Diary of a Discovered Girl
by Ash-Caro-Lynn

Chapter VII : Of Maps and Mystery

Harry had been taking the news of Sirius Black being his godfather rather hard, if his attitude was anything to go by.

Not Ron, nor Hermione, nor even I had been able to slip past the defense he had put up after that day in Hogsmeade.

And so, to monitor him, I had taken to stalking him throughout the corridors – made easier by the fact that we shared all of the classes he was taking, but harder by the fact that after every class I had to go back in time to attend the other one or two.

But I was able to pinpoint when exactly he would go down to dinner, to classes, and where he would hang out after them...

What? It's not that creepy to stalk your twin brother, is it?

When we were separated, however, we were weak. When apart, our strength fell – as odd as it sounded, we had grown rather close, and the barrier he had put up between himself and the rest of the world was also starting to take a toll on how protected we were.

I had walked with him almost everywhere before – to Quidditch practices, to classes, to lunch... and I had always had another person to grant protection against... well, everything.

So I was worried when I walked out alone to Hagrid's hut one day, weary with the Time Turner hanging heavily around my neck, and unable to fight the Dementors that lurked on the outside of the grounds.

My worry only grew when I heard something that sounded like a foghorn from within the small wooden shack.

"Hagrid?" I called out, putting my ear up to the door. Hearing no response, I knocked quickly, my panic growing when I didn't hear Fang – Hagrid's boarhound – barking at the door, as he usually did when I came to visit.

"Who's there?" I heard Hagrid's voice shout. Good, he isn't dead.

"It's Willow!" I answered. He opened the door.

"Come in, then," he said, and I frowned. His face was stained with tears, and he held a giant handkerchief that looked more like a beach towel.

"What happened?" I asked, hesitantly taking a seat on one of the chairs.

"It's awful," he replied, sitting down and sliding an envelope across the table to me. I frowned, quickly reading it, my eyes widening with horror as I neared the end.

"They're – they've sentenced him to death?" I gasped out. "For attacking a student? They – they can't do that, can they? They can't sentence a Hippogriff to death, Malfoy provoked him!"

"Try tellin' tha' ter Lucius Malfoy," replied Hagrid sadly. "He's one of the school governors, yeh know, and wouldn' put up with a hippogriff that hurt 'is son."

"It's horrible," I mumbled. "Inhumane, simply awful. That'd be... like putting Fang to death for biting me if I stuck my finger in his mouth!" I looked back to the letter. "Well, at least you've got until April to give him the best last months a hippogriff could ask for, right?"

He sniffled, giving me a sad smile. "Yeh're right," he replied, taking the letter back. "At least 'e'll get to live as a free 'ippogriff while 'e can..."

I got up to leave, and he opened the door for me. Before I left, I engulfed him in a hug – well, actually, he engulfed me, seeing as he was a half giant.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "It'll be alright, Hagrid."

And so I left with a heavy heart, thoroughly exhausted, emotionally and physically.

"Dementors are creepy," I mumbled to myself, walking back to the castle alone and regarding them with caution. "Their cloaks are, like, black and engulfing and tattered and they're just so... well, I sound like an idiot now, so I probably shouldn't finish that sentence."

I stopped in my tracks, not out of any real necessity like being about to bump into someone or hearing an odd noise, but simply because I felt like sitting down.

At least twenty feet away from the Dementors, obviously, but let it be said that I did, in fact, sit down.

The crisp wintry air chilled me, even through my thick Gryffindor scarf and gloves (which they actually gave Gryffindors in their first year for free. I mean, like, honestly. I hear that the Ravenclaws have to buy them. Talk about lion pride... heh, get it, 'cause a group of lions is called a pride?). It was midway through December already, and after Hallowe'en, most students weren't out of doors except during classes.

Both due to the fact that there were giant, scary Dementors and due to the fact that some of them believed Sirius Black might try and kill them.

Rubbish, if you ask me.

It was as I sat out on the grounds, alone and watching the Dementors with a mixed sense of curiosity and fear, that I was approached by a large dog.

I raised an eyebrow at the creature, reaching out to it cautiously. It woofed tamely, nudging me with its nose. I laughed.

