Previously: Ginny Weasley had been having a hard time adapting to Hogwarts after what happened the previous year. Plagued by bullies and bad memories, she couldn't see the magic Hogwarts had to offer, but making a couple of friends helped giveher a new perspective. Kali Black's attempt to learn the Hobgoblins' secret about her father didn't go to plan and only served to anger them further.

Chapter Twelve:

Grim Holidays

Kali passed Jenna Moore and the girl's friends on the platform outside Hogsmeade. The group of second-years caught sight of Kali and scurried away in the opposite direction, jumping on the train and disappearing from view.

Pan hissed and bared his sharp little ferret teeth in their direction. "That's right. You'd better run."

It hadn't taken much effort to find out who had sent that nasty note to Ginny Weasley since Pan had managed to sniff the parchment before Ginny had snatched it back.

With the culprits' scents in mind, he had wandered the castle looking for a match and had found it in Jenna and her clique. The term 'unpleasant' didn't do her justice, but with the advantages of height, age, and Pan prowling around her as a tiger, Kali had imparted some choice words on the girl. She had since noted a vast improvement in Ginny's mood.

Blaise hopped onto the train and gave Daphne and Kali a gallant hand up. Daphne accepted the gesture with a blush and a mumbled word of thanks, and Kali rolled her eyes at Blaise's ridiculous smirk.

It felt odd to be leaving. For the past three months, Kali's world had been restricted to Hogwarts. Most days, it felt as though there was nothing beyond the castle's walls. It had a way of pulling you in and cocooning you from the rest of the universe in a manner that felt both safe and suffocating. When Kali stepped onto the train, a weight lifted from her chest, one she hadn't realised had been there until it was gone.

Blaise didn't share Kali's relief. His mother had insisted that he meet his newest stepfather. If not for that, he might have stayed at Hogwarts.

From the little he had been willing to discuss his family, Kali knew this: his mother was extraordinarily beautiful and very vain; his father had been her first husband whom she had married when she was very young; he had died shortly after Blaise was born; his mother was now on her seventh husband and had been widowed no less than six times; Blaise hadn't bothered to learn his stepfathers' names after the third one.

He grew gloomier and gloomier the further the train travelled. By the time they arrived at King's Cross, he looked downright mutinous, scowling at the gathered crowd on the platform and slumping in his seat, his arms folded over his chest.

Daphne cast glances his way as she took her case from the luggage rack, but when Astoria popped into their compartment to collect her, she left with a small wave and a quiet goodbye. Blaise didn't move.

Kali sat with him in silence for a minute before nudging his knee with her foot. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course I am," he said, though his expression didn't change.

"In four years you'll never have to speak to her again."

That drew his attention. He turned to her with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, fingers tapping against his biceps with the bored exasperation of someone waiting for a table at a crowded restaurant. "I will if I want my inheritance."

"You're not one of those people, are you?" She smiled and nudged his knee again. "Tell me you're smart enough to get by without her money."

"Oh, I am," he said, "but that would require work, and a face as pretty as mine was not meant for such things."

Kali snorted a laugh. She shook her head and gestured out the window at the seething throng of people waiting on the platform. "Do what your mother does then. Marry rich."

"I'll take that into consideration." His lips pulled up into a familiar smirk. "You're quite wealthy, are you not?"

"Not happening."

He looked her over with the same cold appraisal as the last time they had been on this train together. "I imagine my mother would hate you."

"You're really selling it to me," Kali said as she stood and stretched. "Come on. You can't put it off forever."

He sighed and got to his feet. "Will you mourn for me when I die of boredom within the coming week?"

"I may even shed a tear at your funeral."

"How kind of you." With a wave, he followed her from the compartment into the crowded corridor. Students elbowed past, and Kali and Blaise followed the current, his hand wrapped around the strap of her bag so that they didn't lose each other.

"Well, we are friends," she said, raising her voice over the noise and dodging a boy whose backpack was wider than he was.

They stepped from the train, and Blaise pulled her to the side so that they didn't get dragged into the waiting maw of family reunions.

