"I just told you I had an extremely creepy and vivid vision, and you want to play Quidditch?!"
Lucy could not believe that she was the one staring at her friend like he was insane instead of the other way around, but alas, here she was, standing in front of Harry James Potter, wondering if he had somehow been body-snatched.
She hadn't even planned on telling Harry at all— because really, she'd experienced a lot weirder— but after a week without finding any results in the Hogwarts library as to what might've happened, she decided to approach Harry and kindly inform him that she'd gone mad. She wished she could have come up with a better word than 'mad' but ultimately felt as though it was the only one that fit. What else would one call her 'displacement'? Hallucination? A stable mind, in her experience, did not find itself abruptly transported to a forest she had never seen before, in front of a creature she never met before, and bore senses to an environment she had never felt before: a sane mind could not conjure something so vivid up.
"You again?" the creature had asked her, sounding curious, if not a tad surprised. If Lucy had been hallucinating, she'd like to think she'd come up with something a bit more exciting than a forest and some lame cloud. Her usual string of intrusive thoughts contained Tom Riddle, whether it was a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye or a viscous murmur in her ear. She wasn't exactly pleased with these hallucinations either but at the very least, she knew they weren't real. She'd vaguely mentioned them to Mallory before, and the woman had given her a rather sad look before advising her to ignore them and remind herself it was not real.
It is when one begins to confuse fantasy with reality they are declared insane.
However, in a world where dragons were real and people flew on broomsticks, drawing the line between the two was harder than it seemed.
Lucy, in her short span of time in the wizarding world, had yet to gather what was normal and what was not— it was this lack of wisdom that led her to disregarding 'suspicious' behavior. How was she meant to know not to trust something that did not have a brain? How was she supposed to realize that a talking book was somehow more dangerous than a talking hat?
If there was anything she learned from last year, it was to seek consultation before disregarding peculiarities.
And so here she came to her best mate, approaching him with her heart on her sleeve, seeking his help, yearning for his wisdom— and what did this specky git say to her?
"Huh. That's strange... Want to go play Quidditch?"
Lucy scowled at his nonplussed expression and in one fluid motion, she picked up his Firebolt and whacked him in the stomach, lightly. Harry winced, snatching his broomstick as he rubbed at his chest. "I'm guessing that's a no?" he said disappointedly.
"Did you hear what I just said?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "About finding myself in a forest? Christmas night?"
"It sounds like you had a dream," Harry grumbled. It'd been rather early in the morning when Lucy stormed into his dormitory, jinxed Ron (and Scabbers) out of bed, kicked them out, and trapped Harry in his own dormitory, but that was no excuse for his treachery!
"You know," he continued with a pointed glance, "One of those things we tend to have when we're really tired—"
"Alright, Mr. 'I hear voices in the walls', we'll see if I believe you the next time that happens!" Lucy snarled.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "That was different," he said shortly. "You weren't there when that happened— we were all with you on Christmas night and we didn't notice anything! I'd have noticed if you were having a vision. Because I am your best mate." At her softening expression, he couldn't help but add with a smirk, "Besides, we've both seen Trelawney's 'predictions'— her eyes always go all misty, and she zones out. We'd have noticed."
"You're right," she sighed, and he perked up. She then met his gaze and added pointedly, "It wasn't a vision. It was completely different. It was like— like—" she struggled to find a word, then settled with the only one she could think of. "—apparating, that's wizard teleportation, except without any of the feeling part. A displacement. And then there the misty bloke was, clear as day. And you didn't notice anything because it was like time stopped! The same moment I had it, the same moment it ended. But it was longer than that."
Harry was still looking at her like she was some sort of alien. She'd expected it, but it still made her hackles rise. She scoffed and tightened her grip on her arms. "This is just like that thing with Quirrell!" she said accusingly. "And you wonder why I didn't tell you about Tom and the diary!"
"I wasn't wondering, actually, it's sort of obvious that he was controlling you—" he seemed to realize he was heading down the wrong path and coughed into his fist, hoping she didn't have her wand on her. "Er— I mean, you're sure it wasn't a vision? Or some sort of daydream?"
"I swear on your life," Lucy promised.
"That's not reassuring."
"How dare you! You think I'd kill my best mate?" she demanded. He blinked at her. "I wouldn't!"
"Usually you wouldn't, but I've done a great job of ticking you off, just now," he pointed out.
She paused. That was a valid point. She was very tempted to jinx him at the moment. "Alright, fine," she huffed. "I swear on— uh..." she paused again. She was going to swear on Tom's... but... nevermind. Fuck. "Anthony. I swear on Anthony's life. And Ford's, and Grayble's, and Snape— my owl, you sick fuck, don't look at me like that— and finally, Marvotoad."
"But not Grimm's?" Harry couldn't help but wonder.
Thinking of yesterday, when Sirius stuck a piece of parchment that said 'Jingle Bells, Snape Smells' to the back of her shirt without telling her, causing Snape to then award her detention with Filch, her lips turned downward into a sneer.
"No," she said darkly. "I should leave him to the dementors."
"What?" Harry looked incredibly distressed because as far as he knew, Grimm was the friendliest dog on the face of the planet.
Lucy realized how this might look and quickly plastered a bright smile onto her face. "I mean, I should order him a set of dentures! He's missing a tooth, did you know?" Grimm absolutely was not missing a tooth but she pressed on anyway. "Dental hygiene is very important and all that, you only get one set of teeth, best to take care of them! Isn't that what Hermione would say?"
"I'm going to forget you said that," Harry told her.
"That's probably for the best," she agreed. She cleared her throat, knowing they were getting off track. "Anyway— I promise it wasn't just a dream! I know the difference. If I didn't think it was something weird, I wouldn't be telling you about it." She couldn't help but chuckle, then. "I know it's sort of ridiculous to even ask you but... trust me on this?"
"Of course I trust you!" He looked at her with surprise and even went so far as to set his Firebolt to the side. "I just don't want you to worry about something that might not be an issue after all. But if you're sure..." He swallowed thickly. "I... I suppose we could..." he shuddered and forced out the next word, "research about it."
"That's what I've been doing all week," Lucy muttered, but she couldn't deny the rush of relief that went through her at Harry's words. She was always worried about informing her friends of her dilemmas ever since last year. She'd lied to them almost constantly, all to keep Tom a secret, and this year it seemed she was having to do the same. She hoped to God and Merlin that Sirius was innocent after all. She didn't think she could take the pain and embarrassment of once again being blindsided by someone who swore they were her friend.
"Have you found anything?"
She just barely managed to hold back her retort of 'Clearly not'. Harry would certainly take offense to her snippish tone and aside from that, it wasn't any fault of his that she was in a bad mood; no, her angry and weary demeanor was not anyone's fault, really.
She wasn't that concerned about her abrupt displacement on Christmas Day. It was odd, yes, and something to look into, but her focus on researching over the past week was her attempt to distract herself from the inevitable.
Today was December 31st.
To most, it was just another holiday. The Purebloods would likely have some sort of gala right about now and the half-bloods and muggleborns would probably have a little celebration of their own. She might've been in a celebratory mood too, if it wasn't for the fact that today also happened to be Tom Riddle's birthday.
One year ago today he was alive, and they were friends.
Today he was dead, and she was all alone.
"Fuck," she hissed, feeling a lump growing in her throat. She shook her head at Harry's curious glance and quickly plastered a bright smile on her face. "So, yeah, that's it! Strange vision, don't know what it is, we'll just have to research it!" She grabbed his wrist and started pulling him toward the door. "Do you think we should tell Hermione, too?"
"Why not Ron?" Harry questioned. He threw a longing look at his Firebolt but didn't try and convince her to play Quidditch again.
"Because Ron is a filthy blood-traitor and I'll not consort with his lot," Lucy continued, equally as brightly.
She had said this just as they left the dormitory and Ron, who was waiting just outside, gaped at her. "What the hell!" he exclaimed.
Lucy paused only to wink at him. "Later, alligator."
Ron stared at her with the same offended expression.
She smiled at him innocently.
"Quit bullying Ron!" Harry snapped. He turned to Ron and placed his spare hand on his friend's shoulder. "She doesn't mean it, Ron. She's sore because she's recently gone insane."
