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.

17. The Grim Reality

Chapter 16

The Grim Reality

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the Hospital Wing over the weekend and for once Harry didn't argue. A part of me believed he was still feeling humiliated by Gryffindor's defeat and the fainting because of the Dementors again. Otherwise he would have tried to get out of there away from Madam Pomfrey's smothering care as soon as possible. Beside his bed he kept the shattered remains of his Nimbus Two Thousand still wrapped in its blanket. It was still there when I visited him a few days later to see how he was. When I arrived I saw he had a look of deep thought on his face as he stared out of the window behind his bed.

'Hey,' I said quietly, announcing myself. Harry looked up as I walked over to his bed. He shifted himself round so he could face me. He crossed his legs so I could sit on his bed. 'How are you feeling?' I asked cautiously.

'I'm fine,' said Harry stiffly. I hesitated. Harry saw this. 'Sorry,' he then mumbled.

'You're still angry about the match, aren't you?' I asked.

Harry stared at me, half surprised, half almost annoyed, that I knew how he was feeling. Well, when you have known someone as long as I had known Harry, you do start to recognise certain signs that tell you how they're feeling. I tilted my head to one side in a look of sympathy.

'Harry, it's not your fault the Dementors affect you the way they do,' I told him gently. 'You didn't ask to have the memories you have.'

Harry frowned, 'I know but – it's frustrating!' he growled. 'Every time they come anywhere near me, I collapse. How come you're able to hold up against them better than I can? You get affected as badly as I do. Why can't I fight them?'

'Harry,' I took a breath, unsure of whether to say what I was about to say or not, 'that night on the train wasn't the first time I encountered a Dementor. I've been near them before, that's why I can withstand them a bit longer than you can. But it doesn't mean I don't feel the same things you do, that it doesn't hurt just as much. We both have memories that the Dementors can use against us. Lupin told you they feed off happy thoughts to leave you with your worst memories. You have the worst ones of all. That's why it's so hard for you to fight them.'

Harry looked away. It was another few minutes before he responded.

'I hear my Mum,' he said quietly. 'The night Voldemort killed her. I hear her plead with him, every time those things come near me.' He paused. 'It's … it's the first time I've ever heard her voice.'

Harry and I sat in silence after that revelation. Harry had never really spoken about his parents before, not like this.

'You really don't remember them, do you?' I asked. Harry shook his head. 'I don't – remember my parents either,' I said shakily. 'My Mum died when I was barely a month old. As for my dad …' I stopped. I blinked, unable to continue. Harry looked at me. 'I see her die each time the Dementors are near me. You're not the only one who wishes you could fight them. Just so you don't have to hear them again.'

'Jen, I –' Harry started but he couldn't seem to find the words. Instead, he simply took my hand. I looked at him, his green eyes staring back into mine. He gave it a squeeze. 'I didn't mean to sound like I was the only one who feels like this.'

'I know,' I replied gently.

Harry and I shared a small smile. He then sat back on his pillows, sighing.

'Jenna, can I ask you something?' he said. 'But don't tell Ron or Hermione. At the Quidditch match, I saw the Grim again, up in the stands.' I was momentarily taken aback by Harry's confession. I hadn't known he'd seen that dog too.

'So?' I asked.

'D'you believe all that stuff Trelawney said about the Grim? What Ron's said?'

I blinked, confused. 'What about it?'

'You're not worried?' asked Harry, surprised.

'I have no reason to be,' I shrugged. 'These death omens, they're only as true as people make them to be. Both Ron and Hermione have valid arguments about the Grim, but a death omen is only as real as someone believes it to be. If you believe you saw the Grim, then so be it. Start surrounding yourself with Protection Spells. If not, then you don't need to be constantly looking over your shoulder for something that isn't real.'

I wasn't entirely sure if Harry had taken my advice in regards to his continual seeing of the Grim. Nevertheless he returned to class on Monday morning where he once again had to endure Malfoy's, now bandage free, endless taunting over his latest encounter with the Dementors and Gryffindor's defeat over the weekend. I merely watched him from across the Hall at breakfast, thoroughly unimpressed by his impressions and wondering if I could fire a Trip Jinx at him without anyone noticing. At least it would make his "act" much more convincing. Malfoy's imitations continued into our Potions class later that day, his Dementor impressions carrying across the dungeon to the back where Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were sitting. Ron finally lost it after several hours of this and flung a crocodile heart at him across the dungeon. It hit him in the face with a very wet slap. Seconds later Snape had taken fifty points from Gryffindor.

Ron's foul mood lingered all the way through the castle to the Dark Arts Tower and our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. As we approached I could hear the murmuring from the rest of the class about who was going to be taking our class.

'If Snape's taking Defence Against the Dark Arts again, I'm going sick,' said Ron darkly. We reached the top of the spiral staircase and came to a stop. 'Check who's in there, Hermione.'

Hermione and I went ahead and peered round the classroom door. With his back to the door, Professor Lupin was mulling over something on his desk as he waited for us to arrive. I wasn't surprised to see him standing there; it had been a good few days since the full moon meaning his energy would have returned and his illness gone. I walked inside while Hermione gave the all clear to Ron. The class began to enter and Professor Lupin turned round. His eyes met mine as I took my seat. I could see his robes were hanging off him a little more than usual and he had dark shadows under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't had much sleep in the last couple of days. As he looked at me, I saw his eyes focus on the faint remnants of the scratches on my cheek. I looked away, my hair falling across my face to cover them. Professor Lupin turned away and called for the class's attention. In seconds they exploded into a flood of complaints about Snape.

'It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?'

'We don't know anything about werewolves –'

'– two rolls of parchment!'

Professor Lupin's eyes observed us all as we complained about Snape's lesson while he had been ill. I watched as his eyes flickered slightly when Dean shouted out about him setting us work on werewolves when we didn't know anything about them. Well, almost none of us did.

'Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?' asked Professor Lupin mildly, though there was a frown on his face.

'Yes, but he said we were really behind –'

'– he wouldn't listen –'

'– two rolls of parchment!'

To my surprise, Professor Lupin smiled.

'Don't worry, I'll speak to Professor Snape,' he told us. 'You don't have to do the essay.'

The class broke out into excited and relieved chatter. Beside me, however, Hermione's face fell.

'Oh no,' she said. 'I've already finished it.'

'Oh, brother,' I breathed, letting my head fall into my hand in exasperation.

The lesson after that was as enjoyable as always. This time, Professor Lupin had brought in a Hinkypunk for us to examine. It sat alone in a large glass box surrounded by its own little cloud of smoke that seemed to emanate from its body. It stood on a single wispy leg and seemed to sway gently from side to side, a small golden light glowing from a lantern that it held in its hand. Professor Lupin told us how the Hinkypunk would use the lantern to lure weary travellers into the bogs that it lurks in until they were lost in the fogs and trapped in the deep water. Muggles were supposedly more susceptible to falling for a Hinkypunk's tricks while there were a few ways that wizards could fight them off by illuminating them until their bodies stiffen enough for them to be Stunned. When the bell rang, Professor Lupin dismissed us. I gathered up my things and made to leave when he appeared at my desk side. I looked up at him.

'When did you get those cuts?' he asked me quietly.

I didn't say anything and instead excused myself to leave. Lupin never remembered what happened during a full moon, even if he drank the Wolfsbane Potion to keep his mind. A part of me believed he repressed the memories as they were too painful for him to remember what he might of done or who he could have killed. I didn't want to contribute to it by telling him if he attacked me or not during them. I picked up my bag and headed for the door with the rest of the class. Lupin didn't stop me, instead calling Harry back so he could have a word with him. I glanced back at them then hurried to catch up with Ron and Hermione to return to the Gryffindor Tower.

Harry rejoined us a short while later in the Tower. He seemed a lot more cheerful than he had been this morning when he had returned from the Hospital Wing and was beaming to himself about something. He disappeared up into the boys' dormitories to get changed out of his robes and dump his bag then returned to join Ron, Hermione and I in our favourite corner in the common room.

'You're looking very cheerful,' commented Hermione, looking up from who knew which one of her numerous essays she was already working on. 'What did Professor Lupin want?'

'He asked me about the match and about my broom,' said Harry. 'He'd heard about the Dementors coming into the grounds.'

It wasn't surprising that Lupin had heard about the Dementors invading the Quidditch pitch on Saturday. Madam Pomfrey would have obviously informed him that I had collapsed in the stands when the Dementors appeared. And the fact that Harry had collapsed would have been news that spread even without Malfoy's continual attempts to humiliate him more afterwards.

'What did he say when you told him?' I asked.

'He was sorry to hear about my broom,' said Harry, 'and I asked him about how he made the Dementor go away on the train. He said there were things you could do to make them back off.'

'Like what?' asked Ron.

'He didn't say exactly what,' said Harry, 'but he said he'd try and help me learn the spells in case the Dementors come to anymore matches.'

'Defences?' repeated Hermione, her voice slightly breathless. 'Dementors are horrible. Whatever spells Professor Lupin used to get rid of them must be very advanced magic.'

'They are,' I confirmed without even thinking about it. Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked at me. 'Well,' I hesitated, 'from what Lupin's told me.' I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I desperately tried to think of how to get out of the corner I'd put myself in. 'I read about Dementors in one of his books and he told me about how wizards protect themselves against ones that desert Azkaban in search for other food sources. I don't know anything about the spells themselves though.'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry made to say something then think better of it. Instead he turned to Ron and said, 'Lupin's going to give me lessons after the holidays. That way if the Dementors get into the grounds again I'll be able to defend myself.'

'Harry, that's going to be very difficult magic,' said Hermione. 'Don't expect any miracles and being able to do it on the first try.'

'If it stops him fainting though, it'll be worth it, right?' argued Ron. 'And it'll shut Malfoy up if Harry can send those Dementors flying.'

I frowned but remained silent at Ron's notion of Dementors "flying" when repelled. Dementors floated naturally, they wouldn't be sent flying in the first place.