"Friends, she says"—he poked her chest, pushing her against the train—"as though she doesn't exclude me from all of her adventures."

"What adventures?

"Don't play dumb with me, Black." He folded his arms over his chest and tried to raise his chin high enough to look down his nose at her the way Pansy always did. "It isn't a good look on you."

"Sorry." She smiled. "It's just that adventures tend to include a bit of dirt."

"I'd noticed. Poor Daphne looked filthy last week after you dragged her off to who-knows-where." He rolled the tip of his tongue over his teeth and stared her down. "Why are you chasing Hobgoblins, Kali?"

She knocked the back of her head against the train and winced at the hard thud. The incident with Hob played on her mind every time she stopped forcing herself to forget about it. A list of things she could have done better accompanied the memories in an ever-growing loop of regret.

"I met a group of them at the Leaky Cauldron in August. They know something about my father."

Blaise schooled his expression with such care that he might as well have looked surprised. "Of all the rumours about you, don't tell me that's the one that's true. Did you move to the UK to keep him from going back to Azkaban?"

Pushing away from the Hogwarts Express, she folded her arms over her chest. "Why else would I be here?"

"I wouldn't know," he said. "You never talk about him."

"There's not much to talk about."

His exhale carried a laugh, but the mirth didn't show in his eyes. "He was convicted of thirteen murders. That's something worth mentioning. You're always so pro-Muggle, so you must think that he didn't do it. But then how do you explain him breaking into Hogwarts on Halloween?"

"I don't know. I don't think—" She bit off the words and sucked in her lips. "The Hobgoblins said that they have information about him."

"So you summoned one into Hogwarts? You know what they say about curiosity and cats."

She unfolded her arms and forced her posture away from defensiveness. "Yes. Do you know what they say about satisfaction and bringing them back?"

His eyes smiled. "Be careful, would you? You're one of the few tolerable people at school and being your friend has ruined my prospects among the rest of our housemates. I would hate for you to die and drag my social life into your coffin."

"A self-centred take, but I'll allow it. It was almost sweet."

"I am known for my charm." He grinned and glanced over his shoulder at the dispersing crowd. "One other thing, try to remember that not everyone is built like you. Daphne couldn't stop shaking after you ran off with the Weasley girl."

Kali's gaze snapped to his. "She didn't tell me that."

"I imagine she doesn't want you leaving her behind." His attention went back to the crowd, and he sighed. "I'd best be off. Remember your promise to shed a tear for me."

Kali nodded and smiled at his wave, but her mind spun through Yule gifts she could offer Daphne to make up for past behaviour.

Remus and Gran waited for her next to the gate.

For the past few months, Gran had been working on getting Sirius a fair trial despite the Minister's best efforts to be uncooperative. After the Halloween break-in, she suffered a setback—not that she acknowledged it. Standing tall on the platform, she didn't look like someone wading through lengthy bureaucratic procedures.

Kali hung in there, but her stomach lurched when they landed with a loud crack. The asphalt swayed beneath her feet, and the large wrought iron gates blurred until she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe in deep and even breaths.

The gates creaked, and Kali opened her eyes as Gran sheathed her wand. With their cases floating beside them, they stepped onto the cobbled path that led to the house.

From here, only the dark slate tiles of the pointed rooftops peered above the treeline. In spring, summer, and autumn, when the deciduous trees added their foliage to the valley, even the roof vanished from sight.

Overhead, grey clouds loomed, and the cold added a crispness to the already sharp smell of conifer trees. Kali buried the bottom half of her face in her scarf and slipped her gloved hands into her coat pockets as she and her family followed the winding path.,

With one final twist, the quarter-mile lane opened onto the front yard with its empty flower beds and frozen pond. Beyond it stood the house.

Kali had compared it to Frankenstein's monster once, a creature created by stitching together different body parts from several corpses to build a single being. The comment had prompted Gran to question Kali's choice in literature, but Remus had assured her that the book was a classic.

