A/N: --UPDATED-- And here's Chapter Five, ladies, gentlemen, and those in-between. As to answer a question on why Cassie is a bit, say, loosely guarded (No dementors)—since they have no real proof that she's who they think she is (Sirius), they can really only keep her in confinement until her statements are proven to be true or false. They most likely figure that a werewolf can keep decent control of someone trying to escape.

- Cellie

Note: It is advised that you read I Never Knew before trying to tackle this piece.

Disclaimer: Cellie Rivera, James Metz, and Cassie Woods (No relation to Mother's Curse) are all mine. The plot, however odd, is mine. The Potters, and anyone else I may mention are property to J.K Rowling, and her alone—And Remus is the sole property of me—Shut up, Cassie.


Chapter Five
The Past Will Haunt You

August 1st, 1995

Cellie woke up early Saturday morning to a pecking at her window. She rubbed her eyes, and blinked sleepily.

Who.. Who is it? A loud squawk answered her muffledly. She shot up, almost smacking herself on the light she had over her bed. Another squawk followed the first.

She whispered forcefully, and scrambled over to the window. A tiny white owl was flitting around outside, looking pretty annoyed. Cellie grinned, and motioned for the owl to move back. The fuzzball flipped down, hovering below the window as she tried to open it.

Cellie wrenched it open, and the owl flew in, resting itself on her hamster's cage. It squeaked in terror and hid under a plastic log. Cellie walked over to the owl, which flapped its tiny wings in impatience. She now noticed a small roll of parchment attached to its leg, and quickly relieved the small owl of its burden. She smiled warmly at the owl.

One second, Pig, and I'll get you some water. I know you don't like those awful transatlantic journeys, but I doubt Errol can handle something like that, right? She asked. Pig shook in affirmation, and Cellie put the parchment roll on her bed, heading quietly towards the kitchen.

She filled a bowl with water and another with some dog food—it wasn't bird feed, but it was the best she could manage—and headed back to her room. She put both bowls on her desk, where the small owl perched on her coiled lamp to drink and have a feed.

Cellie went over to her bed, sat down, unrolled the parchment, and began reading.

Cells,

I'm sorry this stupid letter took so long. As you can see, I sent Pig, who most likely insisted on stopping every in every state—that's what you call them, right? States?—to have a feed and a rest.

Go figure. Nothing of Ron's works properly. To top it off, he wouldn't even let me put a speed charm on the furball. I kept trying to convince him that it wouldn't hurt the owl, in fact, Pig'd probably thank me, seeing as how it'd get him over the bloody Atlantic faster. You just had to live halfway round the world, Cellie.

 Cellie chuckled. She had to admit, California was pretty far from the UK. The letter itself was dated July 12th, and it was already August 1st.

So, enough of Ron's idiotic owl. Something BIG's happened over here. Incredibly big. I told you about Harry and his being the fourth champ last letter, and how the third task (according to Hagrid) was going to be a huge maze, right?

So, Harry's in the maze with everyone else, and Cedric (the other Hogwarts champ, remember?) and him wind up reaching the cup together. They grab on, and it turns out the cup's some sort of portkey that—get this, Cell—takes them both to a graveyard swamped with Death Eaters—and You-Know-Who.

Her jaw dropped open in surprise.

Oh, bloody hell.. She said softly, continuing to read.

Here's the awful part. See, a Death Eater slams Cedric with an Unforgivable, and he dies, then You-Know-Who uses Harry somehow to.. well.. Cells, he's back. I'm not quite sure how. Harry was pretty quiet when he managed to get back—Confused on how he did, all Sirius says is he somehow distracted everyone and grabbed the portkey and Cedric's body.

Sirius? She wondered. He couldn't mean..

Yeah, that's the other thing. Sirius.. Sirius Black. He's innocent. He's been communicating with my idiot brother and Harry for the past two years. He's Harry's godfather, or something like that. Cellie, I know you'll probably think I've gone mad, or loony, but you've got to trust me. Come on, when have I ever lied? Wait, don't answer that. But seriously, Cells, you've gotta believe me. I solemnly swear on the Marauders's beloved map that I'm not telling you lies.

I'll send you another letter soon. Actually, it may be sooner than you think. That on line thing you told me about, Dad's going crazy. He's getting what you have, what's it called, a G3? And that other thing, a mooden or something.

Write me as soon as you can, Cellie.

She bit her lip, worriedly. Vol.. he was back. Oh, jesus.

I've got to stop James. If he goes over there.. She narrowed her eyes in determination. Cellie turned to Pig, who was happily munching away.

Pig, I need you to fly over to James Metz's house. Thirteen Fifty Four Prescott. Give him this. She scribbled a note on a piece of lined paper and tore it from her notebook, handing it to Pig, who clamped it between his jaws and flew out the still open window. Cellie pulled on a pair of jeans, and slipped her jacket on. She hopped out the window and scrambled over to her bike, which she mounted and sped off towards Prescott street.


June 14th, 1995

Stirring slightly, Remus blinked, letting his eyes slowly register the foggy Azkaban morning. A rather tiresome headache had decided to enter his brain, so he sat up slowly, rubbing his temples.

Suddenly, a loud crack emitted itself from the garden. Remus whirled around, and saw Cass holding a meter long stick of wood, looking quite pleased with herself.

A bit early for spring trimming, isn't it? He jested, weakly. Cassie rolled her eyes.

For your information, Mister Lupin, I'm trying to get myself—and you—a ticket out of this living hell. She stressed matter-of-factly, keeping a relatively straight face. Remus grinned.

You didn't have to face dementors, Miss Woods, so I wouldn't be calling this a living hell'. He said good-naturedly, shivering slightly at the mention of those foul creatures. Remus was just as glad as Cassie that the Dementors had orders to stay away from the courtyard.

