AN:

Not so exciting, this chapter, but the next is going to be excellently action packed! Blaise will make a return and Remus will make his debut. :D

Hope ya'll enjoy this chapter! Much appreciation to those who have followed and favorited!

Side note: review responses are at the bottom!

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It was late, though Devon didn't know exactly how late because she didn't really care; and she was somewhere in London, though she didn't know exactly where because she didn't really care for that, either. She was aboard the Knight Bus, a mode of Wizard transportation that cost others at the least, eleven sickles, but cost her nothing due to an understanding she had come to with the conductor, Stan, and Ern, the driver – if one could even call what he did 'driving'.

She had spent most of her day tethered to a chair pinned to the wall before the narrow hallway filled with doors harboring those who sought to travel, in a position that let her see the world blur by and keep an ear on the often amusing rapport between driver and conductor.

While there had still been daylight, she had completed the assignments she couldn't otherwise get done at the orphanage in which she lived. Her essay on how 'Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless', and her particularly meddlesome essay on shrinking potions assigned by her Head of House, Professor Snape – Devon wasn't at all ashamed to admit to writing her essay while looking at the notes Lillian had provided for her just a few weeks prior; before everything had gone to hell for her closest friend.

Devon remembered the first time that she had learned, truly learned, about Sirius Black – a Wizard she had heard of vaguely when she first discovered she was a witch and spent weeks digging up any and all things she could find in the Wizarding bookshop found in Hogsmeade. What little she had actually been told had been enough to shock her, both because of the atrocities committed and the shock to her ignorance in regards to one of the biggest points in Wizarding history.

When she had first been placed in Slytherin house upon sorting at the start of her schooling, Devon hadn't paid much mind to Lillian's surname, nor the way in which even fellow Slytherins skirted the pretty, dark-haired girl. Devon had always just assumed Lillian was an orphan, taken in by Draco's father due to an obligation of blood, and since Lillian had always been rather mute on the subject of her patronage, Devon hadn't thought twice about the other girl's origins.

But when news broke out that Sirius Black had escaped? Escaped a prison nobody else had ever escaped before? It became all too real just who Lillian's father was, and where it was her blood came from.

Devon had grown to know and adore Lillian by the other girl's merit alone, and so she would not be swayed by the reputation befit Lillian's father; but upon news of Sirius's escape, news so great that it had even pervaded the Muggle world, Devon feared for her friend's emotional well-being, maybe even her life, depending upon just how dangerous the murderous man truly was.

Devon had spoken so very little to Lillian since the Azkaban escape, merely exchanged a few written words to determine that each were well and that Lillian would be attending school come the first of September as planned and without delay. Devon was ecstatic to know her friend wouldn't be deterred from continuing her education – not that the other witch wasn't smart enough to teach herself far beyond the capacity of any and all of their professors – but hesitant upon her friend's arrival due to the reception she may receive.

Devon was jerked out of her musings by a particularly violent stop by Ern, had plans to return to her thoughts when she heard a familiar, mildly unwelcome, voice.

Rising from her seat, she poked her head out of the open door, peering over Stan's head to find none other than Harry Potter sprawled upon the cement of a dark neighborhood.

"'Choo lookin' at?" Stan questioned.

"There was a big black thing," Harry explained shakily, pointing uncertainly into the gap. "Like a dog... but massive..." Devon scanned the dark streets, found nothing of note.

Harry looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open; with a feeling of unease, when he saw the pimply man's eyes move to the scar on his forehead.

"Woss that on your 'ead?" Asked Stan abruptly, after looking for this supposed beast and finding nothing.

"Nothing," Harry covered quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic started looking for him due to his actions ealier that evening, the last thing he wanted to do was make things easy for them.

"Woss your name?" Stan persisted.

"Neville Longbottom," Harry returned, using the first name that came to mind; though upon the heel of his lie he recognized the girl leaning over Stan's shoulder. "D-Devon?"