Gran had called the juxtaposition macabre; Kali called it realistic.

The house had been torn down and rebuilt a number of times over the centuries, each new generation adding its own touches from Victorian architecture with neo-Gothic accents to French styling with Art Nouveau features. It all combined to give the building a grand yet unorthodox look that wavered between beauty and horror.

Gran loved it. Most other people preferred to admire it from a distance, including Grandpa Lyall, who sat on the bench by the front door.

Lyall Lupin looked like Remus would in thirty years. They shared the same height, lean build, and strong nose. More wrinkles and fewer scars lined Grandpa Lyall's face, and his hair had long since turned grey, but beneath the darkening sky and dim coach lights, it was hard to tell.

He rose from his seat, lips spreading in a soft smile, and Kali forgot all about the cold and her upset stomach. She ran to meet him, and he caught her in a hug.

"You're growing like a weed," he said to her as Remus and Gran joined them. "Keep it up, and you'll be as tall as your grandmother before long."

"You're early," said Gran. She waved her hand over the doorknob, and it clicked open. "You should have gone in. It's too cold out here to be sitting around."

"Good to see you too, Freyja." Grandpa Lyall smiled at Gran and shook hands with his son. "I was enjoying the fresh air."

It could have been stormy and pouring it down, and still, Grandpa Lyall would not have entered the house unless someone was there to invite him in, kind of like vampires in Muggle fiction. Remus used to do the same thing before Mum told him to stop being silly, which was not the word she had used, but Kali wasn't allowed to resort to that kind of language in front of Grandpa Lyall.

Remus ushered everyone into the house and out of reach of the biting wind.

Coats and shoes were discarded in the entrance hall closet, which was otherwise bare save for a pile of wooden hangers. A staircase to the left led to the upstairs bedrooms, but Kali and Pan raced straight ahead, giving the round foyer table a wide berth to avoid knocking over the elaborate flower arrangement.

Kali's stockinged feet slid over the hardwood floor, and she skidded into the kitchen.

The French doors leading into the dining room were wide open. The table was set, and no less than four large bouquets covered its surface, each an assortment of different flowers so that Gran could pick a favourite for her Yuletide party.

Kali headed straight for the refrigerator, but Remus stopped her before she got to it.

"Wash your hands first," he said, grabbing two aprons, which hung from a hook next to the old wood-burning cooker. A fire crackled within it and heated the room better than any spell could.

Kali washed her hands, and Remus slipped the smaller apron over her head.

Gran poured everyone a drink—wine for the adults and juice for Kali—and she and Grandpa Lyall sat on the stools at the island counter while Remus and Kali made dinner.

Remus hovered over Kali as she sliced vegetables, keeping a calculating eye on the distance between the blade and her fingers, ready to swoop in at a moments' notice. She had cut herself once, years ago, and he had yet to get over it.

The evening ambled on from the kitchen to the dining room and, eventually, to the sitting room, where the adults indulged in the contents of the pretty crystal decanters that sat atop and within the sandalwood sideboard.

Kali and Pan dozed in front of the fire, lulled by the adults' soft voices.

Six days later, snow fell without and music swelled within.

Ministry workers and foreign dignitaries mingled and networked under the guise of a party, and Kali wove between them searching for someone her age. She had spotted one of the Hufflepuffs from her year a while ago, Susan Bones, whose aunt was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, but had since lost her in the crowd.

Kali stopped in front of a barrier of elderly gentlemen with long beards who blocked the archway into the living room. They stood, deep in conversation, mumbling through their impressive moustaches, not paying an ounce of attention to anything or anyone around them, not even Kali's hovering and throat clearing.

With a sigh and sagging shoulders, Kali gave up her search and headed to the kitchen, one of the least crowded rooms that guests could access. Gran had cast the No-Entry Charm over every room in the house except the sitting rooms, dining room, conservatory, and kitchen to avoid any snooping. It didn't affect Kali. She could easily hide out in her bedroom, but Remus might take offence at being abandoned.

