Diary of an Orphan (re-written)

by StrangeLittleWeirdo

Jenna grew up alone in an orphanage with no knowledge of who she was or where she came from. It wasn't until an owl arrived with a letter for her, and a man named Remus Lupin walked into her life, that she learnt she was so much more than she originally thought and her life would never be the same again.

10. The Whisper Inside the Wall

Chapter 9

The Whisper Inside the Wall

Before I knew it, it was September first. With everything packed in my trunk including all my new school books as well as my Thunderbolt III, as second-year students were allowed to have brooms at Hogwarts now, Lupin took me to King's Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express back to Hogwarts for the next school year. We arrived with plenty of time to spare and so made our way up to where the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was hidden. Dozens of families were striding up the walkway between platforms nine and ten, their children dragging various trunks and pets alongside them before vanishing through the wall without a single notice being taken by the Muggles around us. Lupin and I passed through the barrier and on to the platform, the Hogwarts Express gleaming in front of us waiting to take us back to the school.

'Jenna! Over here!'

I looked through the crowds when I heard my name being called. I could just see the familiar brown bushy hair of Hermione bouncing up and down a few feet up the platform, her parents with her looking a little less nervous than the last time I saw them.

'Are you going to be all right if I leave you with Hermione and her parents?' Lupin asked.

'I should be,' I said. 'Is it your … thing again?'

Lupin nodded.

'I'm sorry it's started again as you're about to go back to school,' he said. 'It always comes at the most awkward moments.'

'It's fine,' I replied. I knew Lupin didn't like crowds when his condition was starting to get worse as the full moon approached. 'If you need to go, I understand. All I have to do is get on the train, that's all.'

'If you're sure.' Lupin gave me a hug then handed me my trunk. 'I'll see you at Christmas.'

I waved goodbye to Lupin as he headed back towards the barrier. Once he was gone, I grabbed my trunk and Gizmo's cage then walked off to join Hermione. Seeing as Harry, Ron and the Weasleys weren't here yet we took the opportunity to find ourselves a compartment before they all became full. Mr and Mrs Granger helped us load our trunks on to the train then followed us as we walked up the carriage until we found a vacant compartment. Mr Granger lifted our two trunks on to the luggage rack above us and placed Gizmo's cage beside them. With our trunks safely stored away we got back off the train to wait for the boys while Hermione said goodbye to her parents.

With less than ten minutes before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave several red haired wizards appeared one by one through the barrier. All were looking flushed as they hurried up the platform with their trunks to where Hermione and I were waiting. Mrs Weasley was looking frantic as she counted the bodies in front of her.

'Percy – Fred – George,' she ticked off as they climbed on to the train. 'Go on, Ginny, your father's just put your trunk on the train. Harry, Ron – Arthur!'

Harry and Ron weren't there. There were only a couple of minutes left before the train was going to leave.

'Arthur, Ron and Harry haven't come through yet!' Mrs Weasley shouted at her husband. He nodded and ran off towards the barrier. Mrs Weasley meanwhile turned to Hermione and me. 'You two best get on the train,' she told us. 'We cant have you being late as well. We'll find the boys. Come on, come on.'

Mrs Weasley bustled us on to the train before we had the chance to the object. The whistle blew and the train pulled away from the station. Hermione and I shared a worried look. What had happened to the boys? Where were they? They had to have been with the Weasleys all the way to the platform so how did they not get through the barrier in time? And now that the train had left, how were they going to get to Hogwarts? Seeing there was nothing we could really do, Hermione and I went back to our compartment. We found Ginny halfway along the corridor looking nervous having not found anywhere to sit. We invited her to sit with us for the journey having been in her shoes a year ago ourselves.

'What do you think happened to Harry and my brother?' she asked. She took a seat in the corner by the window. Her head was bowed as she stared at her hands in her lap.

'We're not sure,' said Hermione. 'They probably just missed the train, that's all.'

'Well, what happens when you miss the train?' I asked. 'The Hogwarts Express won't leave Hogsmeade again until the end of term for Christmas, will it?'

'I'm sure Mr Weasley will find them and get them to Hogwarts,' said Hermione confidently. 'It was just so irresponsible of them to miss the train in the first place.'

As train journeys go it was pretty uneventful. It took a little while but eventually Hermione and I managed to engage the shy Weasley into conversation and soon enough, Ginny was happily talking to us about what she hoped Hogwarts would be like after having six older brothers go through the school. She was quite talkative for an eleven year old especially when the subject was her family or The Burrow, their family home. When Harry came up, as I've learnt he always seems to, Ginny seemed very interested in him, her cheeks pink when she asked us about what he was like. I listened and answered any questions I could for her, more than happy to settle her curiosity.

A sudden commotion outside our compartment diverted my attention briefly from our conversation. Getting up, I pulled back our compartment door and looked outside. Some of the other students were looking out the window of the train. I followed their gaze, wondering what was so interesting outside the train.

'What is it?' I heard Hermione ask from inside the compartment.

'Ginny, what colour is your dad's flying car?' I asked, ignoring Hermione's question.

'Light blue,' came Ginny's reply.

'And you said it was a Ford Anglia?'

'Yeah, why?'

I watched as the car lifted back up into the clouds above them, Ron clearly in its driver's seat having been given away by his red hair and Harry in the passenger.

'No reason.'

Darkness had fallen by the time we arrived at Hogsmeade Station. Hermione, Ginny and I had already changed into our robes by the time we pulled into the station and were sitting quietly as we waited to get off the train. We said goodbye to Ginny on the platform, reassuring her that the Sorting was nothing to worry about, and that she needed to follow Hagrid who had just appeared calling the new first-years over to him. As for us, Hermione being Hermione, she knew exactly what to do. All the older students took magic-drawn carriages up to the castle, as only the first-years were to ride the boats. Hermione and I joined the crowds and walked out of the station to where hundreds of horseless carriages would be waiting for us.

Line upon line of smart black carriages stood in the clearing behind the station, each one big enough to take between four and six students up to the castle. One by one when they were full they pulled off and began making their way up the track that would lead to the castle. There was nothing out of the ordinary about them except one thing. They weren't horseless.

I stared, my eyes wide, at the strange beast that stood in front of each individual carriage. I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was really there or whether they were a figment of my overactive imagination. I looked around to see if any of the other students were seeing what I was seeing. No one else was reacting to them, which I guess meant that no one else could see them. Once my initial shock had worn off I looked back at these strange creatures. They were horses but certainly not ones I'd ever seen before. Their skin was a shiny black and taught, their bodies skeletal as if they were malnourished; upon their backs were large leathery wings that every so often they'd stretch out before folding away again; glittering white orbs stared back at me from their almost dragon-like face; and the finest of black hair created their manes and tails. Despite their scary appearance I couldn't deny there was something strangely elegant about these invisible creatures.

'They're beautiful, aren't they?' said a voice behind me. I looked round. A small girl with straggly blonde hair was standing beside me. Her wide grey eyes were staring distractedly in front of her in the direction of the creature and she had her wand tucked behind her ear. It looked like she could see them too. 'People tend to avoid them because they're a bit different.'

I shook myself, then said, 'Shouldn't you be with the first-years?'

'Probably,' said the girl, 'but I wanted to come see the Thestrals first.'

'Is that what they are?' I asked. The name sounded familiar. 'Thestrals?'