"Recently?" Ron muttered.
"Disgusting, the pair of you," she sniffed, and then she abruptly tackled Ron into a hug. She pretended to sob into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, he's right! Please forgive me!" She couldn't see it but Ron shot Harry a terrified look as he slowly patted her on the shoulder. "I'm a mess, Ron, a mess!"
"I- I can see that," Ron said shakily.
Faintly, they could hear someone moving around in the common room. Ron's eyes widened like a castaway hearing a plane overhead. "Hermione!" he called, still unsure what to do as Lucy continued her dramatic sobs, "Hermione! Help me!"
There was a soft sigh and then sure enough, Hermione headed up the staircase. She held Crookshanks in her arms, and when she saw Lucy and Ron she shifted the cat to one arm, using her free hand to rub her forehead. She'd only been here for a few moments and was already exasperated. After taking a few moments to collect herself, she drew herself up straighter and said in a patient tone, "Lucy, are you feeling alright?"
As if a switch was flipped, Lucy turned and gave Hermione a pleasant smile. "I'm fine, thank you for asking." She spotted Crookshanks and opened her arms wide. "Crookshanks! My man!"
Crookshanks sent her a slightly haughty gaze, but he still shifted in Hermione's arms to face her. When Hermione first showed them her monster of a cat, Lucy had been skeptical, but now she was a firm supporter of Crookshanks and his homicidal tendencies. He was a strangely perceptive cat— Sirius thought he might have some Kneazle blood in him, and she was inclined to agree— and had evidently been visiting Sirius in his human form long before he revealed himself to Lucy. It was on Sirius's orders, he told her, that Crookshanks kept hunting down Scabbers. Although Sirius had told the cat to observe Scabbers instead of killing him (as they would need to at least kill Pettigrew in his human form for the Ministry to accept he hadn't died thirteen years ago; an Animagus could not return to human if he died while in his animal form), Crookshanks couldn't help but hiss threateningly at Scabbers every chance he got.
The cat had been distrustful of Lucy at first but after a few days, he warmed up to her. It was not rare now to find Crookshanks snuggled up with Grayble on the occasion Lucy took her own cat out to see Sirius. Even Ford liked Crookshanks, remarking that he 'had spirit'. Marvotoad was indifferent to the cat and preferred to keep his distance, understandably, while her owl Snape abhorred Hermione's cat and tried to peck his eyes out at any given chance.
Lucy wasn't sure if it was because Snape had a vendetta against Kneazles or if he was worried Lucy would pick up another pet. Though she was tempted to get another dog, she realized that at this point, bringing pets back to the Orphanage would become very risky, if the Headmaster was half as terrible as Nathan and Emma reported.
She wished Ford was venomous; then she could simply send him after the Headmaster and take care of that problem quickly.
As it was, Ford was not venomous, so she would have to be craftier in her methods of exiling him from Wool's Orphanage. If she was to remain there until she turned seventeen, she would not last with a strict and arsehole of a Headmaster. One of them would have to leave. It would not be her.
As her mind switched to her friends at Wool's, Crookshanks brushed up against her leg and eyed her shrewdly. She took the hint and heaved the cat into her arms, resting her chin atop his head. "My man," she repeated quietly, scratching him behind the ear.
"Now you're just taunting me," Ron scowled.
"Is there still a problem?" Hermione said impatiently. "I have tons of homework to do."
"Homework?!" Ron demanded, "Then what've you been doing every day, all hours for the past week? Light reading?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron, of course I was working on homework! I just happen to have a lot," she said haughtily. "There's Muggle Studies, where I have several diagrams to make as well as a few essays, and I've got to read for Divination, as well as all my Ancient Rune charts, and then there's loads of Arithmancy problems I've got to solve— which you should be working on too, Lucy."
"Right you are!" Lucy said, saluting her. She deposited Crookshanks back into Hermione's arms and then grabbed Harry's wrist again. "And so I'll be stealing Harry to help me!"
"You're going to the library? On a day like this?" Ron said, disgusted. "It's New Years Eve! You've got all day tomorrow to work on homework."
"Yes, but my New Years resolution last year was to work on my homework on New Years this year so that I could celebrate next year," Lucy said in an apologetic tone. "And Harry's New Years resolution last year was to help me work on my homework this year so that he too could celebrate next year. Do you get me?" Ron shook his head, "I think you get me. So! Off we go!"
She dragged Harry around the corner, leaving two very confused Gryffindors behind her.
"We're not actually going to work on Arithmancy homework, are we?" Harry said miserably as they exited the portrait hole.
The thought was tempting, if only for revenge on Harry (how dare he question her?), but she decided to have mercy on him just this once. Even if he had been hounding her to play Quidditch all week— every day, every hour they spent together— she was feeling a bit sick of reading herself and wouldn't mind spending the day with her best friend.
Especially this day. This day whose date held a hefty amount of significance that she was completely ignoring. Completely and unsuccessfully.
"'Course we're not going to the library," she said briskly. "We're going to play Quidditch! What do you take me for, a madman?"
Harry's eyes lit up with joy. She smiled at him; she was content, for a moment, to see her best mate so happy, that she forgot she was trying to be a menace. She let her wand slide down her sleeve and waved it through the air.
"Accio Firebolt," she said clearly and forcefully. It was so difficult to tell whether or not her wand would listen to her that at this point, she had to summon all her will to force a spell to work. The effect left her tired rather quickly, which annoyed her, because it limited the amount of spells she could cast from day to day.
She could hear Ron and Hermione's startled yelps as the Firebolt zoomed past them and through the thankfully still opened portrait hole. It was moving at them rather quickly and only at the last moment Lucy remembered she had to tilt her wand slightly downward in order to lessen its speed. Harry reached out and caught it, looking momentarily impressed with her spell. She grinned back at him; it had been a good idea to learn that spell in her first year.
"Aren't you going to summon yours?" Harry asked, tucking his Firebolt under one arm.
She shook her head. "Mine is in the Quidditch shed. Otherwise Grayble starts using it as a scratching post."
"Oh, okay." Harry started to walk down the corridor, when suddenly a very suspicious gleam flashed across his eyes. It was a gleam she scarcely saw on her friend's features, but one that was becoming more common over Christmas Break.. "Say... we don't have to walk down to the Quidditch field, do we?" he said impishly.
Her eyes lit up, and for the first time all day, she felt a bit of the dark cloud looming over her head dwindle in size. "Harry..." she looked at him with a hopeful gaze. "You aren't suggesting...?"
He held his Firebolt out and kicked a leg over it. He turned to grin at her. "I think you know what I'm suggesting." He offered her his hand. "Shall we?"
She took it, then climbed on behind him. She'd picked the right best mate. She'd picked the best best mate. She knew all their talk of pranking was getting to him! She started to laugh and held on. All those times she dreamed of flying a broomstick through the corridors were finally coming to fruition. "We shall!"
By some stroke of luck, they did not run into any of the professors that would have gotten them in trouble.
They did, however, come across Dumbledore and Professor Lupin, who were both in bouts of deep discussion before Lucy and Harry came hurtling around the corner. If Lucy had been the one controlling the broom, she would have sped up and flown away from possible persecution— but Harry's 'respectful nature toward professors he liked' (disgusting) kicked in, and he came to a sudden halt right before them.
He stared at the headmaster, wide-eyed, and Dumbledore stared back, equally as shocked.
The sight of Harry Potter performing deliberate mischief must have understandably surprised the Headmaster; he knew Harry to break rules only when the good of the wizarding world counted on it. Remus knew a little better from when Lucy and Harry shared his class, and he was visibly struggling to keep his face straight as the pair of students looked between the professors, then at each other, then back to the professors.
"If they try to take points, start flying and don't look back," Lucy whispered in Parseltongue out of the corner of her mouth. Dumbledore glanced over to her. She smiled innocently. "Happy New Years, professor. Might I interest you in a lemon drop?"
"Do you truly have some?" Remus asked her. He managed to school his expression and was now acting as though this was the most natural encounter in the world.
