The next day, I was packed and ready to get back on the Hogwarts Express. I'd woken early enough to avoid Harry and Ron, but Hermione had already been awake for several hours, curled up into a tight ball with a book propped up on her knees. No matter what I said, she insisted on helping me get ready, and forced a Christmas present into my trunk when I told her I wasn't in the mood to celebrate the holidays.

"You can't not have a Christmas present, Arty," she insisted softly, opening the lid of my trunk and pushing some of the things aside to make room for her gift. "Besides, you bought me something. You're my best friend, therefore you get a present."

I sighed heavily, perching myself on the end of my bed and rolling my left sleeve up to my elbow. The other girls had already woken and left, taking the opportunity to huddle around the fire and gossip before they all left for home. Which was fortunate, since the bandage wrapped around my forearm needed changing for the third time that morning. I'd actually lost that much blood, my head was starting to spin.

Hermione shot me a disapproving look when she noticed me unwinding it cautiously. "That isn't going to stop unless you talk to him."

"And say what?" I frowned. "I'm sorry my father killed your parents? I didn't mean what I said yesterday?"

"You were a little . . ."

"Blunt?" I suggested. "Honest? I won't take it back, Hermione, I meant every word I said. Of course I hate Black for what he did, and if I ever meet the man, I can't be held accountable for my own actions. But that doesn't give anyone the right to treat me like the criminal. I'm sick of it, Hermione."

"No one's treated like a criminal before!" she argued in a shrill voice.

"And how many times has everything been my fault?" I scowled. "The moment something goes wrong, everyone turns to me like I should be able to snap my fingers and fix it, and when I can't, it's my fault. Ron even managed to blame me for not realising the Dursleys had locked Harry up last year. And this year, he runs away from home and I get to deal with the aftermath."

"You said you didn't care about that!" Hermione breathed.

"And I didn't. But what thanks do I get for it? Now that he knows Black is my real father, he thinks I'm suddenly in league with the man? I've followed him to the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets, stood and fought Lord Voldemort beside him for the past two years, and now he thinks I want him dead?" She shifted with a small frown and pursed lips but said nothing and returned to trying to squeeze her present into my trunk while I winced and scowled as I scanned the tattoo on my arm.

"Hey, Arty? What's this?"

My eyes flicked up and narrowed at the parcel in her hands. For a moment, I didn't recognise it as mine. Then I remembered the strange guy back in the book shop in Diagon Alley almost three months ago.

"I forgot I still had that," I said, pushing myself to my feet and taking it from her. "It was really weird, some random guy came up to me in the book shop in Diagon Alley with it. I'd never met him before but he knew my name. Apparently, someone gave him that to give to me."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "And you took it?" she gawped. "Artemis, this could be anything! Who knows who could have sent you this?"

The question made me go rigid on the spot, my eyes fixed to the parcel as my heart started hammering in my eardrums. In front of me, she gasped, hands clamping over her mouth with wide, shining eyes staring at me in fear.

"You don't think . . ." she trailed cautiously, her voice muffled by her fingers. "He wouldn't dare . . . would he?"

I scoffed sourly, my throat oddly tight. "The man broke out of Azkaban, Hermione. I'm not sure sending a birthday present to his daughter is quite in the same league." She didn't answer, but I could feel my blood start to boil. Without hesitating, I ripped the paper off the parcel, blocking out Hermione's scolding as much as I could.

"He could have cursed that!" she shrieked, sending a quick look over her shoulder to make sure no one was there.

"I don't care," I replied simply. "If he wants me dead, then we'll find out the hard way, won't we?"

"Oh, I don't like this, Artemis," Hermione gulped, inching closer to me with her eyes fixed warily on the package. "The man's mad! You have no idea what he could have been thinking when he sent you that."

"No, I don't," I agreed. "But make sure you tell Harry he has a wand, would you?" She hesitated, but I'd already dismissed the building worry that Black had managed to curse the man in Diagon Alley into giving this to me. Instead, I pulled the paper wrapping away and let the card and present tumble onto the bed in front of me.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The card had been sealed inside an envelope with my name scrawled across the front in untidy handwriting, and the present was contained in a slim, black velvet box. Beside me, Hermione was mumbling something under her breath worriedly. Pursing my lips, I took a deep breath and stretched forward to take up the card.

