Chapter 4 – Hogwarts
Summer came to a halt on the first of September, the schooling year had begun. Anya found herself alone on the platform, the shining red train that was the Hogwarts Express stood in front of her in all its glory. Around her, students and family milled about the platform, saying their final goodbyes. Heaving her trunk on board the train, Anya was inwardly glad that Nathaniel dropped her off early at King's Cross Station, most of the compartments were empty and she got to have her pick.
As she settled herself down, she started on her textbooks right away. If she was going to get her OWLs done, she had to do catching up during her free time. With an Astronomy book in hand she began reading through it in distaste, that subject was practically useless in her opinion. Knowing where all the stars were would only be useful in Divination, which she did not take, and certain branches of Ritual Magic, which she did not bother with. To her, the only star worth knowing was Polaris, the North Star, for the sole sake of navigation in the event she did not have a compass in hand.
One hour into the reading and her brain was straining, she placed down her book and slouched onto her seat, the sharp whistle signified the departure of the Hogwarts Express. Taking out a mirror, she checked her reflection. The scar on her right eye was missing, good. She remembered what Nathaniel said to her as he applied a strong set of glamour charms to hide the scar.
"Your scar needs to be hidden if you're going to Hogwarts."
"Why?"
"You were born as Anne Potter, brother to what Britain considers their wizarding hero. When the British Dark Lord Voldemort died at his hands, someone was there to retrieve your brother. It should be safe to assume that you, as his twin sister, would be right next to him when he was retrieved."
"Be in the end, I was found abandoned on a bridge," Anya said, catching on to his intentions.
"Correct. Add that with your wounded eye, we can't be sure if that was Voldemort's work or someone else, but what is certain is that somebody who fetched your brother wanted you dead to a degree. That person didn't kill you on the spot, so I'd guess that that person chickened out or had something else holding him back. What we can be certain is that someone among the group of people who brought your brother to safety wanted you dead. If that group of people is still currently keeping him safe, you will be in danger by being in proximity with him, which you will be because he's attending Hogwarts too."
"So you glamour just my eye and not my entire appearance?" Anya asked quizzically, hinting a drop of doubt in Nathaniel's plan.
"Don't be stupid Crow, changing your entire appearance long-term is too difficult and taxing, and you are going to have to maintain the glamours. Scars are obvious, especially in the magical world. Scars from physical damage can be removed, but scars from curses – such as yours – cannot be removed. Any girl can show up with black hair and green eyes, you haven't been seen in Britain for thirteen years. Add in a distinct cursed scar, however, and you'll be a dead giveaway."
"Understood. Well, Uvidimsya sleduyushchim letom."
"Proshchay," Nathaniel said, patting Anya on the shoulders. "Ya budu skuchat' po tebe."
The sharp tug of the compartment door opening ripped Anya out from her reverie, she hand instinctively went into her jacket and gripped on the handle of her pistol holstered beneath. A look at the person standing the door allowed her to relax slightly.
"There is no need to jump straight for your wand, I was just checking if this compartment was occupied."
At the door was a blonde about Anya's age, she wore smooth robes of silk and had deep blue eyes. She stood with a confidence and poise that signalled a rich upbringing.
"Mind if my younger sister and I join in?" the girl asked. "Everywhere else is pretty full?"
Anya nodded stiffly, gesturing for her to take seat. The girl cracked a small smile and carried her trunk in with her.
"Thank you very much," she said, before turning to the door. "Tori, you can come in now."
A head of dark brown poked into view, glancing around the compartment. She too carried in her trunk and settled herself next to her older sister. Her eyes were fixed on Anya, and with an innocent child-like look of curiosity on her face, "I haven't seen you before, you seem to be in my sister's year."
"Transfer student," Anya replied who finally released her hold on her pistol and instead begun fishing for a textbook to read.
"How come you're already reading the textbooks?" the younger girl asked, eyes widening with even greater curiosity and head tilting her head as though in confusion. "We haven't even started school yet. Also where are you from?"
"Tori, stop prying," the older girl said sharply. "I'm sorry about that, my younger sister is a very curious girl. Name's Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass. This is my younger sister, Astoria."
"A pleasure. Anya Seryy."