"Neville," Devon returned, smirking at the way the boy flushed, eyes wide in fear that she would rat him out; she wouldn't, but he didn't yet know that.

"So — so this bus," He went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, and inhibit Devon from ruining his cover, "Did you say it goes anywhere?"

Devon ducked back into the bus, ignoring the rest of the exchange in favor of returning to her perch; knowing her night just got a tad bit more interesting, especially in regards to the amusing spectacle of watching the 'Boy Who Lived' get tossed around while lying prone on a brass bedstead untethered to the floor of the bus.

It wasn't until Harry got sight of Stan's paper, the front feature being a photo of a deranged, terrifying man, that Devon gave the boy any of her attention.

Harry stared hard at the photo, hard pressed to figure how he knew the man who looked strangely familiar.

"That man!" Harry exclaimed when it finally came to him. "He was on the Muggle news!" Stan turned to the front page and chuckled, Devon stiffened from where she sat, all but forgotten by the Gryffindor hero.

"Sirius Black," Stan agreed, nodding. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville. Where you been?"

At Harry's blank look, Stan snorted and Devon rolled her eyes; how the boy wasn't aware of Sirius Black's deeds, considering the fact that he attended class with Lillian, and that his parents were victims to Black's rage was truly astounding.

Stan, whilst giving a superior sort of chuckle, removed the front page of his paper and handed it to Harry. "You oughta read the papers more, Neville."

Harry ignored the jibe and instead, held the paper to the candlelight lining the bus's walls and read:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, and elbow-length, matted dark hair, looked just like one.

He stared at the photo a little while longer, took note of the glinting metal of his rather startling eyes – startling due the man's otherwise dark features – before he made a connection between face and name. "Lillian."

Devon flinched, had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity, as Harry jerked upwards and gaped at her, ignoring her presence until that point.

Harry thrust the paper towards her, jabbing a finger at the picture, "This is Lillian's father?" The boy demanded, shocked right down to his core; yes, Lillian was a Slytherin, and yes, she had the unfortunate luck to be Draco's cousin, but all of his dealings, and the dealings of those he called friends, with the other girl had been cordial and without cruelty. Harry couldn't fathom the girl who had stuck up for Neville could be born from such a dangerous man.

Devon looked to the photo, unable to help herself even though it gave her chills every time, and in that photo, Devon could see Lillian. She could see her friend in the gaunt and furious visage of a man they labeled the worst of the worst; the black hair, the color of their eyes, the bone of their cheeks. There was no way to deny that Sirius Black, wanted criminal and Azkaban escapee, was father to Lillian, third year Slytherin who had a soft heart for creatures and had taken on a muggleborn Witch as a best friend.

Devon didn't voice her affirmation, but Harry was perceptive enough to not need her verbal response. "He murdered thirteen people!" Maybe it was supposed to be a question, but he was so appalled at the moment that it came across as an affronted announcement. He attended school, had shared words, with the daughter of a crazy lunatic.

"Yep," Said Stan, steering clear from mentioning the Black heir simply because of her undeniable ties to the Malfoy family; caught uttering her name in the wrong company was nearly as bad as uttering the Dark Lord's given name, it just wasn't done if you liked your head upon your shoulders. "In front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," Ern murmured darkly.

"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," Stan went on to explain, seeing it upon himself to educate the rather clueless youth.

"What, Voldemort?" Harry's thoughtless use of the Dark Lord's name cause Devon to roll her eyes, more bothered by the boy's stupidity than by the action itself due to the fact that Lillian had little bother uttering the name either.

"You outta your tree?" Yelped Stan, his pimples white as Ern jerked the steering wheel hard to correct the bus before it hit a farmhouse. "'Choo say 'is name for?"

"Sorry," Harry hastily apologized. "Sorry, I — I forgot —"

"Forgot!" Stan whimpered weakly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast..."

"So — so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?" Harry prompted, eyes flickering between Stan and Devon; he wanted answers from Devon, simply because she was closer to the source, but he would take whatever he could get.