"Arty," Hermione started hurriedly, but I'd already clamped my hand around it. When nothing happened, she sighed heavy and I felt my shoulders sag in relief. Clearing my throat, I ripped through the envelope and pulled the card out with a squirming in the pit of my stomach. Inside, the message read; Happy birthday, Artemis. I'm sorry. Love, Dad

"Oh dear lord," Hermione whispered, running a shaky hand through her hair. "Sorry for what?"

"Does it matter?" I scowled, shredding the card into two pieces before setting it on the bedside table and taking my wand out of my back pocket. "Incendio!" The card burst into flames, and Hermione cursed quietly, hurriedly moving to put out the fire before anything else could be burnt.

"Could you please not do that again?" she pleaded weakly, waving the smoke away from her face.

Scowling, I slipped my wand back into my pocket and turned back toward the present. It was jewellery, that much was obvious before I'd even opened the box. But why Black would send me jewellery was a mystery.

Right up until I saw the necklace inside.

It was a small, oval locket made of what appeared to be white gold suspended on a delicately laced chain. The front was decorated with a spiral pattern that I'd only ever seen once before. When Hermione saw it, she gasped and pointed. "Oh my, is that . . .?"

Grinding my teeth together, I held the locket against my left forearm. Not only were the pattern identical, but the moment the metal touched my skin, the pattern on it shifted until a bright green colour. Pursing my lips, I turned the locket over and noticed a strange crest with a banner wrapped around the bottom, though the writing was too small to read. Biting the inside of my lip, I prized the locket open and felt my chest constrict when I saw the pictures inside.

One, I recognised immediately as Black, though he was stood with his arms around a woman I'd never seen before. She had a slim, elegant face with dull, blue eyes that shone strangely and curls of mahogany hair that had been draped over one side of her face. I realised with a choking sound in my throat that this must be my mother, Selena. She and Black were smiling and laughing at the camera, oblivious to the despair he was about to cause.

The other picture was somehow worse. In it, Selena was stood between two people I recognised as Lily and James Potter. The Potters themselves were smiling just as happily as my mother was, each holding a baby in their arms. It wasn't hard to jump to the conclusion that these children were obviously me and Harry, but the knowledge that I now held the evidence that not only had Black been close to the Potters, but they'd also been friends with my mother, made my knees weak.

Hermione gulped, watching me slump onto the edge of my bed, still staring at the pictures inside the locket. "I'm sorry, Artemis," she muttered.

I shook my head. "Don't be. I'm fine."

She laughed sadly, sitting down beside me. "No, Artemis, you're not. You need to speak to Mia and Luke. And Lupin too, when you get the chance. He is your Uncle, after all."

"Yeah, and he's been so upfront with the truth up to now, hasn't he?" I grumbled.

"You've never asked him outright before," she pointed out. "I can come with you, if you want?"

My lips tugged into a grateful smile as I looked across at her. "After the holidays," I promised. "I want to hear it from Mia first. Adam said she and Luke were at Hogwarts with Black and the Potters. I need to know how I ended up with them. They don't exactly seem the sort to get along with a man like Black."

"Neither do the Potters," Hermione reminded me and I dropped my gaze. "It wasn't just the Williams he fooled, Arty. And you don't know that it was him that took you to them. It could have been your mother."

I gulped hard, blinking a few more times than necessary. "So what happened to her?"

She didn't answer, and I sniffed loudly, stuffing the locket into my pocket and standing up. "I'd better get going, anyway," I said, forcing myself to use a normal tone of voice as I snapped my trunk shut. "I sent Mia and Luke a letter last night saying that I was coming home for Christmas and they'll kill me if I miss the train."

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Arty?" Hermione grimaced, angling herself to face me. "You ran away from home over summer because of that tattoo and now you want to be separated from him for two weeks?"

"I have to, Hermione," I insisted with a frown. "I'm not sitting around the common room arguing with him or staring at the wall in silence. Besides, I have to talk with Mia, you know that."

She sighed heavily and stood up, pulling me into a tight hug. "Just be careful, okay?" I nodded with a tight smile, allowing her to take one end of my trunk and lead the way down the stairs.