"Aw, you're such a cutie," I cooed.

Well, maybe 'cutie' wasn't the best of ways to describe a giant dog, but at the time my dictionary of better words was inaccessible due to the general awesomeness that is dogs.

I liked dogs, really, I did. I had only really ever encountered three – there was Hagrid's boarhound, Fang; Hagrid's giant and much less pleasant three-headed dog, Fluffy; and the one wagging its tail as I petted it now – and the wonder of experiencing animals had been new to me at first with Fang and had somehow never ceased to bring a smile to my face.

Well, I guess that's what happens when you live a sheltered life.

I looked from the Dementors to the dog now sitting beside me. "They affect animals too, don't they?" I mumbled almost inaudibly. The dog nodded – well, that was what it seemed like. "That must suck. I mean, it's not like they're meant to scare anyone but Sirius Black, and you're not him, are you?" I laughed slightly. Here I was, talking to a dog. "You look familiar..." I muttered, examining the dog further. "That's odd... 'cause I'm sure I'd remember you if I had seen you before. I've only seen, like, two other dogs before now."

I shook my head. My mind must have been playing tricks on me. The dog tilted its head, and in my slightly less rational mind hindered by thoughts of dogs, I could have sworn it was curious.

"I'd tell you more about it," I said, sighing as I looked out onto the Black Lake that surrounded Hogwarts like a moat. "But, you know, in every story - and I would know, I mean, like, I've read quite a few - where someone ends up talking to a dog, or an inanimate object someone else overhears the conversation or the dog turns out to actually be a person and that's not a plot device I'd really like whoever is recording my life to use. "

The dog laid down its head on my leg, seemingly sad over the fact – though again, it was a dog, not a person – and I sighed.

"I don't know how, or why, but I do know you from somewhere," I declared. "Well, I'm going back up to the castle now... see you around, doggie."

The dog whined, but took its head off of my lap as I got up, brushing dirt off my robes and pulling my gloves back on – I had taken them off when I sat down. The dog tilted its head to the side again, and (my rational thoughts still impaired by doggy presence) I somehow read pride in its eyes.

I laughed. "Yep, I'm a Gryffindor," I declared with a smile. "Lion pride, you know... ah, never mind, dogs don't understand puns."

But for some reason, some how, it seemed to.

Odd.

"Woof!"

"Pafoo'!"

"Sirius, mate, you're going to bring your mangy fleas in here and give my children a cold."

"I'll have you know that I am perfectly clean, thank you very much, James."

"I highly doubt that for some reason, Sirius."

"Ah, Lily, you never fail to make me feel loved."

"That's my wife you're talking about there..."

"Have a holly, jolly Christmas," I sang under my breath, sighing as I dragged my feet through the thick snow.

Harry had finally started to open up again, it having been almost a month since he had started to shut down, so to speak.

And he and I were the only Gryffindor first years that had chosen to stay behind for the holidays.

But still, he and I didn't go everywhere together like we used to.

"There's lots of snow, that you can throw, so have a cup of cheer..." I frowned. My parody was making absolutely no sense.

Then again, I hadn't been making much sense recently.

The dream journal I had been keeping for Trelawney had previously been filled with a bunch of rubbish that I made up, but now I was plagued by memories almost every time I slept.

The same ones, and another, featuring a dog almost identical to the one I had sat down to talk to a week ago.

It was more filled out, and the eyes seemed to shine rather than frown, but the resemblance was there.

It had to be a coincidence, of course, but that hadn't stopped me from subconsciously looking for him whenever I took a walk outside.

"Say hello, to friends you know, and ev-" I stopped singing abruptly, and this time, for a good reason.

A large black dog was standing in front of me.

"It's you again," I muttered. "Well, here I am, singing Christmas carols that I don't actually like for any reason other than the fact that they have my name in them, talking to dogs, and standing out in the negative thirteen degree weather. I really do need to consider the fact that when Sir Cadogan changed the password to 'Non compos mentis,' he might have been trying to drop me a hint." I laughed weakly. "It's a real shame that the Fat Lady is still shaken by her encounter with Sirius Black, I don't even know the current password."

