To not confuse anyone, the beginning of the chapter is placed before the prologue happens.

1st of July.

It was my birthday.

And the first thing I saw when I woke up was a big blue bird leaning down on my face.

I bit back a scream, and stared wide eyed, breathing heavily. I tilted my head to the side, the bird following. My eye twitched.

"Marie?" I called loudly, moving carefully to not disturb the bird.

"Yeah?"

I blinked. It sounded like she was still in the attic – and nearby.

"There's a blue bird inside the room."

There was a beat before she replied, and this time, her voice was closer.

"Its a macaw."

I gritted my teeth. "It could be fucking lizard for all I care – a bird is leaning down on my face!"

Marie sighed loudly from wherever she was, and then, to my surprise, she made an odd whistling sound. The bird's head snapped up and he flew off. I jumped from the hammock and watched as it landed on her shoulder, its large beak nuzzling the girl's black hair.

"Couldn't you have done that before I woke up?" I asked crossly.

Marie shrugged.

Sighing, I looked over the room and found a small pile of presents waiting for me next to the bureau.

I smiled. Ever since I was told I was a witch, my life had been like a full ride of messes, whether they were good or bad. One of the pros was the fact I had friends, and somehow, I haven't scared them off yet. Or maybe they were plain stupid.

Either way, I loved them.

I swatted Caleb away with my hand as he started to flap around my head annoyingly. The little odd owl had been a gift from my uncle, Sirius Black, who at the moment was considered the most dangerous criminal in both the Muggle and Wizarding World; accused of being a murderer of thirteen people and also blamed for giving the Potters' location to Voldemort (which lead them to their ultimate death), Sirius had been sent to Azkaban without having a trial. Recently, he managed to fool the Dementors and escaped from prison on a mad search for Pettigrew. 'Course, that didn't go well, but at least he wasn't behind the bars this time.

"Don't diss the owl," Marie scolded. It was natural she was closer to Caleb, as it had been her whom named it after she informed me she was accepted at Hogwarts. Marie 'Harlaown' was a girl with straight black hair and deep blue eyes. At the beginning, I thought she was kind of strange as she usually was unemotional; when she speaks, most of the time she sounds dry and sarcastic. But now, I'm grateful of her. Dealing with nightmares since my second years isn't easy, and she was a great listener, pointing out obvious things that would be considered rather harsh for others but to me, they were like some 'kick on the butt'.

We both weren't exactly considered as normal.

I peered down curiously at the stack and chose to open the familiar wrapping of a parcel. Like the last time, Mrs. Weasley didn't hold back at all and baked a small lumpy chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Annie written on it in pink icing. There was also a new jumper for the collection: this time, the pink fabric was thinner and she had knitted large shooting stars on the sleeves. It was obvious that she had specially made it to wear in summer. From her son, I got sweats and chocolate. Hermione, always the bookworm, had sent me a book called The Beginning of Magic: Vol.1, which contained many theories of where magic was conceived and what were the first methods of sorcery that had been practiced. Neville, my closest friend since last year, had also sent his regards with a beautiful transparent flower that resembled a lily but was better known as the Crystal of the Moon. His gift didn't surprise me much because he loved Herbology and also tutored me on it.

The next package was wrapped in red paper and I hid a snort, recognizing Harry's horrible techniques in gift-wrapping. The gift though, was all the contrary. It was not as spectacular as the owl necklace he had given me last year, but it touched my heart the same. It was a small metal figurine of a husky, painted in black and white, the small irises of its eyes shining like small diamonds. How Harry found out my mother's animagus form was a husky dog, I didn't know, but I suspected Sirius had a lot to do with it. After all, it had been Remus Lupin who told me of this fact once in a letter some time ago.

Speaking of Lupin, I found a small parcel hiding on the bottom. It was a small photo album of his Hogwarts' days as a student, picturing all of the Marauders in them except for Peter Pettigrew. I was grateful he took that detail in mind when he prepared this.

