The commuter train arrived well before the other students on the Hogwarts Express did. I disembarked and was confronted with a huge, towering mountain of a man: Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts.

"Blimey!" Hagrid boomed, making me flinch. "Just the one of yer, eh?"
"That's right." I looked around, spotting the grandeur of the castle high on its mountain.

"Well, I suppose we better be getting you out of this cold. You look awful pale there." He frowned, his great black brows pushing together into one massive eyebrow. "You feeling alright? What's yer name?"

"Amber Harkstone." I answered, already feeling the brutal chill of the Scottish snowstorm. "Ravenclaw."

Hagrid nodded. "Oh, yeah! Yer the one who took ten minutes. Ah, I coulda sworn you'd be Gryffindor. I was a Gryffindor once, when I was a student here." He laughed good-naturedly. "That was a long time ago. Come on, you look colder by the minute."

He led me to a carriage. It was set up just like a horse-drawn buggy, except there was nothing pulling it forward.

"It's a threstral, isn't it?" I said as we clambered inside.

Hagrid looked surprised and pleased. "Why yes! How'd you know?"

"I read about it, in Hogwarts, a History."

"Blimey. No wonder Ravenclaw's gotten so many points this year." Hagrid chortled as he snapped the reigns and the carriage moved forward. I wrapped my scarf around my nose, trying to hunch over to conserve body heat.

Hagrid dropped a huge tartan wool blanket over me. I pulled it around my shoulders gratefully.

"You ought to be eating more, mite." Hagrid went on. "You're as skinny as a whippet."

"I know." I said, teeth chattering slightly, as a gust of icy wind blasted us in the face. The blanket did well to block out most of the chill.

"I know a lot about magical creatures meself." Hagrid informed me as we rolled on towards the castle. "Hinkypunks, lethifolds, griffins, kelpies… We've got mermaids in the lake, did ya know?"

"Oh, I know." I said darkly, remembering those she-devils.

"Aye, we've got werewolves too. Deep in the Forbidden Forest. That's why it's Forbidden. Too many dangerous creatures in there. Nothing proper for schoolchildren. Dumbledore'll always keep yer safe, though. Good spells and enchantments protecting Hogwarts."

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold run up my spine. "Werewolves?" So close to the school?

Hagrid looked uncomfortable. "I shouldn'ta told yer that. It's really nothing to worry about, so long as yer stay within the school bounds. We have unicorns, too."

I smiled, remembering my first day at Hogwarts with Lily. "I know. They're beautiful."

"Aye." said Hagrid proudly. "But those winged horses are mighty something beautiful too. Professor Kettleburn, he's your Care of Magical Creatures professor, right?"

"Yes. He's quite good." I thought of the poor aging man, who was missing a limb and had lost every chance of ever regrowing eyebrows or facial hair.

Hagrid had a dreamy look in his eye. He snapped the reigns lightly over the backs of the invisible thestrals. "Aye, lucky man, Kettleburn. Dream job. Great man, Dumbledore, great man. Great school."

"You should be a professor." I said as the castle neared. "You sound like you want to teach."

I thought I saw Hagrid blush. "Aww, I don't know bout that. Teaching at Hogwarts? That'd be the day… That would be the best day of me life." He sighed. "Glad to be here, Amber. You should be too. I heard you got into a few spots of trouble with the murder tree."

My heart stopped. "The what?" I said weakly, instantly remembering the night when I had taunted that nasty willow, foolish and stupid. Sweat broke out on my palms. Thank God Remus had been there to snap me away from my own recklessness.

"Aye. Dumbledore asked me to plant that willow last summer, right after the school let out. We'd already picked our new students. He wanted it for protection. Keeping kids out of the Forbidden Forest. And the Shrieking Shack."

"The what?" I said breathlessly. "The Shrieking Shack?"

Hagrid nodded, deep in thought. "Old building down the ways. Very loud at night, during the full moon. McGonagall reckons it's poltergeists like Peeves. Or a ghoul. I think it might be some rabid creatures. Maybe even a boggart. I asked Dumbledore if I could go see it, but he said that no one is allowed to enter it. Not even me." Hagrid scratched his thick beard thoughtfully. "Usually lets me do things such as that. Great man."

I nodded, trying to absorb this new information. A shrieking shack? Haunted? Infested? Enchanted?

