Chapter 16: Flight of the Hippogriff

What a (relatively) quick update! I've been busting my tail to get this down for you guys, and I'm especially excited that I got to update on today, the most important day of the year...Fred and George's Birthday!

I hope you like the chapter! Let me know what you think in a review!

I barely made it down the first flight of stairs before I realized that I didn't know where to begin looking for Dumbledore. I glanced down at my watch, but it was too dark to see. I fumbled for my wand, which was poking out of my bag.

"Lumos!" I muttered. The light was bright enough to see the face of my watch. It was nearly midnight. Where would Dumbledore be at this hour?

The most reasonable answer was his office, so I took off again, only to stop at the top of stairs as several of the portraits cried out.

"Put that light out, would you?" a wizened old monk pleaded. "We're trying to sleep!"

"Sorry!" I hissed. "Nox!"

"Thank you," he mumbled as I started down the stairs again.

By the time I reached the second floor and the ugly gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office, I was out of breath and hoping to heaven that I had made the right choice in coming here first.

"I need...to see...Dumbledore!" I gasped, clutching a stitch in my side.

The gargoyle remained impassive. I groaned and raked my fingers through my hair, which had come loose from its plait somewhere during my flight from the sixth floor.

"Look," I sighed, moving closer and tapping the badge on the front of my shirt. "I'm a prefect, okay? And this is really important. An emergency. If it wasn't, I wouldn't have run down four flights of stairs! So would you please, please move so that I can see Professor Dumbledore?"

The gargoyle groaned suddenly, glaring at me as though I'd woken it up.

"The headmaster isn't here," it said, its voice low and scratchy.

"Not here?" I repeated, noticing that a thread of hysteria had found its way into my voice. "Where is he?"

But the gargoyle had frozen again, so stiff that I couldn't believe it had ever spoken. I considered kicking it, but before I could actually do it, a voice called to me from down the corridor.

"Miss! Over here!"

It was a painting of a peaky witch with long dark hair and purple robes. Her eyes were wide as she beckoned me to her with a frantic wave of her hand.

"Did you say you were looking for Dumbledore?" she asked when I was standing before her.

"Yes!" I cried exasperatedly. "That's all I've been saying!"

She raised her eyebrows indignantly. "Well, there's no need for rudeness! He walked through here a bit ago."

"Do you know where he was going?" I asked.

"Well, I can't be sure, but I thought he said something about the hospital wing."

I frowned. "Who was he talking to?"

She gave a tinkling laugh, like the sound of clattering china. "Who else, my dear, but himself? That man has more interesting conversations with himself than most of the inhabitants of this place."

"But you're sure he said the hospital wing?" I pressed.

"Of course I'm sure!" she said, looking affronted.

"Thank you!" I sighed, moving toward the stairs, walking backwards. "And I'm sorry!"

She just shook her head exasperatedly and waved me on.

Thank Merlin, the hospital wing was only one floor below Dumbledore's office. I hovered outside the door, not sure if he was still inside. I was made even more uncertain by the fact that there were raised voices coming from inside. The words were indistinct, but I recognized Professor Snape's voice, along with Dumbledore's and another I didn't know. Snape's voice grew in volume, and I had just enough time to get out of the way before the doors opened with a bang and Snape strode out of the hospital wing with a bang, fury etched into every line of his face. He stared at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, but before either of us could say anything, he was followed into the corridor by Professor Dumbledore and none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. My eyes widened at the sight of him and I momentarily forgot my reason for being there. I had never seen him in person, only in pictures in The Daily Prophet. He was a heavily-built man and there was a lime green bowler hat spinning in his hands. He wore a starched pinstriped cloak and had the look of someone who wanted to seem as important as he possibly could.

"Alyssa?"

I tore my gaze away from Fudge to look at Dumbledore, who was watching me with mild surprise. I shook my head quickly to clear it.

"Sir, I've just-"

"Who's this?" Fudge asked, looking curious.

"Alyssa Summers," I said impatiently, ignoring the voice in my head that was reprimanding me for my rudeness. It sounded suspiciously like my mother. "Professor Dumbledore, I have to tell you-"

"I'm afraid it will have to wait a moment, Alyssa," he said. "Why don't you wait for me in my office?"

"But, sir!" I protested. "This is really-"

"Alyssa." He looked at me down his long, crooked nose, the twinkle in his eye buried very deep. "Go up to my office. I'll be there in a moment. The password is 'Fudge Flies.' Feel free to make yourself comfortable until I get there."

I frowned, but turned and headed for the stairs again. At the top, I turned to glance back at him. The three men were still watching me. Dumbledore made a shooing motion and I turned around, not bothering to protest again.

"Did you find him?" the portrait of the witch called as I approached.