We headed down the Great Hall in silence. I couldn't help keeping one hand wrapped tightly around the locket I still had in the pocket of my jeans. It obviously had something to do with my family, and not just my parents. The pattern on the front was enough to prove that. So would Lupin recognise it if I showed it to him? Would he know where I got it from? And if the patterned tattoo on my forearm was something past through my family, did it come from Black's side, or Lupin's?

"Hey!" Evie grinned as we stepped into the Great Hall. We'd left the luggage with everyone else's and Hermione was now dragging me inside to make me eat before I left. "Heard you were going home for Christmas?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to notice Harry and Ron slumped over the table further into the Hall. "Figured I should apologise for running away over summer."

"Got that right," she snorted.

"I know, I was wrong," I sighed with a roll of my eyes, dropping into the seat beside her. Opposite us, Sarah, Ginny and a fourth year girl I didn't know were busying eating their breakfast and muttering about something under their breaths. Until Ginny caught sight of me, and she elbowed the others in to silence quickly. "What's going on?" I frowned, glancing between the three of them. The fourth year girl flushed bright red and muttered something at Evie about talking to Flitwick about her homework before rushing off.

Ginny, on the other hand, straightened out and cleared her throat. "I heard you had an argument with Harry yesterday."

Evie snorted. "Not exactly out of the ordinary, Ginny."

I shot Evie a cool look before turning back to Ginny, frowning at her. "Who said that?"

"No one," she shrugged. "Harry and Ron were in the common room last night when I finished my detention with Snape. Ironic, really, since they were arguing about your argument."

"What did you hear?" Hermione breathed, wide-eyed.

Ginny's eyebrows pulled together as she glanced between the two of us, obviously working out that it was about something she shouldn't know as quickly as I was figuring out Harry had no reason to keep it quiet. "Nothing much," she said slowly. "Just something about how Arty had saved Harry's life as often as he's saved hers, and something about not being able to ignore her even if he wanted to, which I just figured was because . . . well, because it's Arty, right?"

Evie and Sarah laughed loudly, and even my lips tugged at the sides. "Thanks for that, Ginny."

She beamed at me. "Anytime. Now are you going to tell us what's going on?"

My smile faded. "Nothing," I shrugged. "You know that Harry and me don't see eye to eye. It's nothing new."

"No, but that is," Sarah hissed over the table, jerking her head toward Harry and Ron. I risked a glance in their direction and felt my fists clench when I noticed his eyes were narrowed, his fists were balled and his face was pale as he snarled something across the table at Ron.

"Wow," Evie whistled under her breath. "Has he ever actually been that angry?"

"Probably not," I mumbled, gulping hard. "Shouldn't we be going? The train-"

"Doesn't leave for another two hours," Ginny scowled. "Spill. What the hell is wrong with you guys?"

"I thought the two of you were getting on better this year?" Sarah frowned. "It doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't," I agreed, pushing myself to my feet. "But then these things happen, right? Excuse me." Gulping hard, I turned and hurried out of the Great Hall, ignoring Evie and Ginny when they called out after me.

I had no idea where I was planning to go, but I ended up back beside the luggage, slowing down to a normal walk and running my hands through my hair. How had things got so bad so quickly? What were the odds that the one year Harry and I start getting along better is the same year that we find out my father handed his parents to Voldemort? The same year Harry had almost proved everyone right and kissed me in the middle of a dark, secret passage? Almost as if I was thinking too much about Harry, my eyes fell on a trunk with his name scrawled on the side. My eyebrows pulled together and I stepped forward, sure I was seeing things.

"Remind me why you were heading home again?" a voice came, and I spun around as my heart leapt in surprise. Harry was stood behind me with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes narrowed.

"Oddly enough, to get away from you," I snapped, yesterday's bad mood immediately hitting me like a wrecking ball again.

"And that's going to make you feel better, is it?" he scowled, tugging his sleeve back for a split second, showing me the red, irritated tattoo on his forearm. "You ran away from home when I was only going to London. You think it's a good idea to push it that far?"

"No," I replied shortly. "But I'd rather deal with that than spend my Christmas break anywhere near you."

"Well then you're going to be disappointed," he shrugged. "Looks like I'm headed home too."