'Jenna, come on!' Hermione called to me. She was sitting in a carriage with Neville, Seamus and Dean by the looks of it. 'The last carriages are leaving.'

'I have to go,' I told the girl. In the distance I heard Hagrid's voice calling out for her as well. 'Sounds like Hagrid's looking for you. They'll be waiting for you down at the boats.'

I got in the carriage and closed the door behind me. With a small jerk it started forwards and set off along the track.

I never realised just how boring the Sorting Ceremony was for all the other students while they waited for the new first-years to be Sorted into their Houses. A dozen or so empty spaces were set for the new first-years at the end of each of the four House tables while the older students filled up the rest. Hermione and I found some seats with Fred, George and Percy nearer the front, all of who were waiting anxiously to see Ginny be Sorted. I sat quietly, applauding when necessary, as one by one the new students were placed in their Houses. About halfway through the list the strange girl from earlier was called up to be Sorted. She skipped up to the stool and sat with a very vacant expression on her face as Professor McGonagall put the Hat on her head. I was intrigued to see she got Sorted into Ravenclaw; she seemed more of a Hufflepuff to me. At the end of the long list Professor McGonagall called Ginny's name and she was Sorted into Gryffindor.

There was still no sign of Harry or Ron by the time the feast had started. Hermione and I were getting very concerned about where they could possibly be. Just up from us Percy was also fuming at his brother's disappearance. I was in two minds whether to tell her about the fact I'd seen the two of them in Mr Weasley's flying Ford Anglia but needn't have worried. In amongst the din of chatter we overheard talk of Harry Potter and his ginger friend had been seen driving a flying car above the Hogwarts Express and that it was just another attention grabbing stunt since his name had been in the Daily Prophet when he met Lockhart. Hermione gave me a shocked look.

'They didn't,' she breathed.

'I think they did,' I answered.

A glance at the teacher's table told us everything we needed to know. There were three vacant seats along the line of teachers and I was pretty sure it wasn't because Lockhart was boasting about something he'd done; he was currently regaling Madam Pince with some wild tale, the latter looking thoroughly bored. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were all not there. That could mean only one thing. Harry and Ron must've arrived and they were in deep trouble.

'I can't believe those boys, honestly,' muttered Hermione indignantly on our way back to the Gryffindor Tower. The school was buzzing with news of what Harry and Ron had done; some were even saying they'd crashed on the school grounds. 'They should have just waited for Mr Weasley to bring them here instead of attempting to fly here in a car. I still can't believe they've done it. They'll be in so much trouble and the term hasn't even started. There you are!'

Harry and Ron were standing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady that hid the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower. We ran over to them.

'Where have you been?' demanded Hermione, not giving the boys a chance to explain. 'The most ridiculous rumours – someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car.'

'Well, we haven't been expelled,' said Harry. I cringed. They really had flown here.

'You're not telling me you did fly here?' said Hermione. Her tone could rival Professor McGonagall's.

'I did say,' I sighed.

'Skip the lecture,' snapped Ron, 'and tell us the new password.'

'It's "wattlebird",' said Hermione, impatiently, 'but that's not the point –'

Before Hermione could make her point, Harry and Ron were pulled inside the common room where they were greeted with a loud round of applause. The entire House was celebrating their escapades, Fred and George enviously that they hadn't been involved in their stunt. Ron went scarlet from all the attention. In amongst the happy and cheering faces, you could just see Percy standing near to the staircases, his arms folded in a very Mrs Weasley-ish way. Harry must've noticed this because moments later he was calling goodnight to Hermione and me and was leading Ron away up to the boys' dormitories.

'Boys!' groaned Hermione.

Hermione was still in a mood with the boys the following morning when they joined us at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. She kept her head buried in her copy of Voyages with Vampires that she had propped up against a milk jug and there was a certain stiffness in the greeting. When they looked at me, I gave them a small smile and a shrug then continued with my breakfast while they helped themselves to toast, porridge and pumpkin juice. We ate in silence, the only silence it turned out that we were going to get that morning.

'Hi guys,' said Neville. A short plump boy, Neville was unfortunately a rather forgetful and accident-prone person but friendly nonetheless. He took a seat beside Harry and helped himself to some food. 'Post's due any minute – I think Gran's sending on a few things I forgot.'

Sure enough a few minutes later a flood of owls filled the Great Hall to deliver the students their first mail of the term. Letters and parcels started to drop from above us as owls found their owners and left their deliveries for them before circling round and flying back out the windows of the Hall. As he thought, Neville's Gran had indeed sent on some of his things he'd forgotten as a large parcel bounced off his head and on to the table. Not a moment later though a large grey object crashed into the jug holding up Hermione's spraying us with milk and feathers. I recognised the bedraggled bird immediately. It was the Weasley's owl, Errol.

'Errol!' gasped Ron. He grabbed the bird's talons and picked him up. The owl was unconscious and slumped on the table with its legs in the air once Ron had picked off the bits of cereal from his feathers. 'Bloody bird's a menace.'

In its beak, Errol was still clutching a now rather damp red envelope.

'Oh no –' gasped Ron.

'It's all right, he's still alive,' said Hermione, giving him a prod with her fingertip.

'It's not that – it's that.'

Ron pointed at the letter. Both he and Neville were looking at it as if it was suddenly going to explode.

'It's just a letter, Ron,' I said.

'What's the matter?' asked Harry.

'She's – she's sent me a Howler,' said Ron faintly.

'You'd better open it, Ron,' urged Neville. 'It'll be worse if you don't. My Gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and –' Neville swallowed, 'it was horrible.'

I didn't understand what was so bad about the letter. Nor did Hermione or Harry but when he asked Ron what one was, Ron didn't reply. He was focused on the red envelope that had now begun to smoke.

'Open it,' said Neville again. 'It'll all be over in a few minutes …'

Ron reached out and took the letter from the unconscious Errol. Beside Harry, Neville had already thrust his fingers into his ears. Cautiously Ron slit the letter open. All of a sudden a shout that filled the entire Hall bellowed from the letter in the very recognisable tones of Mrs Weasley. Ron dropped the letter in horror. The letter then picked itself up and folded itself into the shape of a mouth, the parchment inside taking on the shape of sharp teeth while the red envelope itself were the lips. It floated in front of Ron as it shouted Mrs Weasley's words. I certainly understood now why it was called a Howler.

'RONALD WEASLEY!' it shouted in Mrs Weasley's voice. 'HOW DARE YOU, STEALING THE CAR! I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU! JUST YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU! I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT HAD GONE!'

The shouts coming from the Howler were so loud that even the cutlery on the table was rattling as they echoed off the walls of the Hall. One by one students were beginning to look round to see who had received the Howler. Across from us at the Slytherin table I noticed Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle were looking over in our direction, a pleased smirk on his face when he realised it we were the ones subject to the Howler's rage.

'WE WERE HORRIFIED WHEN WE RECEIVED THE LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME! WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED!

'I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME.'

Ron nodded at the letter. I thought that was the end of it but the letter had one last thing to say. It looked away from Ron and down the table to where a very red-faced Ginny was sitting next to Percy.

'Oh and Ginny, dear,' the letter added, 'congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.'

