"You're going to die. You going to suffer a horrible, gruesome death."

"…no."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, we already used that one, Ron."

"What? No!" the redheaded boy argues. "I would've remembered!"

"It's right here," Harry defends, pointing at the parchment between the two boys. "See?"

"Oh." Ron deflates. "Right."

"Boys," I huff quietly from a table a few feet away, Hermione looking up from her book long enough to nod in agreement before returning to whatever she was studying.

It was just after dinner on my birthday – the four of us had retired to the Common Room to work on homework and study a bit, taking a moment to breathe after the day we'd had. Ron and Harry had chosen to work on their Divination homework and were currently making up crazy death predictions that Trelawney would probably believe. Hermione was study something she'd picked up from the library earlier, but she refused to tell me just what it was. I had already gotten my Runes homework done, but I wasn't going to even touch Potions. Not tonight.

Ever since the disastrous DADA lesson with Moody, I couldn't shake the image of Dad being tortured from my mind. It was tough to express – there was no definite evidence he'd been tortured while in Azkaban, but he most likely was. I was eighty percent sure, even, that he'd suffered the Cruciatus. But then, if that was true, then why wasn't he insane? After all, Moody had said that long-term exposure could drive you insane. And then add in the Dementor effects…

"-issa. Orissa!" Hermione exclaims, and I blink and raise an eyebrow at her. "I've been calling your name for the last five minutes. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I sigh, stretching out my legs. "It's nothing. What did you think of Moody?" I deflect smoothly, trying to change the subject.

It didn't work – Hermione pursued her original question with dogged determination. "Is this about…Snuffles and the Cruciatus?"

"Of course it's not," I scoff loudly. "Why would that bit of news affect me, Hermione? Hmm?"

Hermione blinks slowly, then sighs. "Has anyone ever told you that you get vindictive when you're mad?"

"Once or twice," I grumble, slouching in my chair.

"Look, Ori," Hermione starts, closing her book and lowering her voice. "Why don't you just write Sirius about this? I'm sure he'd be happy to answer your questions."

"How would that letter go?" I hiss incredulously. "'Hey, Dad, thanks for the birthday present! Also, were you tortured horrendously in Azkaban? I'm asking because a professor demonstrated some very illegal curses in class. Love you!'"

"Not in those exact words," Hermione retorts. "You and I both know you've got more tact than that."

"Leave it, 'Mione," I sigh, closing my eyes and rubbing them with a hand. "My dad's got enough on his plate right now. He needs to get better. I don't need to make it worse with a load of questions that will most likely send him spiraling into a pit of despair."

"Quit being so dramatic," Hermione scolds. "The choice is yours. You can write him, or you can not."

And with that utterly final statement, Hermione opens her book again, effectively cutting the conversation short and blocking me out.

"You do that," I mutter, rocking my chair back and standing up, fully intent on heading upstairs and going to bed. But, just as I was standing up, something catches my eye: in the back corner of the Common Room, where the light from the fire can't quite reach, there were two shadows bent over a piece of parchment – two identical shadows.

I frown to myself. What were Fred and George doing over in the corner, away from the center of attention? And why hadn't they asked me for help or input on whatever that was? They knew I wasn't afraid to bend rules if legality is what made them squirrel themselves away.

Deciding to investigate, I step around the table and pad over to their corner, keeping quiet until I was just behind George's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

George screams and jumps up, trying to cover up whatever was on the parchment. "We weren't doing – oh. It's just you."

"Just me," I agree with a nod. "Whatcha doing? You didn't ask me for anything."

"R-Right," Fred stammers. "Um, well, you see, this is kind of illegal, and we don't need your-"

I silence him by slapping a hand over his mouth and boosting myself up to look him in the eyes. "Fred, have you met me?"

Fred blinked, as if he was suddenly recalling that I was related to the second most wanted man in wizarding Britain. "Oh."

"Yes, oh," I snort and take a seat at their table. "So what's the deal?"

"Remember the bet we made with Bagman at the World Cup?" George asks, and I nod. "Well, apparently, he managed to weasel his way out of the deal. The money he paid us back with wasn't Galleons. It was Leprechaun Gold."

I pause, thinking of the fifty Galleons I'd bet on the outcome of the World Cup match. I hadn't paid much attention to the money after receiving it, eventually just tossing it into my trunk, but I was beginning to regret that decision.

"That little shit," I curse vehemently, Fred and George giving me shocked looks. "What?" I defend hotly. "I don't get to curse at home. Now, let's do this. I have fifty Galleons to get back."

