Mari's A/N: Look! It's here! And it didn't take four months! *dances*
G and Aria's A/N: Woot for stuff! Well, okay. . .this is still Mari. G and Aria didn't write A/Ns. Sadness. Oh well. Just read the fic. And review. Hm. . .that would probably be easier to accomplish if I shut up. . .
Chapter Three
A few years earlier
Sirius stared blandly at the sorry excuse of a meal the Dementor shoved at him through the bars. Today's gruel was a select choice of the slop he'd been served for the past decade, it appeared. He grimaced and pushed the bowl lightly away. He wasn't very hungry to begin with, and the food only made his stay in Azkaban a little more unbearable.
That's what he'd called it for the past ten years, his "stay".
When he'd been incarcerated, he hadn't exactly been sure of what happened. His world had been turned completely upside down; Lily and James were dead, Harry was famous, and Peter had accused him of their deaths. The information was overloading, and he hadn't had time to grasp the depth of what his supposed friend had said to him. And as soon as he had been arrested for the deaths of those on the street, he had known two things for sure: Peter had betrayed him and Lily and James, and he was innocent.
He'd entered Azkaban with the hopeful thought that someone, anyone, would find out the truth. They would listen to him and look around for a rat with perhaps a toe missing. Yet if Dementors could hear, they plainly didn't care, and it seemed as though the Wizarding world didn't mind who it was serving the time as long as they had someone to blame. From the beginning, he'd had low hopes of ever seeing daylight again, and those hopes were squashed as soon as they were felt because of the Dementors looming nearby.
In a small defiance, and as a way to boost his morale, he continually referred to his jail time as his "stay". It was a lifetime sentence, and a bit more than a visit, but he had wished against wished, hoped against hoped, that someone would discover the truth.
It didn't seem likely after awhile.
Still, he didn't consider himself completely useless. He could still transform into his Animagus form; something he did often to stay in good shape on smooth transfigurations from human to dog and vice versa. It had always been sort of a backup plan to someone finding him innocent to escape himself. To just become a dog and run away...
Yet he'd been a bit more cautious since he'd gone to Azkaban. Hoping someone else would find the truth was the safe way, but the much slower way. He'd promised himself he would only become a dog if he truly, truly had to. It was hard, being patient, but it was also important. If he became a dog, then it was only a matter of time before the Ministry found him and discovered his little secret.
He heard movement down the hall, and sighed. Taking a few bites of the disgusting looking matter in his bowl, he shoved it back out through the bars, knowing the Dementors would soon be by his cell to collect what he hadn't eaten. The familiar feeling of cold was growing a bit more with each second; to prevent himself from becoming distressed he closed him eyes and repeated "I'm innocent, I'm innocent" inside his head.
When he opened his eyes his bowl was gone, and the Dementor was walking past his cell, slowly, seeing as he had a small woman in tow. Sirius assumed it was someone going to the lesser crimes area, and was only slightly surprised to hear his name uttered in disbelief. "Sirius... Sirius Black?"
He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes; once in awhile a serial murderer passed by, wanting to know just how Sirius had pulled off that one fantastic curse, completing their work in one-one thousandth of the time. He never answered them. Just simply said, "Hello" and let them walk down the rest of the corridor on their merry way. On a rarer occasion, a petty criminal would gawk at him and whisper his name in awe that he would whip out his wand and do something to them as well. It wasn't as if he even had his wand anymore, anyway.
He looked up, however, because he had the distinct feeling that he'd heard that voice somewhere before. Glancing in the direction of the woman, he was quite surprised to recognize her. She was older, yes, but age had not done her much harm. He blinked disbelievingly.
"Madeleine?"
"But you did see it, right? I mean, I'm not hallucinating?"
"Yes, yes, of course we saw it. It looked like a Threstral, didn't it, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I wouldn't know, ma'am. I never saw one when we learned about them in fifth year at Hogwarts. This is the first time I've ever laid eyes on it. But from the descriptions I've heard, that seems to fit it." He paused. "Yet Hagrid said his pack was tamed. Why would it attack?"