With a hiss of its ribbon-tongue, the Howler ripped itself up then burst into a small puff of flames into a pile of ash on the table. A ringing silence followed as the four of us sat stunned. I privately thought to myself never to get on Mrs Weasley's bad side. Gradually a hint of laughter spread through the Hall and soon talk had once again resumed. Ron let out a groan and let his face drop on to the table.

'Well, it could have been worse,' I said. Ron glanced at me. 'She could have been yelling at you in person.'

Hermione closed her book and gave Ron a pointed look when he groaned for a second time.

'Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you –'

'Don't tell me I deserved it,' snapped Ron.

'I don't need to,' shrugged Hermione. 'The Howler did that for me.'

'Your timetables,' came Professor McGonagall's voice from behind me. She handed a sheet of parchment to each of us. 'May I suggest after your exploits last night that you make sure you don't miss your first lesson of the year as well,' she said pointedly to the boys.

Taking that as a hint, the four of us left the Great Hall to head down to the greenhouses for Herbology.

The greenhouses were several long glass buildings located in the Hogwarts grounds near to the back of the castle. Inside they housed many strange and magical plants that were tended by Professor Sprout, a squat and cheerfully plump witch with greying hair that stuck out from under her gardening hat and the Head of Hufflepuff. While first-years only worked in Greenhouse One, the older students would learn about the more advanced plants that were kept in the other greenhouses and so the lesson location changed between greenhouses depending on which plant was to be studied. When Harry, Ron, Hermione and I arrived we saw that our classes this year were once again with the Hufflepuffs, the likes of Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan gathered together outside while they waited for Professor Sprout to arrive. She did so a few minutes later with a pile of bandages in her arms and she wasn't alone. Lockhart was with her and he appeared to be boasting about something to her. Behind me I heard Hannah and her friend Susan Bones start giggling; even Hermione seemed to blush when she saw him. I cringed and moved behind Ron to keep out of his sight. The last thing I wanted was to have to talk to Lockhart before I absolutely had to.

'Oh, hello there!' called Lockhart, waving at us all. 'Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is!'

'There's no danger of that,' I muttered to Harry and Ron. They chuckled.

'Greenhouse Three today, chaps!' said Professor Sprout. She had a rather disgruntled look on her normally cheerful face. I guess I wasn't the only one who was not taken in by Lockhart's charms. 'Come along, come along! Time waits for no wizard.'

Professor Sprout unlocked Greenhouse Three and ushered us inside. She scowled though when Lockhart requested to have a word with Harry. Giving him a look that simply said 'Good luck', Ron, Hermione and I walked into the greenhouse. There was a strong smell of damp soil and fertiliser that hit us the moment we entered. In the corner sat a fresh pile of compost that I assumed we were going to be using for the lesson and sat on the table in the centre of the greenhouse were several large trays each with a plant's leaves sticking out the top of them. There was also a collection of variously coloured earmuffs. Professor Sprout instructed us each to take a place around the table behind one of the trays.

Harry slipped in a few minutes later and stood next to me. I raised my eyebrow to ask what Lockhart had wanted but he shook his head. The look on his face was enough to tell me Lockhart had been trying to spread his "wisdom" again like he had back in Flourish and Blotts.

'Good morning, everyone,' called Professor Sprout, tapping her wand on the large pot in front of her. The class responded. 'We'll be re-potting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?'

Without missing a beat Hermione put her hand in the air.

'Yes, Miss Granger.'

'Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative,' said Hermione. It was like listening to a textbook being read aloud. 'It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state.'

'Excellent,' said Professor Sprout. 'Ten points to Gryffindor. The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?'

Again Hermione's hand shot up.

'The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it.'

'Precisely. Take another ten points.' Next Professor Sprout picked up a pair of fluffy pink earmuffs and put them on over her head, her flyaway hair being compressed beneath them. 'Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young,' she explained, pointing at the trays in front of us. They contained row upon row of strange purplish-looking plants. 'Everyone take a pair of earmuffs. When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,' said Professor Sprout firmly. 'When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right – earmuffs on.'

I tucked my hair behind my ear then put the earmuffs I'd taken firmly on over my ears. The room suddenly went silent as all sound was blocked out. I watched Professor Sprout roll up the sleeves of her gardening robes then took hold of one of the small tufts of leaves in front of her. With one strong jerk, she pulled. From the earth a small, muddy and very ugly looking plant was uprooted. It looked like a baby but was old and wrinkled. It's mouth was moving indicating it was screaming, the tiniest of high-pitched whistles just audible through the earmuffs. I jumped slightly at the sound as did the rest of the class. Grabbing one of the large pots from the centre of the table, Professor Sprout proceeded to dump the baby root into it before burying it deep with some of the fresh compost. She gave us a thumbs up and we removed our earmuffs. Opposite me, Neville had fainted.

'Hmm, looks like Longbottom's been neglecting his earmuffs,' muttered Professor Sprout when she noticed him. She removed her own.

'No, Professor, he's just fainted,' said Seamus.

'Yes, well, just leave him there,' shrugged Professor Sprout. I couldn't help my eyebrow arching at her reaction. 'As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet. However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back like Longbottom, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

'Four to a tray – there is a large supply of pots here – compost in the sacks over there – and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething.'

Professor pointed at large plant in the corner. The dark red branches of it gave a little whip as a fly buzzed past it. She gave it a sharp slap when she noticed one of its roots reaching for her shoulder.

Despite being next to Harry and the others, Professor Sprout assigned me to work with three Hufflepuffs when she went round the table dividing us into groups of four. I was to work with Ernie, Hannah and Susan for the hour's lesson. While I had never really spent time with them outside of class I certainly didn't object to having to work with them. They were all perfectly nice people. I smiled at them and together we started to re-pot the baby Mandrakes in front of us. Making sure my earmuffs were firmly over my ears, one by one I grabbed a tuft of leaves and pulled it out of the tray before setting it back down in a larger pot and covering it with a pile of fresh soil. Slowly we got through our first tray until Hannah had carefully removed the last Mandrake from it. With a signal from Professor Sprout to remove our earmuffs, I pulled mine off and shook my hair that had been displaced by them.

'You should have all finished your first tray by now,' said Professor Sprout. 'For those who haven't, you have half an hour to do so. For everyone else, there are spare trays at the back and more compost if you need any.'

Giving us some time to replace any empty trays before signalling for us to put our earmuffs back on, I took the opportunity to speak to Hannah and Susan while Ernie got us some more compost having been reprimanded by Professor Sprout to stop worrying about getting dirt on his shirt. A lesson like this had meant there wasn't much time for talking as we couldn't hear ourselves over the squeaks and through the earmuffs so I took the chance while we had it.

'Re-potting Mandrakes is harder than I thought,' I said, brushing some dirt off my face. 'One of mine had a right tantrum when I pulled it from its tray.'

'Better than tending to something like those Bouncing Bulbs we had last year,' said Hannah. 'Herbology is one of my favourite classes.'

'We haven't had Defence Against the Dark Arts yet though,' said Susan eagerly. 'Professor Lockhart's one of the most talented wizards in the world when it comes to Dark Arts. His classes are bound to be really interesting.'

I held in a sceptical sigh at that remark then glanced over my shoulder at Harry and the others.

'Whose that working with Harry?' I asked. While I knew most of the students in our year by name having had classes with them for the past year, I still couldn't recognise all of them by face. A blond boy with curly hair was talking quickly to Hermione; it looked like Hermione had met her match in speaking too fast to be understood. 'He seems rather eager.'