Things finally began to pick up as the term drew to an end and the Christmas holidays got nearer. At the end of November Ravenclaw had their first match against Hufflepuff, clearly flattening them and taking the lead in the score table which was actually a good thing, as it meant Gryffindor weren't out of the running yet for the Quidditch Cup. With hope restored for Quidditch, the weather too seemed to turn around and by December the iron grey clouds had vanished to be replaced by a dazzling opaline white sky and the grounds were covered in a glittering frost.

The castle too became transformed as Christmas neared. Professor Flitwick was the first to decorate his classroom with tiny little lights that turned out to be bunches of real fairies. The corridors became warmer as banners and wreathes of holly lined their walls and the Great Hall was decorated in its usual festive way with its twelve Christmas trees provided by Hagrid. When Professor McGonagall came round one morning at breakfast to take names for those who were staying, Harry and Ron signed up almost immediately, Ron stating because he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy back at The Burrow, while Hermione insisted she wanted to use the library over the holidays to keep up on top of her enormous workload. I too signed up after them. Lupin had decided to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas because Snape was also doing so.

'Why does Snape's staying here have anything to do with it?' I asked Lupin when he told me.

'Because of the Wolfsbane Potion,' Lupin explained. 'While the ingredients are very expensive, Professor Snape is able to make it for me at a fraction of the cost by using the school supplies. Professor Dumbledore is doing me a big favour getting Professor Snape to brew it, saving me some gold in the process.'

Just before the end of term, much to everyone's delight apart from Harry's, there was to be another trip down to Hogsmeade. When I read the notice my mind once again thought back to Black and I sighed. For a man I had nothing to do with, his presence was certainly having quite an effect on my life. Being cooped up inside the castle all the time and now under an even closer watch from Lupin. He even pulled me aside one evening in the library when I was doing my homework with Harry, Ron and Hermione to tell me he wanted to teach me how to protect myself as well from the Dementors just as a precaution but that we would do it separately from Harry's lessons. When I asked why he didn't give me an answer but I knew it had something to do with Black and Lupin's constant worry he'd try to get to me if he found out if I was alive. Wherever Black was though, he was doing a very good job at keeping out of sight from those who were after him and the Daily Prophet had been silent for weeks on his whereabouts. It still didn't change the protection surrounding the school and the Dementors were still firmly in position at the entrances of the castle, held in place by Dumbledore's wrath after what happened at the Quidditch match, and the fact I still wouldn't be allowed to go to Hogsmeade.

'We can do all our Christmas shopping there!' said Hermione brightly, reading the notice beside me. 'Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!'

'I thought dentists were against sweets?' I asked her.

'Only Muggle ones,' said Hermione. 'They'd probably welcome the idea of a sweet that would make a child floss more.'

I rolled my eyes.

On Saturday morning, Harry and I said goodbye to Ron and Hermione as they and the rest of the school departed for the village, all wrapped up tight in their scarves and cloaks. The weather had taken a cold turn and snow was starting to fall. Hermione gave me a look that clearly said 'Look after him' as she and Ron walked off, leaving Harry and I alone in the courtyard. We went back inside and climbed the steps of the Clock Tower. When we reached the top, Harry stopped. I looked round to see him staring out through the dial of the Clock itself, looking at the now snow-covered Courtyard.

'Harry?' I asked. 'You OK?'

'I'm going to Hogsmeade,' replied Harry, a defiant tone in his voice. 'I don't care what McGonagall says, I'm going.'

'How?' I asked. 'There are Dementors at every entrance. You won't be able to get past them.'

'My Dad's Cloak,' said Harry. I made to argue that the Dementors would still sense his presence but Harry cut me off. 'Don't try and stop me, Jen,' he said firmly. 'I don't care if Black's on the loose. Why should I be kept locked up because of it? I'm not scared of him.'

I frowned, then said, 'I know you're not. And I'm not going to try and stop you.'

'Good,' said Harry.

'But if you do go, can I come?'

Harry looked at me, almost surprised.

'What about Lupin?' he asked.

'He'll shout at me if he found out,' I shrugged, 'but he's got to learn not to be so overprotective of me. He can't always be there to stop me from getting hurt. It can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

'Jenna, he's your uncle,' said Harry. 'He said no to you going to the village.'

'And your aunt and uncle didn't sign your permission form, nor would Professor McGonagall or Fudge,' I countered. I raised my eyebrow at him.

'Good point,' Harry muttered.

'So how are we going to do this?'

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, silvery piece of material: his Invisibility Cloak. We looked out the window again. The Courtyard was deserted and the castle behind us was completely silent.

'Right, let's go,' said Harry.

Harry and I hurried back down the stairs in the Clock Tower to the Courtyard and hid behind a pillar at the door. Harry then threw the Cloak around us and we stepped carefully outside. The number of times Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had all hidden ourselves under his Cloak, it now came second nature to us on how to walk together whilst wearing it. There was only one thing we didn't count on. While the Cloak hid us completely from sight, it didn't stop our footprints from appearing in the snow. From out of nowhere two sets of footprints appeared as if some invisible stamp had been pressed down into it, tracing each step we took. Instantly I pulled Harry back into the shelter of the edge of the courtyard where the snow hadn't fallen and pulled the Cloak off us. There was no way we wouldn't get caught without someone spotting two pairs of footprints appearing in the snow with no one there to cause them.

'Jenna, no one will notice them,' insisted Harry, 'not when we reach the footpath and they blend in with everyone else's.'

'Everyone else will be in the village by now,' I said. 'Even if our footprints blend in, if someone passes us on our way down there and sees two sets of prints being left with nobody to cause them, they'll get suspicious.'

'So how d'you suggest we get there then?' asked Harry.

'Psst – Harry!'

Harry and I looked round. From the entrance to the Courtyard, Fred and George were waving us over to go back inside the castle. Curious, Harry pocketed his Cloak and we hurried over to them. They didn't say anything more at first, instead telling us to follow them and leading us back inside. We walked past the Hospital Wing and down a corridor that led us back to the fourth floor. They remained silent as they led Harry and I down one corridor after another until we walked back outside across the Suspension Bridge that led to the mid level of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower. Once inside, Fred and George took us back down to the base of the Tower where the statue of the One-Eyed Witch was. Here they pointed us into an empty classroom just opposite on the third floor.

'Are you going to tell us what you are doing?' asked Harry finally. Fred checked the classroom was empty and that we hadn't been followed before letting us in. 'How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?'

'We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go,' said Fred. He winked at us and pushed open the door. 'Come in here …'

Harry glanced at me then followed the twins inside. I did so too though I was apprehensive about what they were planning. You could never truly trust Fred and George not get you into trouble somehow. George closed the door behind us then stood next to Fred behind a desk. Both of them had wide grins on their faces.

'Early Christmas present for you, Harry,' announced George.

From inside his cloak Fred pulled out a large, thin rectangular piece of parchment. It looked very old and seemed to have been stained from use but it was completely blank. There was no writing on it whatsoever. I frowned. What was Harry going to do with an old bit of parchment from Fred and George?

'What's that supposed to be?' Harry asked.

'This, Harry, is the secret of our success,' said George, a note of fondness in his voice.

'It's a wrench, giving it to you,' said Fred, 'but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours.'

'Anyway, we know it off by heart,' said George. 'We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore.'

'And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?' asked Harry sceptically.

'A bit of old parchment!' said Fred. He scrunched his eyes as if Harry had said something offensive. 'Explain, George.'

'Well …' started George, 'when we were in our first year, Harry – young, carefree and innocent –'

'Since when were you two "innocent"?' I asked.

'– well, more innocent than we are now – we got into a spot of bother with Filch.'

'Of course, you did,' I sighed.

'We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason –' said Fred.

'So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual –'

'– detention –'

'– disembowelment –'

'– and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.'

Harry and I looked at each other, a grin starting on his face, 'Don't tell me –'

'Well, what would you've done?' said Fred. 'George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open and grabbed – this.'

'It's not as bad as it sounds, you know,' said George. 'We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it.'

'And you know how to work it?'

'Oh yes,' smirked Fred. 'This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school.'

'You're winding me up,' said Harry, staring at the parchment.

'It does all sound a bit farfetched,' I added.

'Oh, are we?' said George.

He laid the parchment down on the desk between the four of us, took out his wand and touched it lightly to the parchment, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'

At once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point George's wand had touched the parchment. They joined each other, they criss-crossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly black words. Harry opened the parchment. It was showing every little detail of the Hogwarts castle and the grounds. Tiny footprints with labels at each of them traced the parchment in different places showing the students walking around in that exact area. My eyes flicked to where Harry, Fred, George and I would be and sure enough, four pairs of feet stood still in a small classroom just off the third floor corridor, exactly where we were. This was incredible. Harry folded the parchment over again to look at the front.

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP

'"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present the Marauder's Map",' I read aloud.

The Marauders? I thought to myself. No way.

Harry opened up the parchment once more and leaned over the desk to take a closer look at it. In the top corner pacing back and forth was a small dot labelled Professor Dumbledore; another dot was walking the length of the second floor corridor with the name Mrs Norris floating beside it; and another was zooming back and forth across the parchment labelled Peeves, who seemed to be causing chaos in the Trophy Room a few corridors away from us. It was showing us almost every inch of the castle, including several passages that neither Harry nor I recognised and had never come across before. And each one seemed to lead –

'Right into Hogsmeade,' said Fred, as if he was reading our minds. He ran his finger along the one closest to where we were standing that seemed to start at the statue of the One-Eyed Witch. 'There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four –' he pointed out four different passages on different parts of the map, '– but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't both with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in – completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance.'

My eyes instantly followed where Fred was pointing. Sure enough there was a small drawing of the Whomping Willow on the parchment, it's ink branches gently swaying back and forth in an invisible wind, and beneath it were lines vanishing off the parchment with a scribbled message saying "to Hogsmeade". I already knew which passage this was. It must've been the passage Lupin used to be led down to get to the Shrieking Shack during his transformations. He'd told me about how the passageway had been protected to stop other students getting near it and discovering his secret or seeing him transformed. The Willow must have been planted over it to that job. It certainly would have kept students away as nothing could ever get anywhere near it without being whipped by its branches.