"Hey! You never answered my question," Astoria exclaimed with an adorable pout.
Anya glanced at Astoria, looking into her eyes for a brief moment. She noticed that unlike the rest of her face, the little girl's brown eyes were cold and calculating. This girl was fishing for information, and she knew how to make use of her cherubic face to do just that. No wonder Anya felt a gush a nostalgia when she saw Astoria's actions, it reminded her of herself when she was younger. A time when her innocent face held more weight for her team than a sniper rifle.
"In Russia, the syllabus is a little different from here in Britain," Anya answered with a warm simile, her eyes glazed as old memories came back to her.
"Excuse me… sir?" the little girl meekly whimpered out in Russian, tugging on the sleeves of the man standing outside the walls of an industrial warehouse complex. The man had a cigarette lit between his teeth, the arm which sleeves were tugged on hung limply by his side, the other arm cradled an old, beaten AK-47. The girl didn't seem fazed by it though.
"What?" the man grunted back in thick Russian. His smoke break just started and already he was disturbed. His annoyed countenance dropped the moment he saw the pitiful face staring at him. Her clothes were a little worn out, but nothing to suggest her being a waif. One of her eyes was covered in a white band of cloth the circled her head, the other bright green eye was wide with tears. She did not seem like a beggar or vagrant at all, more like a local neighbourhood child who wandered too far while playing.
"Oh… um… sorry girl, what's the problem," the man stumbled, despite holding a gun he was still human. Most of their hearts soften at such a sight.
"My cat jumped into the window of the building behind there," the girl pointed behind him with a shivering hand. "The window was next to this bright blue door."
Bright blue door. The back entrance. Hardly anyone used it, hardly anyone even guarded it, not even the Spooks. They just did some hocus pocus and told them all the back entrance was safe. The man sighed, unsure of what to do. Then again, the back entrance was accessible to anyone who knew the code for the number lock. It was protected by the two Spooks' hocus pocus, they never mentioned the details, but it summed up to the door being the only way in from the back. Apparently, it didn't keep cats out, now the man understood what the ball of fur zooming pass him a few moments ago was.
The man looked at the girl's shivering frame and vivid green eye, it wouldn't do to leave this poor lass out in the late evening. He had a lot of spare time and the back entrance room had all the doors closed, the cat couldn't enter the compound from that room. It either had to stay there or leave. Furthermore, there was nothing at all in the room, just trash, practically nobody goes there despite knowing the code for the number lock.
"Alright girl," the man sighed. "I'll open the door for you. If the cat's still in there, good for you. If not, it went away and that's just bad luck. I give you a minute to search, understood?"
"Understood. If cat in take out, if cat not in, it left the place. One minute to search," the girl echoed, nodding with the semblance of an obedient daughter who knew to follow instructions. The man clearly saw the semblance, his shoulders relaxing as he saw her response.
"Good girl, come along now."
Leading the girl to the door, he was about to turn in the number combination before the girl piped up in childish ignorance.
"Sir, how do you open the door without any keys?"
"Oh, this door uses a number lock," the man explained, shifting aside to let the girl see him enter the code and unlock the door. "You just turn the wheels here to the right number and the door unlocks."
Her eyes lit up in fascination. The man smiled. He had a little sister much like the girl too. The girl wondered inside and at the centre sat a tabby cat. Squealing in delight, the girl picked the cat up and began to thank the man
"It's nothing," grinned the man goofily. "You better run off now, the sun is going to set soon."
The girl did just that, dashing around the corner with the cat in arm, not too slow, not too fast. She ran to a side street and around a corner. There, a lanky Russian stood waiting for her.
"You got it?" he asked expectantly, this time in English. A wave of his wand returned the tabby cat back into a brick.
"Code is seven-three-three-four. I don't know where their Spook is though."
"Their Spook was at the east side building balcony. He doesn't patrol, just maintains the wards. You did good Anya."
"No problem, Aleks. Can we go home now?"
"Well, well. Why did you come to Hogwarts then?" Astoria's question shook Anya out of her memories.
"Family," Anya did not mind humouring her, there was some joy in seeing a 'junior' trying to do the same thing.
"What do you by 'family'? Did your family move here to stay in Britain? Were you forced to leave Russia? Father said that the state of that country has been in tatters since the 'Uprising'."