"Yeah," Stan murmured absently, rubbing his frantic chest. "Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say... anyway, when little 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo" — Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again, slanting a look to Devon to beg her silence — "All You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles that got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

"What?" Harry inquired, completely enamored with the horror story he was hearing, didn't even notice Devon's complete discomfort, for Devon knew what came next, and to her, it was the worst part of the whole affair.

"Laughed. Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?" Stan demanded to know.

"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," Said Ern in his slow voice.

"I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you... after what he did..." Stan trailed off.

"And what of his daughter?" Harry gathered the courage to ask, ignoring the sudden glare from Devon, "The paper made no mention of her, but he has one."

"She's underage, Longbottom," Devon defended angrily, "They aren't permitted to utter her name."

"Though she is a suspect," Stan grew bold enough to say, knowing that in present company, he was at no risk of falling to a Malfoy wand. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it unless 'e 'ad 'elp. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"

Ern suddenly shivered. "Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

When Stan abode by Ern's wishes, Harry turned on Devon, who was scowling furiously at nothing in particular at the accusation against Lillian.

"Did she?" Harry demanded of Devon, drawing back at the fury in two-toned eyes as the curly haired girl turned her furious glare upon him.

"Did she what, Harry?" Devon warned, voice a furious whip against the older boy's senses.

"It's just… he's her father, isn't he? If anyone would help, it'd be her." Harry tried to explain himself, he had never truly conversed with Devon before, but as she was Slytherin, and known to accompany Lillian and Draco – well, he had right to be wary.

Devon's eyes narrowed dangerously, "He may be responsible for her blood, Potter, but she was raised by Lord Malfoy." And maybe that would have been a mark against her character anyways, but Devon had seen the way in which Draco's father interacted with Lillian; hadn't ever sensed any ill intentions in regards to their relationship. Devon had, in fact, been pleasantly surprised that very summer in regards to the nature of Lucius – a man she had every right to fear for his distaste towards those impure of blood.

It was just a few weeks into Summer Holiday, and, as Lillian was one of the very few Devon could find confidence in, Devon had spent most of their time together trying to discuss the rather embarrassing topic of puberty.

During the private conversation, Lillian admitted easily enough in counter to Devon's stuttered attempts that she had, in fact, begun the path to womanhood, and, as a result, had become rather volatile in temperament. Lillian had confessed to a handful of instances already that Draco had been forced to lead her away from an altercation before her verbal lashing of those who dared to taunt turned into a physical manifestation of her anger.

It was hours later that found the duo in a utilities shop to purchase the feminine items Devon lacked but Narcissa had provided Lillian willingly enough, that Lucius found them. For a split second, his eyes fell to Devon and softened, aware of the girl's circumstances, and though that softness disappeared within a blink, when Devon and Lillian parted ways, it was with a pound of chocolate each that the girls had not purchased themselves.

Unwilling to address any further accusations against a girl Harry couldn't ever even begin to understand, Devon used her snake tongue to interrogate the other boy instead. "Why are you here, Gryffindor? Why aren't you with your guardians?"

Harry shifted; uncomfortable with the sudden scrutiny befell upon him by the peer he felt as though he had unknowingly angered. His jaw clenched, his temper flaring at the returning memory of his 'Aunts' dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon," She had said over lunch on the third day of her too long visit. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Harry had tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands had begun to shake and his face had started to burn with the force of his anger. He had to keep reminding himself of the form that he needed signed by Vernon if he wished to visit Hogsmeade that year. Don't rise to the bait, he kept telling himself.

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding. You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup —"

At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

Harry had just barely managed to get away with himself there, trying furtively to reign in his temper, to control himself before he not only got denied visitation to Hogsmeade, but also got penalized by the Ministry of Magic for use of underage magic, a criminal offense that could see him expelled from Hogwarts; maybe even see him thrown in Azkaban with the likes of Black.

He kept his calm for days still, but Marge just didn't have it in her to be a decent human being and had thus inspired a reckless rage to overtake Harry, until he had, without meaning to, blown Marge up like a balloon until she was floating on the ceiling, and then willingly pulled his wand on an angry Vernon when he demanded he fix the vile woman and Harry had refused.

