"Mobiliarbus!"

The Christmas tree next to their table suddenly rose a few inches off of the ground. Confused, Oriane looked around and saw Hermione was moving it with her wand. It didn't stop moving until it completely obscured them from sight, where it then dropped back onto the ground with a soft thud.

Thanks to her quick thinking, Hermione saved them from being caught by any of the professors as moments later they sat at the table next to them. The children sat in silence as the teachers erupted in conversation as Madam Rosmerta, the barmaid, gave the patrons their drinks.

"Thank you Rosmerta," the hearty voice of Cornelius Fudge said. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Come, join us, why don't you?"

The barmaid thanked the Minister and took a seat with the other adults. If she turned her head, Oriane could hardly see them from between the branches. Yet, she tried not to draw too much attention to her staring.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.

Fudge turned in his seat, glancing at the room around them as if looking for listening ears. However, he failed to find the four students just on the other side of the tree from him. "What else, my dear, but Sirius Black?" he asked, his voice low. "You must have heard what happened at the school on Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," Rosmerta admitted. "Do you think he's still in the area?"

"I'm sure of it."

A small bout of silence settled over the group as they paused for a moment, indulging in their drinks.

"You know," Rosmerta spoke, a sort of grit to her voice, "the dementors have searched my pub twice now. Scared all my customers away. It's very bad for business, Minister."

"I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge admitted. "I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore for not letting them in on school grounds."

"Well I should think not!" McGonagall said, her words sharp. "How do you expect anyone to teach with those horrors floating around?"

All of the professors nodded in agreement. Oriane shuddered at the mere thought of them in the castle. It was bad enough having to deal with them once. She couldn't imagine being around them constantly.

"All the same," Fudge mumbled. "They are here to protect all of us from something much worse. We all know what Black is capable of."

"Do you know? I still have trouble believing it. Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought," Rosmerta admitted. Her voice took on a sort of airy feeling, as if she was remembering some far off memory. "I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"The worst he did isn't widely known," Fudge grumbled.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse than his murders?"

The Minister sighed as he leaned back in his chair, eyes focusing on his drink. McGonagall looked from Fudge, back to Rosmerta.

"You say you knew Black while he was at Hogwarts," she said. "Do you remember his best friend?"

Rosmerta nodded. "Naturally. Never saw one without the other, did you? Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter."

The sound of a cup dropping came from underneath the table. Oriane's eyes tried to peer over the side, but she couldn't see Harry. Ron did, however, give him a good kick as a warning to keep quiet.

"Precisely," McGonagall confirmed. "Both exceptionally bright young men. I don't think we've ever had a pair of troublemakers like them."

Hagrid hummed. "Dunno about that one. Fred and George Weasley could sure give them a run for their money!"

"Inseparable," Flitwick chimed in. "You'd have thought they were brothers."

"Potter trusted Black well beyond all his other friends," Fudge continued. "This even went past their school years. Black was James's best man when he married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. He has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Rosmerta whispered.

"Worse than that, my dear," Fudge shook his head. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful allies. The Beaufort girl tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.

"As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting-room window!"

"So, Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper?" concluded Rosmerta.

"Naturally," Professor McGonagall confirmed. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would rather die than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself. And yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"Dumbledore suspected Black?"

McGonagall nodded, solemnly. "He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements. Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"Not even a week later, Black betrayed them," Fudge finished.

"Filthy turncoat!" Hagrid roared so loud, nearly half the bar went quiet.

McGonagall quickly shushed him, attempting to get him to calm down. She shut him down mid drunken rant.

"But, he didn't manage to get away! Didn't the Ministry catch him the next day?" Rosmerta asked.

Silence fell over the table. Oriane had been listening so intently her head was beginning to pound. All she could think about was how she shouldn't be there listening to that conversation. She wanted to do nothing more than cover her ears and ignore it all. Yet one thing ate at the back of her mind. That name. Beaufort. Why did it sound so familiar?

"If only we had," Fudge finally spoke. "Peter Pettigrew was the one to find him."

"Pettigrew? That fat little boy who was always tagging around after James and Sirius at Hogwarts?" asked Rosmerta.

"Pettigrew died a hero's death," Fudge assured her. "Cornered Black in a crowded area full of Muggles. No doubt trying to avenge his friends. Drew his wand on him, but… well, of course Black was quicker. Blew him to bits."

McGonagall blew her nose with a napkin as she did her best to wipe away her tears. "Foolish boy," she cried. "Should have left it to the Ministry."

"It took several highly trained wizards to take him down. He stood amongst the gore… laughing." Fudge shuddered. "He's been rotting in Azkaban ever since." He paused as several other noses began to blow at the table. "Well, there you have it Rosmerta."

"You're forgetting something."

The voice that spoke was so dangerously sharp, Oriane had difficulty believing it came from Hagrid. The kind giant that taught her Care of Magical Creatures class. The man who cried over the death of any animal, no matter how ugly. His voice was angry, and that scared her.