I laughed slightly, before frowning at the dog. "Aren't you cold? I'd be, even if I had fur..." I ran a finger along the dog's back. "No offence, but that's a really thin coat." I tilted my head to the side, my mind racing. "Let's see... there's no animals that aren't pets allowed inside the castle, and there's no pets that aren't toads, owls or cats allowed..." My hand idly went to my bag, when I suddenly remembered what I had inside it. "So, you up to being smuggled inside under a magical enchanted piece of clothing?"

Alright, I definitely needed to reconsider classifying myself as 'normal' - wait, when did I do that?

Okay, we're in the clear.

Normal witches – normal people in general, actually – do not smuggle random dogs into the castles that they attend school at under Invisibility Cloaks passed down to them by their fathers and take them into the kitchens.

Now, the dog was devouring food that the house elves had decided to feed him (I had asked him whether he was a boy when saying, 'Good boy,' and he had nodded, so I had decided that if he wasn't a boy, he'd have to deal with it, 'cause I wasn't checking for confirmation any time soon), as I watched, drinking a cup of tea.

Definitely not what normal people spend their December afternoons doing.

"I can hardly believe it's winter," I mumbled, looking through the window at the snowy grounds. "I would've thought it was ages ago. This... it's so snowy and depressing. Not quite as bad as losing my Nimbus 2000 like Harry did... but along those lines."

The dog I was talking to was too busy eating to respond, though if he had responded it would have been a bark that I wouldn't have been able to actually understand (as I don't speak dog language... or any language, really, I only know English and a few words from Latin and French).

"You eat like you've been starving," I commented. It looked up at me with as offended an expression as a dog could muster. "Not meant as an insult, merely an observation. Honestly, you seem to understand English so well I'm seriously starting to consider the fact that you're an Animagus." I laughed. "I'd check, but Harry has the map this week." At the look he gave me, I quickly added, "That's my brother. Harry... I'd tell you our surname, but you wouldn't believe me... even though you're a dog and probably can't understand a word I'm saying, anyway."

I shook my head at my own antics, leaning back against the wall and sighing. The dog nuzzled its head into the hand I had hanging at my side, and I scratched its head with a slight laugh.

"Sometimes I worry for my own sanity."

"Merry Christmas!" I exclaimed, leaping onto my brother's bed at the perfectly normal hour of five o'clock in the morning. He groaned, reaching a hand out to blindly search for his glasses, which I put onto his face with a wide grin.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily. I winked.

"Time for you to get up out of bed and open the awesome presents awaiting you!" I replied, bouncing energetically. "Well, that's five past five in my books, but either way, there's an interestingly shaped parcel that awaits you under the brilliant fir that is the Christmas tree in the common room! Come on, come on, come on!"

"Holly, you have the energy of a five year old and the attention span of a thirty year old," muttered Harry, begrudgingly swinging his legs out over the side of is bed. I raised an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. He shrugged.

"That you are overly enthusiastic and yet manage to maintain focus," he replied. "Well, are we going to open the 'awesome presents awaiting us?'"

"That's what I'm talking about," I declared with a grin.

"Open the interestingly shaped parcel!" I ordered, muffled by the thick fabric of the sweater that Mrs Weasley had sent me for Christmas (a clever design, reversible, with an 'H' on one version and a 'W' on the other). Harry raised an eyebrow (or at least, I assumed he did, the sweater was still over my face), but I heard the tearing of the brown paper and an almost inaudible sharp intake of breath.

"What is it?" I asked, finally getting my head out of the sweater and gasping just as my brother had at what he had unwrapped.

"Either Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia really, really want you to clean the house, or someone really, really likes you," I muttered. "Who's it from?"

He searched the paper. "There's... no tag on it," he replied. "But, bloody hell."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who would have guessed – Firebolts make you sound like Ron!"

He rolled his eyes. "Just because I stole his catchphrase..." he muttered. "Who do you reckon it's from?"

I frowned before gasping. "What if it's jinxed?" I asked. "I mean, you have a history with jinxed brooms and people wanting to kill you..."