I shrugged by way of answer, making her scoff. I didn't stop to explain anything. I was too busy wondering what had just happened. Why hadn't he wanted me to say anything? I would've thought that the Minister, of all people, should hear about what I'd seen.

"You're back, are you?" the gargoyle said grumpily as I said the password. He moved aside and I stepped onto the moving staircase, the wall closing behind me. I was too lost in my thoughts to be awed by the office this time. Fawkes let out a musical cry as I entered, soaring over to the desk in front of me. I sat, absently stroking his feathers as I let my mind wander over what had happened, recalling the image of the hippogriff and the man silhouetted against the moon.

'Excuse me, my dear." One of the paintings behind the desk addressed me, causing me to look up. It was the portrait of a clever-looking wizard, with dark eyes and a pointed beard.

"Yes?" I said tiredly.

"I seem to have heard a rumor that you're related to the infamous Sirius Black," he said, his voice snide and oily. "Would there happen to be any truth to that?"

I leaned forward in my chair, putting my elbows on my knees. "Why, exactly, would a portrait be interested in my family tree?"

He smirked at me. "Like you said, child. I am a portrait. I have nothing better to do."

"That will do, Phineas."

I turned sharply at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. He was standing just inside the door, looking tired. Silently, he crossed the room to sit behind his desk, looking perfectly relaxed. He interlaced his fingers and met my eyes.

"I believe you had something to tell me?" he said calmly.

"Yes, sir," I nodded quickly. "You see, I was patrolling the sixth floor, and I'd been up there for a while, and I was looking out the window, and there was this big shadow, and-" Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware that I was rambling, but I couldn't make myself stop. "-I looked and there was this hippogriff flying away from the castle, and when I looked closer...sir, there was a man on its back. And then...I came to find you," I finished lamely.

I watched Dumbledore as he nodded, more to himself than to me. His eyes seemed far away, as though he was thinking about something else. Finally, he spoke.
"Alyssa, that man you saw was Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black?"

He held up a hand. "And he is an innocent man."

I opened my mouth, but he shook his head. "Before you say anything, know that what I have told you must stay between us. I tell you this because you carry a great weight on your shoulders, feeling connected to someone who has done something so evil. But you needn't bear it. He is innocent."

"But," I said, my voice shaking. "If he didn't kill anybody, why was he sent to Azkaban? Why didn't anyone get him released? And if he didn't kill anybody, how did all those people die?"

"So many questions," he smiled. "And someday, you will get the answers. For now, though, all I will say is that he was falsely accused of a crime he did not commit."

"Why can't you tell me now?" I persisted.

He chuckled. "It isn't my story to tell, I'm afraid. But I promise, someday you'll know the whole truth."

I nodded reluctantly. Then something occurred to me. "My mother should know. She's been so worried about him, even before he escaped Azkaban."

Dumbledore nodded, his bright blue eyes beaming at me. "Consider my owl written. But I shall warn her, as I have warned you, that this must stay a secret. You are to tell nobody. Not even your best friend. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Sensing that my audience with the headmaster was coming to a close, I stood and moved toward the door. I found myself pausing with my hand on the doorknob.

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked gently. "Is there something else?"

"Only one more thing," I said. "Someone should tell Harry. He should know."

This time, he did smile, and not just with his eyes. "He already does. Goodnight, Alyssa."

"He..." I stopped myself. "Goodnight, sir."

The following day, the school was buzzing with news that Sirius Black had been captured and managed to escape yet again. The story was made even more incredible by the fact that the dementors had actually had him in their grasp this time, and somehow, he had disappeared, into thin air, the first-years were saying.

"Maybe he Disapparated," Megan mused, idly turning a page of her book.

Samantha snorted. "Don't be silly. Everyone knows that you can't Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds."

We were sitting in the corner of the Ravenclaw library, which was filled with clusters of students, talking excitedly in hushed voices.

"Well, maybe it's some kind of Dark magic!" Megan argued. "What do you think, 'Lyssa? How'd Black do it?"

"How should I know?" I frowned, not glancing up from my book.

"I just wondered if you had some sort of theory," she said quickly. "You're usually really good with this sort of thing. I didn't mean that you-"

"I know," I said, cutting her off. I closed my book, marking my place with my thumb between the pages. "But no, I don't have any theories this time. I don't know how anyone could escape those dementors."

The mere thought of them made my blood run cold. How had Black ever managed to escape from Azkaban, surrounded by those creatures day and night?

"Dementors must have some weakness," I mused. "Nothing's totally invincible." A thought occurred to me. "I bet Professor Lupin would know. He knows a lot about Dark creatures."

Samantha raised an eyebrow. "Well, you won't have a chance to ask him. He's leaving."

My book fell from my hand to the floor with a loud thud, earning me dirty looks from the nearby Ravenclaws. I grimaced apologetically before turning back to Samantha.

"What do you mean, 'he's leaving?'" I hissed.

