EDITED: December 25th, 2022.

19 - Only Fools

"AAARRGGHH! NOOO!"

It was like a cold splash of water had just hit me in the face. I got up quickly, instinct kicking in as I grabbed my wand from under the pillow and ran to the door.

"What was that?" said Fay from a few beds away, holding up her blanket to her chest. Half her face was hidden by darkness.

"It came from the boys' dormitories," said a white-faced Parvati, whose hand couldn't stop shaking her best friend's pillow. But whatever she did, Lavender remained sound asleep.

Hermione, I noticed, looked as if she had cried. Her face looked almost as red and tired as mine felt. She stood and grabbed her bathrobe, putting it on as she made her way to my side.

"What do you think that was?" she whispered.

I shook my head. "Nothing good. Shall we?"

All the boys of the tower filled the common room, standing in a circle around a person. A Weasley, from the looks of it.

"What's going on?" I said to no one in particular. Dean Thomas however, turned and eagerly started to say, "Ron says—"

"Excellent!" interrupted Fred from the stairs. "Is the party carrying on?"

Dean looked a bit annoyed. "As I was saying, Ron just—"

"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the room and hastily pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas. Dean threw his arms in the air.

"Perce—Sirius Black!" said Ron. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

I was going to throw up. It felt like that, until I swayed and got hold of Dean's sleeve.

"Nonsense!" said Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron—had a nightmare—"

"I'm telling you—"

"Now, really, enough is enough!" Professor McGonagall barked as she walked in. Had it not been a serious time, I was sure everyone would be pointing out her loose wavy hair, pink bathrobe, and fluffy slippers. "I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" Percy said, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to go back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Even the professor stared at him with raised eyebrows. Most of the Gryffindors were awake and all of them were staring at Ron in disbelief. It was as if they could not believe it—or their minds didn't want to process that information. Mine certainly didn't.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley," said McGonagall at last, "how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw—"

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. I held my breath for a second as she asked Sir Cadogan if he let a man inside the tower.

"Certainly, good lady!" said Sir Cadogan jovially.

"You—you did? But—but the password!"

"He had 'em! Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

I let go of Dean's pajamas and went to take a seat at the bottom of the girls' stairs. I dropped unceremoniously and hunched, pulling my hair.

"Which person, which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?" said McGonagall, her voice shaking in obvious anger.

I didn't bother to peer at Neville to know his hand was the one to rise.

No one slept in Gryffindor Tower that night, not even when McGonagall came back and said that Sirius Black had once again escaped. The security was tightened, of course, starting with the big oak doors at the Entrance Hall; a paranoid Filch could be seen covering holes only mice could enter.

Sir Cadogan was fired. The Fat Lady had been brought back on condition that there would be extra protection for her. Since then, I had to be careful not to look at the newly added trolls in the eye because they were always swinging their clubs. Oddly, there were times in which I had caught them comparing, of all things.

Ron had also become an instant celebrity. More than once I heard him tell the story to whoever was around him, trying to look scary and menacing. In fact, he reminded me more of the Crypt Keeper. But it made me wonder. Why hadn't Black silenced Ron and then gone to Harry's bed?

(You know why.)

Besides that, the one who got the negative backlash was Neville. He was banned completely from Hogsmeade and all students were forbidden to give him the password to Gryffindor Tower, even me. Especially me.

"I warn you, Miss Barton. If a single syllable leaves your mouth, I assure you, Mr. Longbottom won't be alone in detention for the rest of the year!"

My only way to help him was to stand behind the painting and wait until he arrived to let him in. Neville and I arranged a special knock for me to know it was him. Sadly, not even this could comfort him; two days later, his grandmother sent him a Howler. It was quite nasty, just like the first time I had watched its infamous way of working.

We had been eating breakfast, Neville trying to unsuccessfully convince me to eat from across when an owl swooped down my plate and a red envelope fell on his. Wide-eyed, I barely heard Ron saying to 'run for it' when it suddenly started to smoke and then Neville was running out of the hall. Not seconds later, his grandmother's shrieks could be heard.

Still staring after him, I grabbed a piece of toast and started to nibble on it. I think that from all the mess, he was hurt by the fact she had told him he had brought shame to his family.