"You honestly think that Sirius Black would spend a ton of money on a Firebolt to try and kill me?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, maybe!" I replied. "After all, the Blacks are a distinguished Pureblood family, it's not like he has any shortage of cash..."

"Holly-"

"Can we at least get it checked out?" I pleaded. "After all, it's not like it's Quidditch season... please, please, pretty please?"

He sighed. "I guess we could," he replied. I grinned, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed. "Let's go see Professor McGonagall... after we finish opening these, of course."

Harry and I sat in Professor Lupin's, both of us bummed out.

No, we weren't in trouble, before you suggest it.

"You're going to need happier memories," Professor Lupin was saying.

I sighed. "Got anything, Harry? 'Cause I really can't come up with that many happy memories."

He frowned. "I... think I might have one. It's not, well, a particularly happy one, but... could I have another go, professor?"

"Sure thing, Harry," he replied, and I backed away as the trunk was opened and the Boggart Dementor emerged.

"Expecto Patronum!" exclaimed Harry. He frowned, having no result. "Expecto Patronum!"

There it was.

A giant, shimmery mist appeared from the tip of his wand, encasing the creature in a sort of shield that he was able to guide back down into the trunk, which closed shortly after. I squealed, hugging him.

"You did it!" I exclaimed. "How'd you do it? What was your memory? Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Give him a bit of air, Holly," advised Professor Lupin, and I sheepishly pulled away. Harry gratefully took the piece of chocolate he gave him.

"It was our parents," he said. I frowned. "I was remembering them... not really remembering, but thinking of them..."

"Fantastic job, Harry," congratulated Lupin. "Holly, would you like to give it a try?"

I bit my lip, my brow furrowing as I contemplated it. "I... no," I replied. "I- can I leave?"

Professor Lupin looked concerned but nodded, and I quickly picked up my things, thanking him before exiting the room.

"What happened?" asked Harry, catching up to me just under thirty seconds after I had left.

"I can't," I replied. "I can't get a happy memory from our parents. All of my memories – they all have him in them. Sirius Black. They're... tainted."

A tear slipped down my cheek, and Harry pulled me into a hug as more escaped and I broke down in his arms.

"Shhh," he whispered. "It'll be alright."

"He was their friend," I got out between sobs. "A-a-and he betrayed them a-a-and now he's out of Azkaban and Dementors and dogs and..."

"You're making no sense at all," mumbled Harry in my ear.

"I know I'm not," I replied. "N-n-neither does anything... why would he g-g-give them up?"

"I don't know," he muttered. "I honestly don't know."

It was a cool winter day in the new year when I merrily skipped into the Great Hall, bearing a mysteriously shaped package that I had done an awful job of wrapping.

Of course, by this time, all of the students had returned from the Christmas holidays, and it being breakfast time, many were there to raise eyebrows and look confused.

"Harry!" I called out with a grin, skidding to a halt as I almost passed him. "Woah, didn't see you there. I was more so looking for Ron, y'know, 'cause he's easier to spot, what with his red hair and all, but he's not here... but you are. And greetings, Hermione!"

"Greetings," she replied hesitantly. "What's that you've got there?"

"This I've got here," I replied, "is a present he got for Christmas that was declared safe... open it, then, Harry, and let all of our teammates bask in the awesomeness."

The Quidditch team leaned in closer, evidently having predicted that it was a broomstick.

Harry groaned. "I know what it is already, H- Willow, you didn't have to make such a big deal out of it."

"But that, dear Harry, is where you're wrong," I replied with a grin. "Because it's... wait for it..."

"A Firebolt?"

"That's the fastest racing broom in the world, that is!"

"We have the Quidditch Cup in the bag."

"In... the bag?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow at Fred. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means we've good as won," replied George with a grin. "Who's it from, anyway?"

"That's just the thing," replied Harry. "We don't know."

"Bet it was someone who supported the lion pride," I said with a grin. "'Cause... you know... a group of lions is called a pride..."

Harry fake coughed into his elbow, mumbling, "Nerd."

I had been following Oliver Wood for the past half hour around the school, a fact that he was very much aware of as he turned to face me.

"Honestly, Leavitt?"

"Yep," I replied. "So, when's the next Quidditch match? And why haven't you told me yet?"