"Right," Fred agrees, sitting back down and sliding the parchment over while George hands me a quill. "Let's get to work."

A little over an hour of writing later, the three of us have managed to produce a letter that walks the thin gray line between "threatening" and "indirectly implying consequences". The twins had promised to deliver to the owlery in the morning, mainly because my eyes were already drooping.

"Hey." Fred gently shakes my shoulder. "You should head upstairs. You'll be no good tomorrow if you're dead on your feet."

"Tomorrow's Saturday," I grumble, rubbing a hand over my eyes.

"Still," he insists. "I'd carry you, but I can't get up the stairs."

"You don't need to carry me," I scoff, standing up and grabbing my bag from where I'd left it earlier. "G'night, Fred, George."

"Night, Blackie," they chorus quietly.

I trudge up the stairs to the dormitory, where Lavender and Pavarti were already asleep and Hermione was just about to follow. I don't even bother getting undressed, just tugging off my tie and boots and unbuttons a few on the buttons on my stiff collar before collapsing into my four-poster.

Thankfully, I was entirely too tired to dream of orange curses and deathly screams.

.

The next morning, I was surprised to see a note in my eggs at breakfast.

Miss Black, the paper reads,

I would like to see you in my office as soon as you are finished eating. I have some information regarding your father that I think you would like to hear.

- Professor A. Moody.

"Weird." I frown at the note, confused, as Ron leans over my shoulder.

"Does that say Moody? What does he want?"

"To see me in his office. On a Saturday," I add, my confusion only growing as I glance up at the staff table to see Moody's seat empty.

"That is weird," Hermione agrees, a frown also growing on her face. "Ori, maybe you shouldn't go. I mean, after yesterday…"

"I think she'll be fine," a soft voice speaks up, and we all look over at Neville. "I mean, the lesson was horrible, but Moody wasn't cruel or anything. He gave me this," he says, lifting up a copy of a Herbology book I hadn't seen before.

"Still…" Hermione hesitates. "Maybe you could take someone with you?"

"I'll go," Harry offers. "It makes sense. I was just as affected as you were yesterday."

I nod and immediately begin to shovel down my eggs as fast as I possibly could. Not ten minutes later, I spring out of my seat, grabbing Harry by the arm and snagging two pieces of toast as I drag him away.

"What d'you think Moody wants?" I ask Harry as soon as we leave the Great Hall, munching on one piece of toast as I hand him the other.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "Probably just to see if you're alright."

"Probably," I agree idly, letting silence settle between us for a moment before bringing up one of the brooms that were featured in the latest issue of Which Broomstick? As we wandered through the hallways, Harry and I were able to idly chat about normal fourteen-year-old stuff in a way that we hadn't been able to in a while.

By the time we reach the DADA classroom, I'm no longer worried about the meeting with Moody, and I reach up to knock on the door with complete nonchalance.

"Enter," a voice growls, then continues, "Potter, stay outside. I'll see you next."

Harry and I share a sheepish and confused look – Moody's note hadn't said to come alone, but if that's what the professor wanted…Harry shrugs and shuffles back, and I push the door open to see the classroom empty, but Mad-Eye was standing on the landing just outside his office, his magical eye fixing me with a piercing gaze.

"Black," he growls. "Nice to see you. Come on up."

"Morning, sir," I greet, trotting up the stairs and following him into his office.

While the classroom hadn't changed much from Remus's tenure as teacher, the inner office certainly had – it now played host to a number of strange gadgets and gizmos, a few I could recognize as magical sensors. Just behind the desk, there was a large, ornate trunk with a massive lock on the front that I resolved to not go anywhere near.

"It's all equipment from my Auror days," Moody comments, thumping over to his desk and taking a seat. "Allows me to see people before they sneak up on me." He pauses to take a swig from his flask. "I'm sure you know I was an Auror, lassie?"

"I didn't, actually," I admit, taking a seat across from the desk. "The Weasleys told me who you were over summer. I understand you were extremely good at your job, sir."

"It just came with experience," he dismisses casually before leaning forward. "Ms. Black, I think it's important that you know that I was in command of a squad of Aurors in the 1970s and eighties. We were tasked with taking down Dark wizards. People believed to be in league with You-Know-Who."

"Sir?"

Moody sighs. "On November first, 1981, my squad received a call saying that a man had just blown a street to kingdom come and killed twelve Muggles and an innocent wizard."

"Sir?" I repeat nervously, my stomach sinking like a rock in the Black Lake. "Are you saying-"

"Yes, Ms. Black. I was one of the wizards that orchestrated the arrest of Sirius Black."