'But this one here,' Fred was saying, 'this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump.'

'Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,' sighed George fondly. 'We owe them so much.'

'Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of law-breakers,' said Fred solemnly.

Not all of them were men, I thought, though it appeared my Mum had decided to keep out of being named on the Map. If they knew who was responsible for it, however, I think even Fred and George would have a newfound respect for Lupin. He may seem mild mannered but I guess even the most easy-going of people can hide a more tricky side. I just had never thought of Lupin as a man who'd pull pranks though.

'Right,' said George briskly, 'don't forget to wipe it after you've used it –'

'– or anyone can read it,' warned Fred.

'Just tap it again and say, "Mischief Managed!" and it'll go blank.'

'So, young Harry and Jenna,' said Fred, in what I assumed was an impersonation of Percy, and quite accurate at that, 'mind you behave yourself.'

'See you in Honeydukes,' added George with a wink.

Fred and George left the room both with wide satisfied smirks on their faces. Once they were gone I turned to Harry. He was still staring at the Map, watching the tiny dots wandering across the parchment as it recorded the real person's footsteps.

'Harry?' I asked, breaking the silence. 'I'm not sure if this is a good idea.'

'Jenna,' started Harry slowly, 'd'you realise what we have here? It's a Map of the entire school! We can get anywhere and Filch wouldn't even know!'

'I can see that,' I argued, 'but …' I hesitated. OK, so I knew exactly who had made that Map – namely Lupin and his friends when they were at school by the looks of it – but that Map could get Harry into a lot of trouble and even danger. Black helped make that Map. Anywhere Harry went on it, Black would know too. 'Remember what Mr Weasley said last year,' I said. 'Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain.'

'Jenna,' said Harry, a hint of desperation in his voice at the opportunity that was in front of him. 'This is my only chance to see Hogsmeade. Fred and George have used this Map for years and nothing bad has happened to them. How dangerous could it be?'

I was torn. I didn't want to stop Harry going to Hogsmeade, not when I wanted to go so badly too, but at the same time I knew that whatever was on that Map, Black knew about too.

'OK, fine, just promise me you won't use that Map for anything else,' I said.

'Fine, I promise,' said Harry. 'Now let's go!'

Harry checked the Map, tracing his finger along the passageway leading to Honeydukes cellar that we were going to take. Once memorised, Harry folded the Map back up and shoved it into his pocket. He pulled open the door to the classroom and peered outside. There was no one in the corridor. Giving me a nod of his head, Harry and I slipped out through the open door and behind the statue of the One-Eyed Witch. I looked up at the statue. It was completely solid. It didn't look like there was any sort of button or lever to press to open it up.

'How do we get in?' I whispered.

'Not sure,' Harry whispered back. He pulled out the Map to check it again. I peered over his shoulder. The two dots representing Harry and I were now positioned behind the statue on the Map but they weren't doing anything. But then Harry's dot moved. A tiny little line poked out from his dot, kind of like if Harry was using his wand, and tapped the statue. Then, just above it, a speech bubble appeared with the word 'Dissendium' written in it in the same curly writing that was on the front pages. Harry and I glanced at each other. I guess we had to do that. So, Harry took out his wand, tapped the statue and whispered, 'Dissendium!'

At first nothing seemed to happen. Then, suddenly, there was a loud clunk and the hump of the statue dropped down and opened to reveal a hole wide enough for someone to slip through it. A wave of excitement rushed through me and I forgot about how much trouble Harry and I would get in if we got caught. I looked at him to see a broad grin on his face. I grinned back. With another check of the corridor, Harry pulled himself up and into the hole, turning round to pull me up after him. He then took a step forwards and disappeared down the tunnel beneath us. I glanced back over my shoulder into the castle then, with a hint of concern crossing over me, I pushed myself forwards and slid down into the tunnel as the hole closed up behind me.

My feet hit the ground with a dull thump. I stood straight and looked around. It appeared that we were in a very dark earthy tunnel. I could just see Harry's outline in the darkness. I reached into my trouser pocket and pulled out my wand and lit it up. Upwards I could just see where the entrance to the passageway was for us to get back through later, and ahead was a long tunnel that disappeared out of the reach of my wand's light. Beside me Harry too had lit his wand and had the Map out once again. With another tap, he cleared it then put it away in his pocket.

The passage was not short, considering it reached all the way from Hogwarts down to Hogsmeade. Nor was it straight as our light trailed along its floor, disappearing out of sight each time the passage twisted or turned. Harry and I walked quickly and silently along it. I could almost feel the excitement coming from Harry at the thought that Hogsmeade was only at the other end of this tunnel. He pounded the ground at such a pace that I almost had to run to keep up with him. The tunnel remained flat for most of the walk until finally, after about twenty minutes or so, it began to rise. We must be near the other end. We sped up. Another ten minutes passed and finally our wand light illuminated a set of old worn stone stairs leading upwards out of the tunnel. My legs were aching by the time we finally reached the top when Harry's head hit against a trapdoor.

Harry rubbed his head where it had hit the door above him. We shared a look then carefully Harry pushed the trapdoor open and we peered through the small gap it made. My eyes scanned the room in front of us. We were very clearly in the cellar of Honeydukes. Stacks of boxes lined the floor and the shelves on the wall, each labelled with the name of whatever sweet was kept inside it. There was a lot of dust on the floor though and it was all I could do to stop myself from sneezing. Harry pushed the trapdoor open a bit further and climbed out. I followed after him and together we hid behind the nearest pile of crates, the trapdoor disappearing into the stone so it was almost invisible to the naked eye. On the opposite side of the room there was a wooden staircase that led upstairs to the shop floor. In the distance I could hear the sound of chattering voices and the ring of the doorbell whenever someone entered the shop. Harry and I crept over to the staircase when above us we heard the opening and shutting of a door. Quickly we ducked underneath the stairs.

'And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out –' called a woman's voice.

A pair of feet appeared between the slats of the wooden stairs. Harry grabbed my hand and pulled us behind a nearby large crate. I watched as the owner of the shop, an older bald man with a slight hunch and rather large rear, bent over a box on the opposite side of the room to us and began rummaging around in it. I felt Harry grab my hand a second time and we hurried up the wooden staircase and slipped through the door at the top. We found ourselves behind the counter of Honeydukes where the woman whose voice we'd heard earlier was currently serving a group of excited students. We crept sideways around the counter and underneath the little wooden flap that was used to step from behind it to the shop floor.

I straightened up and looked round. Honeydukes was packed with students. There was barely enough room to breathe in here it was so busy. Harry and I needn't have worried about being noticed when there was so much to look at here. There were shelves stacked full of the most succulent-looking sweets I'd ever seen before. Chunks of nougat, fat squares of honey-coloured toffee, lines of chocolates stacked in neat rows; a large barrel in the corner was filled to its brim with nothing but Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans while another had Fizzing Whizzbees; a set of shelves along the back wall had the sign 'Special Effect Sweets' hung above it: Droobles Best Blowing Gum that made bluebell coloured un-pop-able bubbles, the Toothflossing Stringmints that Hermione had wanted to buy, black Pepper Imps that made you smoke at the mouth, something called Ice Mice that would make your teeth squeak, even fragile-looking sugar spun quills you could suck on while you worked.

Harry and I slipped through the crowd. We passed a group of fourth-year girls all crowding round the Sugared Butterfly Wings and another of sixth-years all reaching for the Liquorice Wands. In the far corner there was another sign reading 'Unusual Tastes' hanging above a set of shelves containing large mason jars of sweets in a range of rather off-putting colours. In front of them I saw stood Ron and Hermione, both of whom were examining a tray of what looked like blood-red lollipops. Harry must've seen them too as he nudged me in the side then nodded his head at them. We slipped through the crowd over to them.

'Urgh, no, Harry won't want on of those, they're for vampires, I expect,' Hermione was saying.

'How about these?' Ron asked, picking up a jar of something called Cockroach Cluster. 'And Jenna might like those Fudge Flies.'

'Definitely not,' said Harry.

'And I'll pass on the Flies,' I added.

Ron and Hermione jumped and span round. The jar of Cockroach Cluster narrowly missed being dropped.

'Harry! Jenna!' squealed Hermione. 'What are you doing here? How – how did you –?'

'Wow!' said Ron, looking rather more impressed than Hermione did. 'You've learnt to Apparate!'

''Course we haven't,' said Harry.

'Then how on earth did you two get here without anyone seeing you?' hissed Hermione.

'With this,' said Harry. He pulled the corner of the Marauder's Map out of his pocket just enough for Ron and Hermione to see it.

'What's that?' asked Ron.

'It's called the Marauder's Map,' said Harry, dropping his voice. 'Fred and George gave it to us. It's a Map of the entire school and all its passageways. It shows everything, even where all the students and teachers are at that very moment. It led me and Jenna straight here through a passage that led to the cellar of the shop.'

Hermione looked shocked. Ron looked annoyed.

'How come Fred and George never gave it to me!' said Ron. 'I'm their brother.'

'But Harry isn't going to keep it!' said Hermione. 'He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?'

'No, I'm not!' said Harry.

'Are you mad?' said Ron, staring at Hermione. 'Hand in something that good?'

'If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it!' said Harry. 'Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!'

'But what about Sirius Black?' hissed Hermione. Instantly I tensed. 'He could be using one of the passages on that Map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!'

'Hermione does have a point,' I said. In fact, I knew Hermione was exactly right, as I had thought the exact same thing. I just couldn't turn around and tell them that that Map was written by mine and Harry's fathers and Lupin and so Black knew exactly what was on it without giving too much away. 'Black could know any number of the passages from when he went to school. We don't know for sure how many of them are secure.'