Be careful. Don't go looking for trouble. Please. Virginia's words flowed back to me. I could feel the curiosity and urge to seek a thrill flowing through my veins. My fingers twitched upon the handle of my ash wand. Not even this gargantuan groundskeeper was allowed to check it out. What kinds of mysteries did it hold?
"You said something about a murder tree." I said suddenly. "Is it that willow tree? The big one?"

"Yep. Big, mean thing. Special kind of breed of tree. They're known to kill folks with murderous rage just for getting too close. Aye, but I think theys is misunderstood. They don't mean to hurt nobody. They just guarding what theys supposed to." Hagrid lowered his voice as we neared the castle. We had only minutes left before I would get off the carriage and head into the castle. Only minutes left to glean as much information as I could out of this gentle giant.

"Really?" I said, heart pounding in my ears, hoping he would continue to digress.

Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. I wondered how often anyone asked him questions. Asked to learn. Asked him anything at all…

"Aye. See, some folks call it the murder tree because they say it's cursed. They say if you best a whomping willow, you'll lay a curse on you. Someone in your life will die before the next full moon."

This time there was no mistaking the shudder that went through me. Shivering, I asked tentatively, "Is that a true curse? Or just a myth?"

Hagrid shrugged. "I think it's just a rumor, ter be honest. But I don't intend on finding out."

The carriage rolled to a stop. He dismounted so heavily that the wheels trembled. I hopped down while Hagrid picked up my luggage like it was a cracker. "It was nice talking ter ya, Amber." His eyes suddenly widened, and looked almost frightened. "Listen, sometimes I get a little carried away with what I'm saying… Don't go repeating what you just heard, you hear? You're a Ravenclaw, you're a smart girl. Use that good judgment!" He smiled hugely and tapped his temple, looking almost too happy. Almost desperate.

Don't go looking for trouble…

I nodded, trying to suppress out the strong urge to seek out the mysterious shack. If Hagrid could discount the myth about the murder tree so easily, then so could I.

It was only a myth, right?

"Thanks for the ride, Hagrid." I offered him a smile. "And I won't tell."

Hagrid looked immensely relieved. "If you ever want to come down to me hut for tea and cakes, you're welcome ter. I'd love the company. And I have some nifflers that could use some attention."

"Mind if I bring a friend?" I said, thinking of Lily.

Hagrid beamed. "Shouldn't be a problem."

I waved goodbye and headed into the castle. My footsteps echoed down the long, empty hallways. The other students hadn't arrived yet. But they would. Soon. Very soon.

I glanced either direction. My heart began to pound hard again, adrenaline coursing through my veins, making me dizzy. I had enough time to go to the library and check out a Herbology book. No one would know.

Please.

I saw Virginia asking me to stay out of trouble. To behave. I shut my eyes briefly, seeing my sister's face, her stern, serious blue eyes.

I started walking towards the Ravenclaw tower. I paused, chest rising and falling quickly. I should have kept walking toward the common room, to the tower. I should have listened to my sister and to Hagrid.

Instead I turned on my heel and hurried to the library. Five minutes later, I had checked out the textbook that covered advanced Herbology. Another five minutes and I was in my bed, scanning the pages for the whomping willow. I didn't stop reading until dinner was ready and I fully dispelled the death rumor as myth once and for all. The fear was gone.

I was going to investigate this Shrieking Shack, whether or not a giant tree guarded it. Whether or not I could die.

Because the fact that someone else could die was just a myth.

After Lily and I said the counter-curse for the hair-changing charm on Potter and Black that dinner after winter break, I devoted myself entirely into my studies. Lily and I visited Hagrid in his hut once a week on Saturday afternoons. We learned quickly that his cooking was less than edible. I nearly broke a tooth on his rock cakes and make sure to eat before coming down to his high-ceilinged hut.

Over the course of the following months, I pored over every book in the library about the art of sneaking into abandoned places. I learned to expect boggarts, hinkypunks, or ghouls. I also knew from speaking to some of the Hogwarts ghosts that the Shack was at its most active during the full moon, confirming what Hagrid had said. I decided to visit it during a nearly full moon, when I would have some light but not enough to let others see me crossing the grounds after dark.

Remus, like me, buried himself in his schoolwork. We didn't speak much. Once a month, his illness, like Virginia's, reduced him to his bed and sometimes it would be days before I or anyone saw him. He spoke more to Lily than to me. Once in awhile Flitwick would assign work that included a partner, and since we shared a desk, we would always collaborate on whatever work he dispensed.