'Oh, that's Justin,' said Susan. 'He's Ernie's best friend. He's really nice for a Muggle-born though he's a bit hard to understand sometimes. He told me about his father being a lawyer, whatever one of those is.'

'Sounds like Hermione,' I said. 'If it wasn't for growing up with Muggles, I wouldn't understand her half the time either.'

'Got the soil.' With a huff Ernie placed a fresh bag of soil in front of us on the table. 'Merlin, I'm covered in the stuff. I'm absolutely filthy. Those plants are a right handful.'

'It's Herbology, Ernie,' said Hannah, 'it's kind of expected.'

I let out a small laugh at Hannah's dry wit. A moment later we had our earmuffs back on and resumed our work after Professor Sprout's signal. Being Hufflepuffs, I wasn't surprised that Ernie, Hannah and Susan worked diligently through our second tray and had it finished between the four of us by the end of class. It seemed Herbology was perhaps another talent of the House. When Professor Sprout finally signalled us to let us know the class had ended, I removed my earmuffs and brushed off as much soil as I could from my robes. Having re-potted what was basically the flora equivalent of a toddler it wasn't really that surprising contrary to what Ernie must have thought. Grabbing my bag I said goodbye to Ernie, Hannah and Susan and walked off to join Harry and the others for our next lesson, Transfiguration.

Getting back into the swing of having lessons again was harder than I thought. While I hadn't forgotten much over the summer holidays of what I'd learnt the previous year, it seemed that over those two short months where we weren't allowed to magic had made me somewhat rusty and so it took me quite a few tries before I managed to change my beetle even vaguely into a button. I wasn't having as much trouble as Ron though. It seemed that his and Harry's stunt the previous night had broken his wand and it sparked feebly as he attempted to change his button. He'd wrapped some Spellotape around its tip but it didn't seem to help. Beside me Hermione just tutted and shook her head. She then pointed her wand at what must have been her seventh beetle, transfiguring it and adding it to her ever-growing pile of perfect black buttons.

The Great Hall was already full by the time the four of us got down there for lunch. Not before time too as my stomach was rumbling. If there was one part of the school day I enjoyed it was lunchtime. The Hogwarts food was always so delicious and today was no exception. Platefuls of various sandwiches lined the tables as well as a selection of hot dishes to choose from that I had the usual issue of not knowing what to pick. The boys didn't, diving in straight away the moment they'd sat down.

'What've we got this afternoon?' asked Harry.

'Defence Against the Dark Arts,' replied Hermione without hesitation. I glanced at her.

'Memorised our lessons already have you?' I asked, swallowing my mouthful of pasta. 'Or just that particular class?'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Hermione.

'Then why,' demanded Ron, snatching her timetable from her, 'have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?'

Hermione snatched her timetable back but not before she had gone bright red beneath her bushy hair.

There was still some time to spare after we'd finished our lunch and so went out into the Entrance Courtyard to get some fresh air before we were due to be back once more inside a stuffy classroom, with an equally stuffy teacher in my opinion. Hermione dove straight back into her book while Harry and Ron started discussing the upcoming Quidditch season. I, meanwhile, contented myself with just sitting in silence and watch the world pass by. It was something I'd picked up from Lupin over the summer. There was something about just sitting quietly and watching things that was oddly calming, a moment to myself where I could just observe everything going on around me. I smiled. It was nice. Hogwarts was so busy all the time with students rushing between their classes. How many times did we ever just get to –

'Can we help you?'

A small mousey-haired boy was standing a few feet from us. He was staring at us with an odd fixation upon Harry. His huge eyes were wide with shock that we'd discovered him staring at us, his mouth hanging open slightly. In his hands he was clutching what looked like an old camera with a big flashbulb and everything. His cheeks went pink with embarrassment when I asked him what he was doing.

'All right, Harry?' he said nervously. He took a shaky step towards us. 'I'm – I'm Colin Creevey. I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think – would it be all right if – can I have a picture?' he finally managed to stutter out.

Harry, Ron and I shared a look.

'A picture?' said Harry blankly.

'So I can prove I've met you,' said Colin eagerly. 'I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead.' As if on cue, Colin's eyes went to Harry's forehead to try and find the scar. 'And a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move.' He paused for a breath. 'It's brilliant here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My Dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. and it'd be really good if I had one of you – maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? and then, could you sign it?'

I almost scoffed when Colin asked Harry to sign the photo. I couldn't help it. I still found it absurd how people treated Harry as if he was some celebrity all because of what happened.

'Signed photos?' I looked away from Colin when I heard that unpleasant voice. 'You're giving out signed photos, Potter?'

I bit back a groan. Did Draco Malfoy have some sort of talent to always turn up when it was the worst possible time for him to do so? He came strolling up to us with Crabbe and Goyle flanked behind him, a wide smirk on his face at the scene unfolding before him.

'Everyone queue up!' Malfoy shouted to the unfortunately rather packed courtyard. Faces began turning in our direction. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!'

'No, I'm not,' responded Harry angrily. 'Shut up, Malfoy.'

'You're just jealous,' chimed Colin. His confidence was somewhat misplaced; he was about half the size and height of Crabbe and Goyle and could easily be knocked out by either one of them.

'Jealous?' repeated Malfoy. He was no longer shouting nor did he need to. The entire courtyard was watching. 'Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.'

'Surprisingly, none of us actually asked your opinion,' I said. 'So why don't you and your friends run off like good little wizards?'

The smirk on Malfoy's face faltered slightly.

'Better to hear my opinion than one from someone like you,' he sneered. I glared at him, knowing exactly what he meant.

'Eat slugs, Malfoy,' said Ron angrily.

'Be careful, Weasley,' warned Malfoy. 'You don't want to start any trouble or your mummy'll have to come and take you away from school.' He put on a high-pitched voice. 'If you put another toe out of line –'

A wave of laughter came from a group of older Slytherins gathered across the courtyard from us.

'Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter,' continued Malfoy. 'It'd be worth more than his family's whole house.'

Ron went to grab his broken wand but Hermione stopped him just in time to point out Lockhart was walking over to us to see what the commotion was.

'What's all this, what's all this?' he said, looking around at us all. He gave his head a flick to get his wavy hair out of his eyes and his turquoise robes a flourish as he rested his hands on his hips. 'Who's giving out signed photos?' Before anyone had a chance to speak, Lockhart saw Harry. He let out a jovial laugh and threw his arm around his shoulders. 'Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry! Come on then, Mr Creevey,' he then called to Colin. 'A double portrait, can't say fairer than that, and we'll both sign it for you.'

Harry sent a pleading look in Ron, Hermione and my direction. I shrugged as if to say "You're on your own".

The bell went just as Colin took the photo. I grabbed my bag and walked back inside with Ron and Hermione. Harry had tried to follow but just like before Herbology Lockhart held him back. I glanced at Harry, shook my head, then went inside to head to our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. We made our way up to the third floor and up the long spiral staircase to the classroom at the top of the tower. A few minutes after we arrive so did Harry and Lockhart. Harry's face was bright red. He looked very glad when Lockhart finally released him and let us into the classroom. Hermione dragged a reluctant me to the desk at the front of the classroom. Harry and Ron took the one behind us. From her bag Hermione pulled out all of Lockhart's books and piled them in pride of place on top of her desk. While Lockhart went to get something from his office, I glanced around the classroom. Not a single inch of it wasn't covered in portraits of varying sizes all depicting the same thing: himself. From every angle Lockhart's face smiled and winked at us. It felt rather unnerving, having all those gleaming teeth grinning at me.