"In fact, I do!" Lucy reached into her pocket, felt her pocket knife, and grimaced. Good thing she hadn't taken it out. She went to the other pocket and found a single lemon drop that she kept on her specifically for circumstances such as these. "You never know when you'll run into the Headmaster, Remus," she told him, "Diplomacy is a good skill to have. It's also a nicer word for 'bribery'."
"Jesus Christ!" Harry groaned, clamping his hand to his forehead.
Whatever clever retort Lucy had stored, she absolutely forgot it at Harry's sudden display of crude language. She choked on air and dissolved into laughter, knowing this was not helping their chances at escaping punishment but finding herself unable to stop. Thank God Harry learned to control his Parseltongue.
"I would hate to spoil a good bout of fun," Dumbledore said at last, trying and failing to hide his smile. "But I would have to advise you to walk the remainder of the way to the Quidditch field— and Harry, is that a new broom?"
Harry stilled, while Lucy kept laughing. She had to force herself to stop when she saw Remus take note of his new broomstick as well and raise his eyebrows. Harry examined both of their reactions closely— concluding, undoubtedly, that neither Dumbledore nor Remus had bought him the Firebolt, considering their reactions to it.
"Yes, sir, it is," Harry said, trying too hard to sound nonchalant.
Lucy poked her head around to look at Dumbledore and said, "Sirius Black sent it."
Remus visibly panicked while Harry whirled around to glare at her. "He did not!" he hissed. She only smiled at him; while she was trying to be a bit of a prat, she also knew that saying such a thing would pry a genuine response from Harry. He was not a very good liar, at least with Dumbledore. He turned back to face Dumbledore and quickly smoothed over things. "Wood said I'd better get a new broomstick over break, and I figured... Well, since it's the best one on the market..."
"They should have given it to him for free," Lucy said, shaking her head. "Just think! He kills Voldemort and he has not even a coupon to show for it!"
"Lucy?" Harry said, glancing at her.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Shut up."
She nodded and was quiet for a brief moment. Then, "Harry?"
"Yes, Lucy?"
"Fuck you."
Remus leveled her with a chastising stare. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. "Lucy, I am certain you are intelligent enough to express yourself without using profane language," he said sternly. Lucy gave him a sheepish look. "And dismount the broomstick, both of you. I have faith your legs will last on the way down to the Quidditch pitch and even more faith that you'll survive the same trip back."
Harry and Lucy hastened to listen to him.
Dumbledore seemed thoroughly amused at their antics, and he chuckled as he unwrapped the lemon drop and popped it into his mouth. "I'm glad you've found a replacement so quickly," he said pleasantly. "But," Harry's face dropped and Dumbledore must have seen this, for he quickly added, "I cannot allow you two, as younger students, outside of the castle without supervision. Is Mr. Rickett nearby?"
Harry tried not to snort at the thought of Anthony being trusted as 'supervision' but Lucy understood why; Anthony was a sixth year and a prefect, and aside from that, last year he'd proven his duelling prowess when he went after an entire courtyard filled with Slytherins, duelling masses at them at once, unassisted. However she also knew that Anthony was not nearby; he was deep in the Forbidden Forest visiting Sirius. They tried to make sure at least one of them visited every day. Lively as he seemed during their visits, Anthony was sure he still felt the effects of his unjust period in Azkaban and wanted to alleviate that as best he could.
"He's still asleep," Lucy said, sighing.
Dumbledore clearly did not want to ruin their fun. He frowned for a moment. "What about Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?"
Harry and Lucy exchanged a glance. Ron had not quite forgiven Hermione for siding with Crookshanks, and likewise, Hermione could not stand Ron's treatment of her cat. They set their differences aside on Christmas day but the day after, when Crookshanks tried with reinvigorated efforts to catch Scabbers, they had yet another argument and had not spoken to each other since. They seemed to be getting along when Lucy and Harry left them this morning, and so they didn't want to intrude on any potential reconciliation between the two— or, if they were arguing, neither Lucy nor Harry really cared to listen to that either.
Seeing their hesitation, Remus cleared his throat. "I wouldn't mind escorting the two of you— if you don't mind, that is." He was looking more so at Harry when he said this. Lucy briefly wondered why before she was hit with a rather sad revelation. Remus didn't want to overstep. He felt guilty, even, and given how close of friends he was with Harry's parents, having to act as merely a professor to him must have weighed heavily on his mind.
However his fears were entirely unfounded, because a bright smile lit up Harry's face. "Not at all, Professor! But—" he suddenly looked concerned, "I thought you weren't feeling well. And I don't want you to be bored, either. Lucy and I could always wait another time—"
"I think some fresh air will be good for me," Remus assured him, smiling. "And fear not: although I was never a Quidditch player I did watch all my friends' practices."
"You're a better friend than I am. I would never do that," Lucy said in a disgusted tone.
"Lucy, you've shown up to at least twenty of my practices," Harry pointed out.
She looked at him with surprise. "Huh! You're right..." she grinned, "I must sort of like you, after all."
Dumbledore laughed yet again. He clasped his hands together. "Now that we've settled that— I unfortunately have a meeting at the Ministry I must attend."
"What about?" Lucy asked curiously.
He regarded her with a grim smile. "I am attempting, yet again, to convince Minister Fudge to withdraw the Dementors from the grounds of Hogwarts."
Lucy nodded, fervently hoping that he would succeed in his efforts. Harry nodded along with her, frowning. "Again? He didn't listen to you the first time, sir?" he asked.
"Of course he didn't," Lucy snorted. "He's a fool."
She knew Dumbledore agreed with her, even though his face didn't betray as much. She was glad he didn't bother trying to chastise her for being so blunt with her opinion of the Minister— politeness did not change the fact that Fudge was incompetant and he was a fool.
"You'll not want to make an enemy of the Minister, Lucy," Professor Dumbledore reminded her.
"That's what you said about Lucius Malfoy, sir, and yet here I stand, as beautiful as ever."
"Why doesn't Fudge want to remove the Dementors?" Harry asked, completely ignoring whatever weird feud Lucy had with Mr. Malfoy. He was looking at Dumbledore with a genuinely confused expression. "I know they want the Dementors to find Black— but they haven't done it yet, have they? They haven't seen him anywhere. And they didn't notice he'd escaped in the first place."
"My boss told me they don't even notice if a prisoner dies," Lucy chimed in, but it was Sirius who had told her this fact, not Mallory.
"So they're clearly not helpful. Why won't he remove them?"
Dumbledore was contemplating an answer, but Lucy already knew why. She let out another slightly bitter snort. "It's obvious, isn't it? It's the same as what he did last year. He wants to seem like he's doing something. His reputation ison the line. That's why he arrested Hagrid last year; he knew it wouldn't help anything but he had to seem like he could help."
"I'm sure the Minister wants Sirius Black apprehended just as much as the rest of us do," Remus said lightly.
"That doesn't mean he's able to do it," Lucy replied. She turned back to Dumbledore. "Do you think he'll listen this time, professor?"
"I'm hoping to compromise," Dumbledore admitted. "You are right that Minister Fudge wants to be seen taking action— but he is convinced, resolutely convinced, that the Dementors are necessary, as do the rest of the Wizengamot."
"But why?" Harry frowned again. "If they'd just pick up a text book, it would tell them all about how dangerous Dementors are. If they get hungry enough they'll feed on the students again, like they did at the Quidditch match."
"Maybe..." Lucy clasped her hands behind her back, unconsciously going into a certain someone's thinking pose she had started mimicking last year. "Maybe it's because their kids know better. Everyone on the Wizengamot, they'll have warned their children to stay away from the Dementors, and most people from magical families will know better. It's really only the muggleborns who don't know about them, and who cares about what happens to them? Not the Wizengamot, I'll tell you that much."
"Another sound observation," Dumbledore nodded at her appraisingly. "Thankfully, I only need to convince the Minister to compromise— he is the one who presides over the security of Azkaban. And currently he believes the Dementors are the best form of protection for the students. While I am trying to convince him to keep the Dementors away from the castle, he is trying to get my permission to let Dementors patrol inside the castle."