'He can't be getting in through a passage,' said Harry quickly. 'There are seven secret tunnels on the Map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And the other three – one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one we just came through – well – it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar – so unless he knew it was there –'

Harry seemed to hesitate and fell silent. Ron, however, cleared his throat and pointed to a notice posted on the door to the sweetshop.

BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors
will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after
sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of
Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of
Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your
shopping well before nightfall.
Merry Christmas!

'See?' said Ron quietly. 'I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!'

'Yes, but – but –' Hermione seemed to be searching for any kind of argument in favour of handing in the Map. 'Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade, he hasn't got a signed form! And neither does Jenna. Professor Lupin would be so angry if he knew she was here. If anyone finds out, they'll both be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet – what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?'

'He'd have a job spotting Harry in this,' said Ron, nodding his head at the swirling snow outside in the street. 'Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas, Harry and Jenna deserve a break.'

Hermione bit her lip, unconvinced.

'Are you going to report us?' Harry asked, grinning.

'Oh – of course not – but honestly, Harry –'

'Seen the Fizzing Whizzbees, Harry?'

Ron grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him over to where a jar of fluorescent red balls of sherbet sat on a dresser shelf. Beside me, Hermione gave me a stern look as if it was my fault for letting Harry use the Map in the first place and for not stopping him from coming to the village.

'Hermione, calm down,' I told her, 'I made Harry swear not to use that Map after this.'

'And d'you really think he won't,' said Hermione.

The honest answer? No, I knew Harry wouldn't be able to resist using that Map. Instead I simply shrugged and said, 'We can hope he doesn't.'

Ron and Hermione paid for their sweets and the four of us left Honeydukes. Outside a blizzard appeared to be happening in the street. Snow was falling in thick waves making it almost impossible to see anything in front of you. It did, however, make Hogsmeade village look like something you'd find on a Christmas card. All the shops and cottages were clearly very old as they all were made of large stone bricks and had large pointed thatched roofs and frosted glass in their windows. Wreaths of holly adorned the doors and there were strings of enchanted candles criss-crossing over the street above us as decoration for the season. Tall iron street lamps had long icicles dangling from its corners that were barely affected by the heat coming from the tiny flames inside them. Everyone that was out and about in the village were all wrapped up in their winter cloaks and scarves, their heads bowed against the wind blowing the snow around them, as they walked up and down the street. It made me shiver, wishing I'd had my coat with me instead of just my hoodie for warmth. As we walked up the street, Ron and Hermione pointed out various places to me and Harry.

'That's the Post Office –'

'Zonko's is up there –'

'We could go up to the Shrieking Shack –'

'Tell you what,' said Ron, his teeth chattering from the cold, 'shall we go for a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?'

'If it's warm in there, I'm up for it,' I said, my voice shaking as I shivered.

'Definitely,' agreed Harry.

We turned left off the street towards an old-looking pub with thick black wooden beams visible in its façade. Ron pushed open the door and we stepped inside. Instantly I was hit by a very pleasant warmth that was coming from the large fire burning on the far side of the pub's barroom. It was packed full of people sat around tables lining the length and width of the room. The pub itself was very rustic; more black wooden beams lined the ceiling as well as acting as pillars; the fireplace was twice the size of any I'd seen at Hogwarts and was built from large flagstones lined with more wood for its mantelpiece, and a iron grate held a roaring fire that was heating the entire room by the looks of it; and the bar at the back was packed with old-looking bottles of ales and beers, large tankards gathered in lines along the back shelves. All was decorated with festive garlands for the Christmas season and there were a couple of Christmas trees glinting in various locations around the room. At the bar a middle-aged woman with thick blonde curly hair was laughing as she served a couple of wizards large foaming tankards of what I assumed was an ale of sorts. I didn't really know much about what wizards drank in pubs.

'That's Madam Rosmerta,' said Ron. I glanced at him to see a slightly red tinge in his cheeks. 'I'll get the drinks, shall I?'

Ron disappeared into the crowd gathered around the bar. Harry, Hermione and I made our way in the opposite direction to the back of the room where a small table remained vacant near the window and a Christmas tree by the fire. I sat down on the wooden bench between Harry and Hermione, glad to feel the heat of the fire on my skin. Ron returned a few minutes later with four foaming glasses of a golden amber liquid I recognised to be Butterbeer, although I had never had it before.

'Happy Christmas!' he said happily, raising his tankard.

I took a sip of my drink and was instantly hit by the strong sweetness of it. It tasted almost like a very mild version of butterscotch. It certainly warmed you up though. I ran my tongue over my lip to lick away the foam, enjoying the taste. A part of me suspected that the drink might be slightly alcoholic. I took another sip of it when I heard the door of the pub open and felt a breeze ruffled my fringe. I looked round and suddenly breathed in at the wrong moment and swallowed some of my drink from the shock of what I saw. Professor McGonagall had just entered the pub accompanied by Professor Flitwick and Hagrid as well as none other than the Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge. And Harry and I were sat here in the Three Broomsticks when we didn't even have permission to be in the village. Next moment I felt Hermione's hand grab my shoulder and Harry and I were forced under the table before the teachers or Minister could see us. I dropped my tankard, the contents spilling on the floor beside me, while Harry spilt his own on his trousers. I shifted enough so I was in a slightly less uncomfortable and wet position and crouched beside Harry as we watched the feet of the teachers pass by our table.

'Why is the Minister for Magic with McGonagall?' I whispered to Harry.

'I don't know,' he replied, 'but whatever reason, it can't be good.'

'Mobiliarbus!' I heard Hermione say the spell and the Christmas tree next to our table lifted a few inches off the ground and floated towards us. It landed with a soft thump blocking Harry and I from view. Carefully I pulled back a few of the lower branches and peered through them. I could just see McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid and Fudge sitting down at the table across from ours. Seconds later a pair of glittery heels walked by as Madam Rosmerta approached their table to serve them their drinks.

'A small Gillywater –'

'Mine,' replied Professor McGonagall's voice.

'Four pints of mulled mead –'

'Ta, Rosmerta,' said Hagrid.

'A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella –'

'Mmm!' squeaked Professor Flitwick.

'So you'll be the redcurrant rum, Minister,' finished Madam Rosmerta, handing him a ruby red drink.

'Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear,' said Fudge. 'Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us …'

'Well, thank you very much, Minister.'

The glittery heels of Madam Rosmerta walked away then returned a few minutes later. I swallowed, suddenly aware of how fast my heart seemed to be beating in my chest. I didn't like the fact that Fudge was here as that could only mean one thing. Something had happened to do with Black and he was here to investigate. This was the last thing I needed right now and so I wished deeply that he would just be here for the Christmas atmosphere.

'So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?' asked Madam Rosmerta. I watched as Fudge's body seemed to twist in his seat as he checked to see if anyone was listening in.

'What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black?' Fudge replied in a low voice. 'I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Hallowe'en?'

'I did hear a rumour,' admitted Madam Rosmerta.

'Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?' said Professor McGonagall, exasperated.

'Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?' whispered Madam Rosmerta.

'I'm sure of it,' said Fudge firmly.

My eyes narrowed. Was it possible? Was Black really so foolhardy to stay within the boundaries of the school after almost being caught on Hallowe'en?

'You know that the Dementors have searched my pub twice?' said Madam Rosmerta tartly. 'Scared all of my customers away … it's very bad for business, Minister.'

'Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do,' reasoned Fudge. 'Necessary precaution … unfortunate, but there you are … I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore – he won't let them inside the castle grounds.'

'I should think not,' said Professor McGonagall sharply. 'How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?'

'Hear, hear!' squeaked Professor Flitwick's voice.

'All the same,' said Fudge, 'they are here to protect you all from something much worse … we all know what Black's capable of …'

'Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,' said Madam Rosmerta. 'Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought … I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd have too much mead.'

'You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta,' grunted Fudge. 'The worst isn't widely known?'

The worst? I thought. I could feel my nerves creeping in from the direction this conversation was going. I glanced at Harry out of the corner of my eye. He was listening as intently as I was.

'The worst?' repeated Madam Rosmerta. 'Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?'

'I certainly do,' confirmed Fudge.

'I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?'

'You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,' said Professor McGonagall quietly. 'Do you remember who his best friend was?'

'Naturally,' said Madam Rosmerta with a laugh. 'Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here – ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!'

I couldn't stop the gasp that came from my lips when she said Harry's father's name. Beside me I heard Harry drop his tankard followed by a dull thud. Ron had kicked him. I then felt something dig into my back too as Hermione kicked me as well to silence me.

'Precisely,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers –'

'I dunno,' chuckled Hagrid. 'Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money.'

'You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!' added Professor Flitwick. 'Inseperable! And it seems to run in the family!'

No, I thought. Please don't go there. Please don't reveal it.

If there was one thing I dreaded most about this conversation, it was the thought of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, or even Hagrid, revealing that I was Sirius Black's daughter. At the moment the suggestion of it running in the family could mean anything; Harry and Ron were such close friends they could think it meant about how they acted like brothers instead of implying there being another Potter and Black duo. The likelihood of that, however, was very slim. Not even the thought of Harry finding out the truth of Black's connection to his parents' murders compared to the dread I felt at Harry finding out I was related to Black, let alone his daughter.

'Of course they were,' said Fudge. 'Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him.'

'Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?' whispered Madam Rosmerta.

'Worse even than that, m'dear …' said Fudge, dropping his voice even more so it was barely above a whisper. 'Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.'

'How does that work?' asked Madam Rosmerta.

'An immensely complex spell,' said Professor Flitwick, 'involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find – unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!'

'So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?' whispered Madam Rosmerta, saying what I was already knew.

'Naturally,' confirmed Professor McGonagall. 'James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself to protect his daughter … and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself.'

I swallowed. Professor McGonagall had said it. She'd said that Black had a daughter. But again I had that vague hope that the connection between Black and I would not be made and Harry, Ron and Hermione would simply assume that she was some other girl that had died years ago and not that she was sitting right beside them under the table.

'He suspected Black?' gasped Madam Rosmerta.

'He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,' said Professor McGonagall darkly. 'Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who.'