Hermione and I kept looking for additional information for Buckbeak's trial. It was the only thing that distracted her, after all. Unfortunately, we couldn't convince Hagrid from not wearing an awful hairy suit or to ditch the orange tie with yellow spots.

Hogsmeade visit was scheduled for this Saturday. I decided to stay at the castle with Neville.

"You didn't have to," he said morosely when I told him why.

I shrugged. "It's not like I was going to enjoy it, anyway." Then I added, coyly, "Besides, maybe we can have fun in the castle. I heard from a reliable source that this place has a lot of secret passages."

"I think I have enough trouble as it is," he mumbled. My shoulders slumped. I stopped walking and stared at his back for a moment, noticing how Neville tried to unconsciously hide from anything.

He perked up, suddenly quickening his step.

"Harry! I forgot you weren't going to Hogsmeade either!"

The boy who lived jumped a foot in the air and straightened from his crouched position.

"Um, yeah," said Harry. He swiftly moved away from the one-eyed witch statue, his hands behind him. "Hey Anya, what are you two up to?"

"We are trying to find a way to go to Hogsmeade."

His brow rose. "Really?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Harry," I deadpanned. "We were searching for the perfect spot so no one can see us snogging."

The following silence was... awkward, to say the least. Neville was in shock; his mouth hung open and his face was turning beet red.

Harry looked like he wanted to be angry and was too busy computing the fact.

I puffed out one cheek, glancing between the two boys. "You guys are no fun."

"You were joking?" Neville choked. Harry and I looked at him incredulously.

"You believed her?" Harry shot back. The round-faced boy blushed.

"What are you three doing here?" said a familiar silky voice. It sent shivers down my back; Neville paled.

"Nothing," said Harry when Snape came into view. He looked from him to me and back to Neville, his black eyes narrowing.

"An odd place to meet, don't you think, Potter?" said Snape.

"Can't tell," said Harry, shrugging. I could see him glancing worriedly at the statue when Snape's eyes flickered towards it.

"He's right," I said, drawing the teacher's attention in my way. "I mean, we just met here. It was a coincidence."

"Indeed? The two of you seem to have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Miss Barton."

"What can we do?" I shrugged, raising my hands in mock defeat. "It happens."

"Then I suggest the three of you return to Gryffindor Tower before you and Potter drag Longbottom here to one of your adventures."

We set off without a word. The boys were on each side of me and when he was close enough, I heard Neville whisper, "I still don't know if you were being serious."

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

"Oh, he's so gonna pay for this one," I growled. Hermione was silently crying, watching me as I crumpled the note in my fist.

We lost.

Those were the first words I barely managed to register from Hagrid's note. The parchment was damp, and enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was difficult to read but those were the only ones that mattered to me. Buckbeak was going to be executed, and it was all Malfoy's fault.

Our effort, our sleepless nights, all of it was in vain. I knew I shouldn't have hoped for a happy ending, and I had repeated it to myself over and over, even to Neville. But Hermione... she was so crushed. She'd been the one to pour her heart and soul into the project. If Lucius Malfoy had not intervened, we would have won.

I stood. Malfoy, that son of a bastard. No wonder he'd been so happy these days, so full of mockery. He'd known dear old daddy was going to win; he'd been assured.

"Anya! Where are you going?"

"Malfoy knew his father had bought the comittee. That's why he's been so 'lenient'. Let's see if he's gonna keep smiling once I get a hold of him!"

The trolls were pacing when I walked out, and I almost got nose-to-nose with Ron. The suddenness caused my anger to fade a bit. Harry was behind him, and I noticed both seemed flustered.

"What's going on?" said Ron, looking quite terrified by my appearance.

"Malfoy," I snarled.

"Hagrid lost his case," said Hermione timidly as she walked from behind me. Her lips were trembling, and her eyes were swollen. "Buckbeak is going to be executed. He sent us this."

She tapped my shoulder. I opened my fist. Harry took the paper, unfolding it; his green eyes scanned the paper.

"They can't do this. They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous!"

"Yes, they can," I snapped, "and they did! Malfoy Sr. threatened the committee. Those cowards!"

"There'll be an appeal, though, there always is," said Hermione, wiping her tears. "Only I can't see any hope... nothing will have changed."

"Yeah, it will," said Ron fiercely. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help."

"Oh, Ron!"

Hermione flung her arms around Ron's neck and broke down completely. Ron looked more frightened than before and patted her head awkwardly.

"Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers..."

"Oh—well—he was old," Ron said, looking thoroughly relieved when she let go of him. "And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now."

"Nice to know this patched up nicely," I said sarcastically. "Bravo." I dared to clap.

"Anya," Hermione hissed. "Let it be."

"No! He threated you like shite; Hermione, you spent most nights crying because of him!"

Ron's eyes crossed as he followed the finger I was pointing at him. Even angry and silent, I didn't lower it.

Hermione released him, wiping her face. "He apologized."

"That's not enough!" I touched Ron with that same finger, shoving his chest with each sentence. "You put her through the bender. You were cruel. Even if her cat devoured your rat, you shouldn't have acted like that. Your brothers, wicked as they are, wouldn't have done what you did."

"I know," he said, voice small.

I nodded. "You do? Great! Then you know a bloody apology isn't enough. She can say it is, but it won't make up for the hurt; Hermione will never forget this, you bloody arsehole—I won't forget this."

I walked around him, but Harry cut me off. I tried to walk around him too, but he side-stepped, blocking me on purpose. His eyes were dark as he regarded me. "Move."

"No."

Just what I needed. "We aren't on talking terms, remember? We can't be seen together, remember?"

"What is she talking about?" I heard Ron whisper.

Hermione answered in a rush. "Harry's scared Black will hurt her and told her they can't be friends anymore."

"That's bullshit. They've been glued since last year, they can't just end it. Right?"

"I can," I said loudly, glaring at Harry still. "If you want to keep with these idiots, fine by me, Hermione. But don't expect the same from me!"

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

What does it feel to be friendless, you ask? It feels like shite.

I chose this, I reminded myself. I chose this. Nobody else but me.

But watching Hermione become unstable from afar? Excruciating.

It was a slow thing, an unraveling that came to a head during Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy was laughing and mocking Hagrid when suddenly she slapped him. Hard. So hard he did a take back. When he came by, Malfoy prodded the spot and stared at her with surprise. As if he couldn't believe she would dare.

"Good for you, Hermione," I muttered, smirking.

The bench I was sitting on—the side I was sat—rose like a seesaw. I held on by sheer luck, jumping to the ground fast. Hagrid's moleskin-covered knees were almost touching his chin, which did not match the puffy eyes.

"You scared me!" My heart was racing. I clutched my chest, counting to ten.

Hagrid's amused eyes rubbed me wrong, so I glanced away. Ron was grinning at Hermione; Harry clasped a hand on her shoulder, smiling wide.

"Now, do I need ter have a talk with yeh too? I just got those two knuckleheads ter apologize ter Hermione and yeh, so why are yeh here all by yer lonesome?"

I crossed my arms. Shuffled my foot on the ground.

I could've said it was Ron's fault. That I was angry Hermione forgave him easily. But in the end, that wasn't what really bothered me. I always rolled my eyes at Ron's antics; I actually expected him to act like that and, in a way, found it in me to forgive and forget.

Sighing, I ensured no one was close to whisper at Hagrid: "We know my mum is Black's sister."

Hagrid's face went through several expressions: shock, dismay, outrage. This last one made him stand up so fast the bench broke at last.

"And? Does he think yer the same as him? BECAUSE THAT'S NOT TRUE!"

"Shh! Everybody's looking at us!" I waved at him to follow me.

He did, stomping past the throng of students which watched us suspiciously. I leaned against a tree and he stopped before me, hands at his hips, his face red.

"Harry doesn't think I'm like Sirius Black. He thinks he'll kill me if we hang around."

Hagrid was speechless. Then he sniffed.

Alarmed, I could only watch as he burst into silent tears. Hagrid took out a handkerchief and sneezed into it.

"Yer are too young. Too young ter worry about these things. Life and death—that's grown up business." He blew his nose again. "Sirius—Sirius was a good man. He stood by James Potter all the time. And yer mum—he loved yer mum to pieces. Her and little Regulus. The business with Thea fu—I mean—it screwed with his head. Wasn't the same. He didn't let anyone in after the McKinnons' tragedy—not James, not even Cassiopeia. If yeh ask me opinion, I think that's the day he died.

"But he would nat hurt yeh, Ann'."

"He hurt Ron. All so he could get to Harry."