"Exactly that. He's not going to teach here anymore," she frowned, looking at me as though I was a bit slow. "I heard that he's started packing after breakfast. I don't blame him, not after what got out this morning."

"What got out?" I demanded. "I wasn't there, remember?"

With my mind exhausted by the previous night's events but buzzing with questions, I hadn't gotten to sleep until the early hours of the morning and had therefore slept straight through breakfast.

Samantha and Megan exchanged uneasy glances. Then Megan sighed. "'Lyssa, he's a werewolf."

"So what?" I frowned, much to their surprise. "Who cares what he is? Look at everything he taught us! My grades improved so much this year!"

"Your grades?" Megan asked incredulously. She reached across the table and put her hands on my shoulders. "Alyssa, listen to me. He's a werewolf. He's dangerous!"

I shrugged her hands away and got to my feet. "You never would have guessed that he was a werewolf until this morning. Does that really have such a huge influence on what you think of him?"

I snatched up my book and turned on my heel.

"Where are you going?" Megan sighed.

"To find Professor Lupin," I called over my shoulder. "Someone has to convince him to stay."

And with that, I strode out of the library before she could call me back. I had a vague sense of déjà vu as I marched down flight after flight of stairs. This time, however, I wasn't quite sure where I was going. I only knew that I had to find Professor Lupin before he left. I wasn't sure if he'd be in his office, or perhaps in the staff room, or even Dumbledore's office. I spent a few minutes hovering uncertainly, one of my feet poised above the next step, but not touching it as I tried to decide where to go. In the end, I decided that it would be best to wait for him on the front steps, as he'd have to come that way eventually. I made my way out the front doors and settled myself on the bottom step. A horseless carriage was waiting there, obviously for Professor Lupin. I could see across the grounds from there, everything from the lake to the Forbidden Forest. I amused myself by watching the first-years by the lake, standing frozen in place as the giant squid propelled itself lazily across the surface of the water. I could remember being that awed the first time I'd seen it. I had yet to work out where it had come from, and why it was in the lake at all.

"Hagrid put it there, probably," Megan had joked the first time I'd asked her opinion about it. Megan... I felt a twinge of guilt as I thought of how I'd snapped at her. It wasn't her fault, really. People were generally wary of werewolves, and they did have good reason. But Professor Lupin wasn't an evil monster who attacked helpless people. He was just a man, who happened to have a problem. It wasn't as though he'd chosen this.

Suddenly, as though my thoughts had conjured him up, Lupin himself appeared at the top of the steps, carrying an empty tank under one arm, holding a suitcase that looked as if it had been around the world twice in his free hand. I heard his footsteps and turned, scrambling to my feet.

"Professor!"

He smiled, albeit tiredly, setting the tank and the suitcase down. "Hello, Alyssa. What can I do for you?"

"You can stay," I said firmly. "You don't have to leave just because you're a...a..." The word stuck in my throat, refusing to make itself heard.

"Werewolf," he supplied. "I can't change that. And I'd forgotten how dangerous that can be. I had a very close call last night. People could have gotten hurt. I can't risk that again."

"But...isn't there any way you can...?" He was already shaking his head.

"It's all right," he said gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I'll be fine."

I could feel my throat tightening, a telltale sign that I was about to cry. I shook my head quickly, determined not to burst into tears.

"Well...be careful," I said, my voice thick. "I still wish you wouldn't leave."

"Trust me," he sighed. "I'm sorry to have to go. I've enjoyed teaching you all this year."

"You're the only competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I've had," I admitted. "I think I might've gotten an 'O' on my O.W.L."

"That's good," he smiled. "You've worked hard."

I nodded, finding myself unable to speak again. He waited another moment, then gave my shoulder a squeeze and picked up his worn suitcase and the empty tank again. He put them inside the carriage and started to climb in himself.

"Professor Lupin?" I said quickly.

He turned. "Yes?"

"...Thank you."

He chuckled. "You're welcome, Alyssa. I'm sure I'll see you again. Take care of yourself."

With one last smile, he climbed into the carriage and shut the door. Immediately, the carriage started to move away. I sighed and turned, climbing the stairs and heading back inside.

"'Lyssa!"

I jumped sharply as George called my name. He had somehow walked over and sat next to me without my noticing.

"Where are you?" he chuckled. "I said your name four times."

I frowned. "No, you didn't...did you?" He nodded smugly. I sighed. "Well, why are you here?"

"Grumpy," he muttered, poking my side. "I was wondering what you were doing. You've been sitting here with that book in your hands, staring at the lake for the past fifteen minutes."

I glanced down at my journal and groaned. I had come outside with the intention of writing in it, but apparently, I had only succeeded in getting so distracted that I'd left a giant ink blot on the page. I tapped the page with my wand and the mess disappeared. I closed the journal, fixing my eyes on the tree painted on the cover.