Lockhart cleared his throat to announce himself. He walked down the small staircase from his office and over to Neville's desk to the left of Hermione's and mine. He picked up Neville's copy of Travels with Trolls, looked at it, then showed it to us.

'Me,' he said. He watched as his picture on the book smiled and winked at us, then did the same himself. 'Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming-Smile Award – but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!'

Lockhart paused after his joke. No laugh came though one or two managed a weak smile.

'I see you've all bought a complete set of my books – well done,' continued Lockhart. I noted the slight shake in his voice after the unexpected silence that followed his joke. 'I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about – just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in …'

I took the roll of parchment Lockhart handed me and looked at it. I frowned when I read the questions.

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

My eyes scanned the questions one after another. All of them were about him. Not a single question covered anything that remotely resembled Defence Against the Dark Arts.

'You have thirty minutes,' Lockhart told us. 'Start – now!'

'How are we supposed to answer these?' I whispered to Hermione while Lockhart still had his back turned to us. 'They're all about him.'

'It's all in his books,' replied Hermione. She was already scribbling away on her roll of parchment. 'If you've read them properly you'll be able to answer them.'

I had read Lockhart's books albeit unwillingly but not one of them could I remember mentioned things like his favourite beauty potion or what his ideal gift would be for his birthday. It had nothing to do with defensive magic so I had just skimmed over all those parts in his books. Why would I be interested in things that had nothing to do with the subject the book was covering? I glanced at Harry and Ron behind me; they caught my eye and we shared the same look of bemusement. I turned back to my test to at least attempt some of the answers.

'Tut, tut –' said Lockhart half an hour later. He had collected in our tests and was looking through them one by one. 'Hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples – though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!'

Lockhart winked, a habit I noticed he seemed to do a lot. A giggle rippled through the girls. Hermione was practically hanging on to every single thing he said. In contrast it appeared the male portion of the class were finding him as pompous as I was. I could see Seamus and Dean were both trying to stem their laughter on the table next to mine while Neville looked even more confused than usual.

'… but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions – good girl! In fact –' Lockhart continued, turning over her paper, 'full marks! Where is Miss Granger?'

Hermione's face instantly went bright red. Shakily she raised her hand.

'Excellent!' Lockhart beamed. 'Quite excellent. Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so to business …'

'Really?' I whispered to Hermione once Lockhart had turned his back to us to get something from behind his desk. 'Full marks?'

'Like I said, it's all in his books,' said Hermione.

I turned away, rolling my eyes as I muttered, 'What a gasbag.'

'Now –' called Lockhart, regaining our wavering attention, 'be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest of creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.'

My eyebrow arched, my interest piqued. Well even if he was a useless teacher he certainly had a way with words for dramatic effect. I tilted my head to one side, intrigued by what was inside the cage he had now placed on top of his desk, a large sheet covering its contents from view. Even Dean and Seamus were now listening to him.

'I must you not to scream,' said Lockhart. 'It might provoke them.' With a flourish, he removed the sheet covering the cage revealing a collection of small electric blue wingless creatures. With the cover removed they began chattering to each other in high-pitched mumbles and were buzzing around the cage causing its bars to rattle. My mouth fell open. 'Yes,' finished Lockhart dramatically. 'Freshly caught Cornish pixies.'

I frowned. I was no expect on magical creatures but I had a fair bit of knowledge from having read my copy of Fantastic Beasts quite a few times and I knew for a fact that pixies were not dangerous.

Seamus was now shaking with laughter.

'Yes?' Lockhart questioned him.

'Well, they're not – they're not very – dangerous, are they?' laughed Seamus.

'Don't be so sure!' said Lockhart. 'Devilish tricky little blighters they can be! Right, then, let's see what you make of them!' and Lockhart opened the cage.

The moment Lockhart released the clip on the cage door all hell broke loose. The pixies made a break for freedom, shooting in every possible direction in the classroom. The class screamed as several shot through the window showering us with glass. It was total destruction everywhere. They shredded books, tore pictures from the wall, upended chairs and desks, and destroyed the skeleton that was hanging from the ceiling. Two even grabbed Neville by his ears and lifted him up into the air then hung him off one of the candelabra's on the wall while the rest of us took cover.

'Come on now, round them up, round them up, they're only pixies,' said Lockhart.

I screamed as one of the pixies grabbed the end of my plait. Harry smacked it away with his copy of Magical Me he was using for protection.

'Peskipiksi Pesternomi!' commanded Lockhart.

Lockhart's spell did nothing. A pixie then proceeded to snatch his wand out of his hand and throw it out of the broken window. Lockhart let out a strained noise before diving under his desk. He only came out again to stop the pixies destroying one of his portraits. A thump told us the candelabra holding Neville had broken off from its fixing. To the class's relief the bell rang moments later. There was a mad scramble for the door as people grabbed their belongings and escaped as fast as they could. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were just about to make a run for it when Lockhart spotted us.

'Well, I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage,' he said, straightening his hair.

With that Lockhart swept out of the classroom and shut the door firmly behind him.

'Is he mad?' shouted Harry. He ducked as a bone from the skeleton flew over his head.

'How on earth are we meant to stop them?' I shouted. 'There's too many of them.'

'I don't know,' snapped Ron. 'Why doesn't Hermione do something? He's her hero!'

Hermione let out a huff then took out her wand. She ran over to where I was crouched behind a desk that had been overturned.

'Jenna, Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two, chapter four,' she told me. I nodded as I tried to remember what spell was on that page. 'You hit them from this side, I'll hit them from the other.'

'Hermione –!' but she had already run over to the other side of the classroom.

With a nod, Hermione and I left our cover and the pair of us shouted, 'Immobulus!'

Two gunshot-like sounds fired from our wands. An invisible wave swept through the room hitting the pixies. They froze in mid air as the spell hit them, their eyes and mouths wide from their laughter. I let out a relieved sigh. The Immobulus Charm, freezes your opponents instantly upon contact. I was once again thankful for Hermione's almost encyclopaedic knowledge of our school books. With the pixies frozen, Neville took the opportunity to run from his hiding place underneath Lockhart's desk while Harry, Ron, Hermione and I started to catch the pixies one by one and stuff them back into their cage.

'Can you believe him? snapped Ron angrily, thrusting the pixie in his hand into the cage. 'What was he thinking? Letting them loose in the classroom!'

'He just wants to give us some hand-on experience,' said Hermione stuffily.

'Hands on?' said Harry. 'Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing.'

'No half decent teacher would leave four twelve year old wizards to clean up the mess they've made,' I said. 'Besides, any wizards knows you don't let caught pixies out of their cages unless they've been knocked out first.'

'Rubbish,' said Hermione tartly. 'You've read his books – look at all those amazing things he's done …'

'He says he's done,' Ron muttered to Harry and me. We nodded then left the classroom.