A handful of people dotted the kitchen, and many more crowded the dining room.

How Gran had thought that the house could fit another hundred-odd guests, Kali didn't know. The estate was big, but only when you didn't cordon off 90% of it, yet Gran had invited many more people than the ones here now. Those who had not shown up—high-ranking pure-bloods mainly—were at Malfoy Manor where another Yule Ball was being held. According to Daphne's letters, many high-society pure-bloods were less than happy with Freyja Morrigan for subverting the event of the year, but Gran counted this as a win. After all, the Minister for Magic—useless as he was—as well as every Head of department were here and not at the Malfoys. That sent a clear message to anyone paying attention.

There were, however, a few people who looked as though they would have prefered joining the Malfoys this evening. One woman, in particular, seemed exceptionally grouchy. She hid it well behind an overly-sweet smile, but her pouchy eyes were cold and disdainful, and she had yet to move away from the drinks table.

With nothing better to do, Kali walked up to her.

"Hello," she said with a polite smile. "I like your robes." The pink outfit was better suited to someone half the woman's age, but it wouldn't do to say so aloud.

The woman turned her bulging eyes on Kali, and although no warmth seeped into her smile, it did start to reach her eyes. "Thank you, young lady." She fluffed her coiffed curls and readjusted her black velvet bow that was too darkly coloured for her mousy hair. "They're imported. The French have such a way with fabric."

Based on Gran's description, this was Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. Kali stopped her smile from widening at the whiffs of champagne on the bureaucrat's breath.

Madam Umbridge didn't bother asking for Kali's name; instead, she spoke about herself at length. Kali listened, taking every piece of personal information with a pinch of salt and directing the conversation in a specific 'Sirius Black' related direction.

She got sidetracked from her mission when Umbridge spotted Headmaster Dumbledore through the dining room door.

"I can't believe the sort of people who have been invited to this party," said Umbridge, her broad features twisting into a sneer.

The comment gave Kali pause. As far as she knew, the headmaster and the Minister for Magic were on good terms. It was said that Cornelius Fudge often went to Albus Dumbledore for advice on matters that were beyond him and that Dumbledore, with all his titles and high-powered positions, did more in terms of running the UK's magical community than Fudge did.

"He's going senile, you know?" Umbridge said in a harsh whisper designed to be heard by all. "Just last month, he turned down Minister Fudge's great efforts to keep the students of Hogwarts safe. With that despicable man, Sirius Black, on the loose, Cornelius went out of his way to place Azkaban guards in the school, but the headmaster refused to let them enter. And of course, what was bound to happen happened. Black broke into Hogwarts—but you know this; you were there. My, it must have been frightening."

Umbridge was not the type of person who required active participation from those she spoke to, so Kali gave a half-nod, which Umbridge barely noticed.

"Black could have been captured then and there if it weren't for Dumbledore. Cornelius was furious, but I've told him before: Hogwarts headmasters—and Dumbledore in particular—are given far too much freedom and power. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

Kali glanced from the headmaster's receding figure down to Umbridge. "Hogwarts isn't run by the Ministry?"

"No, dear. It should be. It is a state-owned and state-funded institution, after all. But over time, more and more power has been given to the Heads of Hogwarts. The Board of Governors still has some sway, but clearly not enough. From student safety to hiring new teachers, everything is decided by the headmaster."

Umbridge kept talking, but Kali stopped listening.

Dumbledore, a strong advocate for the side of justice and equality, had hired Snape, a bully and an ex-Death Eater.

Kali had started to assume that the reason Snape taught at Hogwarts was as a kind of community service punishment imposed by the Ministry, which would have explained why he had yet to quit and find a job he could enjoy.

Dumbledore's involvement changed things. It lent credence to Kali's theory that something was keeping Snape at the school but brought her back to square one in terms of figuring out what that 'something' was.

While Umbridge rabbited on, Kali stared at the spot where Dumbledore had last stood as though the ghost of his presence could conjure up the answers she desired.

The party started to wind down after midnight, and Kali took the opportunity to slip away.

