Diary of a Discovered Girl
by Ash-Caro-Lynn
Chapter II : Of Dementors and Demons
"No, not my babies! You can take me instead... but don't hurt my babies!"
"Step aside, foolish girl! Avada Kedavra!"
Screaming… a shrill, hoarse scream…
...green light… a flash of green light… another… brightness and then darkness… darkness…
"Willow!" More screaming… more panicking… "Willow!"
Shaking, and then light.
"Willow!" I jumped suddenly, sitting upright as I frantically looked around the compartment, soon realizing that my vision – if one could call it that – was over, and I was looking at the worried faces of Neville, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and the professor from earlier, who held a ball of blue flames in his hand and had awoken.
"What happened?" I queried, looking confusedly around the compartment.
This time, at least, my question was answerable. "Dementors," answered the professor. "They're on the train looking for Sirius Black."
"Sirius Black?" I repeated. "Why would he be on the train? Last I checked, escaped murderers didn't board train rides with teenagers."
"That's what I just went to check," he replied, pulling out a bar of chocolate from his robe pocket. Before I could ask him why in the blazes he had chocolate (and how it hadn't melted while he was sitting on it), he broke off a rather large piece, offering it to me. "It'll help you feel better."
"And so I am once again proven right in saying that girls aren't the only ones who love chocolate," I mumbled to Harry, affectionately mussing his already messy hair as I bit into it. "So, what happened?"
"You just asked that," muttered Harry, rolling his eyes. "Well, apparently you and I both-"
"Fainted?" I finished for him. "And did you hear the-"
"Screaming?" he finished for me. "Yeah."
"That's scary," mumbled Ron – ah, Ron! I hadn't even noticed the youngest Weasley boy… well, I had, but I hadn't acknowledged him.
"What is, young Weasley?" I asked teasingly. "The fact that I can finish his sentences and he mine? Or fainting? Or hearing screaming?"
"Bloody hell, she's still insufferable," he muttered to Harry, who laughed as I smacked the two of them upside the head.
"Wow, this chocolate stuff really does help," I mumbled, holding out the little piece I had left and gazing at it with a look of wonder. "Thanks, Moony."
Hermione and Ginny looked bewildered, Ron hadn't even noticed, Harry and Neville shared a look that screamed, 'Girls are crazy,' but it was nothing compared to the utter shock on Professor Lupin's face.
Truthfully, I had absolutely no clue where the word had come from, but it had slipped from my tongue almost naturally. I immediately started to apologize, but Lupin held up a hand to stop me.
"That's… quite alright," he mumbled, making Hermione and I share a look similar to the one Harry and Neville had, except that we were both thinking along the lines of, 'Professors are crazy.' "Don't apologize, Ho- Willow."
Was it just me, or had he been about to say Holly? I shook my head to clear it, though the confusion remained.
Who was he?
"Finally!" I cried dramatically as the train drew once more to a stop, this time after a much longer ride (made rather awkward due to the fact that there was a mystery professor in our compartment barring us from doing normal things like reading and discussing without feeling uncomfortable). "Come out into the corridor with me, Harry, love."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at me, mouthing, 'Love?' I rolled my eyes, making a mental note to give her a talking-to.
But not now. Now, I needed to talk to my brother.
"Was it just me?" he asked after I had closed the door behind us. "Or did he-"
"Try and call me Holly?" I finished for him. "Yep. And did he seem-"
"To recognize the name Moony?" Harry nodded. "Yeah. Do you reckon-"
"He knew our parents?" we finished together breathlessly.
"But how can we get confirmation?" I asked, tilting my head to the side to ponder this. "Granted, this could all be a coincidence, in which case divulging the secret of my identity seems like a fool's move."
"And while it would be best if I talked to him given the circumstances, you're better with your words," added Harry, continuing my train of thought. Odd how we do that sometimes, I think.
"Would we do it casually? Or make a big deal out of it?" Before we could sustain our conversation, the compartment door slid open behind us, and the other students started to file out, including Hermione and Neville, the latter of which begrudgingly pressed two Sickles – that is, the silver coin of our magical currency system (twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a silver Sickle, and seventeen silver Sickles to a gold Galleon) – into her hand. I raised an eyebrow, making yet another mental note to give her a talking-to. Sharing a secret awesome twin glance with my brother that we both understood, we followed the streamflow of students slowly trickling down the corridor and off the train.
"We're third years now, Harry," I whispered, nudging him as he looked around Hogsmeade, the small village that the Hogwarts Express had pulled into. "We're going to get to visit here!"
"Er – yeah, about that," he whispered back. I gasped dramatically.
"You didn't get your permission slip signed?" I hissed. "I mean, I know you blew up our aunt like a balloon and everything, but really? No permission slip?"