'But James Potter insisted on using Black?'

'He did,' said Fudge, his voice heavy. 'And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed –'

'Black betrayed them?' breathed Madam Rosmerta.

'He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His Master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it –'

By now my heart was thumping so hard in my chest and I was swallowing hard to keep my breathing steady. Although I already knew all of this it was still so hard to hear again and a part of me inside was repeating to myself, It's not true … He didn't do it …

'Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!' shouted Hagrid suddenly over Fudge. I jumped, surprised by his shout. Half the bar fell silent, stunned by his sudden outburst.

'Shh!' hissed Professor McGonagall.

'I met him!' growled Hagrid. 'I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James's house after they were killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead … an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter tide. Never occurred to me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!' roared Hagrid.

I frowned, despite almost feeling sick now from listening to this. Black had been white and shaking when Hagrid had seen him that night? That doesn't sound like the sort of reaction someone would have if they had committed a betrayal. In fact, it would be hard to imitate that kind of behaviour if someone was guilty of murder. Unless … it was guilt for something else Black felt? I felt a sudden rush of emotion wash over me as I realised something. Maybe – just maybe – was it possible that Black was actually innocent?

'Hagrid, please!' admonished Professor McGonagall. 'Keep your voice down!'

'How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James?' said Hagrid. 'It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, "Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him with me daughter –" Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. "I won' need it any more," he says.

'I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it any more? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potter's Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him.

'But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh?' asked Hagrid emphatically. 'I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea, just like he musta done ter his daughter. Dumped her the same night Lily and James were killed! She wasn' with him when he tried ter get Harry from me. His bes' friend's son and his own kid! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em any more, not even their own blood …'

I couldn't help but feel tears start to sting at my eyes as Hagrid said that. I blinked hard to get rid of them, shaking my head and still thinking, It's not true!

A long silence followed Hagrid's story. It certainly was a lot to process, a lot more than Lupin had originally told me. But now I was more certain than ever that there was a chance that Black was innocent. How he was, though, I didn't know.

Madam Rosmerta broke the silence, asking with a satisfied tone, 'But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!'

'Alas, if only we had,' said Fudge. I looked up. I knew what they were talking about. How Lupin's other friend Peter Pettigrew had caught Black. I leaned in a tiny bit closer to peer through the branches of the Christmas tree so I didn't miss a word of what was said. Maybe it was Peter's role that was the missing link. 'It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew – another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself.'

'Pettigrew … that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?' asked Madam Rosmerta.

'Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now …' she sniffed.

Hero-worshipped? I thought. That didn't sound like the kind of friendship to have. A bit odd, considering they were all best friends according to Lupin.

'There, now, Minerva,' comforted Fudge, 'Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eye-witnesses – Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later – told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!" And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens …'

'Stupid boy …' sniffed Professor McGonagall, followed by the sound of her blowing her nose, 'foolish boy … he was always hopeless at duelling … should have left it to the Ministry …'

'I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands – I'd've ripped him limb – from – limb,' Hagrid growled.

'You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid,' said Fudge sharply. 'Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I – I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked a sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him … a heap of blood-stained robes and a few – a few fragments –'

'Robes?' I breathed. 'No …' Lupin had told me Black had used a Blasting Curse to destroy Pettigrew. But if that had been the case then absolutely nothing of Pettigrew would have been left, not even any bloodstained robes. Blasting Curses reduced anything they hit to piles of ashes. But Pettigrew had left behind a finger as well as his robes. What if –?

'Do you know who else I feel sorry for?' Professor McGonagall was saying, regaining my attention. 'Jenna, one of Harry's friends at Hogwarts. I'm surprised no one's caught on yet. The similarities between her and her father are beyond belief. A Gryffindor just like he was, and the pair of them get into more trouble than any other student just like their fathers. Real luck favoured her when she was found by those Muggles and they got her to that orphanage. It saved her the pain of knowing her father's past. Remus has done a remarkable job of keeping it from her. But she'll find out eventually, and I pity her the day she learns the truth.'

I froze, my worst fears now out in the open. There was no way the others wouldn't have heard that. The revelation that I was the missing daughter of Sirius Black.

'Well, there you have it, Rosmerta,' finished Fudge. 'Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since.'

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh.

'Is it true he's mad, Minister?'

'I wish I could say that he was,' said Fudge slowly. I shook myself, suddenly drawn back to the conversation. They were talking about Black's time in Azkaban. 'I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man – cruel … pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark, there's no sense in them … but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored – asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him – and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door, day and night.'

'But what do you think he's broken out to do?' said Madam Rosmerta. 'He certainly wouldn't be after the child he abandoned so what else is there? Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?'

'I daresay that is his – er – eventual plan,' said Fudge hesitantly. 'But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing … but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again …'

There was the sound of glass hitting against wood as someone put down their drinks.

'You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the Headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle,' said Professor McGonagall.

One by one, I watched as the five pairs of feet stood up and walked away from their table. I let go of the branch of the Christmas tree and sat back. I couldn't explain how I was feeling at that moment. It was like a small fire had been lit in my head by the thought of Black's possible innocence, burning there in my brain, waiting to be fed the information I needed to prove it. It was then I remembered I was not alone, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were all sitting there as well. I looked round to see Harry staring at me. I couldn't describe the way he looked at me, a look of both disbelief and disgust. When Ron and Hermione's head appeared beneath the table, they too shared the look as well as clear concern for Harry over what we'd just heard.

'Harry?' said Hermione cautiously.

Harry didn't react. He just kept staring at me. Eventually he spoke.

'You're Black's daughter …'

My heart plummeted. I opened my mouth to say something but Harry got out from under the table and proceeded to walk out of the pub. The table shifted as Ron and Hermione pushed it aside so they could chase after him. Quickly I got up to follow. I pulled myself out from under the table and slid silently through the still crowded pub and out of the door. I looked frantically around the crowded street for any sign of which way Harry had gone. In the distance I could just see Ron's red hair visible in the falling snow. I pulled up my hood so that I wouldn't get noticed – I still wasn't meant to be in the village after all – and hurried after them. I followed the three of them as they walked down the street then diverted off a side alley that took us away from the village and into the forest. Once free from the crowd I ran after the others, following their footprints in the snow. I made my way through the trees and up a small hill on the outskirts of the village. At the top I saw I had followed them to a clearing and in the distance I could just see a small wooden house on its own little hill, a rackety wooden fence separating it from the forest. It was the Shrieking Shack. I looked around. At the foot of the hill I was standing on down in the clearing I saw Harry standing with his back to me. Hermione was beside him as she tried to comfort him, Ron standing a few feet back. Slowly I approached them, hesitant about what could happen.

'He was their friend,' I heard Harry say, his voice choked, 'and he betrayed them … HE WAS THEIR FRIEND!'

'Harry,' said Hermione gently. 'You weren't to know. No one knew what Black had done.'

Harry blinked. It looked like he was fighting back tears, not of sadness but of anger. When he looked up at Hermione, he seemed to pause. And I realised it was because he'd seen me.

'Jenna.'

Ron and Hermione span round to see me standing there silently in the clearing with them. Harry walked away from Hermione. He strode right up to me. I swallowed, scared at the thought of what he might do. His face was set with anger as he stood over me, though we were barely an inch or two different in height, glaring down at me for something I wasn't responsible for.

'Why didn't you tell me?' he demanded. 'Why didn't you tell me you were his daughter? I thought you were my friend.'

'I am your friend,' I said. 'Harry, I didn't tell you because I only found out a few months ago myself. Lupin had never told me. Please you have to believe me, I didn't know.'

Harry's glare remained. He looked away from me, as if he was thinking through what to do.

'You always said you didn't know who your father was,' said Harry angrily. 'But that doesn't mean you shouldn't have told me when you found out. Especially when he's responsible for my parents' deaths.'

Before I could stop myself, I said, 'No.' the word slipping from my mouth. Harry stared at me.

'What? You – you think he's innocent?' asked Harry.

Hesitantly, I nodded.

Anger seemed to rush through Harry like I had never seen before. His green eyes darkened in a way I hadn't seen before and he turned away from me.

'Harry, please –!' I said quickly. I made the mistake of grabbing his arm. Harry span back round to face me.

'He murdered my parents!' Harry shouted, pushing my hand off his arm. 'And you think he's innocent! You're supposed to be my friend and you're choosing a convicted murderer you've never even met to believe over all the facts!'

'Harry –!' I argued.

'Just – get out of here, Jenna!' shouted Harry. 'Before I do something I might regret!'

Harry's words stung. I looked at Ron and Hermione desperately for them to say something, to reason with Harry enough so that I could explain what I knew, but neither seemed prepared to do so. Ron looked just as angry with me as Harry, while Hermione seemed at a loss of what to do. I looked back at Harry, my eyes stinging as I fought back the urge to cry. I blinked, a tear falling down my cheek, and turned away. I ran back up the hill and back the way I'd come towards the village, struggling to stop myself from crying at what had now happened. When I reached the village I hid behind the wooden gate that surrounded it. I had to get back to the castle but there was no way I could sneak back into Honeydukes cellar without Harry's help and his Invisibility Cloak now that the village was emptying of people.

I swallowed and attempted to calm myself and clear my thoughts. I managed to do so just enough so I could transform. From behind the gate I stepped into the village in the form of my grey wolf. Disguised, I ran quickly through the village behind the houses to get back to the path that would take me to Hogwarts. I streaked through the village and over the bridge that led to Hogsmeade Station, and onwards up the footpath I knew to lead to the castle at the top of the hill. Soon enough the large wrought iron gates of the school came into view as did the two large Dementors guarding them. I skidded to a stop, scared that they would attack me like they did every time I'd encountered them.

