A/N: Chapter revised as of July 26, 2005

Chapter Four: First Looks

Michaela tossed and turned throughout the night. Though the potion that Sirius had given her was for a dreamless sleep, she still had a rough night due to her level of stress—something that no potion could take away. As a result, in the morning she found herself tangled in the bed sheets when she awoke late; the noise from the people earlier had not woken her up.

For one blissful moment she couldn't remember what had happened the previous night or even where she was: this wasn't her bed. She couldn't even remember going to bed. Where was she? Then, like a sharp burn, everything painfully came back to her.

Her eyes started to water at the memories from the previous night, but Michaela firmly held her eyes up to the ceiling to prevent the spillage of any tears. Michaela had had enough of that. What would her parents think? They would want me to be strong, she told herself firmly.

In fact, it almost came as a shock to Michaela, remembering the emotional display that she had put on the previous night. She was not the kind of person to cry in public nor did she tend to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Passive-aggressive was what her parents told her. Able to control her feelings in times of anger or sorrow—this was one of the key reasons why Michaela hardly lost debates with her parents or other people. She always managed to keep a cool head while other people got angry and said or did rash things.

But this was different. Her parents . . . her parents were something much bigger than some stupid argument; they were her life! They had raised her, guided her, and gave her unconditional love, such that she hadn't experienced from anyone else. If she lost them . . . Michaela's heart gave a wrench.

I won't think about that now, she thought. Sirius was right, Dumbledore's their best chance at survival and I'll waste time and energy fretting about them.

As she untangled herself from the bed sheets, she took a deep breath to fully calm herself. Standing up, she looked at her surroundings. She was in a small room, with a dingy window on the opposite wall of her bed. The pale blue carpeted floor looked as though it had recently been cleaned, as the fumes of an unknown housecleaner solution rose up to meet her nose.

There was an ornate, wooden dresser near the foot of the bed but beyond that, there was no other furniture. The walls showed discolored places where photos or pictures had been hung but were taken down. Her bed was the only nice and cheerful thing about the place. The bed covers had a Quidditch theme with red balls that Michaela remembered as "Quaffles," black bowling ball-like "Bludgers," and finally, golf ball sized "Snitches."

Michaela started to stretch out her limbs. She did this every morning, regardless of where she was. Stretching not only fully woke her mind and body up, it also gave her a sense of peace, not to mention great flexibility. Her mom had a great fondness for Muggle Yoga classes and had shown Michaela a few of the moves.

After about five minutes of trying to smooth out the wrinkles out of her clothes that she was still wearing from the previous night with little success, she opened her door and went down the hallway. Finding the steps, she went down and walked quietly through the corridor (Michaela heartily remembered the paintings' screeching from the previous night).

Hearing voices from the kitchen, she entered the room. In it were three people sitting around a table, drinking coffee.

Sirius started when he saw Michaela come in and asked tentatively, "How are you this morning, Michaela?"

"I'm fine." Michaela looked at their unconvinced faces. "Really. I've had my, well . . ." Michaela gave a nervous laugh. " . . . emotional breakdown. I've decided that there's nothing to be done for it but to hope for the best. That's what my parents would want, anyway."

"We're glad to hear that, dear," said the red-haired woman.

"Sirius, could you introduce—"

"Oh! Sorry, of course. This is Molly Weasley, the mother of all the red-haired kids you saw last night," he said, gesturing to the red-haired woman. " . . . and this is Remus Lupin, one of the Order."

Remus Lupin had the look of a homeless person, with ragged robes and a slightly gaunt, but kindly face.

"Well, I suppose you all know who I am, but for courtesy's sake, I'm Michaela Woodburn." She sat down at the table and immediately Mrs. Weasley jumped up.

"What would you like for breakfast? Toast, eggs?"

"Oh, I'm not very hungry, thanks." All three of them stared at her.

"Not eat breakfast? You must be joking, Michaela," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Well . . . I hardly ever eat breakfast . . . most people don't," said Michaela, a bit disconcerted.

"Is that an American custom to not eat breakfast?" asked Lupin, trying to understand.

"Well, erm . . ." Michaela trailed off. Biting her lip, she said, "Some people eat breakfast but usually I don't have time so I skip it." Seeing their incredulous faces, Michaela hurried on to say, "Well sometimes I do eat breakfast, on Saturdays and Sundays I do, because I don't have school and things."

There was a pause, when after, Mrs. Weasley said, "Well, are you sure that you don't want something to eat? After all, you have a long journey ahead of you."

Michaela thought it best not to argue. "Okay then. I'll just have some milk and toast, please."

As Mrs. Weasley went to the pantry, Michaela asked, "Journey? What journey?"

"Well, as your parents haven't been found yet, Dumbledore is going to send you to Hogwarts until they're found. You'll do your schoolwork there."

"But how? I go to a Muggle school."