All the Ministry workers and important people were now too drunk to be interesting. They slurred their words and could no longer form coherent sentences, so Kali left through the narrow, often over-looked door that stood in the darkest corner of the kitchen, and she ventured down the spiral staircase to the wine cellar, which was larger than her Hogwarts dorm.

At one of the old torch sconces that was no longer used for lighting, she laid her palm against the stone wall, and the granite heated beneath her fingers. A soft creak echoed through the cellar, and a wall between two bottle-filled alcoves folded in on itself until nothing remained but a dark archway.

The shrill wail of a draught blew through the opening, bringing with it a chill that had goosebumps springing up along Kali's skin, making her wish for thicker tights and a warmer dress as she stepped towards the pitch-blackness.

The second her feet passed over the threshold, the torches lining the walls burst to life, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows down the narrow stairwell.

This was the house's cut-off point—where Muggle appliances stopped working, and magic took over.

Kali's skin tingled at the raw energy around her. It chased away the cold as she ventured further and further underground; the smell of damp earth getting stronger with every stride.

The stone steps levelled out onto a short corridor that ended with a heavy door. Runes decorated the wooden surface, some faded by time, others still standing strong. Kali didn't know what any of them meant—neither did Gran nor Remus—but they had always been there, protecting the treasures within and keeping any uninvited guests out.

Kali knocked twice.

It took a moment, but the locking mechanism eventually groaned, and the hinges grumbled as the door swung open, revealing a hall of wonders.

A cave only slightly smaller than the Chamber of Secrets lay before Kali, its domed ceiling so high that the torch flames couldn't hope to touch it. The stone walls had been ground, sanded, and polished until they were soft and smooth and created a flat-bottomed sphere. Narrow steps jutted from the rounded façade, circling the cavern and climbing higher and higher until they disappeared, swallowed by darkness.

Small alcoves followed the steps up, each containing an artefact: objects of interest collected throughout the centuries. Some were mundane, but others were odd enough or dark enough to make Kali question her ancestors' morality. A layer of shimmering glass flowed and ebbed like water at the mouth of each alcove, the last line of defence should, by some stroke of luck, a thief manage to get this far.

Everything in this room brimmed with magic like electricity against Kali's skin.

It wasn't the same kind of magic as that which ran through Hogwarts' veins. Hogwarts' magic could be compared to the rush a child felt when in a bouncy castle: fun and exhilarating and mostly harmless. The magic in this place was still and quiet. It commanded silence and reflection. Something ominous and almost foreboding clung to the air, demanding fearful respect from all who entered.

A maze of reading tables and workbenches covered the flagstone floor, and Kali wove her way around them, heading to the back of the room where cases of books too dangerous to be left in the main library lined the walls.

A pitch-black hole marred the otherwise uninterrupted row of books—an archway leading to more chambers, smaller than this one but no less unwelcoming. Many of them Kali had yet to step into, some because the tunnels had caved in and hadn't been repaired; others because Gran forbade her entry. Kali wasn't sure she wanted to know what the latter lot contained.

"We can't both hide down here," said a voice behind her.

Kali spun so quickly that she tripped over her feet and stumbled into one of the workbenches. Her hands slammed against the solid surface hard enough to send a jolt of pain through the bones in her forearms.

A man sat in a nearby armchair, the oil lamp by his elbow throwing light and shadows over his face.

The chances of a stranger gaining entrance to this room were slim, but this was the kind of place that made a person believe in demons. No malevolent spirit sat in the armchair, though, only Grandpa Lyall.

A book lay open in his lap, and his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. A thin layer of dust powdered his hair and dress robes as though he had been down here for years rather than hours.

Kali breathed a silent sigh at the familiar face and said, "Gran's busy enthralling half of the Wizengamot. She won't notice we're gone."

"And Remus?"

"He wouldn't rat us out," she said, sitting in the armchair opposite Grandpa Lyall's, "although he may grumble a bit at being abandoned."