I never said a word of what I was planning. Not to anyone. In April, the snow melted, and the grass began to show signs of green life again. The trees swelled with sweet-smelling blossoms and drifted fragrantly on the spring air.

It was during the middle of the month that I decided to go on my adventure. After months of studying, planning and forgetting Virginia's request of caution, I knew it was time. Most of students were occupied with preparing for upcoming finals. Now that the year was drawing to a close, the professors were assigning more and more homework. I finished easily and early with Lily, while others, like Peter Pettigrew, struggled and required tutoring.

The night I decided to explore the shack was a clear one. No clouds would obscure the moon or stars. Part of me was tempted to tell Lily. To tell at least her, in the faint chance that she would want to accompany me. But I knew that Lily, in all of her goodness and concern for others, would balk and beg me to abandon the idea. And with enough guilting, she would succeed. Probably easily.

I was too excited to eat much at dinner. I knew it would be best to go after the others had gone to sleep while they were unawares. At the Gryffindor table at my place next to Lily, who was busily chattering away to Remus, I could feel someone staring at me. I turned slightly and found myself gazing right into the eyes of Sirius Black. He narrowed his gray eyes and whispered something into Potter's ear. He looked over sharply, staring at me curiously. He frowned.

A prickle of unease crawled across my skin. Did they know? How could they? They couldn't read minds. At least, not that I knew of.

Even though I wasn't hungry, I picked up a biscuit and buttered it, tearing off small pieces. I pretended to be occupied by my light dinner, when in reality, I couldn't stop thinking about what I would be doing in just a few hours. The excitement was so heady that my hands shook slightly, even now.

"You okay?" Lily said, breaking into my thoughts.

I nodded. "Yeah. Not very hungry."

"You never are." Remus observed, looking amused. "You eat like a little bird. Sparingly and lightly."

Blushing with embarrassment, I stuffed the rest of the biscuit into my mouth and swallowed it down with a gulp of iced tea. "Says the vacuum. You've had two plates."

"He's a growing boy." Lily said defensively, green eyes sparkling with laughter.

Remus shrugged and gnawed on a corndog.

I could feel Potter and Black staring at me. I tossed them an annoyed glance and made a point not to look at them after that.

"We should go to the art studio." Lily told me as she finished her plate. "We can work on our paintings some more." It was a month-long assignment that was due in a week. I had finished mine already, five days ago, but Professor Song told me I could earn extra credit if I did a second one. I believed she had assigned it just to keep me occupied with busy work.

"How long?" I said neutrally.

"A few hours." She laughed. "Why? Do you have a date or something?"

Now I could feel Remus staring at me intently. I felt hot under my robe and shirt. I cleared my throat, trying not to let my illegal adventure show on my face. "No. I'm just tired."

"It's a Friday!" Lily protested. "We're supposed to stay up late."

"I can't, Lily. I'm sorry. I'm just really tired. I'd rather sleep in and stay up late tomorrow."

I hated lying to her, but I had been planning this for too long to throw it away now. Everything had to be exactly according to detail, or I could get caught. I felt sick with nervousness as I thought of getting expelled. It was worse than I felt about lying to my best friend.

Lily looked concerned. "You should rest, then. Do you want to go see Madam Pomfrey?"

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no. It's Friday. It's been a long week. I just need to sleep."

Lily nodded. "Okay. I'll ask Sev. I'm sure he'd be happy to do some painting. Better than all of those Potions." She groaned. "He'll probably want to do that instead."

My lips twitched as I hid a smile. Imaging Severus painting was like imagining Peter Pettigrew strong-arm a lion.

"Good night." I said, smiling at her and Remus. I could feel Potter and Black watching me as I left the Great Hall.

I did head straight for the Ravenclaw Tower, but instead of getting ready to sleep, I prepared myself for the excursion. I changed into my Muggle clothes; a pair of jeans and a gray zip-up sweater that would blend in with the silver light of the moon. I tied my slightly curling hair into a high ponytail to keep the wind from whipping it into my face. I placed my hiking boots imported from L.L. Bean in the United States by my bedside so that I could easily slip into them. I curled up under my covers and tried to sleep. I would need energy for my night ahead.

My eyes popped open in what felt like a minute later. Surrounding me were beds full of sleeping girls. Their deep breathing told me they weren't going to wake up when I slipped on my boots.