The Dementors saw me and swooped down from where they floated about the stone winged boars that flanked the gates. I felt the chill they made rush through me from their presence. They began to circle me where I cowered in the snow but for some reason, they didn't attack. They seemed to examine me, their heads twisting from side to side as they looked at me, but they didn't attempt to stop me. It was almost as if they didn't recognise me or what they were sensing from me, nor did I feel that familiar draining feeling whenever they were near me. Seeing that they were confused by me, I crept cautiously between them and through the gates into the school. I then ran the rest of the way back up the hill towards the Stone Circle and Wooden Bridge. I only stopped once I was safely hidden behind one of the large stones and I transformed back. I leant my head back against the stone pillar and finally I let the tears fall.

Harry knew Black was my dad. He probably thought I'd even lied to him about knowing because I never told him when I found out. But he had never directly asked me about who my father was. How could I have lied? You can't lie about something you've never mentioned and I've never lied to him for as long as I've known him. And what was worse, I'd revealed that I believed there was a chance he was innocent. There was no way Harry was ever going to listen to me long enough so that I could explain the reason why that was, not now. I sighed, defeated. Harry knew Black was my dad … What was I going to do now?

I didn't see Harry, Ron or Hermione for the rest of the evening until dinner. I had hidden myself away in the Owlery, seeking comfort in Gizmo as I tried to come up with a way of explaining to Harry all that I knew about Black, about Pettigrew, and about what had happened that night, but coming up with nothing good enough. I only emerged when I heard the Clock Tower Bell ring out signalling dinner. I reached the Great Hall to find it was already full of students all happily chatting away to each other. I walked towards the Gryffindor table, my eyes scanning its length for Harry, Ron and Hermione. I saw them about halfway down but they weren't talking to each other. In fact, Ron and Hermione looked like they were being very cautious around Harry. I made to approach them but then hesitated when they saw me, so instead I took the free seat nearest me. Clearly now was not a good time to try and talk to Harry.

I didn't each much. I had no appetite. I pushed my food around on its plate until it vanished and was replaced by dessert. Every so often I would glance down at the others but I didn't have the nerve to do anything. Shortly after dessert was served the three of them got up and left the Hall. As they passed I caught Hermione's eye. She didn't say anything but shook her head enough for me to see before catching up with the boys. I turned away and looked down at my soggy dessert, disheartened. This was going to be a long Christmas.

I'd originally thought Christmas this year was going to be great. I had my three best friends and my Uncle all under one roof allowing me to spend time with both of them during the Christmas holidays. I turned out to be very wrong. The following morning I'd awoken early and had remained awake in bed until it was time for breakfast. The dormitory was empty as Parvati, Lavender and Sally-Anne had all gone home for the holidays. Only Hermione was still here. When I had returned from cleaning my teeth in the bathroom I saw Hermione was up and dressed as well. We stood in an awkward silence for a minute or two before I braved to say something.

'How's Harry?' I asked nervously.

'Hurt,' replied Hermione. 'Jenna, why didn't you tell him Sirius Black is your father?'

'I couldn't, Hermione,' I said. 'Imagine how you'd feel if you found out your father was supposedly responsible for your friend's parents being murdered.'

'So you preferred him to find out the way he did?' Hermione countered.

'No, I just – I needed to get the whole story before I told him,' I said. 'I needed to know for myself that he was guilty before I did anything.'

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms, 'I guess that's understandable, given what happened to you,' she reasoned. 'You'd want to know about what happened before you decided what to do about it. But do you honestly believe he's innocent?'

'I don't know,' I said truthfully. 'My Mum wrote a lot about him when they were at school together and just – something about the whole thing doesn't add up. The man she wrote about doesn't sound anything like the man people believe him to be. And –' I stopped. I couldn't tell Hermione about my memories, those strange flashes I had got when I touched certain things, like when I first held the knife Black had attacked me with. 'I just need to know for sure Black is who people think he is. I don't want to risk losing my father again.'

'Jenna,' sighed Hermione. She walked over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. 'From what people have said, it sounds like you never had a father in the first place. Hagrid said he abandoned you. You said yourself you were found alone in a park by a couple of Muggles and you have no memories of him.'

'I know,' I said, 'but if there was a chance – even if it was the smallest of chances – that he was innocent and I could get my father back …' I looked at Hermione desperately, hoping she'd understand, 'Hermione, I have to risk it.'

'I know,' said Hermione softly. She gave my shoulder a squeeze. 'You know Harry's not going to be so understanding.' I nodded. 'Just be careful,' said Hermione. 'Don't let yourself get hurt.'

'I won't,' I replied. 'Trust me, Lupin won't let Black anywhere near me.'

'He knows you're alive?'

'I think so. Black came to my home over the summer. I overheard them arguing in the garden. Lupin threatened to summon the Aurors to capture him if he didn't leave.'

'Why didn't he?'

'Because he didn't want me to know.'

Hermione frowned again.

'I hope you know what you're doing, Jenna.'

'So do I.' I was risking Harry's friendship on a mere hunch. I didn't want to lose that either.

After breakfast I returned to the girls' dormitories and remained there for the rest of the day again going over everything I knew about Black, looking for anything that could possibly point in the direction of his innocence. Something was missing. Something just didn't quite make sense yet to explain all the conflicting information. Frustrated, I got up off my bed and headed out of my dormitory to go down to the Great Hall for lunch. I walked down the staircase but stopped before I reached the common room. I could hear voices in there. But I knew virtually no one else was staying for the holidays so it could only be one group of people: Harry, Ron and Hermione. I crept down the last couple of stairs and remained out of sight as I listened to what they were talking about. Unsurprisingly it was about Black.

'Harry, listen,' Hermione was saying, 'you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn't go doing anything stupid.'

'Like what?' came Harry's indignant response.

'Like trying to go after Black,' said Ron.

'You won't, will you, Harry?' said Hermione.

There was a pause. Then Harry replied.

'D'you know what I see and hear every time a Dementor gets too near me?' he asked them. 'I can hear my Mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your Mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her –'

'There's nothing you can do!' said Hermione earnestly. 'The Dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and – and serve him right!'

I held in a sigh. For all the compassion Hermione showed me this morning, it appeared even she didn't believe in the possibility that Black could be innocent. I knew Ron had already made up his mind having grown up in the wizarding world whereas the likelihood of Harry being swayed was slim to none. My one support clearly didn't seem to be so supportive anymore.

'You heard what Fudge said,' snapped Harry. 'Black isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others.'

'So what are you saying?' said Ron. 'You want to – to kill Black or something?'

'Don't be silly,' said Hermione sharply though I could hear the concern in her voice. 'Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?'

Again Harry didn't respond straight away.

'Malfoy knows,' he said next. 'Remember what he said to me in Potions? "If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself … I'd want revenge".'

'You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?' said Ron angrily. 'Listen … you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me – the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, and he's dangerous –'

'Malfoy's dad must have told him,' Harry continued, clearly not listening to Ron. 'He was right in Voldemort's inner circle –'

'Say You-Know-Who, will you?'

'– so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort –'

'– and Malfoy'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip, Malfoy's just hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch.'

'Harry, please,' implored Hermione, 'please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants … oh, Harry, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!'

'I'll never know what they'd have wanted,' said Harry bluntly, 'because, thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them.'

I sighed. As much as I knew I should, I couldn't keep my silence any longer.

'They'd want you to find out the truth.'

I stepped out from behind the corner of the staircase into the common room. Harry span round in his seat when he heard me enter, Ron and Hermione also looking up at me. I merely stood there staring back hopelessly at them, disheartened by all their words. If I had a white flag then I would be waving it to tell them I meant no harm.

'Been eavesdropping, have you?' Harry asked, his tone very accusative.

'I couldn't help it when you're the only people in the common room,' I replied.

'Well it's none of your business what we're talking about.'

Harry turned back round in his seat to the others.

'You're not the only one Black hurt, you know,' I said, regaining Harry's attention. He looked back at me. 'What about me? And Lupin? He lost his sister. I lost my Mum and my childhood. I told you what it was like in that orphanage, Harry, you know what I went through after I was abandoned by him.'

Harry got up. He walked across the common room to where I was stood at the foot of the stairs. I stood my ground though inside I could feel my nerves building. Harry glared down at me.

'So you lost out on your childhood, big deal,' spat Harry. 'Black wasn't the reason you lost your parents.'

'I lost my parents too, Harry,' I said firmly. 'My Mum died before I even got to know her. At least you had a year with your parents.'

'That doesn't mean I remember them!' snapped Harry. 'Thanks to your father, my parents died and he was meant to be their friend. Just like you were meant to be mine and you didn't even tell me you were related to him!'

'Because I knew you'd react like this. I didn't lie to you –'

'You as good as lied,' said Harry. 'What else have you lied about?'

'Nothing,' I said desperately.

'You know, I bet it wasn't even just my parents Black betrayed. How did your Mum die again, Jenna? You never did say. Perhaps she knew he was the traitor and he killed her to stop her from telling Dumbledore. And what was it you said yesterday? Oh yeah, that you thought he was innocent!'

'Black didn't kill my Mum, he was the one who found her!' I said. 'And if he was your dad's best friend, he wouldn't have betrayed them either, I know it. He's not the man everyone thinks he is. And if I'm anything like Black like McGonagall said I was –'

'Then it would be a matter of time before you stabbed me in the back too.'

'– he wouldn't have done anything to hurt his best friend,' I finished, 'just like I wouldn't. Harry, you know me better than anyone. Would I really do that?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'Like you said, McGonagall said you were like Black. Who's to say what you might do.'

'Harry, that's not fair!'

'I can't believe I'm saying this but Malfoy was right about you,' Harry then said. 'You are a liar, Jenna. You lied about who you are. You're just saying all this.'

'No, I'm not –'

'Why did Lupin even bother to find you? If you're anything like Black, you'd just hurt him too like you've hurt me. I trusted you. You don't deserve my friendship, not after what he did.' Harry turned away. 'Just leave me alone.'

I stood there, shocked. I looked at Hermione for any kind of help but she kept her eyes firmly averted from me. I sighed. I walked past where they were sat in our favourite chairs in the corner and out of portrait hole. Harry just wasn't going to listen to me. I knew that now. And there was no point in going to Lupin about this. I knew he wouldn't listen either because of his dislike of Black because of what he did to my Mum. I was going to have to do this alone. I just hoped that I wasn't chasing a false hope. I hope I was right and that Black really was innocent.