I heard a high pitched scream from behind me. I whirled around and saw Natasha holding a hand to her chest, her blue-green eyes staring wide eyed at Marie's shoulder where the Macaw still was perched on.

She was taking deep breaths. "How - what in Merlin's name is a tropical bird doing here?!"

"Its not a bird, its a macaw!" Marie huffed.

"It could be a rat for all I care!" Natasha snapped. I blinked, realizing how similar her reaction to mine was. "What is it doing here?"

It turned out the bird was sent by Sirius. According to his letter, he was somewhere near the south, and had passed my a little town near the shores where they had held a carnival, a wizarding one probably, the postcard he sent for Harry had people laughing an dancing while they wore colorful costumes.

Along the postcard, he had sent also a parcel. When I opened it, I found out it was a birthday present from him. It was one of those white masks that covered all of the face, the lips with glowing in golden paint and tears painted in black ran from its eyes' sockets.

"How depressing," Marie said, eyeing the mask with a raised eyebrow.

"That's Sirius for you," said Natasha with a little snort. "Always living up to his name."

Natasha made everything of the sort to avoid talking of her ex-fiancé. It was obviously hard for her that the "love of her life" was back again on her life and so abruptly, when she had grown used to loneliness for almost fourteen years. I can't even imagine how would these two react if they were in the same room: I discovered she could barely even talk to me about Remus without her having a stroke or something, and he was still alive and I already met him. Fortunately to Natasha, Sirius was still on the run, and he knew better than to be seen by the Ministry of Magic. Owl services were sponsored by them, I realized, so the macaw probably was the only way he had to communicate with us.

Rolling my eyes at them, I continued to look at it and surprisingly, found a small poster that had strange drawings that were a mix of art nouveau and watercolor. I noticed the words at the end of the paper and I snorted.

In large curvy letters, it said, "We all Wear Masks. Which one is yours?"

Harry's birthday came and went as the wind, and before I knew it, August began. And later, it was only a week before I would go to the Burrow for the Quidditch World Cup.

Then the nightmare happened, and it wasn't until Marie left that I looked at the mask again. It was hanging at the top of the round window, looking down at us silently with its black, empty eyes. From there, my eyes trailer over the poster that Marie had insisted to stick on her side of the wall.

Which one is yours?

She was right, of course. I had to tell Harry of the dream. I couldn't keep hiding behind a mask - or maybe I shouldn't wear the same mask this time.

Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, hitting my head softly on the wall.

I simply had to learn and wear another one.

"Send my regards to your boyfriend," said Marie, as always, emotionless. The tiny smirk pulling at her lips gave her away though, so I didn't take her seriously. Not this time, anyways.

The first time she had said it, she had caught me off ward. Really off ward. It had been in the summer before my second year at Hogwarts (before Tom): it was my turn to sweep the basement, as poor Suri, a girl of my age but very fragile, had caught a cold. Natasha fortunately had been around and her and Virginia - the assistant before Jenna, the recent one, were able to lower her fever. Because Suri was one of the few girls who weren't biased when it came to me (or wasn't scared, if the smiles she always gave me weren't fake), I offered to do her chores.

Of course, with my luck, it had to be the basement of all places.

With a thin torch at my hand and a blue bandana covering my mouth, I quickly put on a pair of rubber gloves and holding the broom tightly in front of me as a shield, I set down the stairs. Just when I had thought it wasn't so bad, Marie, damn her, had sneaked behind me and said, curiously, "Is the boy with pretty eyes your boyfriend?" There was no doubt who 'pretty eyes' was.

After that traumatic experience, it didn't come off as a surprise the next times Marie commented on it. It used to fluster me, but then it got annoying, and now... well, now I wasn't sure how to react to it. I conformed myself to act deaf when she speaks.

But there were things I couldn't just easily ignore as that.

I hesitated a bit as I stopped by the red bike, my fingers itching to touch it and let myself carry away, away from this place and away from what I was about to do.

Fear won. Sighing, I closed my eyes and took three larger steps away from it, and once I was sure there was no temptation - or before it could get back - I began to walk toward the old playground, making my way to Privet Drive, specifically, number four.