Lucy felt a shiver run up her spine at the thought of turning the corner and running into a giant, looming Dementor. She felt bile rising in her throat just thinking about it. Merlin, she hated those things... She might taunt them from a distance but the last thing she wanted to do was find herself at the mercy of one of those creatures.
Dumbledore's gaze turned steely, and one of his hands gripped the other tighter. "Needless to say, that will never happen," he said firmly. He shook his head lightly. "No, today I will attempt to persuade him to relocate the Dementors further away from the castle. I would prefer not to intrude upon the villagers of Hogsmeade, so I am hoping to restrict them to the Forbidden Forest."
Lucy's blood froze, thinking of Sirius sleeping soundly in his tent, only to be surrounded by hundreds of hungry Dementors, closing in on him from all sides, and before she could stop herself she blurted, "No!"
The Headmaster gave her a surprised look.
Ugh, Lucy should have known better. What was this, amature hour? She mentally chided herself, but made sure to keep her expression as concerned as before. Changing tactics now would only appear more suspicious. Keeping her concerned tone, she continued on: "The Centaurs are still in there! They hate the Ministry as it is, sending loads of Dementors in there wouldn't end well at all. They can't defend themselves against them any better than we can."
Harry seemed to agree with her sentiment. "What about Aurors?" He asked Dumbledore. "Couldn't they take the Dementors out and... I dunno, sent Aurors? Have them patrol instead? Black is in the area, why aren't they looking for him?"
"A few Aurors have searched the castle after Halloween," Dumbledore said, and he took on a thoughtful expression. "But perhaps Fudge might agree to expend a few more in return for extracting some of his Dementors."
This was a perfectly sound idea and would definitely benefit the student body, but Lucy didn't care about the student body at the moment, she cared about her best friend's godfather not getting arrested and getting the soul sucked out of him.
"The Aurors are busy, though," she pointed out, thinking of all the tidbits she'd picked up from the Daily Prophet over the past few months. "Since Black broke out, other prisoners are trying to do the same, and there's been a spike in crime as it is 'cause the Ministry's focused on catching one criminal over all the others."
"This one criminal is after my blood," Harry pointed out.
"I can protect your blood better than any Aurors could," Lucy scoffed. "And Dementors, for that matter." She looked toward Dumbledore. "Maybe Fudge could give you one Auror, just to 'do something' or whatever, but aren't there other people willing to patrol? Past professors? Colleagues? Previous Head Boys and Prefects?"
Dumbledore's thoughtful expression turned rather delighted, and when he looked between Lucy and Harry, he seemed proud. "These are extraordinary ideas, Harry, Lucy," he mused. "The more I age, the more complicated my solutions seem to get. I think... I think I shall bring your ideas to Fudge's attention." He looked toward Lucy and added, amusedly, "Although I will filter out your more distinct remarks toward his character."
A smirk pulled at her lips. "If you must."
"I must be on my way. If I am to convince Minister Fudge of anything, I should start by arriving on time, don't you think?"
This time, it was Harry's turn to grin. "If you must," he said cheekily.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Have fun, you two. Until next time, Remus."
With one last wave, the Headmaster continued down the corridor, humming pleasantly to himself.
Remus turned his gaze toward Harry and Lucy. His polite smile turned very, very proud. "I daresay you might have given Dumbledore everything he needs," he told them, his smile growing wider. "He is right, you know— everything gets so complicated when you grow up. The youth can come up with the simplest, but most effective of solutions."
"You're saying 'the youth' like you're old yourself," Lucy snorted. "Aren't you, like, in your thirties, Remus?" She narrowed her eyes. "No, let me guess... you're thirty-three years, nine months, and twenty one days old."
Remus stared at her blankly. "How?" he asked. "Just... how?"
"I have my sources," she said ominously.
Source being: Sirius Black.
Source also being: the records Lucy nicked at the beginning of the year, just to ensure she didn't have another Lockhart or Quirrell on her hands.
"Despite how... creepy that was," Remus smiled at her, "I am still proud."
"Thanks, Remus," Harry said, grinning. Remus paused and stared at him. Harry was confused until his eyes widened, and he hastily said, "Sorry, I meant professor! Lucy just says your name all the time, it just slipped—"
Lucy was certain that Remus did not mind in the slightest; in fact, he must have been overjoyed. A small smile came over the man's face as he shook his head lightly at Harry. "It's quite alright, Harry." He paused again, hesitating. "If you..."
Lucy linked her arm through Harry's. "He means," she told him, "that you're his second favorite student, so you can just call him Remus if you want to."
"Second favorite?" Harry said, offended.
"It's a draw," Remus admitted. He glanced sharply at Lucy. "Do not tell Anthony Rickett that; he will hound me for weeks." She only shrugged in reply, a devious smile pulling at her lips. He shook his head and turned back to Harry. "But... Lucy is right. At this point, you can call me Remus— if you would like to, that is."
"Out of class, I will," Harry decided without any hesitation. He grinned at Lupin. "I wouldn't want to be disrespectful, sir... Remus..."
"Reeee-mus," Lucy continued in a drawl.
"Well, you've just lost your privileges to call me Remus, Lucy, if you are going to say it in that tone," the professor said with a shudder. He began walking down the corridor, toward one of the exits. "It'll be another batch of brownies to win it back."
"Aw, what!" Lucy complained.
"You deserve it," Harry told her, smirking. "That really was awful."
"You're awful."
"Your mum's awful."
"I don't have a mum!"
"Old news," Harry said, like he always did when Lucy pulled that card.
"You little shit."
"Lucy!" Remus said sharply.
Lucy and Harry winced and in unison, they let out a quick "Sorry, Remus!"
In front of them, Remus had to let out a quiet laugh.
He was certain of at least one thing: with Harry Potter and Lucy Rochester around, there was scarcely a quiet moment.
Just like James and Sirius, he thought to himself.
"Sirius, mate, I just don't think it's going to work."
The older man did not so much as glance in his direction, nor did he pause in the task at hand; thin fingers worked deftly, untangling the mass of cables as though he'd done this a thousand times before. He very well might have, too, but twelve years alone was a long time, and you'd think he'd have lost the muscle memory by now. Hell, neither of the other two would've been able to work half as quickly, and they were half his age.
"Those are blasphemous words, Rickett, and I suggest you tread carefully from here on out," Sirius replied in an even tone. "Aha— there!" He'd finished untangling the cords and now began pushing beds to the side. For the first time all break, he exhibited a slight sign that he'd spent a decade in Azkaban; his arms shook from the strain of shoving the bed all on his own. Lucy would have liked to offer her help, but she had a feeling that would only discourage Sirius, who'd been nothing short of productive ever since he got a new wand.
Some might call their current gathering incredibly irresponsible considering everything that was at stake. If a professor were to peek into Lucy's dorm, they'd see all the furniture rearranged as well as a questionable amount of Honeydukes paraphernalia, including, but not limited to, licorice wands, chocolate frogs, jelly slugs, sugar quills, butterbeer, and a dark tinted bottle (Anthony promised it wasn't Firewhiskey, but that wasn't to say it wasn't a different brand of magical alcohol; Lucy had seen Maxine's dorm and knew full well the wizarding world was no stranger to the other type of brewery). Aside from the 'stolen' sweets —Anthony left coins behind when he used the Honkeydukes passage, evidently the owner was used to the students' practices — there was the most conspicuous and incriminating item in the room: Sirius Black himself.
He looked completely out of place in the Hufflepuff dorm. The room was bright and sunny and even though it was underground, the lights on the ceiling mimicked natural rays of sunlight. There were plenty of flowers, too, hanging in pots on each wall; Hannah was the one who cared for them but even in her absence they never seemed to wither away. Sirius was the antithesis of his Hufflepuff surroundings. He was sporting a brand new leather jacket to replace the one he'd given to Lucy. Silver spikes stuck out from the shoulders and went down along the zipper, and it sported new tears he'd made specifically for fashion. He hadn't quite taken up smoking again, but he had an Old Salem cigarette between his lips. He claimed the taste was as good as smoking. Lucy knew he just liked to look cool.
The point being, if a professor barged in, they were all doomed.
But if there was one thing Lucy Rochester would die from, it would not be boredom.