I crept out of the bedroom tower and out of the common room silently. The door was slightly ajar from where I'd left a small marble jammed into the latch slot. It had never locked.

I left the marble inside for when I would return later. I made my way down the spiraling staircase, now complete with railings. Peter Pettigrew's tumble had cemented the safety issue concerning falls. They were iron-wrought and sturdy. I didn't touch them as I made my way down and walked down to the portrait that would lead me outside of the castle walls.

Heart pounding with excitement, I gripped my wand tighter and hesitated just outside of the panoramic painting, which displayed a lake with choppy waves. It was clearly windy out tonight, but very clear.

"Curse you." I said softly. The painting gave way to my gentle push and revealed the dark tunnel beyond. I let the painting slid into place behind me as I made my way through. "Lumos," I muttered, the tip of my wand igniting in an iridescent blue light.

The wind was whistling through the branches of the trees when I emerged outside. The air was damp and warm. It smelled like rain. I wondered if a thunderstorm would rumble through.

Would I have time to make it back to the castle without getting drenched?

I felt a stab of misgivings. Maybe I should turn back. I could always come back another night.

But the rain won't kill you. I thought crossly. No one died from a little precipitation.

My legs were springy with adrenaline as I walked determinedly toward the Whomping Willow. The wind tore at my ponytail. I was grateful the air wasn't cold. That alone would have driven me back to the castle.

The Murder Tree came into view. I wondered if the loud wind would cover my footsteps, but the tree seemed to be feeling the vibrations of my feet. It stirred, shaking out its long, whip-like tendrils warningly as I neared.

"Leve pondus," I said quietly, pointing the wand at myself. I felt like I was floating, thought my feet were still clearly on the ground. The tree creaked and groaned, swaying back and forth, as if listening for me. I took a few cautious steps forward. The tree didn't notice.

Maybe this charm was going to work after all.

I stayed as far away from the tree as possible, but it seemed that Hagrid was right: this thing was designed to guard the shack. There was a dark tunnel yawning at the base of the willow, one I'd glimpsed last time but never thought of twice until Hagrid's tale of its connection to the shack. I knew in my gut that it would lead straight to the building.

I crept closer. The tree went very still, as if straining to hear or feel my approach. The charm was still working. I was very light, so light that the willow couldn't detect me.

The wind blasted me hard suddenly, nearly tearing my ponytail free from its elastic. I squinted as tears streamed from my eyes; the wind was so brutal it was impossible to see through the shimmery veil of tears. I wiped my eyes quickly and waited for the gust to subside. The trees groaned and swayed in the air. When the wind died down, they stilled. The Willow weaved from side to side, unnaturally alive and aware.

I crept closer to the entrance at the base of the massive trunk. My heart pounded in my ears; I wiped the nervous sweat from my palms onto my jeans. Five steps. Ten. Fifteen.

I was at the entrance. The dark opening smelled strongly of earth and shadows. A chill shivered across my skin, giving me goose bumps. What kinds of creatures awaited me in there? Part of me hoped it was just flobberworms and rabbits, but something else, something deeper, warned me not to go farther.

I ignored that more rational part of me and pressed on.

The ceiling was high enough that I could walk through without needing to bend over. From the faint light that emanated from my wand tip, I could see hundreds of little roots hanging like dirty chandeliers from the roof of the tunnel. The air was cold and heavy. I wondered if this was how catacombs smelled.

I fought down the urge to scream or vomit. Were they any bodies in here? What kinds of things would I find at the end of this tunnel? Or even in it?

I hesitated, almost turning back, but deciding against it. It would have made my months of preparation and planning absolutely useless.

I walked for what felt like an hour. A few times I glanced behind me out of instinct, feeling as if I were being followed, but only a wall of inky blackness was there, pushing me forward. Sweat gathered on my brow despite the cold. What if I got lost in here? What if I never got above ground again? What if I was doomed to wander here forever? Or until I died?

"Some folks call it the murder tree because they say it's cursed. They say if you best a whomping willow, you'll lay a curse on you…"

"Stop it." I said to myself aloud. "Stop."

I couldn't shake Hagrid's words from my mind. I swallowed hard against the rising panic and kept walking. I had to remind myself I hadn't come this far to give up.

Time passed. It felt like another fifteen minutes before I smelled something different, something faint but definitely different.

Fresh air.

I fought the urge to race ahead and get out of this awful tunnel full of darkness and roots. I held my wand forward, illuminating the path of lumpy roots and scattered pebbles. How long had they been down here, cut off from the outside, from the heavens and the fresh air?