After that confrontation, I kept well out of Harry's way for the rest of the holidays. It wasn't too difficult to do it, it turned out, as Harry, Ron and Hermione seemed to spend most of the holiday in the Library for some reason. When I asked Hermione why, as she was still talking to me when we were alone together in our dormitory, she told me about how Buckbeak was being put on trial for this attack on Malfoy and me, courtesy of Malfoy's father. I offered to help but Hermione said it was best that I didn't as it was keeping Harry's mind off Black. I knew she was right.

Instead I spent a lot of my time in the Great Hall or in the castle grounds at the back of the castle near to Whomping Willow. There weren't that many students staying over the holidays so I found it quite relieving to be on my own without anyone pointing and staring at me, whispering to each other that I was Black's daughter, even though almost no one else actually knew that I was. There was one person, however, who had also stayed for the beginning of the holidays, who had noted my frequent solitary appearances in the Great Hall and the distinct lack of Harry, Ron or Hermione with me. Daphne Greengrass.

A Slytherin in my year, Daphne was almost like the polar opposite to me in appearance. While my hair was dark black hers was almost white blonde but not to the same extent as Malfoy's, but we shared the same straight hairstyle though mine was probably twice the length of hers. While I was skinny and slight, Daphne showed all the signs of a well-fed and doted upon child, no doubt from her status of being from a pure-blood family – another of the Sacred Twenty-Eight no less. While my eyes were pale blue her own were a deep chocolate-like brown. I had never really spoken to Daphne before, regardless or not of her being a Slytherin, and I knew her to be part of Pansy Parkinson's female gang. I assumed her to be as stuck up as the rest of them and so had never attempted to befriend her. It turned out, however, I was quite wrong when she approached me on Tuesday afternoon.

'Jenna, right?'

I had been sitting in the Great Hall reading my copy of Fantastic Beasts when someone had spoken to me. I looked up to see Daphne standing on the opposite side of the table to where I sat. I glanced round to see if there was anyone else near us, surprised that it was in fact me she was addressing.

'Can I help?' I asked, confused.

'Actually, I was wondering if maybe I could help you,' said Daphne. 'I've been seeing you by yourself a lot since the holidays started. A bit unusual when normally Potter, Weasley and Granger are always with you and they've stayed for Christmas as well.'

'Harry, Ron and Hermione,' I corrected her. Daphne shrugged.

'Either way, I was just wondering if you were OK,' she finished. I stared at her, confused even more by her apparent concern.

'Why?' I asked. 'How is my wellbeing any concern of yours?'

'Believe it or not, not all us Slytherins share the same views,' said Daphne, clearly nettled by my accusative tone. 'I was there on the train that day Malfoy threatened you, remember? Threatened to reveal to Potter that you were that escaped convict's daughter.'

'Well you can tell Malfoy he doesn't need to bother,' I said dismissively. 'Harry found out on his own.'

I returned to my book, expecting Daphne to walk away now the conversation was over. To my surprise, she didn't.

'I'm sorry – Harry – found out,' said Daphne next. 'He didn't take it well, I guess?'

I stared at Daphne, genuinely stunned by her attitude being completely not what I'd expect from a Slytherin. I felt my defensiveness about the situation start to fade away and my tone softened as the disappointment in my friends' reactions came back.

'No,' I muttered, 'he didn't. It's almost like he blames me for being Black's daughter.'

'You can't help who you're related to,' said Daphne gently. She took the seat across from me, placing her jacket on the bench beside her. 'Did you even know you were?'

'Yeah, but only since the summer,' I told her. 'I only found out about what he did when I saw it in the Daily Prophet.'

Daphne thought for a moment, then said, 'I don't know if this will be much comfort to you, but my Mum knew Black when he was at Hogwarts.'

'She did?' I asked. Interest suddenly swept over me and I closed my book. 'How?'

'She was friends with his cousin, Andromeda,' explained Daphne. 'They were in Slytherin together a few years above him. Andromeda always spoke quite highly of him according to Mum. She was very surprised to hear he'd committed all those murders back when You-Know-Who vanished.'

'Did your mum know much about him? I asked. I could hear the eager tone that had crept into my voice as I spoke. 'Did she ever meet him?'

'A couple of times,' said Daphne. 'The Blacks were well known for hosting dinner parties for those pure-blood families who supported You-Know-Who and the same ideals as them. It was a way for them to marry off their children. Mum told me that your dad always seemed very distant with his parents, almost as if he despised them and what they believed in. Even Andromeda had said to her once that he would get into trouble on purpose just to annoy them by doing anything he could that was against their views on the importance of maintaining their bloodline. From what Mum said Andromeda had told her about Black, it must have been something quite serious to happen to make him suddenly accept their views to do what he did.'

I stared at Daphne. All she was saying was just more evidence that Black didn't seem like the man people all believed him to be. And this new account of what he was like, from another person who knew him even if not directly or very well, it was almost comforting.

'I know that's probably no comfort to you,' said Daphne next, almost as if she'd read my thoughts. 'But at least you know he wasn't always like this.'

Actually, it was the complete opposite, but I didn't say that.

'I didn't know him at all,' I shrugged. 'Knowing what he was like, it doesn't change how I see him now. He abandoned me as a kid so. He's no father of mine.'

Daphne gave me what I assumed was a sympathetic smile. She then got up.

'If you want to hang out some time,' she said, 'I'm usually in the Transfiguration Courtyard when I need to get away from Pansy and the others. My Dad's picking me and my little sister up today though so I won't be around for the rest of the holidays. He was away on business so we had to stay here a couple days after school finished before going home.'

'OK, I'll bear that in mind. And thanks for telling me that stuff. Have a good Christmas.'

'You too.'

Daphne grabbed her coat then walked off back up the aisle and out of the Hall. I sat back in my seat and watched as she left. Maybe she was right. Maybe not all Slytherins were as bad as I originally thought.

Despite having a new ally in the form of Daphne, my sombre mood didn't lift when Christmas arrived. Even with all the decorations in the castle and the wonderful holiday food they were serving instead of our usual term-time meals, I just couldn't get in the Christmas spirit. So I found myself spending more and more time with Lupin hidden away in his office where I could escape the loneliness I felt not having Harry, Ron and Hermione to spend time with. It did mean that Lupin had a chance to get me started on learning the spell used to protect oneself from Dementors. I already knew of the spell but I had never used it before until now.

Lupin had already told me about the Patronus Charm and what it did. A powerful spell, the Patronus created a shield of positive energy that the Dementor could feed on instead of the person it was attacking. Its shape was different for every wizard who could create one, being a physical manifestation of his or her inner self in the form of an animal of some kind. For an example, Lupin told me how McGonagall's Animagus form of a tabby cat was probably the same form her Patronus would take if she ever conjured one. The Patronus could take on two forms: corporeal – or a fully formed one where its animal shape is clearly defined and detailed – or incorporeal – usually more like a thick mist that would shoot from your wand tip and fan out around you like a normal Shield Charm would, sometimes pulsing out in waves depending on its strength. The power behind the Patronus, however, was the hardest part according to Lupin.

'To power a Patronus, you need a memory,' Lupin explained to me in our first session. 'Not just any memory though. It has to be a happy memory. The happiest memory you have. A Dementor feeds off happiness, and so by using a happy memory as the power behind the spell it becomes a substitute for the Dementor to feed on instead of the person it's attacking and so you won't be drained of your own energy. If the memory is truly the happiest the person has felt, then the Patronus will take its corporeal form and be strong enough to force the Dementor away.'

That was all well and good, but it was impossible to create a corporeal Patrnous even with no Dementor near me when I felt so low about Harry. When Lupin had tried using a Boggart as a foe-Dementor with me, as he knew I was scared of them, my fear of Black proved to be stronger and so we had to abandoned that idea when a menacing Boggart version of Black kept emerging from Lupin's trunk. So despite having ideal conditions and nothing to weaken me, I still struggled to produce anything more than a silvery vapour. I just couldn't push Harry's reaction from my thoughts long enough for me to attempt a proper Patronus no matter how hard I tried. Lupin would sit to one side in his office (his illness was back once more) and watch as I struggled, his brow furrowed as he tried to work out what was wrong.

'Jenna,' he said, stopping me before I could say the spell again.

I had been at it since the holidays had started and it was now Christmas Day. I had spent it in Lupin's company rather than staying in the Tower. I had woken up that morning to presents from Lupin and Hermione but none from Harry and Ron and it had saddened me a lot. That and the usual row I overheard about Crookshanks going after Scabbers made me less inclined to stay there; ever since he'd first laid eyes on that rat, something about it had bothered Crookshanks and he seemed determined to get rid of him, even more so recently. I had remained in Lupin's office all day, making sure he ate the meal that was brought up for us from the kitchens by one of the school house elves as the full moon was due any day now.

I lowered my wand when Lupin held out his hand to stop me. I looked up cautiously through my fringe at him.

'Something's bothering you,' he said simply, 'I can tell. What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' I replied, perhaps a little bit too quickly. 'It's just a hard spell, that's all.'

'Jenna,' sighed Lupin. 'I have seen your grades in practicals. You rarely have that much difficulty with spells set for third-year students that are meant to challenge you. I would expect even you to be able to produce a thick-ish mist in these conditions with no Dementor attacking you.' I shied away, letting my hair hide my face. 'Now, what's wrong?'

'Nothing,' I repeated.

'You can tell I don't believe that,' said Lupin resignedly. 'Jenna, don't think I haven't noticed how much time you have been spending here instead of with Harry, Ron and Hermione when they have stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas too. You can tell me if something's happened. You don't have to keep things bottled up.'

I sighed and gave in.

'Harry knows Black's my dad,' I muttered.

'I told you, Harry is not going to blame you for something that isn't your fault. Why is this a bad thing?'

