Anna stayed in her room the rest of that night and the next day. No one had heard a thing out of her for the whole time being up there.

After breakfast two days after her barricading herself in her bedroom, Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a tray with pancakes, syrup, silverware, and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Run this up to Anneliese, will you dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked him and he nodded. "Thank you," she said and smiled.

When he reached her door, he took a deep breath, ready for Anna to blow off the steam that had most likely built up in her for the past three days. He suddenly realized how his friends had felt last year. He rapped on the door a few times. There was a pause, before –

"Who is it?" she asked weekly.

"It's me, Harry," he called. "I've brought you some breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she called back.

"You haven't eaten for days, so unless you're a skilled Gandhi-ist, I know you're hungry."

"Just leave me alone. I don't want to talk to anyone," she said.

"Come on, you have to talk to someone. I was the same way after our fourth year, after Cedric Diggory died. I wouldn't let anyone talk about it. But then I realized to let all my feelings out, and to get over it quicker, I had to talk to someone."

"So you think I'm just going to 'get over' it? Fat chance of that," she said dully.

"I'm not saying you can have to get over it. I'm not saying you can get over it. It's been fifteen years and I haven't got over my parents. I never will."

"Yeah, I guess. But I still want to know how I'm in danger. Even more danger than you."

"I'd like to know that, too," Harry said. "But it doesn't look as if Remus is going to give in anytime soon."

"Maybe if you tell him I'll come out if he tells me! Then I'll –"

"Then you'll be fearful every waking moment of the day. And I'm not being your messenger."

"Fine," she said and paused. "What kind of breakfast did you bring?"

"Open the door and you'll see," Harry called through the door, and a second later he was staring at a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. He looked up and saw the pale face of Anna. She had bags under eyes and looked exhausted. She has the very slight look Sirius had had after coming out of Azkaban, gaunt and sleep-deprived.

"Pancakes?" she said, slightly disappointed. "I don't like pancakes."

"You don't like pancakes?" Harry asked her. "How can you not like pancakes? Especially Mrs. Weasley's pancakes!"

She ignored the question. "Did she have bacon? Or eggs?"

"No," he said, and seeing her face drop, added, "but I'm sure she'd make you whatever you want."

"Okay," she said. "So, you coming downstairs?" he asked her.

"I dunno," she said. "Couldn't Mrs. Weasley send up some food with you?"

"When I say I'm not going to be your messenger, that means I'm not being your servant either," Harry replied, and grinned. "C'mon downstairs. I'm sure everyone will be thrilled to see you."

"Yeah, right," she said dully. But all the same she moved towards the door to where Harry was standing.

For a second Harry stood there like an idiot. Even though she looked gaunt and sleep-deprived, she was still very pretty and had an uncanny resemblance to Sirius.

Suddenly, realizing what he was doing, he started back down the hallway, Anna trailing behind him. They got to the kitchen and entered. The only ones in the room were Remus, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley. Remus and Mr. Weasley were sitting at the table, while Mrs. Weasley brewed them coffee.

They all looked up as they entered, and Mrs. Weasley abandoned the coffee and took the tray from Harry.

After Mrs. Weasley hugged Anna, Anna asked her if would make her some bacon and eggs. Mrs. Weasley bustled off at once, getting the frying pan out of a cupboard and magicking three eggs from the refrigerator. After getting the pan greased and the eggs on, she magicked bacon and a pan and started that. In minutes she had made a breakfast of bacon and eggs for Anna.

"There you go, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, placing the plate and glass of orange juice in front of Anna. Anna thanked Mrs. Weasley and began eating.

Everyone stared at her as she ate, and finally, she said "I can't stand being stared at while I eat," and took her plate into the dining room to finish it.

Remus poured himself some coffee. "I worry about her sometimes," he said, sat down, and continued talking to Mr. Weasley.

"So what were you saying about that article in Rita Weekly?" Remus asked, as he added sugar to his coffee and took a drink.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Weasley said, took a long sip of coffee, and continued his story. "Cafard has been rumored to be a Death Eater by one of the writers of Weekly. Well, when he saw Weekly, he had a fit, and attempted to curse the editor." He took another drink. "Obviously, that didn't help him when the editor of Weekly turned up at his trial as piece of evidence."

Harry, who had no clue what so ever about Cafard and the Weekly they were talking about, went into the study to find Ron and Hermione sitting at the table, both working on something.

"Ron, think realistically. I doubt we could get the whole of the Chudley Cannons to come, not matter how famous he is. And besides, we have to think of what –" Hermione looked up, and, seeing Harry, shoved the parchment (which Ron had been writing on), into the desk drawer.

"Hey, Harry," she said, blushing and looking scared about something. She elbowed Ron in the ribs, who was still frowning about the parchment being grabbed away so quickly.

"Oh, hey, Harry," he said, glaring for a moment at Hermione, then looking at Harry. "So did you get Anneliese to eat?"

"Yeah, after a few failed attempts." Harry replied. "So, what was all that," he gestured at the drawer, "about?"

"Oh, just some prefect stuff Dumbledore sent us. Wants our opinions and suggestions on a ball they might hold this year." Hermione replied, and Ron nodded vigorously.

"Ah," Harry replied, but he had a feeling it was something other than that. But he didn't feel like pressing any further.

"Well, I think I'll go catch up on some homework, or something." Harry went up to his room and dug into his trunk.

At the very bottom he found what he was looking for, a leather-bound book, the book Hagrid had given him five years ago. He flipped to the first page, a picture of his mother and father, dancing, laughing.... The second page, his mother cradling baby Harry wrapped in a blanket.... The third page, his father smiling and laughing with a very young- looking Remus. The fourth page, their wedding day, his mother in a long, flowing gown, his father in a black tuxedo, and next to him was Sirius, smiling, happy for his best friend. Harry looked into the face of his godfather. He looked extremely different, not yet laden with all the unhappiness Azkaban had laid upon him. He looked complete; he looked as if all he had ever wanted was James to be happy.

Harry shut the book with a snap and threw it into his trunk. He put his face in his hands and sat on the edge of his bed. Tears fell onto the floor, splattering over the wood work.

He didn't know what he felt. He felt all emotions at once. He was mad at Bellatrix Lestrange, he was happy that Sirius could once again see his best friends. He felt guilty, for if he hadn't gone running off to the Department of Mysteries, Sirius might still be alive. He was angry at himself. He was scared for what was yet to come. He was confused....

Just then a knock came at the door. He wiped his tears away on his shirt sleeve.

"Yes?" he asked whoever was at the door.

"Molly's served lunch, c'mon downstairs." It was Remus.

"I'll be down in a bit," Harry called, and waited until the footsteps had faded to get up. He crossed the room, and, looking into the mirror in the slightly-open wardrobe, noticed his eyes were a bit red, but not too bad. He'd be able to pass it off if he kept his head down through lunch. Sympathy, questions, and odd looks were the last thing he needed at the moment.