The rest of the train ride proceeded in a similar fashion. Anya stuck to reading her textbooks while Astoria kept peppering her with questions without – to Anya's respect – sounding annoying at all. The elder Greengrass kept mostly to herself before excusing herself to find her friends.
Soon she found herself following the first-years at the Hogsmeade Station, under a torrential downpour. She drew her wand and cast an Impervius charm on herself, silently thanking the Indian Monsoons for teaching her an early lesson. The sound of a half-giant booming out, "Firs'-years this way!" drew her attention and she soon joined the herd to a fleet of small wooden boats. The first-years ogled at her like some exotic specimen, clearly a fourteen year old joining them was a source of confusion. Settling into one of the boats, she joined the first years in their pilgrimage across the Great Lake, weathering the raging rain. Around the corner, she finally caught sight of Hogwarts itself. The sight was breathtaking, with its spires and towers all laid atop one another in a fashion that screamed magic.
The boats soon came to a stop and as the group left their boats, shaking their heads and wringing their clothes to remove as much rainwater as possible. Hagrid led the bunch to an oak door and knocked on it, which promptly swung open to reveal a tall, black-haired witch. Her aged face had its share of wrinkles and she surveyed the group with a stern face.
"Firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid, shifting aside to pass the limelight to the witch.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall gave Hagrid a curt nod before facing the first-years. "If the rest of you would kindly follow me."
The first-years nervously began to follow Professor McGonagall, all of them peering curiously at the Entrance Hall, amazed by the sheer grandeur of it. With a sweeping look across the crowd, Professor McGonagall began addressing them.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, the start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. Before that, the sorting will begin to determine which house you will spend the rest of your time in Hogwarts at. The houses you are sorted to will be akin to your second family, you will have classes and spend free time with your house and you will sleep in the house dormitories."
"There are four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each with its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of each year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. Hopefully, you will be a boon to whichever house you are sorted to. The sorting will begin shortly, I suggest you all smarten yourself up before the sorting begins."
A few minutes passed by as the first-years all shifted about edgily. Professor McGonagall soon ushered them into the Great Hall where they had the full attention of the rest of the Hogwarts population. In a single file, they lined up in front of the Sorting Hat, which on cue ripped its mouth open and began to sing. Its tune was simple and its voice monotonous, the younger students listened on eagerly while the older ones who had clearly listened to it long enough just lazed about in boredom.
A wave of applause came from everyone as the Sorting Hat finished its song, Professor McGonagall took out a scroll of parchment and unrolled it, announcing the start of the sorting.
"Ackerley, Stewart!"
The names progressed on from the 'B's and slowly to the last of the 'W's, coming to a close with 'Whitby, Kevin!". As the last of the first-years finished their sorting, Anya's presence was beginning to be noticed, students whispered among themselves as they speculated her reason for being part of the sorting. Anya managed to pick up snippets of their conversations about where she stood.
"Isn't she a bit too old to be here?"
"She could have come here from home schooling."
"Come off it, me aunt knows all private tutors in Britain and she never heard of a girl that age who was home schooled."
"Maybe she is a first-year who had an accident with an aging potion."
"Adrian, are you a duffer or are you just too hungry to think?"
Finally, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and the mild buzzing ceased.
"In addition to the first-years, we have a transfer student from Russia who will be joining us this year. She will be joining the fourth-years and I expect each and every single one of you to welcome her to Hogwarts with open arms. Let us show to her the hospitality of Hogwarts and Britain. Seryy, Anya!"
Anya took her cue, stepping forward to sit on the three-legged stool. The Sorting Hat was lowered onto her and she waited.
"Anya Seryy," a little voice mused in her ear. "I thought you were gone from this world, which is what everyone else thought. I must say, your brother would be most pleased to hear of your true identity, Miss Potter."
"Hmm…" the voice hummed. "You share your brother's courage, but you are much more wary. Much more cautious. You have a sense of cunning and deceit within you too."
"It's my upbringing I suppose," Anya shrugged. "Do you sort by nature or nurture? Both? I expect each to yield different results. I suppose which house I enter will be evidence on which factor you weigh more."