McGonagall massaged her temple lightly; again she felt that she was just too old to be running around, solving mysteries about odd creatures with a pair of twenty-something year olds. "I have been able to see Thestrals for quite a few years. That didn't look as though it was part of the pack that Hagrid raised. I've certainly never known the gang around Hogwarts to advance upon any students." she screwed up her face in thought, "Perhaps it was a stray?"
Hermione lifted an eyebrow sceptically. "A stray Threstral that just happened to wander around Hogwarts? I'd say that's pretty unlikely."
Shrugging, McGonagall nodded. "I know, but what other way is there to explain it?" She spoke plainly, "I'm no expert on Threstral behaviour, however. It'd be best to go to Hagrid or consult a book in the library if you were looking for information about them."
Though she'd opened her mouth to answer, Hermione was cut off by the distinct groan of someone waking up into immense pain.
"Nggh."
The world blurred before ebony eyes and the surroundings spiralled uncontrollably into a swirling vortex of confusion. Muffled words were being churned out from rapidly forming smudges on her eyes, but everything sounded like she'd been underwater much too long and her ears had popped.
Stella blinked.
Why, oh, why didn't she appreciate the ability to not see things in double vision when she had it? There seemed to be little men with steel boots having line dance practice on her brain [1] and a steady headache was forming at the back of her head, incessant in its dull throbbing.
Suddenly, the weird brownish blur burst in an outcry, "Stella! You're awake!"
A cringe spread itself out over her face. The strange sensation in her ears was gone, but now she was hyperaware to the sounds around her.
"Pro-professor Granger..." Stella groaned. "C-Can I have a... glass of... water?"
"Oh, of course, dear. How do you feel?" Hermione asked concernedly as Stella propped herself up against the mound of pillows behind her. She busied herself by fetching a glass of water from the spout at the end of the room.
Closing her eyes in deep pain, Stella gave a frank answer, disregarding the fact that others may have been present in the room. "Like shit."
Professor McGonagall gave her a disapproving look to which she was totally unaware, but pursed her lips and remained silent.
"I'll go get you a Pain Relief potion, I'll be right back. Stay here a minute, won't you?" Placing a glass of water on the table beside her, Hermione moved across the room to the medicine cabinet. She threw open the doors, browsing over the labels before choosing the correct potion. Usually, she'd have asked Madame Pomfrey if she could use it, but the woman had not been there when they had arrived with poor Stella, a note left behind for those who came in saying that there was a particularly nasty accident of facial transfiguration that had to be dealt with in the patient's room. Quickly, she cast a critical eye over the potion she'd selected. It was a rather complex one to make, and the directions on it were written in Severus Snape's handwriting.
"S'not like I can go anywhere, can I?" Groaning, Stella laid back against her pillow. The world was still swimming quite a bit; she felt as if she were on a boat that would not stop rocking, and it ached to move any part of her body. Shakily, she picked up the glass of water on her bedside table and took a sip.
Hermione 'hmmph'ed and handed Stella a goblet containing a thick, green substance that smelt of spinach and something undeniably foul. She wrinkled her nose. "Do I even want to know what's in here?"
"Well, probably not, considering you have to drink it. Professor Snape made it."
Stella gave a more exaggerated moan of pain. "I hope that wasn't meant to be comforting." She grasped the goblet as steadily as she could and raised it to her lips only to draw it away, a look of disgust on her face.
"Stella! I realize you're in pain, but this will help. You can attempt to be a little more considerate." Hermione exclaimed, hoping fervently that Draco wouldn't notice the comment Stella made about who she supposed was his favourite Professor.
She didn't notice that Draco, however, was mildly amused and just silently watched the playful banter between Hermione and Stella.
"What? Snape -- "
"Professor Snape, Miss Black." Professor McGonagall automatically cut in. She was dutifully ignored.
" -- hated my father! Hated, detested, resented, abhorred! Despised with the fiery passion of a thousand suns! [2]"
"Very interesting monologue, Miss Black. Now, if you would care to drink the potion, we might be along on our way to do other more important things." Professor McGonagall said.
"Sorry, Professor," as she paused, she gave a thoughtful sigh, "but, before you go, may I ask a question?"
McGonagall gave a hefty sigh, then nodded slightly. "One question, and then you must promise to take your potion."
Stella nodded, then gave a slight 'ouch'. Bringing a hand behind her neck to rub it, she looked very introspective for a moment, as if deciding exactly how to word her question. "What was it that attacked me, exactly?"