Luckily the rest of the day passed by without any further incidents. Then again, we did have History of Magic so how many things could go wrong in that class anyway? Although, after the chaos of Lockhart's class I was more than grateful for the peace and boredom of Professor Binn's lesson. It was during my musings in his class that I suddenly remembered something. I had been staring blankly out of a window overlooking the Forbidden Forest when I saw something rise up out of the trees, a dark shadow appearing over the bright sky. A few seconds later it folded its wings and dove back into the trees out of sight. I glanced around to see if anyone else had seen this apparition but the whole class were sitting with their heads in their hands as they listened to Professor Binns drone on. I wasn't sure if I was right or not but that had looked like one of those creatures that had been pulling the carriages the previous day. Thestrals was what I think the strange first-year had called them. And if there was any wizard in the school who could tell me what they were, it was Professor Kettleburn.

Professor Kettleburn was an elderly wizard who taught third-year students and up Care of Magical Creatures. It was one of the classes we could choose from to study for our O.W.L.s in our fifth-year. Despite his age, Professor Kettleburn was regarded to be rather eccentric by some of his students, as he could frequently be seen walking around the castle sporting some sort of injury or having some small creature crawling over his robes. Even with his eccentricities, however, I had never heard a student say a bad thing about him and he seemed to know his subject very well. While I knew Hagrid was very good with his creatures, considering he looked after Norbert for a small part of last year, I figured I needed a bit more of an expert to help me answer my questions.

When I got to the Great Hall for dinner with Harry, Ron and Hermione, I looked towards the teacher's table for any sign of Professor Kettleburn. I could just see the white of his beard over the heads of the students. He was deep in conversation with Professor Sinistra, nodding his head every so often at whatever they were talking about. I sat and ate dinner with the others whilst keeping my eye on him so I knew when he was finished; I didn't want to disturb him during his meal. When I saw him get up I made my excuses to Harry and the others then got up to catch him by the doors to the Great Hall.

'Professor Kettleburn!' I called. He was just about to walk out of them when I managed to grab his attention. 'Professor Kettleburn!'

'Ah, Miss Black,' said the old wizard mildly. At Hogwarts you didn't need to be taught by someone for them to know who you were, especially when you are getting yourself into a whole heap of trouble with dragons and Philosopher Stones in your first year. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

'I wanted to ask you something,' I said, 'about what pulls the school carriages.'

Professor Kettleburn raised his eyebrows.

'Go on,' he said slowly.

'Professor, what are Thestrals?' I asked.

Professor Kettleburn's look of surprise turned into a frown.

'You seem a bit young to be asking those sorts of questions,' he said slowly. 'Let me ask you something first: what do you know of them?'

'I had a look in my copy of Fantastic Beasts,' I said, 'but all I could find was a passage under Winged Horses that mentioned them. There wasn't any actual information on them.'

'That's because Thestrals are one of the hardest creatures to study,' responded Professor Kettleburn, 'due to the nature that not all wizards can see them. I myself have never caught a glimpse of one and have always had to rely on an assistant when teaching my students about them. They are considered an omen and very unlucky for those who are misfortunate to come across them.'

'Why, Professor?' I asked, curious.

'Because a Thestral is only visible to someone who has seen death,' said Professor Kettleburn heavily.

A feeling of unease suddenly swept through me. Professor Kettleburn was watching me with a look of concern on his face.

'I – I saw my Mum die,' I eventually croaked out, 'when I was a baby. I don't remember it though.'

'Sometimes a memory, no matter how deeply it is imprinted in our minds, is enough,' said Professor Kettleburn gently. 'A Thestral will start to appear to you when you have glimpsed death. It is only when you have accepted it and the enormity of the concept that they will appear fully.'

I nodded. Professor Kettleburn continued.

'Take heart, Miss Black,' he said, 'for like many things, appearances can be deceiving. From what I understand Thestrals are quite beautiful and gentle creatures. It is merely their reputation that dissuades wizards from approaching them. Their appearance is frightening, yes, but they will not attack someone whose loss they can sense. In fact it has been said that instead of bringing a sense of doom to the seer, they feel at peace with their loved one's passing. This is all subjective, of course, and without concrete research we can only presume what effect a Thestral truly has on someone coping with the pain of death.

'I am sorry for your loss, Miss Black,' Professor Kettleburn finished. 'I had the privilege of teaching your mother when she was at school here. She was a wonderful witch with an incredibly warm heart and quite a talent for handling magical creatures. I had high hopes she'd pursue a career in Magizoology but, alas, it wasn't meant to be.'

'Thank you, Professor,' I said. My voice was slightly dry from trying to suppress the feelings I was currently having. Though dismayed at the reason why I could see them, I did feel a slight reassurance that despite their reputation Thestrals were not really as bad as they seemed. 'You're right when you say they're quite beautiful though, even if it is unsettling the first time you see them.'

Professor Kettleburn nodded then turned on his heel while I returned to my seat at the Gryffindor table.

The first week passed by. Classes were a mixture of the good and the bad. After the abysmal first lesson with the pixies Lockhart contented himself with regaling us with dramatic reconstructions of from his books; Potions was as bad as always and it seemed the summer had given Snape plenty of time to brood and renew his dislike of his students; Transfiguration remained challenging under Professor McGonagall's watchful eye; and Charms was amusing as usual, especially when Ron's wand backfired so badly it hit Professor Flitwick square in the forehead and knocked him backwards off his pile of books. It was a busy and eventful first week back and so when the weekend came I was looking forward to going down to Hagrid's with the others for some down time.

Hermione and I got up on Saturday morning and headed down to the common room to meet the boys for breakfast only to find Harry wasn't there. Ron showed us the note he'd left saying Oliver Wood had got him up early for Quidditch practice. Figuring Harry wouldn't have had any breakfast because of this, Hermione and I gathered up enough toast for the four of us spread with various jams and marmalades into some napkins then headed down to the Quidditch pitch with Ron to go watch the Gryffindor team practice. The sun was glowing brightly over the grounds as we walked down the hill and took some seats up in the stands. When we got there we saw Harry and the rest of the team were only just coming out of the changing room.

'Aren't you finished yet?' Ron called down to Harry.

'Haven't even started,' Harry called back.

'Guess we had better keep this warm for him then,' I said, folding the toast we'd saved for him back into their napkin. 'Can you do your blue flame for that, Hermione?'

'Of course.'

From her pocket Hermione pulled out the old jar she had used last year whenever she created her blue flames when we were cold in the grounds. She pointed her wand inside the jar and said the incantation, creating a tiny blue flame burning all by itself inside it. Hermione sealed it with the lid then placed the toast on top to keep warm. It was a handy little fire for keeping things warm and the good thing about it was that it couldn't burn you if you had to hold it, as it wasn't intended for that use. There was the Incendio Spell if you wanted to set something alight.

We watched as the Gryffindor Quidditch team got on their brooms and began a few laps around the stadium. A weird clicking sound could be heard somewhere near to where we were sitting in the stands. Looking round for the source, Ron, Hermione and I saw we weren't alone in watching the team practice. There with his camera, Colin Creevey was bouncing eagerly up and down as he snapped picture after picture of the team. I guess he must have found out they were practicing this morning somehow. I don't think Harry would have willingly told Colin about it if meant he'd be following with his camera.

'Does he ever go anywhere without his camera?' asked Hermione, folding her arms. 'Even I wasn't that bad when I started here.'

'You were pretty bad, Hermione,' said Ron. 'Oh, Professor, Professor, I know the answer!' he then said, raising his hand to an imaginary teacher. Hermione frowned at him.