He chuckled and slipped a bookmark between the pages of his book before closing it. "I'd have thought that you'd go to bed rather than come down here. Remus tells me you want everyone up early tomorrow."

"If I wake Gran up before seven she'll complain worse than Remus."

"I'll expect to hear you and Pan thundering down the halls at seven on the dot, then?" he asked with a smile that smoothed his frown lines and deepened his crows' feet. "If you're planning such an early start, what are you doing down here?"

Her gaze went to the stacks of books, numbering in the thousands.

There was no filing system or handy librarian to point her in the proper direction. Finding the right information on the Grim could take months, but neither Kali nor Harry had that kind of time. On the other hand, Grandpa Lyall was a world-renowned expert on Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions, which was what the Grim was, in a way. It wasn't quite up there with Boggarts and Poltergeists and belonged more to the world of Divination and superstition, but picking his brain wouldn't be a waste of time.

"What do you know about the Grim?" she asked, settling down in her armchair.

The journey back to school was unremarkable, so very unlike the trip on the 1st of September.

The Hogwarts Express sped past the frost-covered countryside, heading north like a migratory metal beast eager to return home.

Every compartment buzzed with the excited chatter of students sharing their holiday stories with their friends and showing off their Yule presents. People ran up and down the corridors, seeking their various acquaintances to exchange news or gossip. The entire train brimmed with noise and frantic energy, except for one compartment, which remained quiet.

Kali had found Blaise and Daphne already seated at the front of the train, each staring out the window but seeing nothing. Going by the brief synopses of their holidays, Blaise was less than impressed with stepfather n°6, and Daphne had been forced to spend time with an unpleasant aunt. Neither was upset that the holidays had ended.

For her part, Kali wanted to go home. She felt the urge tugging at her insides as though a string were wrapped around her heart and were pulling her backwards. The homesickness would fade, she knew that, but it was unpleasant while it lasted. So the three of them sat in silence, mulling over that which vexed them.

Classes started up first thing on Monday.

The last thing anyone felt like doing on a raw January morning was to spend two hours on the grounds, but apparently, Care of Magical Creatures was not an indoor class, no matter the weather.

Kali walked down the slope to Hagrid's hut ahead of her housemates, trudging through the slosh that pretended to be snow, hiding as much of her face in the folds of her scarf as she could manage. The cold sneaked in regardless, biting at her skin and forcing so many shivers from her that she was practically vibrating.

The sight of a bonfire crackling outside the small wooden cabin made her heart soar, and she picked up speed, the promise of warmth dissipating her discomfort.

The stacks of wood flamed and roared, exuding enough heat to be felt from metres away. It washed over Kali like a blanket, and her eyelids fluttered as she basked in it like a lizard under the summer sun.

A high-pitched croak had Kali's eyes snapping open. She looked for the source but saw only Hagrid and the rest of the class joining her, everyone crowding close to the fire.

"All right," said Hagrid, his voice soft and hesitant. He had become more demur after the Hippogriff incident at the start of term, to the point where he'd had Kali and her classmates raising Flobberworms for the past few months—a pointless exercise given that Flobberworms preferred to be left alone and do nothing. "Who can tell me what creatures like fire?"

Predictably, Hermione Granger's hand shot up.

She, Ron, and Harry stood on the other side of the bonfire with the rest of the Gryffindors, all huddled close together. Hermione's hair sat a little flatter on her head today, damp from the snow or a shower, Kali wasn't sure, but the Gryffindor made up for the lost inches of height by bouncing from her heels to the tips of her toes.

"Go ahead, Hermione," said Hagrid.

Her hand dropped, and her bouncing slowed but didn't stop. "Dragon's are the most common creatures associated with fire, but they're far from the only ones. There are also Phoenixes, Firebirds, Chimeras, Fire Serpents, and Salamanders. Other entities with an affinity for fire that aren't classified as creatures include Cherufe, Fire Giants, Afārīt, and Lampads. Fire creatures and beings are often viewed as more dangerous than their non-incendiary peers because of the easy propagation of their destructiveness. Magical fires are infamously difficult to put out and spread much faster than any other kind."