"Because," he replied exasperatedly, "only the captains are supposed to know."

"Your... point?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't tell anyone we play the twenty-fourth of April," he replied. I grinned.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed. I suddenly frowned. "The... twenty-fourth, you said?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now, will you stop stalking me?"

"Sure thing, Wood," I mumbled.

April 24th... why was that date so significant?

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

The day before that – April 23rd – was Buckbeak's execution date.

"Thank you, Harry," I said with a grin, taking the piece of parchment he handed me.

Not just any ordinary piece of parchment, mind you, it was the Marauder's Map, after all.

We had met up in one of the secret passageways that the map had shown us, one that only Filch and the Weasley twins knew of. (And Mrs Norris – Filch's cat).

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," I mumbled, pressing the tip of my lit wand to the paper and grinning as the familiar words appeared and unfolding the map, watching Harry's footsteps walk away and frowning as another person passed him in the corridor.

Peter... Pettigrew?

Where did I know that name from?

I frowned, looking around the corner. There was nobody there.

Nobody but a rat – Ron's rat, if I recognized him well enough.

And Snape approaching.

"Shoot," I mumbled. "Mischief managed. Nox."

Harry and I had decided to meet up just minutes before curfew, so he could have as much time with the map as possible and still not get caught out after hours.

It was after hours now.

My bag was on the ground on the other side of the corridor, in it the Invisibility Cloak.

All I could do was press myself against the wall and hope for the best.

"Miss Leavitt?"

Of course.

Of course.

Snape obviously had to know about the secret passageway.

I sheepishly grinned at him. "Evening, professor... fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same to you," he replied coldly. "Out of bed, after hours... turn out your pockets."

"Turn out my pockets, professor?" I repeated, nervously clutching the map I had shoved into my hoodie pocket. "Why would I need to do that?"

"I would advise you to do so," he replied. I sighed, pulling out the piece of parchment. "What's that?"

"A piece of parchment, sir," I replied, looking down at it and biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud at the words that appeared on it.

"And what does it say?" he drawled. I looked at him over the rims of my glasses.

"Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business," I read smoothly. His face settled into a definitive frown. "Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."

"Leavitt..." he said warningly.

"Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor-"

"Give me that," he said, seizing it and reading off the insults.

"Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball," I finished without even looking. "Now, if you'll excuse me, professor, I must be on my way, you see..."

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Professor Lupin," I said cheerfully. "Professor Snape was just letting me know of my punishment so I could be on my way now..."

"What's this?" he asked, coming up beside Professor Snape and reading off the parchment.

"That is exactly what I wanted to know," he replied. Lupin took the map with a frown.

"It appears to simply be a piece of parchment enchanted to insult anyone who reads it," he mumbled. "I can take care of this, Severus. Miss Leavitt... follow me."

I gulped.

Somehow, although Snape was the more intimidating professor, I feared that Professor Lupin's punishment would somehow be even worse.

"I haven't the faintest idea of how this map here came to be in your possession, but to be quite frank with you, the fact that you never handed it in astounds me."

I sighed, looking at my shoes as Professor Lupin berated me.

"Did the idea that this is a map straight to you in the hands of Sirius Black never occur to you?"

I frowned. "No, sir..." I replied. He sighed.

"Your father wasn't one for playing by the rules, either. But your mother and him gave their lives to save yours." I winced, even though the true emotional tug hadn't come yet.

"Dishonoring their sacrifice by wandering around the castle at night unprotected with a killer on the loose seems like an awfully poor way to repay them!"

There it was. He had hit the nail right on the head. I blinked hard, feeling tears start to sting my eyes.

"Now, I will not cover for you again, do you hear me?" I sighed.

"Yes, sir."

"Now, return to Gryffindor tower and stay there." I turned to leave, but remembered something, stopping and turning around in the doorway.

"Professor," I said. He looked up.

"Yes, Holly?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Just so you know... I don't think that map always works." He frowned. "I'm assuming you know how to operate it, but earlier... it showed someone that couldn't possibly be in the castle."

"Really? And who might that be?"

I sighed. "Peter Pettigrew. Good night, professor."

And I left without another word.