"I have a right mind to place you in Ravenclaw just for that. However, that would not do. You would do much better in SLYTHERIN!"
The last word echoed throughout the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall picked up the Sorting Hat and gestured Anya to the table of green. The Slytherin regarded her with equal parts suspicion and curiosity. A sixth-year with a Prefect badge pinned on his robes got up and shook her hand. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Welcome to Slytherin. I hope you enjoy your time here."
"I do hope so too." Anya replied politely. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar brunette waving at her and gesturing the empty spot next to her. Anya complied, taking a seat next to the younger Greengrass.
"Seryy. So good to see you, I knew you would end up Slytherin. Since we're in the same house, we should get familiar with other, you can call me Astoria. Mind if I call you Anya?"
In front of the students, empty dishes began to fill up with a plethora of food and the students started piling up their plates.
"I don't mind," Anya responded, helping herself with some lamb chops. "What made you think that I would end up in Slytherin?"
"It's simple, really. A number of Slytherins here may be just dim-witted brutes like Crabbe and Goyle over here," Astoria nodded over to a pair of overweight fourth-years stuffing ravenously their faces with roast beef. "But there are also the true Slytherins," tilting her head up in joyous pride as she said so, "like me and my sister who are here on grounds of being sly and cunning. You are like us, I can tell when I see your eyes. It can be cold and calculating, that's the eyes I saw on the train and right then I knew you had to be a Slytherin."
"This that why you started asking me question after question?" Anya asked wryly.
"It is good to get to know your future housemates after all," Astoria nodded chirpily as she ate. "And you seemed to be very interesting. Shame we aren't in the same year."
"So are you actually from Russia?" a third-year beside them chimed in.
"Spent my whole life there," said Anya with a nod.
"Merlin, that must be terrible," a seventh-year girl down the table exclaimed. "My mom and her tea friends all talked about how the Russian Ministry is in a torn down state and completely corrupted. 'Such a state of corruption is completely unbefitting a country that used to hold Pureblood houses in high esteem,' she said."
"Burke, that's pretty rich coming from your mother considering how she bribed an officer from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures over an illegally owned fire crab," said a sixth-year boy beside her with a frown. "Besides, it's not like the Russian Ministry spontaneously imploded itself into its current state. It practically had the first wizarding war of the twentieth century, it broke and reformed and then broke again. It's kind of expected actually."
"Well, how was it in Russia?" the third-year asked.
"Not that bad," Anya mused. "Life there is really down to enjoying the little things in life."
"Quidditch! How about that World Cup finals lads?" someone at the table proclaimed, resulting in a ripple of appreciative chuckles.
"So you're the transfer student in our year," a smooth voice came from Anya's back. She turned to find a fellow fourth-year with platinum blonde hair. "It seems like the purebloods from Russia aren't so bad, you are pureblood aren't you? You wouldn't be in Slytherin otherwise. Name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
"A pleasure."
"Are you a pureblood?" Malfoy pressed, arching an eyebrow questioningly.
"I thought Slytherin valued ambition and resourcefulness over blood status? Though I assure you that you have nothing to fear over my blood status."
Malfoy's stance relaxed a little, but his eyes were still narrowed in suspicion.
There was a silent agreement as everyone moved on to their own separate conversations. Soon, the scraps of dinner left on the dishes were magically cleared away, making space for desert. When desert found its way in the stomachs of the satisfied students, Albus Dumbledore got onto his feet and a wave of silence washed over the students, all attention on the headmaster.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling at the mass of students. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."
The usual notices on banned objects and reminders on school rules came to a climax as Dumbledore's speech was cut off by the doors of the Great Hall bursting open. A scarred and grizzled man limped his way into the Great Hall, his wooden leg made clunking noises as he walked. What shocked the students the most was his magical blue eye whirling about in its socket. His eccentricity simply left the Great Hall in a stupefied silence. The stranger paid no heed to the attention and strode up to Dumbledore, shaking the headmaster's hand and exchanging a few words.
Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side. The stranger sat down and pulled a plate of sausages towards him, inspecting the sausages closely with both eyes and nose before deeming them safe to consume. All the while, his blue eye kept darting around, looking at every corner of the Great Hall.
"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody."