Hagrid smiled. Although it reached his eyes, it was nowhere near as bright as it had been on his first day as a teacher. "Well done. Ten points for Gryffindor."

The high-pitched croak sounded again, and Kali tracked it to the bonfire. There, amidst the crackling logs and leaping flames, lay a lizard-like creature with six legs and skin of a deep, burning scarlet. Many more of the small amphibians played in the fire, leaping from one flaming branch to the next like children in a playground.

As more people noticed the Salamanders, Hagrid cleared his throat. "Now, dragons're difficult to come by"—more than a couple of people looked relieved to hear this—"but Fire Dwellin' Salamanders don't have many restrictions put on 'em by the law. Why's that?"

Again, Hermione's hand reached for the sky, but this time, so did Kali's.

"Kali?" said Hagrid.

Kali didn't miss the disappointed pout that flitted over Hermione's features. She threw the Gryffindor a wink over the bonfire, and Hermione managed a small smile.

"Dragons are more dangerous than Salamanders," said Kali. "They're bigger, stronger, more territorial, and are built like apex predators. Salamanders are small easy to subdue because they're only resistant to fire spells. They can't spread like dragons can either since they can't survive outside their fire for more than six hours."

"That's right. Take ten points for Slytherin." Hagrid turned and grabbed a log that was thicker than Kali's torso and threw it into the fire. Sparks flew, and the flames engulfed the timber. "Salamanders can't survive long outside their birth fire, so yer job is to make sure the fire doesn't go out."

They did just that, collecting dry wood and leaves from the edge of the forest and tending to the fire as the Salamanders scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. Kali found a spot a little further away from her classmates, which was rife with fallen branches, and she started stacking them in her arms.

When her pile came close to reaching her chin and wobbled every time she moved, she turned to leave, but heavy footfalls headed her way, cracking leaves and twigs as they went, making no effort to keep quiet.

Harry rounded a tree and marched down the small slope to where she stood.

A smile passed over Kali's features, but it faded in front of the sparks of anger flashing in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

His glare burned hotter than the bonfire, his anger almost tangible in the air between them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Your father is the reason my parents are dead!"

His shout rang through the forest, and Kali took a step back, gripping the branches closer to her chest, her knuckles going white around them.

"I thought you knew."

Her voice barely sounded above a whisper, so soft it was almost lost in the rattle of the wind through the trees. Guilt itched at her insides because, of course, he hadn't known. How could he have? He wasn't close to his aunt and uncle, and even if he were, Lily and her sister hadn't got along well enough to know each other's friends. Harry had no way of knowing how close his and Kali's parents had been.

"I didn't," he snapped. The words cracked like a whip, but beneath his anger lay something else, something lost and confused. He tried to blink the redness from his eyes, but it wouldn't abate.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, still clutching the branches like the flimsiest of shields. "If I'd known, I would have told you."

He glared even as the tears leaked out. "No, you wouldn't have. You'd have lied to me like everyone else has. I had to overhear hear it at the Three Broomsticks to find out!"

"No." She stood straighter and loosened her grip on the kindling. "I won't ever lie to you, Harry. I can promise you that."

Harry stared at her. He struggled to hold on to all the pent up rage and frustration, but it suddenly had nowhere to go. Without a target upon which to direct his wrath, his shoulders fell, and he looked down at the ground.

"Why did he do it?"

"I don't think he did," she said softly, but his gaze snapped up to meet hers as though she'd shouted. "Call it a biased opinion, but I don't think my father betrayed your parents."

"He was their Secret Keeper."

"There are ways around the Fidelius Charm, dark magic, the kind Voldemort was well-versed in."

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore said—"

"Dumbledore isn't all-knowing," she cut in. "None of it adds up. I understand if you think I'm fooling myself because I don't want my father to be the bad guy. But …" She heard the breathless desperation in her voice and hated it, hated how strained and illogical she sounded. She bit her lip and shook her head.