Hagrid frowned. "Shady business that. Why go to Ron's bed when he's the farthest? I'd start with the one close to the door." He grew flustered under my raised eyebrow. "I mean—Ron told me the story." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Yeh know what he's like."

It hadn't occurred to me. Hagrid was right—Harry's bed was next to the window that faced the Black Lake, where most of the light came in. Harry never closed his drapes. Sirius Black should have easily spotted him.

But he'd gone to Ron's. Ron, whose curtains were closed because he didn't want his twin brothers to prank him. Ron, whose name was crudely carved on the trunk at the foot of his bed. Why Ron and not Dean, who was next to the door? Or Seamus, who slept opposite Dean? Why Ron?

"Hagrid... did anyone try to open an investigation into Black's case?"

He shrugged. "Yer dad did. But—" He cut himself off, eyes wide. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Would he have done that for anyone?"

Hagrid snorted. Guwaffed. "Nat for Sirius. Alec Barton hated his guts for what he did to Snape—I should nat have said that either."

Snape? "My dad hated Black but helped him still? Hagrid, how was my dad? What was his attitude?"

His beard quivered.

"I won't get angry if you tell me he was a twat." I raised my hand. "Swear."

•••••◘◘◘◘•••••

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Hermione's shout.

"I give up. I'm leaving!"

She stood from the table where Harry and Ron sat. After gathering her sack, she went to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the stairs with her head held high.

I nudged Neville. "What did I miss?" I hissed.

Like the rest of us, he was gaping after Hermione. "Professor Trelawney told her she was mundane."

"Hermione, mundane? She's anything but that." A robot or an alien with magical powers perhaps.

"She yelled at Professor Trelawney for bringing up the Grim again."

I squinted at the crystal ball before us. There was smoke inside, so clear there wasn't a single chance Trelawney should have mentioned the Grim. I couldn't distinguish anything but my reflection, fractured by the swirling smoke.

"Well, good for Hermione. One less class to worry about." Wished I could do that with Potions.

Neville's face scrunched up. "Er, Anya, is something wrong?"

"Not that I know. Why?"

"You're biting your nails. And tapping with your foot."

I pulled my fingers out of my mouth. My foot stilled and I twisted my ankle around the chair's leg.

"You can tell me if you want."

Neville's face was hopeful. Open. I blew my breath.

"I've been thinking about Black."

He paled. "Oh?"

"This whole thing—his trial, the fact that he's after Harry, my mum—something doesn't fit. I've got all these puzzle pieces, but I can't put them together because there's always a thing that's missing."

"Sirius Black is after Harry?" Neville whispered tremulously.

I continued ranting. "They say Black went mad because his fiancée died, but he was completely fine working as an auxiliary Auror. They made him take tests frequently to see if he didn't lose a screw. And when I was born, he took care of my mother's health. He was best friends with James Potter for half his life when the man died—according to Hagrid, the Potters were like his second family. There shouldn't be a chance he betrayed them.

"But the Ministry found him after having killed those Muggles and Pettigrew. Witnesses say Pettigrew blamed him for the Potters' deaths.

"But my dad, whom Hagrid also said hated Black, tried to open a trial for him. Alec Barton was fair but not to the lengths he went. He attended the Potters' autopsy and oversaw my mother's. He took statements from people who knew him, at school or at work—even the Pureblood families who interacted with the Blacks the most. All of them concurred that Sirius left his family because he couldn't abide their support of Voldemort." Neville squeaked. "Auror Moody's statement read that Black was so hellbent on fighting the Death Eaters he had to be penalized for crossing the lines one-too-many times.

"And yet he still wasn't given a trial. Now here we are, thirteen, fourteen years later. And he's escaped. Why? Why now? What triggered him? Or—" I trailed off. "What if he were innocent? What if the reason he was behind bars finally popped? No, not the reason. The person."

The table and its objects rattled. One of the teacups fell on its side. I straightened it.

"Sorry, Neville. I didn't mean to spill all that out."

Neville took a deep breath. He swallowed. His that's fine was accompanied by a grimace.

We returned to staring at the crystal ball.

"Why don't you ask Professor Lupin?" said Neville in a small voice.

My head snapped around.

"What?"

His lips trembled. "Professor Lupin was friends with Thea Rosenberg. And she was Sirius Black's betrothed. Wouldn't have Lupin been his friend too?"