"Tell her about the Morissette's."

Every muscle in Oriane's body hardened. Her name. Her family. Her parents. Everything was too loud yet too quiet at once. The laughter from tables over. Her heart throbbing in her chest. None of it made sense, and yet there it was. The Morissette's.

"Morissette? As in, Alarick or…?" Rosmerta asked.

Everyone at the table nodded, yet they couldn't bring themselves to look up from the table.

"Quite a looker, that one was," Rosmerta chuckled. "Always so quiet, though. Nearly got into a few fights in my pub though. Was always kind despite that."

"He became an Auror after graduating," Fudge said proudly. "He was one of the best I'd ever seen in my experience in the Ministry."

"He had always butted heads with James and Sirius," McGonagall recalled. "Didn't much like their affinity for causing trouble. However, when he learned that the Potters' were in danger, he was one of the first to step up to assist Dumbledore in defeating You-Know-Who."

"I don't know who was more of an asset to our cause. Him, or his wife," Fudge admitted, a joking tone to his voice.

Rosmerta tilted her head to the side. "His wife?"

"Varity Morissette," McGonagall explained. "Though, you might remember her by the last name Beaufort."

The barmaid's face seemed to light up at just the mere mention of her name. "Of course. She was a pretty thing, wasn't she? I think I've seen her daughter around here once before. Looks just like her mother." She then fell quiet, her voice taking on a more grave expression. "What happened to them?"

More silence. Whatever they were thinking about, it was obvious they weren't having an easy time trying to word it. But for each second they took, it was another eternity Oraine spent in agony.

The Minister was the first to break that silence. "Alarick was always on the front lines. Always doing his best to protect his friends and family. He had survived battles he probably shouldn't have. Battles that would have killed most other wizards.

"When Black became the Potters' Secret Keeper, he demanded that he be kept by his side at all times. Serving as a bodyguard of sorts for him. Eventually, a band of Death Eaters cornered them at a shop in London. According to eyewitnesses, Alarick told Black to get away, and so he held off the Death Eaters on his own."

A soft sob came from McGonagall as she wiped at her nose with yet another napkin. Fudge paused for a moment, setting a comforting hand on her shoulder before continuing.

"There were too many. He survived for as long as he could but in the end… I was Junior Minister in the department of Magical Calamities at the time. The scene of his death was almost as bad as Pettigrew's. Whoever finished Alarick off was… they must have held a lot of hatred for the man. Sometimes I see his mangled body when I sleep. Only a monster could do what was done to him. The worst part was, we never did catch them."

"Such a brave young man," Flitwick said quietly. "With his wits and ability, he was one of the finest wizards I had seen set foot in Hogwarts."

"I can't believe it," Rosmerta breathed. "What happened to his wife, Varity?"

She asked it so softly, so carefully, it was almost as if she didn't want to know. Yet, she asked anyway, seeming to regret it almost instantly.

"She was… Dumbledore's most powerful ally," McGonagall said. "It's not a very well known fact, as she was quite good at keeping it hidden, but Varity Morissette was a true Seer. At first, I couldn't see it, but it began to make sense in her school years."

Hagrid sniffed. "She gave me flowers the night before my sweet bowtruckle, Henry, died because she knew she wouldn't have time to give them to me in the morning."

"And she always came into my class with an extra quill when she knew one of the other students would forget one," Flitwick added.

"She knew more than we could have possibly known," McGonagall confirmed. "She was the first to know that the Potters were marked for death. Dumbeldore sent them into hiding, and not even a day later, one of his spies had confirmed it as well. She bought them time."

"Really?" Rosmerta asked, almost amazed. "She really was the real deal then."

"I had never seen anyone so attuned to their Inner Eye before, least of all a Muggle-Born," Fudge said, voice trailing off. "But this would be the main reason for her death."

"What do you mean?" asked Rosmerta.

Fudge's eyes grew impossibly dark. "Like Minerva said, it was not common knowledge that Varity Morissette was a Seer, let alone a powerful one. She doesn't have a drop of magical blood in her veins, yet she possessed such a great power. A power that many only dream of having. Her being alive not only posed a threat to You-Know-Who and his plans, but it also proved that there was someone more powerful than him. My dear, how do you think that terrible man came to know of Varity's power?"

"Sirius Black," Rosmerta breathed.

The others around her nodded.

"Sirius Black," Fudge repeated. "They couldn't let someone like her live. Dumbledore insisted that someone stay with her to protect her after Alarick's death, but she refused. She was killed the very same day the Potters were. Left their daughter in the hands of Esme Cadoret."

He paused for a short moment to clear his throat before continuing. "This is why it's very important to have the dementors around, despite the inconvenience," he explained. "Sirius Black would no doubt kill Harry Potter in an instant to finish his lord's bidding. As for Oriane Morissette… well, if she shows even a fraction of her mothers power, You-Know-Who would want her snuffed out too. Esme has done a wonderful job protecting her so far, but with Black breaking free from Azkaban, we can't be too sure. About the safety of either of them."