"Sorry," I sighed. "I've just been feeling kind of off lately."

"I can tell," George grinned, stripping off his socks and shoes and sticking his feet in the edge of the water, next to mine. "Elena's looking for you, by the way."

"Why isn't she here, then?" I asked.

"We split up to make the search easier," he said teasingly. "She's probably checking the library for you."

"How'd you know I'd be out here?"

"I didn't," he said, shrugging easily. "But I got bored looking for you in every empty classroom and broom cupboard I came upon. So I came out here to take a well-deserved break."

"How flattering," I sighed.

He laughed, then nudged me. "Elena wanted me to make sure that you were all right if I found you."

"Why wouldn't I be all right?" I asked, screwing the lid back on my ink bottle.

"Because you've been acting weird," he stated simply. "You've been quiet. Agreeable. Easy to be around. I'm starting to wonder if you're ill." I elbowed him in the ribs sharply, driving the air from his lungs. He gasped, glaring at me and rubbing his side.

"I'm telling Elena," he informed me, as though that was supposed to worry me.

"She'll just say that you probably deserved it," I told him. "Which you did."

He sighed. We didn't say anything for several minutes, but just when I was starting to feel comfortable in the silence, he spoke up again.

"Has anybody been harassing you about Sirius Black again?" he asked. "Because if you just give me names, they'll all find themselves with itching powder in their underwear."

"My hero," I snorted, fluttering my eyelashes dramatically. "As much as I'd like to see how you plan to go about that, no one's said anything about it. Either they're all starting to forget about it, or they're worried that I'll have Black murder them if they accuse me of anything. I can't decide which."

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Is this about Professor Lupin leaving?" he asked. "I know you liked him. We all did. It's stupid that he had to go."

"Are you just determined to hear about whatever's upsetting me?" I demanded.

"Ah ha!" he cried loudly, making me jump again. "So something is upsetting you!"

"Oh, aren't you the clever one?" I mumbled. "Maybe something is. But it doesn't matter. I'm fine."

"What kind of friend would I be if I let you get away with that?" he asked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought you knew me better than that. I'm not leaving until you spill your guts."

"What a charming image," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"Have you and Fred been arguing again?" he asked abruptly.

I froze. "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged, looking uneasy. "Dunno, it's just...well, he's been saying things. To me and Lee."

"Things?" I frowned. "What, about me?"

"Er...yeah," he admitted. "Not particularly nice things."

I felt a sharp stab in my chest. I had to stop myself from visibly wincing.

"What's he been saying?" I asked, hoping I sounded casual.

"He's been..." He stopped, looking hesitant.

I raised my eyebrows. "Go on."

"He's been...Well, he's been saying that you fancy him," he said reluctantly. "Among some other stuff."

"What?!" I cried, standing so quickly that upturned the ink bottle sitting next to me.

George jumped up too, making a placating gesture. "He's just messing around, Alyssa, he doesn't mean anything by i-"

"Oh yes, he does," I said furiously. "He always means it. Why is he – do you know he-?" I closed my mouth quickly, wondering if I should go on.

"Do I know he what?" George asked curiously.

I made up my mind. "Do you know he studied for his O.W.L.s? In secret?"

George's ears went bright red. "How did you know – I mean, who told you that?"

I came to a realization as I watched his cheeks turn pink; George had studied, too.

"I just...That's not important," I decided. "But I'm not – I don't fancy – He's the one that..." As much as I wanted to, I couldn't make the words swirling around in my mind form on my tongue. I gave up, throwing my hands up in defeat.

"It doesn't matter," I sighed, bending to stuff my journal and ink back into my bag.

"He's the one that...?" George prompted.

I shook my head, pulling my socks and shoes back on. "It doesn't matter. Never mind. I'm going to go find 'Lena so that she can stop hunting for me."

I started back toward the castle, George following after, hobbling as he tried to put his shoes on and walk at the same time.

"'Lyssa," he said once he was finished, panting slightly. "Don't say anything to Fred about what I told you, all right? Like I said, he didn't mean anything by it."

I ignored him, taking longer strides as I continued walking. I had nearly made it up to the castle before I heard it.

"Promise me, Princess!"

I froze mid-step, turning slowly to face him. He was a ways behind me, but I could see his sheepish grin as he caught up with me.

I sighed. "I won't say anything to him. I promise."

"There's a 'but' in there somewhere, isn't there?" he smirked.

"But...don't ever call me Princess again."

He put his hands in his pockets, chuckling. "All right, then."

I worked up a smile, then started to turn away, only to hesitate.

"George?" I said. "One more thing."

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

I grimaced. "Do me a favor...and don't tell Fred that I got upset about what you told me. Please?"

He didn't respond right away, but the look he gave me was so full of pity that I found myself walking away, not bothering to wait for his answer. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.