"I can't believe this," Anthony collapsed into an armchair, heaving a great sigh that was perhaps more suited to a man of Nicholas Flamel's age than a sixteen-year-old. "You help an escaped convict because he's innocent, and then he still starts threatening you. I think it's you who's got to be careful here, mate. I could turn you in at any given moment." Sirius, again, ignored him and continued with his task. Anthony squirmed in his chair, irritated at the lack of reaction. "Any given moment," he continued, "so be aware. Be afraid. Be TERRIFIED!"
"I'm shaking in my boots," Sirius said dryly. "Lucy, hand me that wrench, will you?"
Now was probably a good time to mention exactly why Sirius Black needed a wrench.
It was also probably a good time for Lucy to find that out for herself.
The past few days rendered Lucy unable to visit Sirius in his tent as often as she'd like. She managed at least once per day, as she and Anthony took turns bringing meals, but the rest of her time was occupied by Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry was on a Quidditch warpath ever since he got his Firebolt. For the first time Lucy understood why he'd nearly been sorted into Slytherin. Whenever she tried reading, or relaxing, or doing anything except fucking Quidditch, Harry Potter managed to cajole her (threaten her, manipulate her, whatever term one uses for a hostage situation) into playing against him with her Nimbus. She liked flying as much as the next person, but there was such a thing as wind burn and the speed at which she and Harry played gave her plenty. Aside from that, there were plenty of bruises from crashing into Harry, the stands, the ground, anything with a hint of solidity to it.
Yesterday had been no exception, despite her volunteering to play with him rather than being forced into it. Remus was there to supervise, and as such, Harry had started off lightly. She used her pocket knife to open the Quidditch shed and retrieve her broom and a set of practice supplies— it locked on its own afterward, always— and earned a curious look from Remus, but the professor had said nothing and conjured up a chair to watch them.
They had a fun time switching roles. Lucy tried her hand at Seeking, and she resolved to apologize to Cedric for all the times she compared him to Harry. Seeking was hard. She got so easily distracted, whether it was a bird flying by, or an interesting cloud. She never did end up finding the Snitch, although Harry found it in a minute, once she gave up.
In turn, Harry took on the role of a Chaser. He was unfairly amazing at it. She blamed it on genetics.
Everything was going innocently, until Harry's warpath kicked in, where he then ended up fucking pile driving her into one of the Quidditch posts, where she then fell and broke her wrist.
She hadn't made a big deal of it. She calmly informed Harry, when asked if she was alright, that he maimed her and was going to die. Remus then stepped in and assured her she was fine and then suggested they head up to the castle, as in his experience, the breaking of a bone signalled a need for a change in activities.
Lucy couldn't say she was too sore about breaking her arm. It was the best thing that could have happened, really, because otherwise she would have spent December 31st miserable. If she hadn't broken her hand she'd have spent all day wallowing in bed, missing Tom all over again. The pain in her hand, at least, could be treated.
Madam Pomfrey fixed her hand, but she wasn't allowed to really use it too much, and it was wrapped in a few bandages because of the scrapes. Harry, obviously guilt ridden, insisted on carrying everything for her for the rest of the day. His guilt continued to today: the last day before all the students returned to Hogwarts.
From here on out, visiting Sirius would become more difficult as Lucy and Anthony would have more people aware of their absence. And, given their conversation with Dumbledore yesterday, it was entirely possible Aurors would be roaming Hogwarts soon, so they had better take advantage of their relative 'freedom' while they had it.
It was Lucy's idea to have one last party among the trio.
Harry borrowed Lucy the Marauder's Map as an apology for breaking her arm. It was a nice trade: this way, she could keep an eye on any approaching professors and Harry wouldn't catch her hanging around an escaped convict.
Lucy mentioned her idea earlier this morning, and half an hour ago Sirius and Anthony barged into her dorm. Anthony came bearing sweets, drinks, and board games, while Sirius arrived with a duffle bag and a huge, rectangular object with a tarp over it. Lucy had absolutely no idea what was underneath and he obstructed any attempt to peek under it.
"Canary?" Sirius's voice made her look over at him. One of his hands was underneath the tarp and the other was outstretched expectantly.
Ah. Right. The tools.
Lucy set the map to the side for now and army-crawled to the end of the bed. The tool box was right at the foot of it, and she reached downward for the wrench. It was a bit too far out of her reach; her fingertips only grazed it. She collapsed fully, heaving a great sigh.
"I'm afraid it is too far," she said grimly.
Sirius turned to stare at her. A slightly amused smile played on his lips, but he stifled it quickly. "I'm afraid you're lazy," he tisked, shaking his head. "To think, after all the work I'm doing for you right now. These old bones won't last forever, Lucy." To further his point, he made a show of shaking his extended hand. "C'mon. Give me a wrench."
"Too far," she repeated, turning over on her back. She put her bandaged arm in the air. "And too injured! Look at what your Godson did to me!"
"I saw from the treeline," Sirius said, and then he grinned brilliantly. "It was hilarious! I've never been prouder of him!"
Lucy brought her arm down and crossed it over her chest, glaring at the ceiling. Blacks. They were all the same! She hadn't met another one yet but they were probably just as cruel!
Sirius cleared his throat. "I mean— shame on him! It was not funny at all. Not even slightly. In fact, it looked very painful, especially when..." he started snickering a bit. "When you fell faster than your broom, and just when you were about to get up, the broom fell on you... Not—" he was laughing openly now, "n-not funny at all!"
"Harry's an evil boy," Lucy muttered. She rolled onto her stomach again and reached toward the wrench. With a grabbing motion, the tool flew upward into her hand. She threw it toward the still-laughing convict. "And you're an evil man!"
He caught it, of course, though she was hoping it would at least hit him in the chest or something. "Appreciate it, Canary."
Anthony looked at Sirius with a 'see what I mean?' expression. "There you go again! Testing your luck all the time! Your fate is in my hands, old man, so don't think you can try and undermine me!"
Anthony was only bitter because on the way to the castle, Sirius (as Grimm) knocked him into Professor Snape, then growled at Snape, and then took off down the corridor, leaving Anthony to a furious Snape and now a week's worth of detentions. Sirius used the distraction as a chance to sneak in the giant, rectangular object. Lucy might've felt bad for Anthony if the other boy hadn't turned Sirius's hair bright green the day prior.
It was safe to say the two were becoming great friends.
"You won't turn me in," Sirius said assuredly.
"And how do you know that? Huh? How do you know that, Black?"
"Because Lucy will kill you if you do."
For the past minute or so Lucy had been making various tools in the toolbox fly into her hand, only for her to drop them again; Sirius said this just as she summoned a screwdriver. Anthony's gaze flickered in her direction. She pushed herself to a sitting position, then twirled the screwdriver between her fingers, considering.
On one hand, Anthony Rickett was her stand-in mum, her older brother, and one of her best and dearest friends. On the other hand, Sirius Black was her best mate's Godfather and was their best shot at avenging said best mate's parents. He was also very cool.
"Yeah, no, that's definitely a possibility," she agreed at last. Anthony huffed and settled back in her chair. "But then I'd have to kill you for making me kill Anthony, and then where will I be? Alone and friendless. Like Snape. I don't want to be like Snape."
"Ah, Snivellius has friends," Sirius said in an offhand way. He lifted the tarp up a bit more and dropped the wrench, using both hands now. "They just all happen to be Death Eater scum and murderers, that is."
Sirius's tone had taken on more venom that he probably intended, so Lucy just shrugged in response. She disliked Snape and all but even she wasn't as harsh as Sirius when it came to the Potions Master. She supposed Sirius had more of a history with Snape than she did. No matter how cruel Snape might be to her, and how many unfair detentions he sent her way, there would always be a small part of her that respected him for helping her during her first year at Hogwarts. He couldn't be completely soulless if he helped an annoying first year Hufflepuff whom he despised from the beginning.
He could, however, be an arsehole. And she saw fit to remind him of this.
"Aha! I'm done!"