A grumble came from Hagrid, followed by the sound of glass against wood. Then, another thud, his hand slamming on the table as if he had finally snapped. "That monster!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth. "The people he killed! Betraying James and Lily like that! Him abandoning Alarick as he gave his life to save him! And what he did to poor Esme. Such a sweet lass, she didn't deserve it!"

"Hagrid," McGonagall warned with a stare so sharp it could kill. "Unless you want to catch the attention of the whole bar, I suggest you keep your voice down."

"What did he do to Esme?" Rosmerta asked.

Fudge quickly finished his drink, gently setting it on the table before he shook his head.

"That story is not one to be shared," McGonagall warned. "It would be best if you forgot all about it."

Something inside Oriane broke. She could feel something shattering in her chest. It was all too much, the information shoved inside her brain. But she was a prisoner inside her own body. Trapped with her new reality.

No, it wasn't really a new reality. It had always been reality. Whether she knew of it or not. It was just hidden from her, in the back of someone's mind, or in a pained expression as they realized how much she looked like her parents. That reality had always been there, somewhere, lurking.

Either way, it didn't take the pain away.

"Ori? Ori, are you alright?"

The voice belonged to Hermione. She sounded distant and far away at first, but after a moment everything painfully came into focus. She didn't know how long she had been crying, but her face was sopping wet with her tears. Hermione stared at her with wide eyes, all while Ron peeked under the table to check on Harry.

Instinctively she turned around, peering through the branches of the Christmas tree at the table nearby. Once more, it was abandoned, nothing but a few empty cups and tankards left behind. That's when Oriane realized she couldn't stay there any longer.

"I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have bothered you guys," she stuttered, slowly beginning to slide out of her seat. "I'm… I'm sorry- I'm so sorry."

She began to stumble between the tables of the pub, nearly tipping the tree over and leaving her coat behind. Her body felt too light and too heavy all at the same time. Just some silly puppet moving at the whim of whoever was pulling her strings. But she couldn't stay there.

Seconds later she burst through the doors to the pub, meeting the frosty air. Everything was just as it was before. Flocks of students meandered through the winter wonderland around them, going from shop to shop. Laughter filled the air as a group of older students had a snowball fight nearby. The bright lights casted a beautiful glittery shine to the snow on the ground.

The world was far too happy for the poison that soaked her skin.

"Hey there, hatstall!" a cheery voice shouted.

It was Cedric, shouting out the name he had given Oriane her very first day at Hogwarts. Surrounding him was a small group of his friends, nameless faces Oriane didn't recognize except for him. Her bloodshot eyes landed on him, and Cedric's smile instantly vanished.

"Ori?" he asked.

And she ran from him, too.

She ran through the heart of the village. Past all the candy and music shops. Down the path that led back to Hogwarts. Every breath she took burned her lungs, and the cold air bit her face as her tears hardly had time to dry. She kept running until her knees gave out. Cold snow surrounded her hands as she broke her fall, body sinking into the snow under her. It would have hurt had she not been so numb.

For a long while she stayed there, sitting in the snow. Light, fluffy flakes of it fell from the sky, clinging to her hair and body. The bright shining flakes nearly looked like stars against her raven black hair. It continued to pile, and she started to wonder if she sat there long enough, if nature would bury her body. Hide her away from the rest of the world.

But it wasn't long until she heard footsteps crunching the snow behind her, along with heavy panting. Oriane didn't even bother to turn around and look to see who it was. Her question would be answered soon enough as Cedric stood in front of her, doing his best to catch his breath in the frigid air.

"Sorry," she said, softly. Her tears had stopped, though her eyes stilled burned with the pressure. She felt like she needed to cry more, she wanted to cry more, but she had run herself dry. "I fell."

Cedric held his hand out for her to take, still trying to get his breathing under control. She stared at him for a moment, almost wanting to deny his generosity, yet she took his hand anyway. With one swift pull from Cedric, she was on her feet, stumbling a little as her feet felt like they'd turn to bricks of ice.

"Where's your coat?" he asked, looking around on the ground.

Her silence was all he needed to realize that she didn't have one. A dark red-purple color had started to overtake her hands, and her face was flushed a bright pink from the bitter wind.

Without hesitation Cedric began to undo the buttons on his coat. He shrugged it off, revealing the light flannel he had on underneath it. Using his bare hand, he began to brush some of the snow that had piled up on Oriane's hair and shoulders, and once he was satisfied, he threw the coat around her. It was much bigger on her than it was on him, and it was still warm from his body heat.

She wanted to tell him no, to take it back. That she would be fine without one. That he shouldn't have to suffer in the cold because of her. But she couldn't. Instead, she pulled the coat tighter around her, doing her best to suppress a sob.

"Come on," Cedric said softly, his hand resting on her back. "Let's get you warmed up."