A slight breeze blew towards me, playing with the locks of my blond hair. My stomach squeezed tight with relief and excitement when I saw a faint opening ahead. Dirty gray light spilled into the tunnel. I abandoned caution and pelted down the rest of the way. I nearly tripped over the rough-hewn tunnel of the floor, but I quickly balanced my weight and tore out through the exit. I inhaled deep lungfuls of air, so grateful to be free of that earthen tomb.

It took me a few moments to taste the air I was so greedily inhaling. It wasn't fresh, even compared to the tunnel. It was musty, thick, and strangely warm. I brushed a few loose strands of hair from my damp forehead and surveyed where I was.

The wand light illuminated the room. I was in some kind of abandoned kitchen. The counters were covered in a thick layer of grime and dust. The sink was rusted out. The yellowed walls, probably once white, were covered in ancient newspapers, which had long since stopped moving. I stepped closer and studied the margin of one corner. 8 May 1935.

This house had been abandoned for over forty years.

I was aware of how loudly I was breathing. I shut my mouth and inhaled through my nose as quietly as I could. It was nearly a full moon. Hagrid had said during the full moon, noises were discernable, even from the distance of the castle, which must have been at least a mile away, if not two. So why was the house silent?

Most of the windows were broken. A vine of wisteria, brown and dead, had grown through the broken shards and poised rigidly, a dead arm. I tried to commit this to memory, so that I could copy this all down later back in the Ravenclaw common room. Make a map of this place.

The shack was more of a plantation. Each room had a fireplace and at least one large window. Strangely, the only furniture was old appliances. No couches, no tables, chairs, paintings. The walls were bare and bore signs of their age.

I crept up a narrow staircase. Two steps creaked loudly, sending more goose bumps across my skin. I wished I hadn't come here alone. But who would have understood?

The upstairs landing was littered with an old desk, record player, and a box of dusty volumes and vinyl records. An old, stained mattress on a wooden frame stood haphazardly in the center of the next room. A second kitchen was located on the second floor, next to the other bedrooms.

A strong breeze rattled the house. The wind was picking up again. This time, it was so strong that I felt a pang of intense apprehension. Wind wasn't this strong. It wasn't this powerful. It wasn't natural.

The remaining panes of glass squeaked. A few shingles flew off of the roof, flying like bats into the air. Two huge magnolia trees thrashed together in front of the house. I clutched my wand tighter, almost dropping it from the sweat in my palms. Something was coming. Something big. Something powerful.

Something evil.

My scalp prickled hotly. A cold chill raced up from my spine and out into my arms. It was the same evil that Backe had warned about months and months ago in the Daily Prophet, that I tried not to think about because Virginia had known…

The Dark Lord is coming.

I shut my eyes tightly. I knew it was pointless, but I had to try to survive. For my sisters. For my family. For my friends.

I ran to the nearest closet and tried not to think about what might be living in it. I swung the door shut silently, leaving only a hairline crack visible so that I could see the room. The closet was situated at the top of the stairs. Maybe, just maybe, the Dark Lord wouldn't think to look there. It would be too easy for someone to hide in plain sight at the first hiding place…

Sweat dripped down my face and between my shoulder blades. The wind died abruptly. The house was suddenly very, very quiet. Too quiet. I could hear my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I wanted to run for my life, the urge so strong that I literally shook with it, but I held as still as I could. I strained to listen, to hear. Nothing moved. Not even a dead leaf rustled.

Then.

A footstep creaking downstairs. Two. Coming closer. Coming towards the stairs. Coming towards me.

"Nox." I whispered as quietly as I could, my throat so tight with terror that it was a miracle that the light went out at all. I was thrown into darkness.

My heart was pounding so crazily now I was sure the Dark Lord could hear it. A dark shape loomed at the bottom of the stairs. A flash of dizzying black covered my vision. Was I going to pass out from fear?

The figure approached.

I squeezed my wand so tightly I could feel the wood splinters dig into my palm. A window that hadn't broken streamed in dirty moon light from the gray panes at the top of the stairs. How ironic, that the last thing I would see before I died, would be the face of the Dark Lord.

The figure stopped at the top of the stairs. Light threw his features and face into focus. I was so surprised that the wand fell from my hand and clattered loudly to the wooden floor.

I pushed the door open, my mouth hanging open.

"Remus?"