So I think Tuesdays are my upload days haha, it seems to keep me a bit sane to remember to upload every Tuesday. There will be another chapter posted later this week, for next Tuesday I'll be on vacation :) Thanks for reading, please remember to R&R! :))))
Chapter 8
The Map
"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," said Ron the Monday after the Quidditch match as they headed toward Professor Lupin's classroom. "Check who's in there, Rachel."
Rachel peered around the classroom door carefully, seeing Professor Lupin standing at the front of the class.
"It's okay!"
As the class took their seats, Professor Lupin smiled at them, and then there was an explosion of complaints about Snape's lesson.
"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"
"We don't know anything about werewolves—"
"—two rolls of parchment!"
"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly.
The babble broke out again.
"Yes, but he said we were really behind—"
"—he wouldn't listen—"
"—two rolls of parchment!"
Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face.
"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."
"Oh no," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!"
They had a very nice lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a small, one-legged creature that looked like it was made of smoke.
"Lures travelers into bogs," said Professor Lupin as they took notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead—people follow the light—then—"
The hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.
When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door. Rachel had just started up a conversation with Harry when—
"Wait a moment, Harry," Lupin called. "I'd like a word."
Harry told Rachel to go on, and she headed out with Ron and Hermione for lunch. She was very hungry, and she was able to catch up with Jeremy and his friends from Ravenclaw, Derek Ammot and Julia Davis. They apparently all liked Quidditch, and Julia desperately wanted to try out for Seeker when their Seeker, Cho Chang, graduated.
At the end of November, Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match, which meant that Gryffindor was not out of the running after all. While Harry had many practices, Rachel spent most of her time with Ron and Hermione in the common room, working on their homework and playing wizarding chess.
On December 11th, a Saturday, Rachel woke up a few hours before noon, finding a pile of presents at the end of her bed. She was very happy when she opened a present from her parents (they had given her money to start saving up for a broom, which she really wanted), and she found a letter that Alexis had drawn on with scribbles of red, yellow, and blue, complete with a paint handprint in green. Rachel had been very happy with it.
The following week, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air; the muddy grounds were covered in glittering frost, and Professor Flitwick had real, fluttering fairies in his classroom.
Rachel had decided to stay at Hogwarts, along with Ron and Hermione. Lukas and Jeremy were upset when they found out, for they hadn't spent Christmas together with the whole family since Rachel and Lukas' first year at Hogwarts, and Rachel said it was because she wanted to keep Harry comfort.
Rachel was also very excited when she read a notice that was pinned on the notice board; there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.
"We can do all our Christmas shopping there!" said Hermione. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"
When the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip dawned, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel bid good-bye to Harry and they headed out into the cold, where snow was starting to fall, and the three friends were glad that they had wrapped themselves in cloaks and scarves.
Hogsmeade looked beautiful in the winter; the cottages and shops were covered in snow and holly wreaths were hung on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.
Hermione wanted to head out to the post office to send a very fast letter to her parents so they did that first, and then Ron dragged them off to Honeydukes so they would get there before most of the candy was sold out.
Rachel grabbed some Pink Coconut Ice from the shelves, and then several chocolate bars that didn't look too harmful (she avoided the chocolate bars that had spicy things in them; the last time she had some hot peppers she was chugging milk for an hour). Ron and Hermione grabbed the sweets they wanted, too, and then they went to the farthest corner of the shop, where there were shelves with odd-looking candies underneath a sign that read UNUSUAL TASTES.
"Look, Blood Lollipops!" said Ron, pointing at red lollipops that were on display.
"Do you think he'd want that?" said Rachel, picking one up to examine it.
"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," said Hermione, scoffing at the lollipops.
"How about these?" said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's and Rachel's noses.
"Definitely not."
Rachel jumped and turned; Ron nearly dropped the jar. Harry stood behind them, grinning widely.
"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing here? How—how did you—?"
"Did you manage to get past Filch?" said Rachel, mouth wide open.
"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!"
