Wail of a Banshee, Tear of a Dryad

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, at least nothing you recognise. It belongs to the amazing, the formidable, the unbelievable… J. K. ROWLING

Chapter Two

The familiar face of a perfect stranger

Harry stared at Hermione.

"Herms, you're jumping to conclusions! Don't you think he would have mentioned her?"

Herms shrugged again. "Yeah, well, why would she have asked you? As far as we know, she is not a member of the Order!"

Ron let out a snort. "Oh please. Okay, she may be part Dryad, but the rest? Please!"

Suddenly, their discussion was interrupted by tiny Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice.

"What are you waiting for, children? The sorting, the sorting!"

The three friends went into the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table. They had already missed the Sorting Hat's song and now watched as the new students put on the old, tattered looking hat that cried out their house.

After it had enounced the house of 'Zabini, Eglantine' ('Slytherin') Dumbledore stood up and said, "Before we can enjoy the feast, there are a few things I'd like to say. As you will no doubt have noticed, last year was quite eventful. We all know now that the Dark Lord is back and therefore we will put a lot more emphasis on Defence Against the Dark Arts. I want you all to welcome our new teacher Professor Helen O'Connor", there was a half-hearted round of applause, Malfoy wasn't clapping at all, "Now, tuck in!"

The delicious feast appeared and Harry, Ron and Hermione heaved potatoes, lamb chops and peas onto their plates and began to eat, all the while discussing that new teacher.

Harry, meanwhile, was watching Professor O'Connor. She was hardly eating, merely poking at her baked potatoes. Professor McGonagall said something to her, but it took her two attempts to get her attention.

"Hermione," he said suddenly, making the other two jump. "D'you reckon they keep the old yearbooks somewhere?"

Hermione looked nonplussed. "Of course. There's a special section in the library."

Harry grinned at his two friends. "How do feel about checking out this new teacher in the yearbook before going to bed?"

***

"Madame Pince is not going to like this one bit," Hermione muttered, as they slipped into the empty and quiet library later that evening.

"Come on!" said Ron. "The door was open, it's not like we're breaking in!"

Harry, leaving those two at their bickering, had already spotted the section with the yearbooks and immediately sprinted over to them and started looking for the year of his parent's graduation.

"We don't know if she was in the same year with them," Hermione suddenly said. "Or if O'Connor is her maiden name!"

Harry ignored that, he had already found the book and opened it with slightly trembling hands.

There, on the Gryffindor page were his parents, smiling happily. His mother had been really pretty with seventeen, he had to admit. Her eyes, that were so like his own, were positively gleaming with happiness. His father, whom he had come to know as a brilliant but slightly arrogant prat at fifteen, looked equally happy.

And there - Harry felt a lump rise in his throat - was Sirius. His now deceased godfather looked extremely handsome in the picture, his features even, his eyes warm and dark, with a slightly mischievous gleam in them. His hair, that was a bit shorter than it had been shortly before his death, was a shining and some strands kept falling him into the eyes, in a sort of casually elegant way.

He swallowed hard, then he turned the page. Ravenclaw… Hufflepuff… Helen O'Connor was not among them. So either she really hadn't been in their year, or she had been…

"Slytherin!" Harry said suddenly and pointed at a photograph on the Slytherins' page. It was clearly Helen, her pale, slim face and the little flowers in her hair were instantly recognizable.

"She was in Slytherin?" Ron said, utterly bewildered. "Well, that rules out your theory of them being lovers, Hermione!"

Hermione didn't answer. She scanned the other pictures, for instance that of Lucius Malfoy, looking even better than his son Draco, although he was considered a heartthrob.

But then her gaze remained glued to Helen's picture.

Harry closed the yearbook resolutely. "We wont get anything out of staring a an old picture," he said, "at least we know she knew my… she was in the same year as the marauders."

Ron was eyeing him tentatively. "Harry? You okay?"

Harry nodded. His scar had just seared again, a little less painful than usual, but he had the horrible feeling he knew her face… whatever it was, it couldn't be good!

A/N: I know this is way too short. I'll soon post more, I swear! And please keep reviewing, reviews make my day!!