Cassie, however, just grinned, and grabbed a small muggle knife, and started to carve the bark of the small branch off. Remus shook his head.

I don't see why you don't just let me slice that off with a charm, it's less work for you anyway. The woman snorted.

I don't see why you don't just let me slice it off with a charm... Honestly, Remus Lupin, it's a good thing you never thought of being a carver. Cassie said, imitating him rather poorly.

I guess so, He said, smirking at the raven haired woman, who promptly threw a small bucket of water at him, drenching the poor werewolf through the bronze fence.

You did NOT just throw that at me. He stated.

And what if I did? She asked, taunting, a sly grin on her face.

Then I just might have to do this! He yelled, drawing his wand and spraying a water charm continuously towards Cassie, soaking her as well.

No fair, I don't have a wan—All right, all right, truce, truce! She yelled back, running towards her safe haven, the small Wolvesbane root tree. Remus chuckled, and called off the jets of water, causing a rather wet person to peek out from behind the tree, her long black hair slacked against her face.

As soon as I finish this wand, I want a rematch, She commented, wringing her hair out. But for now, can you cast a drying spell on me? I'm freezing my arse off!



August 1st, 1995

The man that appeared from Sirius's fireplace after the smoke cleared couldn't have been whom Sirius had thought he was. It was impossible. Yet that man seemed to look like the man that was lost to life fourteen years ago.. But people couldn't raise the dead. Sirius stepped back, astonished.

He croaked. You're.. You're ALIVE? James—if it was him—didn't look that thrilled to see him, however.

Sirius, you goddamn bastard, what did you do? He spat. Sirius held his hands up in defense, dropping the knife on the stairs.

James, what the hell's going on? He asked.

I'd ask you the same question. Why the hell did you turn? James shot at him. Sirius's eyes widened to moons.

Wait, hold up, turn what? And while we're on the subject, how did you turn—alive? James narrowed his eyes.

First off, that's none of your business. Second, you know very well what I mean. Where's your mark? He said threateningly.

Sirius said, dumbly.

Yes, Sirius Black, your Mark. You know, Death Eaters get them?

Jam—James. You—You—You think I'm a Death Eater?! He exclaimed, horrified.

Well, why else would you give Lily over to Voldemort? Sirius's jaw slacked.

James.. James, I did NOT give Lily over to Voldemort. For Godric's sake, James, I wasn't your bloody secret keeper! Fourteen years of death make you lose your memory or something? Sirius asked, his breath coming out short and choppy.

You weren't? But that doesn't make sense— Suddenly, another boom issued itself from the fireplace.

Who the HELL are you? A voice issued from the fire, a male's. Sirius was about to respond when another voice interrupted him.

Jesus, George, I talk to you for five years and you don't know who I am? Pathetic, my friend. Sirius looked on, confused, as the smoke cleared enough for him to see a girl with red hair and green eyes talking to.. George Weasley?

Before Sirius had time to say anything, another figure tumbled out of the fire, not creating quite as much dust. He looked around the Lily lookalike's age, with brown hair a shade darker than Remus's, but other than that, a perfect match for his quieter friend.

Er, Cellie— Just then, James spoke out.

Celestia, what the hell are you doing here? Sirius's eyes flipped from James to the Lily lookalike—Celestia?

Professor, James, You-Know-Who's back, he's back, and—Sirius BLACK? She said, now obviously confused. Sirius chuckled weakly, and all members of the room turned to the escaped convict.

Uhm, hey, Sirius. One of the twin Weasley brothers Sirius recognized as George said, looking quite sheepish. He turned to Cellie.

Now, mind explaining why I'm in Sirius Black's flat with Metz and, uhm... George looked at James Potter and his eyes bugged out.

James Potter? Metz turned towards James, and raised both eyebrows.

Am I the only one terribly confused here? Sirius shook his head.

Nope, I think I win that award, seeing as how two people who look like teenage versions of my friends have popped into this flat along with George Weasley, and, of course, someone who supposedly was dead for fourteen years who has decided to pop in and pay me a visit. What's next, a sixteen year old version of Peter? No, whomever you are, I win that prize hands down. Sirius stated.

Just then, a loud squawk shook the flat, causing all eyes to look towards the eight foot tall Hippogriff.

It can't get any worse, Buckbeak. Tell me it can't get any worse. Sirius said, moping.

And that's about when he heard the muggle police sirens.


A/N: Eheheh... I know that was a rather, uhm.. confusing page, but I tried to explain it out best I could.


Tarawen: Heh, thanks for telling me about No Higher Praise (gave me an enjoyable half hour of fan fiction and another story to add onto my favorites list). As you can see from the above chapter, there are, eheh, quite a few mediators thrown into the scene. I know Harry was born in 1980, and you know Harry was born in 1980, however, some people just seem to not get that he was born then, so, rather than have people guess wildly about when I had my story take place, I just clarified it as taking place on the 1980 timeline. Whew, that was oddly confusing. :p

Jelli Bean: Well have it gnaw no more at your skin (at least for my story), for here's another chapter.

Lai: Yeah, that was the general idea. As to why she looks like Sirius... Well, you'll just have to find that out later.

Weasley, Weasley, and Jordan: If you want a good one, there's Lost in the Marauder's Time, by Miss Park Avenue, only problem is that she's decided to keep us in suspense and not post Chapter Nine. :p I'm glad Chapter Four kept you out of boredom, and I hope this one does as well.

Erin: I stopped there because I'm the author and cliffhangers are fun. Don't argue. :p

Rose Fencer: Yay, someone got it right.. *hands her a big bag of hopping chocolate frogs.*