He watched her, leaving his tears to dry on his cheeks, his mind working behind those bright green eyes. "Why doesn't it add up?"

A burst of hope shot through her like a Warming Charm cast with too much gusto: mildly painful but leaving comfort in its wake.

"Your dad was my father's best friend. When he was sixteen, my father's mother disowned him, and it was the Potters who took him in—your dad and your grandparents. He loved your family. He would never have hurt them."

"What about those thirteen people he killed?"

That was where her argument always failed. "I don't know. It could have been a mistake or an accident … I know that after my mum died, I did some things, some pretty damaging things, none of it on purpose, but …" She shook her head. "I don't have all the answers; no one does, no one except for Sirius Black."

Harry bent and picked up a stick that had fallen from her pile during her tirade. "Kali—"

She saw the doubt on his face and in the way he wouldn't meet her eye and said, "Don't you at least want to know the truth? You, more than anyone, deserve that."

His silent pause felt heavier than his anger had, but eventually, he nodded, and that was all she needed. The tension left her shoulders, and she managed a smile that didn't feel strained. She returned the nod, and he returned the smile, and whatever weight had been pressing down on her chest evaporated.

Harry returned her stick and collected a few of his own. She waited for him, content to enjoy a silence that was neither overbearing nor suffocating even though it didn't last long.

"How come you're not afraid of saying his name?" Harry asked. "Voldemort's name."

The logs in her arms made her shrug awkward, but she managed it without dropping any. "Gran and Remus have never shied away from saying it, so I suppose I never learnt the habit. Besides, it's just a name, right? A nickname even. What harm could come from saying it aloud?"

"A lot of people don't see it that way." He twirled a twig between his fingers, one too small for the bonfire, staring at it far too intently for a moment before chucking it over his shoulder. "Did you know that he got the name Voldemort by rearranging the letters of his real name so that they spelt out 'I am Lord Voldemort'?"

Kali snorted. "Poor thing. He went to all that trouble to find himself a cool nickname, but no one uses it. He must have been devastated."

Harry laughed, the sound rough with fading anxiety, and Kali joined him.

"On a completely unrelated note," she said, "I looked into the Grim over the holidays, and I'm convinced that it's not a death omen."

"What is it then?" he asked. His shoulders dropped, and his eyes shone as though he wanted to be relieved, but after all the fuss that had been made, he needed to be sure first.

"According to the books and my grandfather, Grims are the protectors of graveyards and of the dead. Certain cultures believe that the first being buried in a cemetery can't cross over and is instead bound there to help other spirits move on and protect them from evil. People wanted to avoid that fate for their loved ones, so they sometimes buried a dog first."

Harry frowned and nodded. "The Grim."

"Exactly. There's a theory that says that all those who were killed by a Grim were grave robbers or tomb raiders, torn to shreds by a giant, black dog. There are cases of people seeing a Grim despite never having considered desecrating a grave, but they're rarer, and their deaths tend to be because of clumsiness rather than a canine attack. Their suspicious minds saw a death omen, and they panicked, bringing about their own end either accidentally or not. So more likely than not, you have a stray black dog following you around."

His expression went from avid to dubious with a simple twist of his eyebrows. "It followed me from Magnolia Crescent to Hogwarts?"

She shrugged. "It wouldn't be unheard of."

He relaxed, and the last of the tension dissolved from the air. "Well, so long as I'm not going to die, I don't mind how many strays stalk me."

Kali grinned at him, and, with their armfuls of branches, they headed back to the bonfire. As she gave him a hand up the slope, something he had said earlier tickled her mind.

"I thought you weren't allowed into Hogsmeade."

Harry's eyes narrowed into a guilty wince. "I've been sneaking out."

Laughing and shaking her head, Kali said, "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

A/N: I included quite a few time jumps in this chapter, which I hope didn't make the pacing too jumpy.

How do you feel about Kali's various relationships? And what do you think of the Lake House? That setting will become relevant later on, the underground chamber especially.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I look forward to seeing your reaction to the next chapter!