'Er, guys,' I said, interrupting the potential argument. 'I don't think Colin's the one they're going to have to worry about. Look.'

I pointed down on to the pitch where seven students dressed in green and silver robes, each one of them carrying a black broomstick, and in amongst them I could just see a familiar streak of white hair. A worried feeling started in the pit of my stomach if that was whom I thought it was.

'What d'you think they want?' asked Ron. 'Wood would have booked the pitch for Gryffindor first day back.'

'I don't know,' said Hermione, 'but I think we better get down there.'

Hermione extinguished the blue flame and put the jar back in her pocket while I gathered up the toast. Quickly we hurried down the stands, back down the wooden steps and through the nearest entrance on to the pitch. The Gryffindor team had now spotted the invading Slytherins and had stopped their practice. They were standing opposite each other on the grass, Wood and the Slytherin Captain, Flint, squaring up to each other. And as I'd suspected, the streak of white had indeed belong to Malfoy would was standing there with a smirk on his face dressed in the Slytherin Quidditch uniform. How he'd even gotten on the team I could only begin to guess.

'Oh look,' we heard Flint say, having spotted us running over to them. 'A pitch invasion.'

'What's happening?' Ron asked. 'Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?'

'I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,' said Malfoy smugly. Ron glared at him. 'Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team.'

I looked at the brooms each of the Slytherin team members were holding. Each one had a long sleek black shaft and the neatest collection of blackened twigs that formed the brush of the broom; attached beneath the shaft was a set of silver footrests that could be flicked out to act as a stand when the broom wasn't in use; and at the tip I could just see a gold engraving that read "Nimbus Two Thousand and One". Judging by the state of them, the brooms looked like they were brand new.

'Good, aren't they?' said Malfoy. 'But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them.'

I frowned as the Slytherin team laughed at Malfoy's snide remark.

'At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,' said Hermione sharply. 'They got in on pure talent.'

Malfoy's look of smugness faltered. His grey eyes narrowed at Hermione.

'No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,' he spat.

Almost everyone on the Gryffindor team gasped, including Ron and me. I couldn't believe Malfoy had just called Hermione that. It was such a horrible term for Muggle-borns. Fred and George immediately leapt to Hermione's defence and tried to get to Malfoy only to be blocked by Flint; Angelina, Alicia and Katie were all shouting furiously at Malfoy's derogatory slur; while Harry just stood there completely bemused by what had happened. Beside me I saw Ron take out his wand but before I could do anything to stop him, he pointed it at Malfoy.

'You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!'

A loud bang echoed around the empty stadium. Ron was thrown backwards as his wand backfired, sending a jet of green light out of the handle instead of the tip. He landed with a thump on the grass, groaning from the impact. Harry, Hermione and I ran over to him.

'Ron!'

'Ron! Are you all right?' squealed Hermione.

Ron had gone very pale. Slowly he rolled off his back and on to his hands and knees. He opened his mouth but no words came out. He let out a loud watery belch and several slugs dribbled out of it along with a lot of what looked like slime. I almost gagged just watching. The Slytherins were roaring with laughter that Ron's curse had backfired on him, some of them bent double with glee. The Gryffindor team were gathered round him as well but none of them seemed to want to touch him as he continued to throw up more and more slugs.

'We'd better get him to Hagrid's it's nearest,' said Harry. He grabbed Ron under the arm, Hermione taking the other. Together we hauled him to his feet, narrowly avoiding another slug that dribbled down his chin.

'What happened, Harry? What happened?' I bit back a groan as Colin appeared from the stands. We walked straight past him and out of the pitch. He followed. 'Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?' Ron heaved again; more slugs came out of his mouth. 'Oooh,' gasped Colin. 'Can you hold him still, Harry?'

'Get out of the way, Colin!' snapped Harry.

We dragged Ron as fast as we could over to Hagrid's Hut. All the way he was belching up slugs leaving a trail of slime dripping behind us. We were feet from it when we were forced to take a detour behind some bushes. The door to Hagrid's Hut had flown open revealing a beaming Lockhart in purple robes. He strode out of the Hut with his usual grin on his face obviously pleased with whatever he had been boasting about to Hagrid for however long he'd been in there for. We peered out from behind the bushes as Hagrid's face appeared at his door looking distinctly angered by something.

'It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!' Lockhart said loudly so even we could hear from our hiding place. 'If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book – I'm surprised you haven't already got one. I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!'

'Wonder what he was blowing off about now,' I muttered to the others. 'Hagrid looks pretty mad.'

Ron tried to reply but only brought up another couple of slugs.

'I think he's gone,' said Harry. 'Let's get Ron to Hagrid before he belches up any more slugs.'

The four of us emerged from the bushes and hurried over to Hagrid's. I took Ron's arm from Harry so he could knock on the door. The door opened almost immediately revealing a very grumpy Hagrid.

'Oh, it's you lot,' he grunted. His frown softened slightly. 'Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me – come in, come in – thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again.'

Hagrid stepped aside so we could get Ron inside. We hauled Ron over the threshold and got him into Hagrid's large chair. Hagrid shut the door behind us then disappeared into the corner of his Hut to look for something. With Ron now safely inside I took a seat as Harry began explain to Hagrid about what had happened down at the Quidditch pitch that had led to Ron being cursed. Hagrid came back a few moments later carrying a large wooden bucket.

'Better out than in,' he said, plonking it in front of Ron. Good timing too as he threw up another couple of slugs. 'Get 'em all up, Ron.'

'I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop,' said Hermione anxiously. 'That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand …'

'Perhaps now you'll write home for a new wand,' I finished. Ron sent me a half-hearted glare before letting his head flop down into the bucket.

Hagrid began bustling about to make us some tea now that Ron had been seen to. With the arrival of more pleasant company Fang took the opportunity to accost Harry, Hermione and I for attention. Harry took this chance to ask him what Lockhart had wanted. It was unlike Hagrid to speak ill of a teacher – he certainly refused to when we suspected Snape last year regarding the Philosopher's Stone – but he seemed very put out by Lockhart's interfering on how to deal with kelpies. To put the wand in another wizard's hand, Hermione was the first to jump to Lockhart's defence.

'He was the on'y man for the job,' Hagrid responded gruffly. He held out a plate of what looked like fudge. Being weary of his cooking from previous visits, I took a piece out of courtesy but only took the smallest of bites in case it was inedible. I didn't want to break my teeth. 'An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me,' Hagrid continued, changing the subject, 'who was he tryin' ter curse?'

He jerked his head at Ron.

'Malfoy called Hermione something,' replied Harry. 'It must've been really bad, because everyone went mad.'

'It was bad,' said Ron. He had come up for air from having his head in the bucket for the last fifteen minutes or so. 'Malfoy called her "Mudblood", Hagrid –' Next moment he dove back down as he threw up again.

'He did not,' growled Hagrid. He looked at Hermione and me for confirmation.

'He did,' said Hermione. 'But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course …'

'You don't want to know, Hermione,' I said slowly. For the second time, Ron came up from the bucket.

'It's about the most insulting thing he could think of,' gasped Ron. I frowned; this shouldn't be the sort of thing Hermione should hear. No one deserved to be called what Malfoy called her, especially not Hermione considering how good she was at magic. But Ron seemed determined so I cut him off.

