In answer to someone's query, the reason I didn't just have Dumbledore put a memory charm on Lucius Malfoy was because it would have mucked up my plotline. So there.
It was five minutes past midnight when Harry, Andromeda, Ron and Hermione assembled in the common room. Everyone else had gone to bed. Harry, breathing shallowly, was feeling a lot better after finally turning to Andromeda, but there was still a long way to go. Guilt bore down on him like a persistent headache. Sometimes he thought it had gone away, but it only took a second of remembering why it should be there and it returned, throbbing away in his brain. He had to tell his friends about it. Only they could help him.
'It was Lucius Malfoy who told Voldemort, I know it,' said Harry. 'I don't know how else anyone could have known.'
'But surely they suspected someone,' said Hermione. 'I mean, Malfoy was in Azkaban. He couldn't have sent an owl or anything. Someone must have visited him, someone must have known that he knew something. It's just too big a coincidence.'
'It's still my fault he got found out,' said Harry tiredly. 'If I hadn't blurted it out in front of Malfoy they wouldn't have known who it was. Snape would still be alive.'
'They would have found him out eventually anyway,' Ron put in fiercely. 'It was a very dangerous job, you know… spying on You-Know-Who.'
'But I still can't stop thinking about it!' Harry stood up, unable to put quite what he felt into words. He sat down again. 'It's always there… what might have happened to him. What Voldemort might have done… before he killed him.'
They were silent. Andromeda put her arms around him again. Somehow that was the most comfort he could get right then.
Andromeda received a letter the next morning. It was quite unexpected and mysterious.
Dear Andromeda,,
You will not know who I am. I have been watching you, observing you for many years, biding my time. You see, you are my nephew… but your father believed me to be dead.
The Green family lost me when I was five years old, in circumstances I will not divulge here. I was taken in by another wizarding family, but I always thought of you, I knew that one day I would find you.
It is important that you do not speak of me to your parents. They must not know yet. Much is at stake.
I never went back to that family. The couple who adopted me never knew who I was. I only knew through hazy memories, and a voice I recalled dimly, calling the names of my brother and I. So Andromeda, I would like to see you, to know you truly after years of knowing no one who shared my blood. Will you meet with me?
Send this owl back with your reply. She will know where I am.
Andromeda looked around at the Slytherin table dully. Surely it wasn't true? Surely… after all these years of thinking everyone on her father's side was gone… she couldn't have an uncle? She remembered, dimly, her father talking about a brother he'd had, but he hadn't really known him and for Emelus Green, his brother's death had brought no grief. He barely even remembered him. Emelus had been only two when his brother had died.
She did not send her reply straight away, causing the creamy barn owl to follow her around the castle, hooting in an annoyed fashion. The owl disrupted her lessons slightly, and she was careful to be very polite to Professor McGonagall – she was still angry about Harry's behaviour last week, and the owl's incessant hooting didn't help.
After lessons had finished she sat down with Harry, Hermione and Ron to talk it over. Harry and Ron thought that she should say yes – they were all extremely curious. But Hermione was not so sure. 'He could be dangerous,' she said, 'and anyway, how do you know it's not You-Know-Who, trying to trap you or Harry?'
'Voldemort?' Harry looked frightened for a second, then steeled himself again. 'It couldn't be him.'
'And why not?'
'Well… it just doesn't sound like him.'
'Oh, it doesn't sound like him! That's all right then!' Hermione looked furious.
'You lot can come with me. We can sneak a look at him before he sees me. We'll know if it's someone to be trusted or not.' And with that, Andromeda wrote a flourishing 'yes' on a sliver of parchment and sent it off with the barn owl, who shook her head with a remarkably human exasperation.
It was late. Ron, after finishing a particularly demanding piece of Transfiguration theory, realised that Fred and George were still sitting in a corner of the room. 'Night,' he said lightly, but was immediately seized by Fred and pulled over to where the twins were sitting.
'What's going on with you and Hermione?' Fred demanded.
'WHAT? Who told you… nothing,' Ron said, flabbergasted.
'Don't sound too sure to me,' snickered George.
'Seriously. Did you get our secret admirer letters at Christmas?'