He shrugged. "That night was sort of the test – if I could get through one final dinner with her, and not cause any 'funny business,' as Uncle Vernon refers to it, then he'd sign my permission slip… and obviously, that didn't happen." He frowned, looking at me. "Say, did you get yours signed?"
"Nope," I replied. "Who would've signed it, anyway? But… well, I probably should have brought this up later..." I opened my book bag slightly, revealing a shimmery silver fabric that made him gasp.
"You still have that?" I grinned sheepishly.
"It always seems to come in handy."
See, Harry was the proud owner of what most of the rest of the wizarding world refers to as an 'Invisibility Cloak,' and what I refer to as 'The Superbly Super Shawl of Stealth' (an alliterative title that my now-thirteen-year-old self had only just managed to come up with). He had apparently inherited it from our father, and it had helped us on many ventures, breaking even more rules than we would be if we used it to sneak into Hogsmeade – the wizarding village that Hogwarts students in their third year and above were allowed to visit twice each month.
That is, if they had gotten their permission slips signed by a parent or guardian. Harry living with the Dursleys, and myself at Hogwarts under the alias of Willow Leavitt, had not gotten ours signed.
Meaning that the time had come once again for Serena the Superbly Superb Shawl of Stealth – what? It's not like I'm the only one who names their brother's clothing… alright, maybe I am – to prove herself (itself?) and for me to once again thank all of my lucky stars (and some of the unlucky ones as well) for my father descending from the awesome line of Potters and getting Serena – then simply 'the Invisibility Cloak' – from his own father.
Well, that's my assumption, at least.
We boarded the magical carriages that would haul us to school – that is, the carriages pulled by invisible horses – and Neville, Ginny, Hermione, Harry and I squished into one of the coaches only intended for four.
Needless to say, it was a bit crowded, but we finally managed, though I was practically on my brother's lap – a fact that neither of us really noticed, but Hermione was quick to pick up on, raising an eyebrow as she smirked at me.
For the third time, I made a mental note to give her a talking-to.
"SLYTHERIN!" roared the Sorting Hat, and Blair Winchester made her way over to the table on the far left.
See, Hogwarts was divided into four houses – Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin – and first years were sorted by a magical piece of enchanted clothing that would decided which they belonged to by looking into their heads and seeing their thoughts, personality traits and inner selves.
I had been sorted into Gryffindor (where dwell the brave at heart), along with my brother, Hermione, Neville, and all seven Weasleys.
We currently sat at the table decorated with red and gold hangings, and I let out a loud cheer as food suddenly appeared on the table by magic and we were all finally free to tuck in.
My being 'starvished' earlier was nothing compared to the vicious, clawing monster that was my stomach in that moment.
"Honestly, Willow, you eat like a Weasley," commented Hermione, rolling her eyes at my rapid consumption rate.
"'Ut's 'at 'pose t'me?" mumbled Ron through a mouthful of food. Hermione and I shared similar looks of revulsion, and he swallowed, repeating, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that she believes that I eat at a speed that leads one to wonder whether I am actually chewing and swallowing my food or simply inhaling it directly into my lungs and somehow managing not to have a choking fit," I answered for her. "And by the way, Hermione, that's absolutely not true. First of all, I'm not eating quite that much, and second of all, not all Weasleys eat like Ron."
My gaze flickered pointedly towards the Weasley twins, and then Ginny (all three of whom were eating like they were perfectly normal, thank you very much), before finally resting back on my plate as I continued to stuff my face.
Ahem. I meant to say dine.
After we had all eaten our share of both dinner and dessert, the students were at last dismissed, yawning and more than ready for bed.
Well, at least in my case. Hermione, on the other hand, was still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Only metaphorically speaking in the case of being bushy-tailed, of course, but this was not the case for her cat. The fat ginger cat with a squashed face was her new pride and joy, but I loathed 'Crookshanks.'
Yes. The vile thing had a vile name.
"I'm not sharing a dormitory with that thing," I declared after we had tiredly dragged our feet up to Gryffindor Tower (why they decided to put us in a bloody tower I still couldn't fathom). Hermione scowled.
"He's not a thing," she argued, "he's an animal, and he's not bad at all."
"I'm still not sharing a dormitory with him," I replied stubbornly.
"He'll probably be out most of the night hunting," tried Hermione. I simply shook my head.
"Y'know what? Don't worry about it." I grinned, finishing buttoning my pyjama shirt. "I'm going to sleep in the common room. There's a particularly comfy sofa down there."
Before she could protest, I had closed the door of the dormitory behind me, somehow managing to make it down the stairs in my tired state, though my falling asleep when I curled up on the couch was no surprise.