Sirius scooted away from the mysterious object, a grin lighting up his face once more. He picked up the nearby wire and must have attached it to whatever he was hiding from them. Lucy, for one, had no idea what he was planning, since the cord didn't appear to go anywhere and it was quite obviously a muggle-made cord. She also didn't know where or how he got them, along with his new clothes. She supposed he was making use of his new wand and apparating to Diagon Alley or muggle London whenever he felt necessary. She wasn't sure how far the anti-apparation wards extended around Hogwarts, but Sirius would know better than her.
"Drumroll, Lucy, if you'd be so obliged," Sirius requested.
Lucy reached into her jacket pocket (yes, she was wearing the huge leather jacket, yes, she wore it all the time in the common room and dorm) and pulled out the Lestrange knife she'd gotten from the vault. In her other hand she held the screwdriver, and obligingly she rapped both of them against the bedframe, well aware of the wood splintering away.
Vaguely she could recall Dumbledore's reproachful voice: "At Hogwarts, cutting things up out of excitement is frowned upon—" and to that, she'd say, 'Getting possessed by Lord Voldemort and watching him murder two boys is also frowned upon, and yet I have not been expelled.'
At last, Sirius grabbed the edges of the tarp and yanked it away. Lucy blinked once, twice, three times. Certain her eyes were failing her. Or that maybe Sirius was playing a joke on her. Because there on the floor was something that was as foreign to the castle as Hogwarts as skipping a class was to Hermione Granger: a Big Screen TV.
There were no electronics in Hogwarts. There weren't any light switches in Hogwarts. And yet Sirius was smiling as though a 150lb television was the most natural thing in the world.
"Hey! You brought a Jellyvision!" Anthony said this with the confidence of the sun, and Lucy almost felt bad when Sirius promptly burst out into loud laughter, clutching his sides. "What?" he frowned. Lucy tried to appear supportive.
"It's a television, Anthony. Y'know. The telly," she said, very kindly in her opinion.
"What?" he looked disgusted. "No, it's the Jellyvision."
She squinted. Maybe she was wrong? "What do you think a Jellyvision is, Anthony?" she asked.
Anthony stared at her like she had grown another head. "A muggle box, you play films on it. You know. Jellyvision. It's called a Jellyvision."
"It's really not, though," she kept her pleasant tone. "Telly. Television."
"It doesn't have a 'T'! I would know! Heidi told me herself, and that's how it's been spelled in my muggle studies textbook for ages!"
"Was it spelled like that before or after Heidi told you?" Lucy said pointedly.
Anthony tried to think back, frowning. "Uh.. after?"
"And Heidi told you this? The same Heidi famous for her spelling charms?"
Anthony was quiet for a few moments. Then, wordlessly, he stood up and dragged the armchair over to where Lucy was, facing the television. He sat back down and tucked his legs up to his chest, resting his chin atop them. "I don't want to discuss this anymore," he said quietly.
Lucy reached over and patted him on the knee.
Sirius managed to get a hold of himself, and he cleared his throat. "Right. Well, I—"
Anthony suddenly dropped his legs to the floor, sliding downward in his chair with an anguished cry. "I can't BELIEVE it! I've been saying Jellyvision for years! I've been talking about Jellyvisions for years! All the films I watched with Heidi and her family! All the times I've said Jellyvision in front of them!" His eyes widened and he clamped a hand to his forehead. "DAISY! All the times I've said JELLYVISION in front of DAISY! She probably thinks I'm an idiot! A gullible, terrible, incredibly handsome and sexy idiot!"
"I think that's going a bit far—" Lucy began, but he sat up and practically lunged at her, grabbing the collar of her jacket. She stared at him with wide eyes.
"I need you to take that knife," he said slowly, glancing pointedly down at the shimmering blade, "And stab me with it. Right in the heart, if you will. Try to avoid the lung. I like my lungs. I consider them my greatest attributes."
It took a lot to distress Lucy but this managed it. "What?"
"What?" Sirius agreed.
"My lungs! Without them I cannot speak! I cannot sing! I cannot dance! But I'm getting away from myself." He pointed down at the knife. "Stab me. Now."
"I'm not going to stab you!"
"Why not?!"
"Because you're my mum!"
"And as your mum I'm telling you to stab me! Be merciful, cub. I've gone around pronouncing a word wrong in the most terrible way. What else have I been saying wrong? Next, you're going to tell me that I've been pronouncing Secstricity wrong?"
Lucy had no idea what he was trying to communicate here. It was Sirius who spoke up, in a trembling, restrained voice. "What?" he said softly.
Anthony's face turned a shade paler, his grip on Lucy's jacket tightening. Slowly, he turned his head to face Sirius. "You... you know... the thing... the thing that powers J- Televisions... Sec...Secstricity..."
Sirius positively howled.
Anthony let out a cry of despair and fell onto the floor, curling into a ball. Lucy could do nothing but watch as her friend went through all five stages of grief right then and there, thinking of all the times he'd confidently talked about Secstricity to Daisy, his muggleborn friend, and any other person in his muggle studies class. Her first instinct was to laugh as hard as Sirius, who had tears in the corner of his eyes, but a glance downward at Anthony let her keep a straight face. She did, however, stow the Lestrange knife away in her pocket in case Anthony got a bit too dramatic. He wouldn't try to stab himself but Lucy had once seen him fall down a flight of stairs because he wanted to pretend to fall.
"Anthony, my friend, my mother, listen," Lucy peered over the edge of the bed at him and diplomatically folded her hands in her lap. "Daisy's not going to think you're an idiot for mispronouncing words." He perked up at this. "She is going to think you're an idiot for everything else you've done, like that time just before she left for the holidays when she said goodbye to you, and you tried to say goodbye back but you were drinking pumpkin juice, and then you spewed it out your nose and it sprayed anywhere, and she laughed at you and left before you could say goodbye, and it looked really stupid and—"
"Good Godric, Canary, don't kill the poor boy!"
Sirius stopped his laughter and was now staring at Lucy in horror. Anthony, too, had stopped making noise, and was now staring off into space in a catatonic state.
Lucy grimaced. Oops. "I mean..." she cleared her throat. "She's probably... I mean she doesn't really..." Sirius made a 'go on' gesture. She shook her head. "I got nothing, Sirius." She did not suffer from the strange, foreign lovey dovey pangs Anthony was having right now and for that she was grateful.
"What Lucy was trying to say is that you and this Locke girl are already friends," Sirius began, "and so she's not going to mind if you do anything strange. She probably thought you were being funny. That's not so bad, is it? There are worse things. She could hate you, but she doesn't."
"She does not, in fact, hate you," Lucy agreed. Though they bickered a lot, Anthony had been friends with Daisy since his first year at Hogwarts.
"But..." Anthony whimpered and uttered, "Secstricity."
"You're handsome, it overshadows any embarrassments," Lucy dismissed.
He suddenly sat up straight with a bright smile. "I am handsome, aren't I?" he said cheerfully. "You're right! Phew, I'd almost forgotten." He made a show of wiping his forehead. He grabbed onto the armchair and pulled himself to his feet. "All is better." He sat down. "Proceed."
Sirius blinked at the abrupt change in the boy's mood, but decided it was better than watching him curled in a ball with a tormented expression. "Proceed I shall," he said at last. He walked over to the telly and patted the top of it fondly. "I found this in someone's alleyway— can you believe it? All it needed was a bit of fiddling and now it's as good as new. This, dear companions, is our amazing evening packaged into one funny little box of pictures."
Lucy raised her hand.
"Yes, Rochester?"
She immediately jumped into the student role and said, in her best Hermione-like impression, "Professor, sir, if I am to understand correctly, electricity requires cables, which you have, of course— but cables are meant to connect to outlets, of which I can assure you this castle has a distinct lack. Can you please explain your reasoning? I don't mean to discourage you."
"A sound question, Miss Rochester. Ten points to Gryffindor."
"Hufflepuff," Anthony corrected.
"Deserves nothing," Sirius finished.
Anthony scowled. "Rude!"