'So it was you.' Ron frowned. 'What possessed you to do that?'
'That's not the point,' George dismissed it. 'You've never ignored one of our jokes before. Are you two – you know, going out?'
'Of course we aren't.' Ron was annoyed. 'We only ignored it because we didn't want to give you the satisfaction.'
'Are you sure?' Fred looked sceptical. 'We've been wondering for ages. That can't be it.'
'Yeah, Ron. You and Hermione are perfect for each other.'
'We are not!' Ron's vehemence surprised even him. 'How many times do I have to tell you? There is nothing going on with me and Hermione.'
'Oh, wake up, Ron!' Fred was very impatient. 'It's so obvious…'
'I do not fancy Hermione. She does not fancy me. She was going out with Viktor Krum, anyway, and who'd want me if they had him?'
'Well, you suddenly look very downcast for someone who doesn't even care.'
'Oh, shut up.'
'If you say so.'
Ron stormed off to bed. They were wrong, of course. Him and Hermione were complete opposites. They'd be an absolute nightmare together! Wouldn't they?
The reply from Andromeda's uncle arrived the next morning, which suggested to Andromeda that he couldn't be living far from Hogwarts. The letter read:
Dear Andromeda,
I am glad you have decided to put some trust in me. I will not let you down. But first I would like to know something about yourself. Tell me what you look like, what things you enjoy. Tell me about Hogwarts, about your friends, the lessons you like and dislike. Tell me about your teachers. Tell me about the Muggles you live with. Tell me about the Triwizard Tournament, if it is not still too painful to recall.
I look forward to hearing from you. Take as long as you need; just tell me about yourself. We have many years to make up.
Your uncle.
'Why doesn't he give his name?' wondered Andromeda.
'Maybe he's a Death Eater and he knows you'll know his name,' said Hermione darkly. Ron waved a hand impatiently at her.
'Hermione, cheer up! There isn't a servant of Voldemort lurking around every corner, you know.'
Andromeda didn't really know how to live up to her uncle's expectations. 'What have I ever done? Absolutely nothing.'
But Harry was in turmoil. 'I'm glad no one's writing to me. "A while ago I told a mad Death Eater that one of my teachers was spying on Voldemort, and got an innocent man killed." That wouldn't exactly make me sound an ideal nephew.' His friends didn't quite know what to say. Though Harry had become less withdrawn and depressed, his anguish over Snape's death was still very apparent.
It was the weekend, fortunately, and after completing reams of homework, Harry, Andromeda, Ron and Hermione made their way to Hogsmeade, where they entered the Three Broomsticks for a drink. Butterbeer warmed them up from the harsh January wind, and they were soon raring to go and spend their money in Honeydukes.
Almost an hour they spent perusing the rows and rows of sumptuous and sometimes very odd sweets. Each had some money left over from Christmas, Ron with the least, Harry, whose godfather Sirius had taken some from his own vault, with the most. All of them finally selected enough sweets to fill a large paper bag, and each chose something that looked less than appetising – Harry's was a tiny box containing a single chocolate-covered wasp. 'A delicacy among the ancient wizards of Liberia,' said Hermione knowledgably.
When they had paid for their goodies, Harry and his friends turned out of the shop into the little town square. It was quite pretty in the snowy weather, with tiny prickles of frost touching the edges of the slightly scruffy lawns and a light dusting of floury snow carpeting the little stone figures. The four friends sat on a bench, squashing in together for warmth, and began to tuck into their purchases.
'We've got long-lost relatives coming out of the woodwork,' said Ron thoughtfully, sucking on the fin of a Sherbet Shark. 'First there was Sirius, now Andromeda's uncle. Hermione, have you got any secret siblings we should know about?'
'Well, I always wondered who that odd girl in the photos with me was…' she replied sarcastically.
Andromeda was in a world of her own. She couldn't stop thinking about her uncle and what to write to him. She rephrased a letter over and over in her head, but nothing sounded quite right. He had told her to take as long as she liked. It looked like she would be taking him up on that offer. 'I wonder why he doesn't want us to meet yet?' she said aloud. 'He sounded pretty urgent in that first letter.'