'It is the worst thing you could ever call someone,' he choked. 'If Malfoy ever –'

'Ron, you're going to get slime all over Harry,' I said quietly. I then looked at the others. 'Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who was Muggle-born – you know, non-magic parents. To put it simply, it means you have dirty blood. It's not a term normally used in polite conversation.'

'There are some families – like Malfoy's family –' choked Ron, '– who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood.' A slug fell on to his lap as he let out a burp. I cringed as he threw it into the bucket. 'I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom – he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up.'

'That's a bit harsh, Ron,' I said, frowning. 'Neville's just got a confidence problem.'

'He can't do the simplest spell, Jenna,' burped Ron. 'Us pure-bloods aren't any better than Muggle-borns.'

'You and I both know that,' I responded.

'An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can't do,' said Hagrid proudly. Hermione went bright red.

'It's a disgusting thing to call someone,' said Ron. 'Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's mad. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out.'

'Well I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron,' said Hagrid. 'Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble.'

'I don't really think that would stop him,' I muttered quietly.

I looked away out the window of Hagrid's Hut believing the conversation to now be over. I tilted my head to see out of it wondering if Colin had tried to follow us or not and if he and Lockhart had collided in the process. The two of them together were like the president and publicity officer of some fan club the way they were around Harry. Still, if they had we would have known about it. Lockhart would have been back here in seconds if he knew Harry was here or if there was an opportunity for him to show off in helping Ron. Colin, of course, would be taking photos of anything and everything that happened.

'Harry,' I heard Hagrid then say, diverting my attention, 'gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?'

I closed my eyes in exasperation. Hagrid did not just say that.

'I have not been giving out signed photos,' said Harry angrily. 'If Lockhart's still putting that about –'

Hagrid laughed, 'I'm on'y jokin'.' He gave Harry a pack on the back, almost sending him flying into the table. 'I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'.'

'Bet he didn't like that,' said Harry.

'Don' think he did,' said Hagrid. He grinned, the sides of his beards lifting up at the edges. 'An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go.'

I smirked, 'You should have heard him at the end of our first lesson. He was shocked how I managed to get one of the lowest marks in his personality quiz. I don't think he'd ever met a witch who didn't have a crush on him.'

I sent Hermione a look. She merely frowned back at me. Hagrid chuckled. Beside Harry, Ron had finally resurfaced and seemed to have stopped throwing up slugs. He looked very pale though and quickly declined the treacle toffee Hagrid offered him.

Once we had finished our tea Hagrid took the four of us outside to show us his vegetable patch. Several large pumpkins were growing in the small plot of earth. They were probably for Hallowe'en; one of his many duties as gamekeeper included growing the pumpkins that were used both for decoration and for eating at the Hallowe'en feast and in previous years they had always been quite a sight to see with their various faces carved into them. These ones certainly seemed a lot larger than normal actually. When questioned Hagrid went slightly pink in the cheeks as he confessed to having helped them out a bit.

'An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?' said Hermione. I could hear the disapproval in her voice. Nevertheless she was smiling. 'Well, you've done a good job on them.'

'That's what yer little sister said,' said Hagrid, looking at Ron. 'Met her jus' yesterday. Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house.' I noticed Hagrid give Harry a sly wink. 'If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no tter a signed –'

'Oh, shut up,' grumbled Harry as Ron started laughing. Hagrid had to quickly pull him away from the pumpkins as he brought up another small spray of slugs.

With lunchtime approaching we headed back to the castle. Ron had finally stopped coughing up the slugs but every few steps he did let out a rather wet hiccough. No sooner had we stepped foot back into the castle though were we corned by Professor McGonagall. She informed the boys that they were to do their detentions for flying the Weasley car to school tonight. Ron was to be polishing the trophies in the Trophy Room without the aid of magic with Filch while Harry, much to his horror, was to be helping Lockhart answer his fan mail having been personally requested apparently. The look on Harry's face said it all when Professor McGonagall told him.

'Filch'll have me there all night,' moaned Ron as we took our seats at the Gryffindor table for lunch. 'No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning.'

'I'd swap any time,' said Harry. 'I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail … he'll be a nightmare …'

'Look at it this way though,' I mused. Harry looked at me. 'It'll give you loads of practice for when you have to start answering your own,' I teased.

'Oh ha ha,' replied Harry dryly.

Harry and Ron left Hermione and me in the common room just before eight o'clock for the detentions. The common room was packed full as the Gryffindor students worked through their various amounts of homework that they had let gather up even though it was only the first week of term. Hermione and I sat in our favourite chairs in the corner of the common room with our books spread out over the table having the extra space as the boys weren't there. They certainly didn't go without a fight though, both of them moaning to us about their punishments up until the moment they left.

'Those two shouldn't be making such a fuss,' said Hermione. She picked up her quill and went back to her Charms essay now the boys were gone. 'They deserved it.'

'As you've reminded them every time the subject's come up,' I said.

'If you break the rules –' Hermione began.

'– you deserve the punishment,' I finished for her. Hermione had said this so many times I knew it off by heart now. Hermione frowned at me. 'You know, one day you'll be the one encouraging us to break the rules,' I shrugged. 'Then what will you do?'

Hermione gave me a sharp look.

'That'll be the day,' she huffed.

Time ticked slowly away in the common room as we worked in silence on our homework while we waited for the boys to return. Gradually the common room began to empty as it got later in the evening and by ten o'clock we were some of the only students left in there. Having done all of our homework Hermione had pulled out her copy of Gadding with Ghouls and had her head buried in it as she re-read it for what must have been the hundredth time knowing her. I sat quietly opposite her with my wand in my hand. I had pointed it at my quill which I'd bewitched to draw shapes on a spare bit of parchment I had leftover after trimming my Transfiguration essay to the correct length.

Come … come to me … let me rip you … let me tear you … let me kill you …

I jumped, my quill dropping to the floor.

'Hermione, did you hear that?' I asked. That voice had been so – so cold. I felt like I was near a Dementor again.

'Hear what?' she asked. I stared at her.

'Nothing, I must've imagined it,' I muttered.

Hermione returned to her book. I glanced round the common room. No one else appeared to have heard the voice. The remaining students were all still sitting there engaged in their own activities and conversations. I then looked at the walls. That voice, it seemed to echo around them, almost as if it had come from inside them. I felt a shiver go down my spine.

'Or at least, I think I did.'

---

AN: so into Chamber of Secrets which is definitely my least favourite of the books. it'll still be a while before Jenna start to make a real difference in the stories but soon it'll be on to Prisoner of Azkaban and I look forward to what I can adjust, add and re-write to those chapters.

SPOILER ALERT FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN'T READ THE ORIGINAL VERSION

to answer a review I had on the last chapter, I just wanted to clarify something. yes, Diary of an Orphan does follow the books as the premise of these stories is Jenna is inserted into the original writing by JK Rowling and so certainly the first couple of books are admittedly a bit dull and are based a lot on the original text as Jenna goes through everything together with the trio with only some divergence e.g. encountering Luna at the carriages and the new conversation in this chapter with Professor Kettleburn. it is only when Sirius is brought in that Jenna begins to learn how to separate herself from the group and in particular Harry and become her own person to the point in Half-Blood Prince where she spends more of her time away from the trio than with them and her relationship Harry becomes strained as she learns to accept her role in the wizarding war