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" — she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel- like one "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."

"This Potter," Aunt Marge had proclaimed loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "You never told me what he did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He — didn't work," Uncle Vernon stammered, with half a glance at Harry. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" Aunt Marge pronounced, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —"

"He was not," Harry could take no more. The table went very quiet and Harry was shaking all over; he had never felt so angry in his life.

"MORE BRANDY!" Uncle Vernon yelled, in an attempt to change the subject, "You, boy," He snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on —"

"No, Vernon," Aunt Marge hiccupped, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed upon Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk, I expect —"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" Harry snarled, finding himself on his feet.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little —"

But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger — but the swelling didn't stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech — next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls — she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami...

"I, uh – " Harry began to stutter when he came out of his temper-induced memories.

He was saved from having to gather up a proper response that wouldn't mark him as a criminal, by the bus jerking to a stop on a rather rugged street in downtown London. Looking out the windows, Harry could see vagabonds lingering on stoops and street corners, passed out drunks interspersed between lamp posts and benches, and the a few odd children lingering in front of an archway leading into a massive brick building bare of any comforting welcome.

"Saved by the Knight Bus, Gryffindor," Devon mused, not unkind but nowhere near pleasant as she rose from her seat, shouldering her bag and clapping a hand to Stan's outstretched palm.

Devon lingered on the steps leading to the path before her 'home' before coming to a decision that was remarkably Lillian-like but left Devon herself with a rather foul taste in her mouth, "Gryffindor," Devon's call to attention snapped Harry from his confused state of wondering just why the girl was getting off on such an unsafe street.

"Have care to who overhears your condemnation of Lillian in relation to Sirius. I can name quite a few who would choose to leave you a quivering mess of lion's courage should they catch you." Draco, Blaise, Theodore, and a certain trickster ghost to name a solid few who would take offense to Harry's ignorant condemnation.

Her warning heeded, Devon left Harry in the combined hands of a half-blind bus driver and a conductor ridden with a superiority complex.


Reviews:

Juliedoo: So glad you think so! Expect to see lots more of humanized Lucius! The whole purpose of Lillian's story is to show a different side of the HP verse, a side from Slytherin perspective. Everyone's still just as bad, as criminal as normal, but there's a humanity to them that wasn't present in HP. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Random Geeky Girl: Thank you! I'm so glad you like the relationship between the Malfoys and Lillian. I feel like it's out of the norm, and I know it can so easily be poorly received if characters don't meet a certain image. There will be plenty of affects brought upon her due to her Father's escape, so expect to see lots of it. :)

xXMizz Alec VolturiXx: Thank you!

FullMoonOnTheWater: I'm glad he's being so well-received. I knew there was a risk making him seem more human. Expect to see lots of them! :D

Unknownher: I love your review! haha. I'm only as amazing as my readers, so thank you so much! I myself wasn't that huge of a fan of Lucius before I started writing this arc, but I've grown to really love him as a character, and as a Father to Lillian and Draco.

Guest 1: Woot woot! Screams are good. haha. I'm so glad you like it! I hope you continue to like it!

Guest 2: Thank you! It really means a lot to know you're so favorable to this story, even Lillian's older stories. :)

Lililan1Fan4Ever: It is here! And thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! It is sad that he seems to care more for Harry, but there's a reason she's been made to interact with him the way she has. And trust me, their interactions along the way will most definitely be wrought with emotion. Hope this chapter didn't disappoint, I have a feeling you'll love the next few. ;)

Long Live Marshmallows: Thank you! I needed Bellatrix to not be there for when Lillian discovered the cells. haha. And no worries, Bellatrix doesn't escape until she's broken out a few novels from now. :D Haha! I love re-reading things, and knowing that you're willing to re-read Lillian's stories makes me so happy, because then I know I've done a good job. :D


Have a great weekend!

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