I hesitated, biting my lip. I knew what I was about to say was going to cause trouble.

'Because I believe he's innocent.'

I peered through my hair nervously up at Lupin. As I expected, a look of disbelief was visible on his face.

'You believe he's innocent?' repeated Lupin. 'Jenna, how can you think he's innocent after all that he did? All the lives he ended? All the evidence that pointed towards him?'

'Because something doesn't make sense,' I said. All of a sudden I felt a strength in me I didn't recognise and my voice didn't shake as I spoke. 'Something about what he was like at Hogwarts doesn't match the person people think he is now. A person doesn't just go bad for no reason, Lupin. There must be a reason why everyone thinks of him the way they do.'

Lupin knelt down in front of me. He placed his hands on my arms, his eyes looking straight into mine as he spoke.

'He abandoned you,' said Lupin slowly. 'Black left you for dead mere hours after he betrayed his best friends and handed them over to Voldemort, killed twelve people the very next day. The man your mum knew at school doesn't exist anymore for whatever reason it is, and that reason will probably never be known. You said yourself you saw a man with black hair in your memory, confirming it was him at your mum's death and that he was a Death Eater.'

Suddenly alarm bells started ringing in my mind. I gasped.

'No, he wasn't,' I said, piecing things together as quickly as I could. 'He wasn't at Mum's death or at least not until later. He found her. A man with black hair was there but it was Black. It didn't even look like him, his hair was too short. The other man though, I recognise him now. It's the man from that photo you showed me, the one of you with your school friends. Peter.'

'Peter?' Lupin stared at me, confused. 'What has Peter got to do with Tala's death?'

'He was there. He laughed at Mum as she tried to fight, laughed at the mention of the Marauders, your old gang.'

A frown appeared on Lupin's tired face. He stood up, shaking his head.

'No,' he said, dismissing what I'd said. 'No, Peter wouldn't do that. What reason would Peter have to hand Tala over to Voldemort?'

'The same reason he had to give over James and Lily,' I replied. I swallowed then just said it. 'Peter was the Death Eater, not Black.'

'Jenna, that's ludicrous –!'

'No, it's not!' I argued. 'Black was not a Death Eater. You said yourself that you were all suspicious that one of you was giving information to Voldemort. What if you were wrong? What if Black wasn't James's Secret-Keeper? What if he and Pettigrew had switched or something but didn't tell anyone? What if Pettigrew never died –?'

'Jenna, that is enough!' said Lupin sharply. I jumped. Lupin had never shouted at me before. 'Peter was killed by Black after he confronted him over James and Lily's deaths and I will not hear any more of this. You are too young to know or understand properly what happened.'

'But Lupin –!'

'Enough!' repeated Lupin. He turned away and placed his hands on his desk to lean on it. He ran one over his forehead that was now covered in sweat. Stress always made his illness worse. 'I suggest you return to the Tower.'

'But –!'

'No arguments,' said Lupin firmly. 'Go back to the Tower, Jenna.'

I must have touched a nerve with Lupin and so I did as I was told. I grabbed my hoodie and stowed my wand away in my trouser pocket then turned away for the door. I glanced back at Lupin. I had never seen him looked so troubled before and I felt guilty for making him feel like that. I knew how hard it was for him to confront the memories of his friends. I opened the door and left his office. I walked slowly back to the Gryffindor Tower, hating the silence that had earlier been a comfort to me. I reached the portrait of the Fat Lady but to my surprise, it was already open. I walked through the portrait hole but stopped before I entered the common room. I could hear Professor McGonagall's voice. Why was she here?

'It will need to be checked for jinxes,' she was saying. I frowned. What needed to be checked for jinxes? 'Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down –'

'Strip it down?' came Ron's shout.

'It shouldn't take more than a few weeks,' said Professor McGonagall dismissively. 'You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free.'

'There's nothing wrong with it!' said Harry's voice. 'Honestly, Professor –'

'You can't know that, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall, 'not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed.'

I stepped back out the way as Professor McGonagall appeared from the common room. In her hand I saw she was carrying what looked like a brand new broomstick; on the tip of its handle I just caught a glimpse of golden lettering reading "Firebolt" and an eight-digit number beneath it. She gave me a curt "Miss Black" as she passed me then walked out of the Tower, the portrait of the Fat Lady closing behind her. I looked back towards the common room. I didn't move, waiting to hear what on earth all that was about.

'What did you go running to McGonagall for?' shouted Ron.

'Because I thought –' stuttered Hermione, '– and Professor McGonagall agrees with me – that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!'

I bit back a groan of desperation when I heard Hermione's accusation. The last thing I needed was to walk into the middle of this argument and get accused of more things that I had nothing to do with. I leant back against the wall and blocked out the now shouting voices of Ron and Hermione. I closed my eyes and emptied my thoughts until only one was left. The image of a cat. I felt my body change and I fell to the ground on my new front paws. Once disguised, I walked quietly across the common room as if I was merely someone's pet returning to their owners' dormitory. The others glanced at my direction when they heard me pass by but otherwise paid no attention to me. I got on to the staircase leading up to my dormitory but didn't transform again until I was outside its door. Once back in human form I went inside and went straight to bed.

I was relieved once term finally started again and the school was once again filled with students. With more people about it made it a lot easier to hide from Harry and the others. Without them to sit with at mealtimes and during lessons, I found myself spending more time with Neville as he was often left on his own as Harry and Ron were always together with Hermione though it appeared Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other currently; Dean and Seamus always paired off for practicals; Sally-Anne was frequently seen with a Ravenclaw girl in our year whose name I think was Su; and Parvati and Lavender were almost unbearable for long amounts of time, especially in Divination lessons. A part of me thought Neville appreciated the company; he certainly seemed less nervous in lessons being sat next to someone, apart from Potions, of course.

Lessons didn't improve my mood though. The chaos of Charms now seemed remarkably dull even with us practicing the Freezing Charm and the class seeing how large they could make the icicle above Flitwick's stack of books; Potions was as bad as ever with Snape being overly critical as we made an Antidote to Uncommon Poisons, bemoaning had we forgotten everything over the Christmas period; Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons remained very boring although the entire class did appreciate the salamanders he had provided for us to look after, as they kept us warm while we outside in the winter air; Transfiguration had McGonagall re-testing us turning hedgehogs into pincushions; and in Defence Against the Dark Arts, I found it hard to pay attention when I saw how ill Lupin still looked a week after the full moon. And I wasn't the only one who had noticed.

'Still looks ill, doesn't he?' I had overheard Ron say to Harry as I walked behind them after class down to dinner. 'What d'you reckon's the matter with him?'

A loud impatient 'tuh' came from my left and I saw Hermione stride past the boys. They two hadn't been on speaking terms since the Firebolt incident.

'And what are you tutting at us for?' said Ron irritably.

'Nothing,' said Hermione in a distinctly lofty voice even for her.

'Yes, you were,' said Ron. 'I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you –'

'Well, isn't it obvious?' said Hermione impatiently.

'If you don't want to tell us, don't,' snapped Ron.

'Fine,' retorted Hermione and she marched off.

Harry and Ron brushed aside Hermione's haughty behaviour and headed down the Changing Staircase. I, however, was on red alert. I went after her before she could disappear up to the Gryffindor Tower to put away her over-filled bag. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the fourth floor corridor. I made sure we were out of earshot of any passing students before I answered her questions of why I was acting strangely.

'Hermione, what do you know?' I asked once I was sure the coast was clear.

'About what?' she questioned, her eyes narrowed. I sighed.

'About Lupin.'

Hermione's frown remained. She folded her arms over her chest and let out a slow breath.

'The fact your uncle's a werewolf.'

I stared at Hermione. Of all the people who could work out Lupin's symptoms, I wasn't surprised it had been her to do so. A silence grew between us, in which I could hear the footsteps and chatter of more students heading down to the Great Hall for dinner. Eventually I spoke.

'How did you find out?'

'From doing Snape's essay,' replied Hermione. 'The lunar charts, his symptoms and how his illness occurs every month without fail, his Boggart being a full moon and not a crystal ball like people thought it was. It all fits.'

'Hermione, please,' I said, 'please promise me you won't tell anyone.' Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. I sighed. 'Lupin hasn't had a job in over three years,' I explained. 'No one will hire him because of his condition, and he won't apply for any jobs when there's a risk of putting people in danger. This job has been the best thing that's happened to him in a long time. If you tell anyone that he's a werewolf it'll ruin his career. Please, Hermione, I beg you, please don't tell anyone.'

'Werewolves are some of the most untrustworthy wizards in the wizarding world,' said Hermione. 'How can Dumbledore even begin to trust Lupin with teaching hundreds of students?'

'Because he's not like other werewolves,' I told her. 'Not in the slightest –'

'What about his relation to Black?' Hermione then asked. Not this! I groaned internally. 'What about Harry? You had his trust and you betrayed it. So has Lupin. What's to say he won't betray Harry too?'

'Because I know Lupin,' I said earnestly, 'and he would never do anything to harm his best friend's son and he has despised Black for thirteen years since the day my Mum was killed. Harry can trust him even if he doesn't trust me. So please, Hermione, don't tell anyone.'

It seemed that all my secrets, the ones I'd tried so hard to keep and hide from my friends, were all coming out now. I was an outcast to my friends because they knew Black was my dad and because of my belief that he could be innocent of the crimes he was charged for, though without any new leads even I was beginning to doubt my sanity. And now Hermione knew about Lupin being a werewolf. One wrong word from her, a respected student for her honesty and behaviour in our year, and Lupin's time teaching here would be over in less than a heartbeat. That truly was the grim reality for me, the child of a dark wizard with a guardian whose condition made them one of the least trustworthy wizards in society. With everything looking so hopeless now I was running out of ideas of what to do and running out of time to find the last remaining piece of the puzzle and get the answer I sought.

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AN: so this chapter developed very differently to how it was originally written and I definitely prefer the changes I have now made to it and I hope you do too. Let me know what you think and hopefully I'll have Azkaban finished off in the coming weeks.