There was a few scattered clapping from Dumbledore and Hagrid, but the rest of the Great Hall was still stuck in its stunned silence.
"Who on earth is he?" Anya asked.
"That's Mad-Eye Moody, a retired Auror," Astoria answered. "He used to catch a lot of Dark Wizards back in his days, went crazy with paranoia at some point of time."
Anya bit her tongue in discomfort, this might turn out a little awkward, considering how she usually spent her time on the other side of the law. She rarely had to deal with the Russian Aurors, but she knew that handling them was not difficult when prepared, concealed explosives or sniper fire usually did the trick. However, looking at Mad-Eye Moody, she had better stay clear from him, she did not have anything illegal by definition of the wizarding laws but extreme paranoia was hard to combat.
What was strange was the mud-brown strands radiating off him. It seemed so familiar, like she had seen it before. From the way it moved, the source had to be a potion, the telltale fume-like twisting was a clear indication. She had seen enough brewing cauldrons to recognise the magic radiating off potions, but recognising the signatures of specific potions – or rather, anything in general – took time and practice, none that she gave to potions. There were too many different varieties to remember.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" came a cry from the Gryffindor table and the Great Hall erupted in laughter.
"I am not joking, Mr Weasley, though now you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar-"
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er – but maybe this is not the time… no… Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.
The Triwizard Tournament is a friendly competition held between the magical schools of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. It takes place once every five years, with each school taking turns to host. It was cancelled a long time ago due to the high death toll, but recently the Ministry has decided it is time for an attempt to rekindle the spirit of international friendships. As such, the tournament will commence when the impartial judge for the Triwizard Cup decides the participants during Halloween. Our esteemed guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will arrived earlier in October. All of this with a grand prize of a thousand galleons, the participants will also be exempted from their exams due to the nature of the Tournament."
Anya began to muse on the possibility of joining. Sure a thousand galleons was a tidy sum for a student's competition, but exemption from exams was a much better prize. It would give her much more breathing room to catch up on her studies. Despite the assumption at her Transfiguration, Runes and Muggle Studies were in the bag, she still had to working on the theory portion of her OWLs. With concepts such as essay structures and answer schemes that was completely new to her, it was better to be safe than sorry. On top of that, it was reckless to rely solely on these three subjects.
"Despite the various safety measures implemented, both the schools and the Ministry has decided that to add in an age restriction for our main contenders, with only those of age being able to forward their names. As the tasks involved will still be dangerous, this is a necessary precaution."
There was an instant uproar as soon as that statement left Dumbledore's lips, especially those who were only a few months away from reaching the criteria. Shouts and banging of tables echoed throughout the Great Hall. Dumbledore simply rose his hands to call for silence.
"As disappointing as it sounds," Dumbledore gently continued. "Do note that I mentioned an age restriction for our main contenders. Yes, the Ministry understands that by adding an age restriction, we have effectively stamped out an opportunity for the potential bright, young and capable minds whose sole shortcoming is their age. Therefore, a new feature has been added to this year's Triwizard Tournament: The Junior Champion."
This time, the shouts of outrage swung around to become shouts of jubilation and Dumbledore was forced to raise a hand for silence once more.
"For our younger students, do note that your role will be at times, vastly different for the actual Champions. You are less likely to be directly participating in the tasks, you will instead act as an assistant to the actual Champions, this will add on to fostering bonds through teamwork. There will be much more safety rules added for the Junior Champions and they are allowed to receive assistance from an authorised party, mainly the teachers. The thousand galleon prize does not split between the two Champions of the winning schools, you will both receive a thousand galleon each. Now that the big announcement is finish it is time for you to go to your common rooms, rest is important if one is to absorb the knowledge and wisdom taught in the classrooms. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
As Dumbledore finished his last sentence, the prefects of each house took charge, marshalling away the first-years to their common rooms. Being new to Hogwarts, Anya followed the crowd of first-years. Standing up, her gaze swept over the Great Hall and she found herself locking eyes with a boy across the hall who bore the same emerald eyes, dressed in black school robes with red Gryffindor trimmings. She shook herself off and proceeded to follow the first-years, but the boy never took his sight off her.
