direct gaze. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… sorry."
"What was that? OW!" Harry jumped back, clutching his shoulder at the punch Ankaa had delivered.
"I know you heard me perfectly well, Potter, I'm not going to repeat myself." Ankaa gave a haughty flip of her hair before throwing open the door and stepping inside. Behind her, Harry rubbed his throbbing arm before smiling at her back and stepping into Grimmauld Place. He gave a fond shake of his head before closing the front door, finally glad that things between him and Ankaa had settled.
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Ankaa waved her wand and turned off the light at the very tip. She had stayed up late once more, perusing her mother's books and practicing her suggested methods of working with the Inner Eye. What had followed were a series of images flickering behind her eyelids instead of the coherent ones she had become used to with Mopsus' Potions. The more she tried to grasp the images, the faster they slipped away until all she could remember was the dull throbbing in her temple.
She ventured into the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea as she placed her head on the cool wood. There were the sounds of shuffling as the door to the basement opened and Kreacher made his way into the kitchen, grumbling and mumbling about something.
"Good evening, Kreacher."
The house-elf looked up at her, scowling fiercely. He ignored her as he deposited a few silver goblets onto the table.
"I see you're in a good mood."
Kreacher paid her absolutely no mind. His grumbling and complaining were quiet as he stooped low and cleaned the dust from the table, pointedly ignoring Ankaa's presence. Though it had not even been a day since Sirius had effectively grounded Kreacher, the house-elf's mood was bitter and sour beyond measure. He had been giving them all hateful and spiteful remarks throughout the evening, even going so far as to purposely burn the food and misplace their things (Sirius had been none too happy when he could not find his wand for the better part of an hour, before he had commanded Kreacher to return it, only to have said house-elf fling it at his face with all his might).
At first, it was amusing, but now it was sad.
"Sorry about the portrait, Kreacher," Ankaa said quietly, swirling her mug and watching the tea leaves circle the bottom. "I know you weren't too happy about it."
Kreacher said nothing, but the fact that he wasn't grumbling in her direction was affirmative.
"I suppose you kept the pieces of the frame that had fallen apart." Kreacher narrowed his eyes at her. "It's alright, I won't ask for it back. You can keep them." The house-elf continued glaring. There was silence around them as Ankaa continued swirling her mug haphazardly. "I wonder… Did you keep memorabilia from everyone? Even Sirius' father?"
Kreacher paused momentarily, hesitating in his response before biting out a bitter, "No."
"So Walburga must have been special to you."
Another pregnant pause as Kreacher considered his response. Finally, he turned his head ever so slightly in Ankaa's direction, his eyes glaring at the space beside her, before he responded, "Misstress was kind to Kreacher."
I can't even imagine that. "Well, you're certainly entitled to keep her things then. I know Sirius would just toss them out."
Kreacher did not say anything. No words of gratitude escaped him, but neither did sentiments of bitterness, and that was a start. For a few minutes, Ankaa sat back and watched him work, thinking how lonely it must have been for him all these years that Sirius had been in Azkaban.
"Was Walburga the only company you had around the house all these years, Kreacher?"
The house-elf stilled. "The other portraits do not talk to Kreacher. Misstress was most kind."
Ankaa knew house-elves were notoriously loyal to their masters. As much as Sirius wished otherwise, Kreacher would continue to serve the House of Black, but his allegiances would always remain towards Walburga Black, the one who had been with him all these years, the only source of company he had while trapped in this house.
"Kreacher… Would you like to go outside with me? Before Sirius has you on semi-permanent house arrest I mean." Kreacher's head snapped to her so fast, Ankaa was worried it would fly off his shoulders. At his suspicious look, she elaborated. "If there's anywhere you like to go to get away—that is, not to Bellatrix Lestrange, mind you—I can take you. I'll convince Sirius, don't worry."
"Is the blood traitor not concerned that Kreacher might lead her into a trap?"
"I don't think you could be that cruel. After all, I am offering to help you. From what you said, it seems not many have been kind to you… I'm just trying to help."
Kreacher blinked at her, thinking it over. He remained deep in thought for a few moments, his gaze never wavering from the wooden table before finally, his eyes snapped to her and he nodded.