"And the answer," Sirius continued, "is that we will not be needing outlets. You see, Rochester, this is not the first time I have used a television within the walls of Hogwarts. With the help of one muggleborn Lily Evans, her fellow muggleborn Mary MacDonald, and of one half-blood Remus John Lupin, along with, of course, James Potter's arsenal of charms, we managed to sufficiently power the muggle television, as long as one casts the right amount of spells periodically. Unfortunately our access to any channels is limited to approximately none within the walls of Hogwarts, but VHS tapes will work perfectly."
Lucy watched in amazement as Sirius went over to his duffle bag and pulled out countless VHS tapes. Back when she attended muggle school, sometimes the teacher would put on educational videos for them, but she'd never just sat down and watched a movie. (Entirely her fault— the common area had a television but the room was always filled with so many unpleasant people- i.e. Jennifer - that she decided she'd rather find entertainment elsewhere).
"Sirius..." Anthony breathed, clamping his hands to his cheeks. "That's amazing! What movies did you bring? Where did you get them? Which spells did you use? How can I do this exact same thing in my dorm?!"
"Many, a rental place, many spells, and I will show you later," Sirius was clearly amused at his enthusiasm. He started stacking the VHS boxes on top of one another. "You'll have to look them over with me, Gumshoe, and decide if they're... appropriate..." He forced out the last word with a grimace.
"Appropriate? I'm fourteen!" Lucy said, outraged.
"Are you?" Anthony said skeptically.
"I might be," she grumbled. She didn't know for certain, she was at least thirteen. "Since I don't know my age I can pick. And I choose that I'm fourteen!"
"Uh huh," Sirius said absently, already looking through the movies. He picked up The Shining and frowned when he read the description on the back. "Definitely not," he said firmly. The Silence of the Lambs was next, also one he put in the reject pile.
Anthony was reading over Dead Poets Society. "Oh, I watched this one!" he gasped. "With Heidi! I cried for an hour straight!"
"Then let's put that one aside for now," Sirius suggested.
Lucy was beginning to notice a pattern in the movies they rejected. She sat between them, reading the descriptions in the reject pile, and found that all the ones they rejected held either graphic murder— The Shining— or were simply sad. Whether or not they were good movies wasn't a consideration for them. She was torn between feeling annoyed at being censored and feeling touched that they were being so thoughtful. She settled for touched, and so she leaned over against Anthony's arm.
"There's a lot of Disney films here," Anthony pointed out, stacking The Aristocats on top of the many other Disney VHS tapes.
"They're classic," Sirius agreed. "The lady at the rental place gave me a huge box of extras. It certainly helped that I changed my appearance to look like James Dean, but she was rather generous." Anthony had no idea who that was, but he nodded along anyway. "I'm sure we've all seen Disney movies, though."
"Speak for yourself," Lucy said, reaching for a particularly colorful cover. Alice in Wonderland. She'd read the book and thought it was rather interesting. She flipped the cover over to read the back of it, entirely unaware of the horrified expressions on Anthony and Sirius's faces.
"You've..." Anthony swallowed thickly. "You've never seen a Disney film?"
"You poor child," Sirius whispered.
"You deprived child," Anthony continued.
"Child without purpose or guidance."
"Child whose very being has remained incomplete."
"Child who has never known the sheer joy of tales of princesses and princes, adventures and dragons."
"This one's not about a princess," Lucy pointed out, gesturing to Alice in Wonderland. "She kind of reminds me of Luna."
"Who?" Anthony asked. He shook his head. "Never mind! I see now what our night must become. But the question is, which one do we start with?"
In the end, they decided each of them would pick one film to watch over the course of the night. Sirius transfigured one of the board game dice into having three sides, and they each chose a number: Anthony was first and after much deliberation, he decided upon The Great Mouse Detective.
A few minutes later they were all positioned in front of the telly. Lucy, for one, was positively writhing from anticipation. Anthony reclaimed his armchair and Sirius took another one, leaving Lucy with her bed, laying on her stomach. The room was completely dark apart from the screen's light, and they all had their various snacks. Aside from her bottle of pumpkin juice, Lucy had a hoard of licorice wands at her disposal.
For the first ten minutes, the only sounds in the room came from the film; for once in her life Lucy was perfectly still, paying close attention to every single detail. It wasn't long, however, before they started adding their own commentary.
"I'll be the first to say it," Anthony said evenly. "Rattigan's sort of handsome."
"What?!" Sirius looked over at him, horrified. "He's a rat, Anthony!"
The film was perfectly timed because at that exact moment, Rattigan turned around and bellowed at the screen, "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?"
"He's a mouse, Sirius, GOD!" Lucy made herself sound outraged, and she threw a licorice wand at him. It hit his leather jacket and stuck to one of the spikes. He stared at her, shocked. "Actually can I have that back?"
"No," he said, incredibly offended. He tugged the licorice off his jacket and bit into it viciously. "Kids. They're so ungrateful! I bring you a telly and what, you throw candy at me and hit on a MOUSE?"
"Are you going to argue with me?" Anthony demanded. "Look at Rattigan! He's fit!"
"He's an ugly, hairy rat!"
"I think you're pushing your personal agendas against rats onto my taste in men, Sirius."
"And he's not a rat," Lucy added. "He's a mouse."
"Definitely a mouse," Anthony nodded.
"Moments like these, I wish I was back in Azkaban," Sirius muttered, and he took a long drink of butterbeer.
The rest of the film followed the same line of arguing. Every so often, Anthony would point out his love for Rattigan, Sirius would argue back viciously, while Lucy just had fun listening to her two friends. She really did like Sirius, and it was a shame she only was getting to know him now instead of a few months ago. Then again it was probably a good thing Sirius held off on approaching her, because if she was that angry recently, she shuddered to think of what sort of curses she'd have used on him when she was freshly distraught.
By the time the film ended and they were staring at the end credits, Sirius couldn't help but admit, "Basil was rather bloody handsome, too."
"SEE?!" Anthony cried.
"You're all sick," Lucy told them. "They're rodents. I'm sure Daisy will be pleased when she finds out that your tastes include her along with mice."
"If Daisy finds out that my tastes include mice, your funeral's going to end up closed-casket," Anthony warned.
Lucy stuck her tongue out at him and he automatically leaned forward, ready to tackle. Sirius rolled his eyes. "There's no fighting allowed on film night," he stated. "As decreed by Lily Evans, the only fights that may take place are duels, and only if the film is paused or there is a restroom break permitted."
"Noted," Anthony grumbled. He leaned back in his chair but mouthed 'watch yourself' at Lucy. She returned his look with a 'try me' expression, followed with cracking her knuckles.
Sirius was busy putting in another movie, but without turning around he said, "No threatening, either!"
For Sirius's choice, he played One Hundred and One Dalmatians. He settled back in his armchair as the title scene played. Lucy snorted. "It's 'cause the film is about dogs, isn't it?" she asked.
"I will neither confirm nor deny," Sirius replied. "But I do confirm."
Surely, Lucy thought, as the film started, Surely Anthony could not possibly find anyone to crush on in One Hundred and One Dalmatians, a movie involving primarily animals, full animals. But alas, the moment Roger appeared on screen, Anthony let out a wolf-whistle.
"Really?" Lucy sighed.
"I can't say I blame him, this time," Sirius admitted.
Lucy only shook her head at them, but tuned back into the story. She was completely absorbed until Roger's wife, Anita, appeared on screen. She was a slender, pretty woman with ginger hair, and the moment Anthony saw her, he perked up.
"It's Daisy!" He said, turning to look at Lucy. "Do you see that? She looks like Daisy!"
"Daisy's hair is a darker red than that," she said, but she had to agree with him that apart from the shade of hair, the woman did resemble Daisy. She grinned at Anthony. "You think you'll be Daisy's Roger?" she asked.
"I'd better be," he muttered. "There's only one other Roger in the school— Roger Davies." He froze, then cursed. "Agh! Roger Davies looks exactly like this bloke! I'm doomed!"
Sirius was either doing a fine job at ignoring them, or he was truly that absorbed in the film.
When it was finally Lucy's turn, neither of the other two could say they were surprised by her choice. Alice in Wonderland was, of course, the one that had caught her eye the most.
Anthony watched the first scene with a perplexed expression. He looked from the television, to Lucy, back to the television, and then back to Lucy. He leaned over and poked Lucy in the arm. "You..." he squinted at her. "You can't convince me you're not the same as her!"