XXXXX
When the first-years came through the Great Hall, Harry merely regarded them with slight interest. Aside from noting the younger Creevey sibling covered in Hagrid's coat, he spent more of his attention chatting with his friends. However, when the last of the first-years trickled in, someone caught his attention.
His breath hitched in his throat and his pupils dilated in shock. At the back of the first-years stood a girl much higher than the rest of the new students, she clearly had to be older. His memory may have been a little fuzzy, but she was the spitting image of the girl she saw on the Mirror of Erised, albeit older. She had the same flowing raven hair, lithe figure and emerald eyes he had seen. However, the scar that should have been on her eye as Sirius said was missing. The attention he had on his conversation took a hard turn and locked itself firmly on the girl.
There is no way.
There is no way.
At some point his jaw had dropped, but he could not bring himself to care. Not when the girl at the doors of the Great Hall looked just like what Anne Potter should. The rational part of Harry's mind reminded him that she could not possibly be alive. After all, Hagrid had confirmed Anne's passing based on the words of Dumbledore himself. However, another part of his mind was hoping, pleading almost, that this pipe dream of his was true.
When the rest of the first-years finished their sorting and it was just the girl left, the buzzing of speculations had been in motion for a few minutes before Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and begun introducing the girl. Harry strained her ear to listen, clinging on to every word.
Anya Seryy. Transfer student from Russia. This had to be the reason why Anne never showed up in his first year, she was off in Russia, hopefully with an adoptive family much better than the Dursleys. She walked forward to the Sorting Hat and Harry already had his fingers crossed before the Sorting Hat even sat on her head.
Please be Gryffindor. Please be Gryffindor. Please be Gryffindor.
After a few moments, the hat cried out, "SLYTHERIN!" and Harry felt his shoulders sag as he slumped on his seat. Anya took off the hat and move away from him to the table of green. For the rest of the meal, even through Dumbledore's start-of-year speech, he found his gut clenching and unclenching, a sense of numbness soaking through his bones. The joyful prospect of being able to be a Junior Champion which excited so many of those near him did not lift his mood up whatsoever.
As the prefects began leading the first-years to their common rooms, he saw the girl stand up and for a moment the two locked eyes. Staring into her eyes, Harry felt something click, as though the girl knew who she was meeting eyes with. The rest of his trip to the Gryffindor Tower became a blur as his mind struggled to make sense of what he saw. When he reached the common room, he found himself dragged to a corner of the room.
"Harry, stop. This is going to become an unhealthy obsession if you keep it up," said a familiar bushy haired friend, her arms crossed with a scowl on her face. "You were completely off the whole time at the Great Hall."
"Was it that obvious?" Harry mumbled, shuffling his feet nervously. "I mean do you even know why I-"
"Of course I do Harry," Hermione interrupted sternly, she held her gaze for a few moments before dropping her angry look into one of sympathy. "Harry, I understand that when Sirius told you about Anne you were immediately in grief. And I read that the first stage of grief is denial, but you shouldn't be going that far. I know you think, hope rather, that Ms Seryy is for some reason Anne. But you need to face facts, Sirius said it, Hagrid said it, she is not here anymore."
"You don't know that Hermione. Back in first-year, when I saw the Mirror of Erised, Seryy was exactly who I saw next to me, between my parents," Harry exclaimed. "And when she stood and looked at me, there was this... this... connection."
"Connection?" Hermione asked sceptically. "Didn't Sirius say something about her having her eye cut up by a dark curse, where's the scar if that girl is Anne?"
"She could have healed it," Harry replied hotly.
"Harry, I read up on cursed scars when you mentioned yours was hurting. And you can't remove scars left by wounds resulting from dark magic. You can heal the injury sure, but you can never remove the scars. That's probably why Professor Moody looks like that after a lifetime as an Auror, the curses used by all the dark wizards left a permanent mark on him. In that case, if Seryy is Anne, she should have been wearing a scar down her eye."
Hermione said all this quickly before finally letting out a sigh, "Harry, please. Let it go. It's not healthy."
Harry dropped his head low in defeat as his arms hung limply by his side. "I j-just hoped that m-maybe, just maybe-"
"I know, I understand," Hermione patted his shoulders comfortingly before turning to leave. "Just get some sleep alright? Classes start tomorrow and you shouldn't be late."