The little suburban neighborhood was calm as always, except for a few children playing outside their homes. I walked past a man watering his garden and a girl jumping on a rope before I finally reached the Durleys' home. Not pausing at the front door, I walked around the house and picked up a stone, immediately throwing it at the window to the right. When he didn't answer, I sighed exasperatedly and picked up the same stone and threw it again. This time, Harry did peer out, his green eyes curiously glinting.

He slid his window open. "Anya?" he said slowly.

"Nope," I chirped. "'S Santa Claus." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, it's you," he sighed. "What are you doing here?"

I pursued my lips, looking anywhere but him. He was right to ask: I had not seen him since his birthday and if I was right, the Weasleys were going to pick him up tomorrow. I would use floo powder to go at their house in early Monday for the Quidditch World Cup. But this was important.

Slowly, I pulled out a very colorful postcard and showed it in the light, waving the small card from side to side. "You've got a macaw."

Quick as lightning, the window was abruptly closed. I smiled to myself, putting my hands inside my trousers' pockets. He didn't have to know that the thing was actually on my possession since the beginning of August.

I was still smiling when Harry opened the back door and came out, putting on a grey hoodie. One of the sleeves got caught in the door and he tried to pull it off in the most ridiculous way. Laughing, I approached him and opened the door. Harry stumbled.

"Well?" he demanded. Cocking my head to the side, I handed him the postcard over and watched as he eagerly looked down at the image. Sirius wasn't near the carnival anymore but instead, the image showed us of a rather pretty beach, the waves almost shining in green and blue colors that naturally seemed to mix well with the cloudless sky.

"Snuffles sends his regards," I said, watching him amused. Before I had known he was a wizard, I had met Sirius as a black shaggy dog my roommate had found roaming around Little Whinging and named him Snuffles. The name was no longer necessary but it was a way Harry and I used to refer to him when we didn't want people overhearing us.

Speaking of people, I thought, watching over Harry's shoulder as his aunt stared accusingly at us through her small window. When she caught my gaze, she closed the curtains, but I could still see one blue eye peeking through. Harry had told them his godfather was a mass-murderer and conveniently forgot to mention he was in fact, innocent.

Looking back at Harry, I almost jumped, realizing he was staring at me with brows furrowed.

I crossed my arms self-consciously. "What?"

"What are you wearing?"

Affronted, I looked down at myself and unconsciously crossed my arms. Apart from yellow trousers, I was wearing my usual pair of white old sneakers and a white strapless blouse with the Weird Sisters logo on it.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing! Its just, different I guess."

I looked him in the eye, and said, serious, "Good different or bad different?"

Harry shrugged, impishly. "Good different."

I nodded, pleased. "Good answer, wonder boy. Come on, lets go to Ernie's. Lunch's on me."

Despite its questionable site, Ernie's Dinner was one of the most popular food places in Little Whinging; many did not like it but the most were already used to the tremors caused by the trams. It was Mrs. Logan's appraised cooking that was able to hold up the business.

From all the way over, Harry had argued I didn't have to invite him, that he could actually pay for himself, when all of his money was in Gringotts. I reminded him, pointedly, that he was getting skinnier because of the Dursleys' new diet regimen even though we all (meaning Hermione, Ron and his mom, Hagrid and I) had sent him food. Harry didn't fight again but told me he would repay me. Being familiar with his way of thinking, I didn't doubt him.

As we sat down, a pretty dark-skinned girl with curly hair came and politely asked what we wished to eat. Familiar with the menu, I ordered for both. While we waited, I tapped my hand on the table as Elvis Presley's 'Suspicious Minds' blared from the well-kept jukebox at the corner, lightly humming under my breath. Harry's eyes brightened when the girl returned with two plates of food, one being his favorite, treacle tart. He shot the girl a smile and from where I sat, I could see how her cheeks stained with a small blush, darkening her skin.