"Kreacher has someplace he wishes to go."
"Wonderful!" Ankaa stood quickly. "Wait here and I'll go convince Sirius."
Turns out, convincing Sirius was entirely out of the question. By the time Ankaa had raced to the top of the stairs and placed her hand on the handle to his room, she knew Sirius would never let her leave Grimmauld with Kreacher.
"You are never to leave this house again, Kreacher." Sirius' command rang in her head. "Not unless I say so, and you are accompanied by someone of my choosing."
Ah, the lifelong trouble with commands. There was always some way around them.
As quietly as she could, Ankaa opened the door to her father's room and tiptoed inside. Sirius was blissfully asleep, no doubt the after-effects of a sleeping draught (Maya had once mentioned he could not sleep all that well since returning from Azkaban).
In a whisper barely above the sound of her father's snoring, Ankaa asked, "Hey, Sirius, I was just wondering if you would be alright with me taking Kreacher out of the house for a bit?"
Sirius moved in his sleep, his snores disrupting for a moment before Ankaa poked him lightly. "Yes?"
"Yes?" Sirius mumbled half asleep, blearily blinking his eyes open. "Yes, yes, sure, whatever you want."
Ankaa smiled. "Thanks, Sirius."
The man blinked up at her once more. "Whazzhappenin?"
Ankaa huffed, acting annoyed that she had to repeat herself. "I was just asking if I could remove some of the portraits in the dining room."
"Wha? Oh, yes, yes, whatever you want, darling." Sirius waved her away, already falling back into a deep sleep.
Ankaa grabbed her wand and jacket, fumbling downstairs. Kreacher was already waiting for her at the bottom of the steps, looking at her inquisitively once she came to a stop before him.
"So, I've left Harry a note. If you try to lead me into trouble, he'll know." Ankaa informed the house-elf jovially, and he only gave her an impassive look. "So, where to?"
Kreacher and Ankaa apparated to the edge of a cliff. Kreacher immediately let go of Ankaa's hand and ambled forward. Ankaa watched him walk towards the edge of the cliff, noting the scenery before him. They were at the edge of a lake, standing on the edge of a looming cliff that overlooked the crashing waves below. Despite the calm of the night, the waves were steady and powerful as they beat against the side of the cliff.
The house-elf paid it no mind, however, and walked forward purposefully towards the pile of rocks at the very edge. Ankaa followed after him, quietly surveying the sight as Kreacher kneeled before the rocks. They were a few stones outlining the centrepiece, a flat stone buried into the ground, standing tall above all others.
It was a tombstone.
There was no inscription on the surface. No indication of who had been lost, and who was trying to be remembered. But Kreacher seemed to treat it as a proper gravesite nonetheless. He deposited a few rocks at the base of the makeshift tombstone and wiped away some of the grime that had begun to build on it.
He stayed in that position, hunched over and on his knees with his head bowed, for quite some time. Ankaa stood behind him, looking on at the scene with a certain sadness, trying to drown out the sound of Kreacher's hushed whispers with the violent crashing waves below. But when his shoulders began to tremble and he simply could not hide it, Ankaa stepped forward and kneeled by the house-elf's side.
Ankaa pretended not to see him wipe at his eyes quickly, using the raggedy old clothes he had on to wipe away any evidence of his pain and instead pointed her wand at the tombstone. With a silent motion of her wand, a wreath of flowers formed at the base of the tombstone. To Ankaa, it felt like an infinitesimal gesture, something that could not compare to what Kreacher must have been feeling, but she noted that the house-elf seemed to appreciate it in his own way, seeing as he did not immediately reach for it and throw it away.
Instead, Kreacher stared at the flowers for a moment before turning to the Slytherin girl.
"Walburga wasn't the only one that was kind to you, was she?"
Kreacher did not answer, but he didn't have to. His silence spoke volumes. Whose grave they were at, Ankaa did not know, and she doubted Kreacher would ever tell her, but whoever it was had been kind to the elf, and that was enough for her. So she stood and dusted off her pyjamas, telling Kreacher to take all the time he wanted, and she would wait for him.