"Pardon?" Lucy looked away from the film to stare at him.
"That's you," he repeated. "You! Little Lucy! You're the same as Little Alice Liddell!" He gestured pointedly at the television, where Alice was refusing to listen to her History lesson. Lucy followed his gaze with a slight frown. When she refused to listen to her lessons at Wool's, it was in a far less glamorous fashion, and in far less of a posh accent.
"You must be mistaken," she said, shaking her head. "When the schoolmaster tried to gain my attention, it involved a lot of, 'Sit still you insufferable child!' from him, and there was a lot more sticking thumb pins on his seat from me."
"You're like Alice if she had a bit of a rebellious streak," Sirius offered.
Lucy snorted. She'd had a bit more than a streak.
They were content to watch the film in silence, until Alice approached the rabbit hole. The moment the girl fell into it, Lucy couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of familiarity. She scratched her chin. "I think I've done that..." she mused quietly, watching as Alice fell down the rabbit hole.
It was Anthony's turn to stare at her. "What?"
"What?" Sirius agreed.
She remembered when Tom let her visit inside the diary, and her stomach sunk a bit. She shook her head and for now tried to disregard any sadness from her memories, because it had been a fun little adventure. "I went inside the... " she trailed off, realizing that perhaps they would become very concerned at that. "Nevermind. It was a weird dream," she said, shaking her head.
"If I find you've been falling into rabbit holes... Without me...!" Anthony shook his head at the thought.
Lucy grinned. If only he knew.
The rest of the film was almost peaceful, until Anthony chimed in, "Sirius, you remind me of the Mad Hatter, in a way."
And Sirius, completely offended by that remark, given the Hatter's appearance, turned to stare at him with wide eyes. "Excuse me?" he uttered. "What— the Mad Hatter? That's who you're comparing me to? The Mad Hatter?!"
Anthony smirked. "Does that upset you?"
"It depends on your reasoning!"
"Calm down, mate. It's not that bad." Anthony took in a deep breath. "You look like him."
Sirius glared at him mutinously, then settled back in his spot. He held out a hand to Lucy for a licorice wand, and amused, she handed him one. He bit the end off it viciously. "I'm finished with you, Rickett," he stated. "You're a lost cause and a horrible child. You, Lucy, have promise, as long as you compare me to anyone other than the Mad Hatter."
"Don't worry, Sirius," Lucy said kindly, "You're more like one of them flowers."
"Really?" Sirius perked up. "Which one? And don't say the violet one."
"No, no, you're definitely the red one."
"Thank you!"
"Am I a flower?" Anthony questioned. "I want to be a flower!"
Sirius looked at him. "Anthony, I'd like to try and childishly insult you, but I can't deny that you entirely emulate the Cheshire Cat."
"He does!" Lucy laughed, turning to look at him. "Maybe that should be your nickname. Cheshire."
"My nickname is Gumshoe," Anthony sniffed, though he couldn't hide his pride at being compared to the Cheshire Cat. "But... I suppose one can never have too many code names... There can never be too much caution involved..."
Speaking of caution... Lucy supposed it was about time to check the map, just to make sure no professors were on the way. She pulled it out of her pocket and gently unfolded it, though it never seemed to have any wrinkles, no matter how she held it. She examined it and found that everyone was where they were supposed to be. Dumbledore still had not returned to the castle— hopefully he was still working at getting the Dementors removed— and Pettigrew was still in Gryffindor Tower.
"Why can't we get him now?" Lucy asked, feeling a strong urge to get that rat away from her friends. Anthony and Sirius stared at her. "Pettigrew, I mean. He's in Gryffindor Tower..."
"With Ron and Harry right there, along with their wands," Sirius said in a defeated tone. He scowled. "I hate waiting too, but Anthony raised a good point. Pettigrew's smarter than I thought he was. He knows if I catch him, it's all over for him; he'll fight and kill if it means staying alive. I won't risk him blowing up everyone around him again, especially if it's Harry. We need a stable plan; I can't run into the castle slashing up portraits..."
"It won't be too much longer," Anthony said, drumming his fingers on the surface of the armchair. "I'm thinking we'll have to stage a spotting, have Sirius spotted in a different part of the country, so that Pettigrew relaxes, and that's when we get him."
"But he's right there," Lucy sighed. "We could just... stun him. I could pretend like everything's normal, 'babysit' Ron's rat, and bring him to Remus or Dumbledore, or even Snape." Sirius made a sound of protest at that, but she ignored it, because even though Snape hated Sirius, he likely hated Pettigrew just as much and would be happy to take him to Azkaban.
Sirius straightened up in his seat and leveled Lucy with a stern look. "I don't want you to try anything with Pettigrew alone," he said firmly.. "I mean it, Lucy. That's what I tried, and a street full of muggles died for it, and he still got away. I was grown and training as an Auror then, and he still got the best of me."
"But—"
"No," Sirius repeated. "Promise me. Promise me you will not go after Pettigrew on your own, Lucy."
Even with Alice in Wonderland sounding off in the background, Sirius still managed to appear authoritative. Adultish. She held back a sigh; it was so much harder to skirt around orders when she respected someone. She was very tempted to lie and promise him, then go off and get Pettigrew. I can do it, she thought to herself, I know about twenty dark curses that would paralyze him and ten more that could break his bones. But, eventually, a trickle of common sense broke through her assured thoughts. I also can't use as many spells, and my wand is finicky on a good day...
She groaned, leaning back in her chair. "Uuuuuuuugh, fine! I promise I won't go after Pettigrew alone," she said, very reluctantly. But that doesn't mean I can't—
"Or with Harry, if we inform him before then," Anthony added knowingly.
"Damn it, Anthony!" Lucy huffed. That was what she'd been counting on! She and Harry were the dream duo! Last time it was just the two of them, a Basilisk died (That was mostly Harry's efforts, but she was there as moral support!).
"Or with Harry," Sirius agreed. He clenched his jaw at the thought of his godson and his godson's best friend both falling victim to Pettigrew. "I hate waiting too, but... We can't get this wrong. If Pettigrew escapes before we can catch him... I'll always be a convict."
She leveled him with a surprised stare. Truthfully, the thought of Sirius not being declared innocent had never occurred to her. Because she would never let that happen. Pettigrew could run, but he could not hide. Not forever. The world had shrunk in size when airplanes were created; it was even smaller, now, with apparating, floo powder, and portkeys at hand. Pettigrew could not hide forever.
"You really must have gone mad in Azkaban," Lucy marvelled at him, "If you think that there's a snowball's chance in hell that Pettigrew will escape. If he leaves Hogwarts, we'll find him." She grinned evilly and added, "I'll find him, even if he leaves the country, even if he leaves the hemisphere."
"In the course of a summer?" Sirius said wryly.
"I wouldn't wait for summer," Lucy said, offended. "You think I'd stay at Hogwarts while he gets further away from me? Of course not! I'd leave Hogwarts in an instant and track him down."
The convict stared at her with shock lacing his expression. Anthony smiled; he did not doubt her for a moment. "I'd be right there with her," he said calmly. "And so would Cedric, and Max, and Heidi—"
"And Harry, Ron, and Hermione," Lucy added, because of course they would, they were a team. "Pettigrew won't stand a chance either way. So don't think for a second you're going to stay 'guilty' forever, 'cause that's just never going to happen." She shot him a grin and said, "It's a shame you picked me to help you; once I start, I'll never stop. You're stuck with us, Sirius. You'll find that we Hufflepuffs are particularly stubborn."
Sirius's shock did not fade, but slowly, a smile pulled at his lips, and he turned back to face the television, purple and pink light illuminating the room. "Yes," he mused, folding his hands in his lap. "Yes, I'm beginning to notice that."
For the first time in twelve years, that fleeting sense of hope in Sirius Black's chest was beginning to solidify— into something more concrete. Something like trust.
They were not a bad pair of kids.
Not bad at all.
...
"...The caterpillar's not bad looking—" Anthony's voice began, and in unison, Lucy and Sirius exclaimed:
"What the hell, Anthony?!"