"Dumbledore said he'd explain it in a—" but Sirius didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as an owl flew in, nearly hitting Lupin's head, and dropped a letter in front of Michaela:

Michaela Woodburn

The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters

The Kitchen

London, England

Michaela tore it open and began to read:

Michaela,

I have not been able to locate your parents—a stab of disappointment hit Michaela—but I have good hope. In the meantime, I have sent for your possessions from your home and textbooks for your next year at school. Since it will be too dangerous for you to remain in the Muggle world, I have made arrangements for your stay at Hogwarts. Until we find your parents, you will do your studies there—What? I don't want to go to Hogwarts! I can't do my studies there—it's a Wizard school—I will tell you the details when you arrive. Remus or Molly will accompany you to Hogwarts and I shall hopefully see you at the start-of-term feast tonight.

Albus Dumbledore

Michaela handed the letter over to Lupin and Sirius, sighing. Of course Uncle Albus would think of a way for her to stay at Hogwarts, there was no use hoping otherwise. At least it'll be short-term, Michaela thought dejectedly as Mrs. Weasley set a glass of milk and toast in front of her. "Thank you."

"No problem, dear."

"So how will I be getting to Hogwarts?" asked Michaela. She knew that normally students took a train there, but it was too late in the morning for her to take a train up.

"Well, I think it'd be best if you and Molly took the Knight Bus. Molly can escort you to Hogwarts then," said Lupin. "And no, Sirius, you can't go," he added sharply, seeing Sirius' hopeful face.

"Why not?" asked Michaela.

"Because Voldemort will have known about my Animagus form and obviously I can't walk around town as myself," said Sirius sullenly.

Michaela felt a few moments sympathy for Sirius. Poor guy, not being able to go out at all! It's just like being locked up in prison! Well, it's better than Azkaban, at least. Michaela ate the rest of her breakfast in silence.

After breakfast, Michaela went to one of the bathrooms to take a quick shower, though the mirror kept shouting out beauty advice as she cleaned herself up. "Scrub your face to get rid of those unsightly black heads . . . no, don't use that soap! Don't you know that soap's no good? It's Muggle soap! . . ."

She looked at herself in the mirror, ignoring the mirror itself. She had shoulder-length dirty-blond hair with hazel eyes. She liked the way she looked for the most part; she could be a bit taller in her opinion, but standing at 5'4 wasn't too bad height-wise.

Finally done and feeling completely refreshed, but for the clothes that she was still wearing, Michaela went downstairs again and met Sirius in the hallway.

Sirius looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. He shook his head and then said, "Michaela? Can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Sure, what?"

"Can you keep an eye on Harry for me?"

"What do you mean?" asked Michaela, confused. "I think that Harry's proven himself more than once that he's capable of taking care of himself." Michaela remembered all of the adventures that her mom had told her about Harry and his friends; if all the stories were true, Michaela certainly wouldn't mind having them around if she was ever in trouble.

"I know. But Harry also has a habit of not telling anyone when something's wrong. So far he's gotten out of whatever troubles he's been in, but I don't want him to keep putting faith in that."

"So you want me to spy on him?" Michaela felt a bit uneasy, she didn't want to be a snoop.

"No, just—just let me know if something serious happens that he won't tell me. I think that he thinks if something serious happens and if he tells me, I'll come barreling out to help him recklessly."

"You won't, will you?"

Sirius waved away the remark impatiently. "Of course not—unless he's in danger."

Michaela sighed. "Well, I guess so. But only for major things, okay? I don't like this idea, but I'll do it for Harry. Mom has told me about all the stuff he's been through."

"Thank you." Sirius smiled at her and Michaela couldn't help but notice that he really was attractive with his longish black hair. Michaela! He's like twenty years older than you! Get a grip!

"Michaela!" called Mrs. Weasley. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I'll be there in a few minutes!" To Sirius she said, "How will I contact you though?"

"Through Owl post—no, it might be intercepted—Wait!" Sirius dashed off up the stairs. A minute later he came back with a grubby old mirror. "If you need to contact me, just call my name and I'll appear; I have the other mirror."

"Michaela, let's go!" called Mrs. Weasley again.

"Okay, but—"

"Not now, talk to me later when you get a chance, you better go."

Michaela hurried down to the door where Mrs. Weasley was waiting and called "Bye!" to Sirius as they left.

"Gave your old mirror to Michaela, Sirius?" asked Lupin.

"It's only for emergencies, Remus, you know how Harry is," Sirius protested.

"Are you so sure that it's purely for Harry's interest?" asked Lupin, shrewdly.

"Of course! What else would I-"

"Sirius, I saw how you looked at her. I'm just telling you, as your friend, to be careful. You're more than fifteen years her senior, Sirius!"

"Don't worry, Moony, I can keep my emotions in check, you know that."

Lupin stared at him.

"Okay, okay, so maybe that's not exactly true, but I can do it for this, don't worry!"

After giving Sirius another look, Lupin headed for the door as well, off to do guard duty for the Order.

Sirius looked at his other mirror. Remus is right, he thought. It's just because I haven't gone out with other women in such a long time.

Even though there were women in Azkaban, it was hardly the place to talk to people, let alone date them. Had it been otherwise, he wouldn't have given Michaela a second look, or even a first, he told himself firmly. Or at least, that was what he convinced himself.