"'Course I haven't," said Harry. He dropped his voice and Ron, Hermione, and Rachel leaned in closer, "Fred and George gave me this map, it's called the Marauders Map, it shows all of Hogwarts when you use the right incantation to open it. There's secret passages, I used one to get here."
"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron, outraged. "I'm their brother!"
"But Harry isn't going to keep it!" said Hermione, looking rather disapproving at the parchment Harry held. "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"
"No, I'm not!" said Harry.
"Are you mad?" said Rachel, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?"
"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!"
"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"
"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 of 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 I 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 hesitated. Ron cleared his throat and pointed at a sign at the front window that Rachel hadn't noticed before. She squinted at it to read it.
— 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—" said Hermione, struggling to find another problem. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. He hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll 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 through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. "Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry deserves a break."
Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.
"Are you going to report me?" Harry asked her, grinning.
"Oh—of course not—but honestly, Harry—"
"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven—it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick." Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box. "Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?"
When Ron, Hermione, and Rachel had paid for all their sweets, the four of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel shouting through their scarves at Harry and pointing at the shops.
"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, "shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?"
It was crowded, noise, warm, and smoky in the Three Broomsticks; Madam Rosmerta was serving people at the bar.
"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red.
Rachel snorted when Ron had left and made her way to the back of the room with Hermione and Harry, giggling that Ron had a crush on Madam Rosmerta. They took a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Five minutes later, Ron came back with three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer.
"Merry Christmas!" he said happily, raising his tankard.
Rachel drank her butterbeer happily, content with the warmth that spread through her as the door of the Three Broomsticks opened again. She frowned at Harry when he choked on his butterbeer.
Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak—Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.
Rachel and Ron pushed Harry underneath the table, watching with wide eyes as the teachers and Fudge walked toward the bar and then walked to a table nearby.
Hermione took out her wand and whispered, "Mobiliarbus!"
The Christmas tree rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table to hide them from view. Rachel heard the grunts and sighs as the teachers and minister sat down.
Heels clicked on the ground and Madam Rosmerta's voice spoke.
"A small gillywater—"
"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.
"Four pints of mulled mead—"
"Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.
"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella—"
"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.
"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."
"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"
"Well, thank you very much, Minister."
Madam Rosmerta left and came back again. Rachel looked at Ron and Hermione very nervously, scared of what could happen if they found Harry.
"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came Madam Rosmerta's voice.
After a few seconds of silence, then Fudge's voice said, "What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"
"I did hear a rumor," admitted Madam Rosmerta.
"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" said Professor McGonagall exasperatedly.
"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.
"I'm sure of it," said Fudge shortly.
"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice?" said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away… It's very bad for business, Minister."
"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," said Fudge uncomfortably. "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.
"All the same," demurred 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 thoughtfully. "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 had too much mead."
"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."
"The worst?" said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"
"I certainly do," said Fudge.
"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"
"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"
"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small 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!"
There was a loud clunk. Rachel dove under the table, seeing Ron kick Harry for he had dropped his tankard. She rose back up and tried to be as quiet as she could.
"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!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"
"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…" Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "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?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.
"An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "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.
"Naturally," said 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… and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."
"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 heavily. "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 colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it—"
"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.
"Shh!" said 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 was 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 ride. Never occurred ter 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!" Hagrid roared.
"Hagrid, please!" said Professor McGonagall. "Keep your voice down!"
"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? 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—' 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't need it anymore,' 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 anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' 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? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore…"
A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, "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 bitterly. "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?" said 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 sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.
"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses—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…"
Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy… foolish boy… he was always hopeless at dueling… 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 the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him… a heap of bloodstained robes and a few—a few fragments—"
Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown.
"Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," said Fudge thickly. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad 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 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. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"
"I daresay that is his—er—eventual plan," said Fudge evasively. "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 a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.
"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," said Professor McGonagall.
The teachers and Fudge left, and Rachel looked at Ron and Hermione before all three of them dove underneath the table.
"Harry?" said Rachel, staring at him yet not knowing what else to say.