"That, Miss Black, is what we're trying to confirm," replied the stern Transfigurations teacher, before turning on her heel and motioning for the other two to follow, "Now, drink your potion."
"I'm going to stay behind and make sure that Stella's comfortable." Hermione stated, shaking her head slightly at McGonagall's beckoning. The elder shrugged, giving her a 'suit yourself' look, then proceeded out the door, followed by a silent Draco Malfoy.
Stella had drunk her potion during this exchange, and now as she laid the glass down beside her, she realized it not only relieved her pain, but it made her incredibly tired as well. She blinked sleepily and leaned into her pillow. "So, I'm going to be okay, right? No lasting side effects?"
Hermione paused, making her to word her reply very carefully, as to not give anything away. "If we're correct at identifying the animal, then there should be nothing to worry about."
Even with her eyes practically closed, Stella managed one last statement. "I thought I was going to die before you got there." A big yawn, then, "Thanks for finding me."
Patting the ebony head before standing, Hermione left the infirmary.
"Ah, yes. Welcome back, Miss Black." Professor Flitwick smiled kindly atop his mountain of books as she entered the room shyly, a few minutes late for class.
She returned his smile with one of her own, because replying. "I'm sorry if I'm tardy, Professor. Madame Pomfrey refused to let me out until just a few minutes ago, and even then -- " she was cut off by Flitwick.
"It's quite alright, Miss Black. I've been informed of the situation. Please, take your seat."
Stella nodded awkwardly and slid into the seat next to A.J.
"As you know, for the past few days we've been studying cooling charms. Today, we've going to learn its opposite, the heating charm." Professor Flitwick's voice droned on, as Stella felt herself poked in the side with a wand. Turning toward the person who'd prodded her, she found a note lying in front of her. She smiled at A.J., who smiled back. She opened up the note, which read:
Welcome back, Stella! Are you feeling okay? I tried to visit you, but Pomfrey wouldn't let me.
--A.J.
She flipped the small piece of parchment over to its clean side before picking up her quill and scribbling a quick note back to her friend.
Yeah, I'm fine. There still trying to find what attacked me, though. I know you tried to visit -- I heard Madame Pomfrey yelling at you to get out.
--Stella
Pushing the note to her right, Stella laid down her quill and was about to look up, when she noticed that the class and its teacher were staring at her. "Stella?" Professor Flitwick said sternly, "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" He motioned to the note that now lay in front of A.J. She shook her head; though the note said nothing bad, she still preferred not to have to read it in front of her peers.
"Accio note!" The charms teacher performed the summoning charm, and gave the note a quick once-over. He shook his head, before giving both A.J. and herself a detention.
And that was only a prelude of what was to come.
In Potions, her next class, she still hadn't completed her essay. Snape gave her a zero for the assignment. It made her so flustered that she knocked her cauldron full of the Hallucination Potion onto herself, and caused her to see flying ponies and rainbows until Snape fed her the antidote (which he took his sweet time about).
She fell into a puddle of water in the hall, where the rain had come in from the open window and had yet to dry up. In Transfiguration, she accidentally transformed her cat into a jug of water, which possessed the cat's spirit. It tipped itself over onto her. On her way to lunch, she made a detour up to her room; she was in desperate need of some dry clothes.
During lunch, A.J. bumped her arm while reaching across the table for the sandwiches, causing her to get soup in her lap. Frustrated, Stella went up to her dormitory once again, and changed quickly.
She decided not to go to her afternoon classes.
She'd snuggled into her bed to get a few extra hours of sleep, since she was still dealing with the after-effects of a mixture Madame Pomfrey had given her that morning, but unfortunately for Stella, the window had flown upon. A mixture of rain and snow had flown into her window, soaking her and making her quite cold. She shivered, and in vain searched to find something dry to change into. It was, however, useless. Everything in the room was soaked, and her roommates were sure to be furious.
She sighed. Today had been a wet, wet day.
[1] This was a quote from somewhere -- I'm positive of it, and yet I don't quite remember where it's from.
[2] This was a twisted quote, from 'Underwater Light' by Maya, a popular, multi-chaptered slash H/D fic, which is wonderfully written and can be found on Schnoogle.