I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing; instead, I picked at one of my chips and watched Harry while he ate. His black-jet hair had grown a bit longer but it was still messy as ever; his body had gotten leaner too, and it seemed he had finally caught up with me in stature. (I was still taller by two inches though)

"She likes you," I said, smirking.

Harry didn't bother to ask what I was talking about. "No, she doesn't."

I tilted my head, looking sideways at the girl. "She's glaring at me." I raised my eyebrows.

"So?"

"She's probably dreaming of twisting my neck," I mused, resting my elbow on the table and leaned my chin on my hand.

"I'm dreaming of covering your mouth with duct tape," said Harry.

"Is it hard to believe someone could fancy you?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Oh, you do," I realized. I lowered the chip I was going to eat. "Give me your hand."

Lowering his fork, he eyed me suspiciously, his gaze flickering down at the hand I was shoving up to his face. "Why?"

"Just do it. It won't hurt at all -" I crossed my heart, "- swear."

Harry sighed and admitted defeat by placing his hand on the table. Trying to not shoot him a triumphant grin, I snatched it quickly and began to look at them, smiling through all the process.

"Smile and look up at the bar," I mumbled, from the corner of my mouth. As he did so, I noticed how calloused his hands were, probably from playing Quidditch.

"If looks could kill," said Harry, amusement lacing his voice as he stifled a laugh. I snorted.

"See?" I let go of his hand and took another chip, crushing the small feeling of disappointment when . "It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No, it wasn't," Harry agreed, before he flushed.

I smiled slightly, letting out a small laugh. "Right! So..."

"So..."

Oh good Lord, I didn't even know how to begin. What if I was wrong and was panicking over nothing?!

It was too late to back out: he reached out and hesitantly took my hand. Harry looked concerned.

"Anya, what's wrong?" He was completely fixed on my face, his eyes darting from side to side as he took in the worried expression I wore, the hesitancy to speak. I never hesitated, not so publicly, and he knew. Harry knew I never let anyone see any form of weakness I could have.

"I had a dream," I said, slowly. Harry blinked, startled, and started to withdraw.

"A dream?" he repeated.

I nodded, picking at the chips absently. "Yeah, a dream... it was more like a nightmare, actually. Thing is, it was about," I puffed out my cheeks and looked up at the ceiling.

Harry looked positively alarmed, and leaned closer. "Was it about Voldemort?" he whispered.

I blinked. Without meaning to, my eyes darted up to his forehead and before he could argue, I got closer to him until we were nose to nose. I moved his bangs to the side, revealing his lightning shaped scar; it was red and raw, as if it had bled recently, although I knew it didn't. It never did.

"You dreamed of him too," I breathed, eyes narrowing. "When?" I demanded.

He hesitated. "A few days ago," he said.

"Last night," I barked, without doubt. He didn't deny my words. I drew back and stared at him. He had planned to not tell me anything of it, if I hadn't mentioned it first. "What was it about?" I asked softly, trying to not show how hurt I was.

"It was him and - and Wormtail was there too," said Harry, his eyes shooting from side to side as he watched out for any onlooker. Only the girl from before was still staring. "They talked about someone they had killed - and they were planning to kill... someone," I frowned. He was going to say 'me' but it seemed he didn't want to scare me. "And there -"

"- there was a man," I finished with him. "And he killed him."

Harry rubbed his forehead roughly. "I don't remember the rest," he admitted. I nodded. I knew better than to push him.

"But how come you dreamed of it too?" he said, sounding suspicious. "And exactly in the same moment and the same dream?"

"I really, really don't know. Does it hurt?" I gestured to his scar.

"No."

Meaning yes.

I was worried. It was a thing his scar hurt, but the dreams were another. The last something like this happened we had to face him, alone, and he had almost died - not to mention I got a nasty scar on my head that would never heal completely.

"Have you written to Snuffles about it?" I asked quietly, closing my eyes briefly.

Harry nodded, looking relieved that I wouldn't pester him anymore. "Yes, something like it."

I didn't ask what he meant by that. We both were already too overwhelmed with the conversation, and it looked like it was I who had most of the details. Lucky me.