When the sun finally began to rise over the horizon, and the warm rays of orange touched upon the tombstone, Kreacher stood up. He gave one final look to the tombstone before turning and making his way back to Ankaa.
"Ready to go back?"
Kreacher did not answer but held his hand out to her in response. Ankaa gave one last glance to the unmarked tombstone behind him, watching the sunrise behind it, as she gripped the house-elf's hand and brought him back to Grimmauld.
Kreacher did not speak to her after that, but Ankaa noticed he did not seem to resent her presence all that much anymore.
Notes:
We finally get a little backstory into Zara's life and a little motivation as to why she might want to help Malfoy (or at least form a special connection with him). There's a lot in here that is going to become relevant later (as with every. chapter I write, apparently), but I do hope you were able to enjoy it. Especially after the hiatus I took.
No Fred here, but we'll see more of him, don't worry. We must also build relationships with other characters, after all.
Thank you very much for all your reviews and kind PMs. It really means a lot to me that you love what I write (I'm practicing for my own novel), and I really want to do Ankaa's story justice.
Also, this chapter hasn't been properly edited just yet!
Reviews:
Marnie Quiera: Angry Ankaa is the best to write, but unfortunately she seems to be growing up a bit and trying to face her demons. I don't doubt she'll make another appearance though. Thank you for your review!
CreackHeadBlonde: Poor Fred and Ankaa can never catch a break. We'll see more about them in the next chapter though, so that's something to look forward to I bet! Thank you for your review, I really hope you like this chapter!
19irene96: I agree! Sirius flip-flopping between Harry and Ankaa is quite annoying, but I think he's looking at it more in a James vs Ankaa sort of way. It makes him a very interesting character to write, but I feel bad for poor Ankaa. Also LOL Harry's really testing Ankaa out here, but she gives it as good as she can take it, so I guess there's that. As for poor Henry... well, we'll just have to wait and see :) Thanks for your review! LET ME KNOW WHAT THEORIES YOU HAVE ABOUT THIS CHAPTER!
Raven that flies at night: Ah, I'm sure you had to re-read some of the story again. I'm sorry about the late updates! Honestly, Ankaa and Fred talking it out was a major adult-relationship mood ahaha. Who knew she could be so mature? Sirius boi has had a lot to deal with, man's just needs a glass of alcohol and a long day at the spa at this point. Hopefully, you're a little more sympathetic of Zara now! It's really weird to finally get to her story because a lot of people have pointed our her tendency to want to save people (that sometimes can go awry), but yeah, that's my girl. I hope you liked the chapter! I'll be waiting for your reviews and potential theories ;)
Toastiestmouse: Thank you! I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for the new update, but hopefully, it was worth it. The next update won't be a long wait, I assure you.
BooYa7: I AM SORRY! HENRY WAS JUST... well, let's wait and see. Also please your little reviews cheer me up so much I look forward to them so much please give me another one ahaha. Thank you so much for reading, and hopefully you liked this chapter too! I'll be waiting for your review!
himbosupremacist: Actually, Harry does still have feelings for Ankaa. I think he's been trying to hide them knowing there's something between Fred and Ankaa, plus given everything they went through and their current dynamic he's just keeping his distance. But the dynamic between Ankaa and Harry is really great, and I think if things had been different, they might have even been a good couple. Let's just see how it unfolds-though I don't doubt there's some lingering feelings there. Given their shared trauma, they certainly have a lot to bond over this year. So let's see! Thanks for your review! I hope you like this chapter!
Nina3KPop: I'm sure by now you've caught up, and I'm so sorry for the late update! Hopefully this chapter makes up for it! Thank you for your review!
eunoiaamora: I gotchu boo, there's controlled cringe here lol. Also good on you for recognizing that little detail. I may or may not have been foreshadowing something... soooooooo ;) Oh and also so sorry to make you cry ahahah I'm sure there'll be lots more tears but still. Thanks for your review! I want to see what you thought of this chapter so make sure you review!
Also, thank you to everyone who favourited and followed! It means a lot to me whenever I get the email I really hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
- E
P.S: Updates every Wednesday. I've got the entire story written already :)