'He's a Death Eater,' said Ron in a ridiculous parody of Hermione's voice. Everyone except Hermione cackled. Hermione herself frowned.
'He could be,' she pointed out. 'I don't know, I just don't trust him. No offence, Andromeda, if he really is your uncle, but the whole thing seems very fishy. Why wouldn't he get in contact until now?'
It was a long and circular conversation that they went over and over until it began to get dark. Being winter, this was earlier than normal, but they had been sitting outside for a long time. 'My hands have seized up,' complained Harry.
'I know,' said Hermione. 'I can't let go of this Damson Dip.'
With early February came almost immediate good weather. Every student and teacher was surprised at how pleasant and mild the weather was, and made the most of it by spending much time outdoors. Many afternoons were spent paddling in the lake or lounging beside it, though not many ventured firther into the waters – the sun wasn't quite hot enough just yet.
Valentine's Day was fast approaching, and Harry wasn't sure what to get Andromeda. A couple of times he'd badgered Helena Pratt about what Andromeda had mentioned, but there had as yet been no heplful results. He was stuck. And he wondered what she was getting him, as well.
Andromeda was just as short of ideas as Harry was. So it was a relief to see, on the eight of February, a small cart being pushed around the school by a pair of beaming Brownies. Brownies were, as their name suggested, brown, and about three feet tall. They were related to house-elves, or so the rumour went, but without all the responsibility issues. They had comically large and round ears, little pointed noses and, like house-elves, big saucer-like eyes.
'Our speciality's 'elping people,' said the elder Brownie, Bess, to Andromeda, who had been hanging around looking curious. 'Traditionally we was Welsh wood sprites, then the Muggles started taking an interest – starting little groups involving us and the like – and it got too busy. We became travellers, sold our special goods around the country. Slowly we spread into England an' even Scotland, and now we's very widespread. Each Brownie fam'ly 'as its own trading speciality – me and Bella here're of the Lonnish clan, so we know all about Love Potions and that. Want to buy summat?'
'Well, I don't know,' said Andromeda cautiously. 'I want to get something for my boyfriend, but I don't know what he wants…'
Bess the Brownie was already pulling together bundles of ingredients. 'I'll do a simple spell 'ere for you, love. What's your boy's name?'
'Harry. Harry Potter.'
If it was possible, Bess's eyes widened. ''Arry Potter? The 'Arry Potter?'
'Um, yes.'
'You've got a good one there, girl. Mind you take care of 'im!' Bess winked an enormous eyelid. 'Now, if you'll just put your hand in there – yes, like that – and think of 'Arry's face.'
She did so, looking straight past the flower petals that formed a rather lopsided 'HP'. All of a sudden the petals began to move, taking on the shape of something else… something long and black and shiny. A broom case. Andromeda groaned. 'That's romantic,' she said, annoyed. 'A broom case? For Valentine's day?'
'It's the gift 'e wants, love,' said Bess earnestly. 'And we 'appen to 'ave just the right one 'ere for you.' She produced, from beneath the pink-and-white silk drapings of the cart, a perfect broom case which read Swifteager and Sons on the side in raised silver letters.
Andromeda paid for the broom case wearily. 'You're sure that spell's accurate?' she asked doubtfully.
'Very sure. It ain't failed yet.' And with a chuckle, Bess handed over the change and moved on to chat to a lost-looking second-year.
In the Gryffindor common room Harry was looking longingly at page twenty-seven of his new Quality Quidditch Supplies – by Owl! catalogue. The Swifteager broom case dominated the page in its jet-black perfection. He'd love that case. But he didn't have enough money for it, as he hadn't yet bought Andromeda's present. He'd have to go down to the Brownies' stall soon, he reminded himself.
As he approached the gaudy cart, Harry saw a familiar, gangly, red-headed figure walking rapidly away from it. Who was Ron buying gifts for?
Ron looked apprehensively at the paper bag in his hand. It contained a thin gold bracelet adorned with a single cat charm. He didn't really know why he'd bought it. It wasn't as though he had anyone to give it to. But as he hurried away, a worrying thought struck Ron. Hermione would love it.