I lean back in my seat, shoving down my initial reaction of anger – what, you couldn't check the bloody wand for a Blasting Hex? A Killing Curse? The Dark Mark? Nothing?! – and settle for a simpler reaction.

"Why are you telling me this, sir?" I ask flatly.

"The world has lost Black's trail. We don't know where he is…but I'm guessing you do."

"I'm not telling you, sir. I'm not telling anyone," I interject. "I'll tell you that much right now."

"Easy, lassie," he soothes, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me a little about yourself."

"I – what?" I blink in shock at the sudden topic shift.

"Tell me a little about yourself," Moody repeats, taking a drink from his hip flask. "What do you like to do?"

"Uhm…" I stutter. "I play Quidditch. Chaser for Gryffindor. I…I'm a good duelist, I guess."

"Are you, now? Quick on your feet?"

"I'd say so, sir," I confirm, feeling my confidence skyrocket.

"And you're well-behaved?"

"Er." I shift in my seat, my inner confidence boost grinding a halt as I manage to squeak, "I wouldn't go that far, professor…"

"So you're into mischief-making, then?" Moody inquires.

I just gape at him, completely unsure how to answer that question without lying or admitting something I shouldn't. It was completely unfair – that had to be the most loaded question in history.

Moody seems to take an answer from the silence and nods. "All the more reason to keep an eye on you then, lassie."

"All the more reason, sir?" I ask, confused. "I wasn't aware there was a reason in the first place."

"I know you know where your father is, Miss Black," the professor announces grimly.

"I already told you, professor, I'm not-"

"Eventually, you're going to tell me, one way or another," he continues, sounding fully assured of what he was saying. "You're going to tell me where Sirius Black is. Do you understand?"

"Um, no, sir, I'm gonna have to say I don't," I reply casually, shifting again and seriously wondering if I would be pulling out my wand in the next five minutes. I did not like the way I was feeling right now.

"I said," Moody growls tersely, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" The last word is a raw scream as he lunges forward, slamming his hands on the desk and unleashing a roar that shakes everything in the room and tears an involuntary whimper from my throat as I press myself as far back as I could, fighting the urge to curl into a ball.

"Y-Yes, sir," I stutter, not really understanding what I was agreeing to, but if it got Moody to stop screaming, I'd take it.

But there was something else – as Moody lunged forward, there was something in his eyes…a glint of something dark, dangerous, and unhinged. It could've just been his haunting past in the Aurors, but I doubted that. Whatever that glint was, and whatever it meant, it sent shivers racing up and down my spine.

Moody nods, pleased with my answer, and settles back in his chair, the glint completely disappearing and everything returning to normal.

I was just beginning to relax, tension flowing out of me like air from a leaky balloon, when Moody raised his wand and pointed it directly at me.

I didn't have time to think, let alone dodge or draw my wand, before a beam of whitish-blue light hits me directly in the face.

The room seems to spin, the world blurring for a moment as my thoughts whirled around and around like fruit in a blender, and for a split second, I couldn't remember anything – not even my own name.

When it all stops and the world comes back into focus, thankfully, I know who I am: Orissa Black. I know where I am: Professor Moody's office.

But why was I here again?

I give the professor a perplexed look. "Sir?"

"Miss Black, have you been listening to a word I've been saying?" Moody asks mildly.

"Er…" I glance at my shoes. "No, sir. Sorry."

"It's alright, lassie. I was just explaining that I was a friend of your dad's back in the day," Moody explains. "Before he went Dark, that is. Shame. He was a bright young man…just as you are a bright young girl."

I feel a slight grin curl my lips. "Thank you, sir."

"Which is why I'm sure you'll enjoy this," he continues, taking a large book out of one of the desk drawers and setting it on the desk, sliding it towards me. "It was a big help when I was your age."

I lean forward to read the cover of the gigantic, leather-bound book. "'101 Advanced Defensive Techniques for the Careful Witch or Wizard.' Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to read it."

"I'm sure you will," Moody agrees, taking a swig from his flask – it was strange, because as many times as I'd seen him do that over the past few days, that was the first time I'd seen it this morning.

I brush it off and go to stand, but my legs nearly give out and I'm forced to grab the edge of the desk to keep from faceplanting.

"Miss Black?" Moody asks. "Everything alright?"

"Fine, sir," I grin, straightening back up. "Just clumsy. I'll be going now." I pick the book up with a grunt, managing to shuffle towards the door with my new burden in hand.

I reach the hallway to find Harry leaning against the wall just outside Moody's classroom door.

"Ori!" he exclaims upon seeing me. "There you are! It's been nearly an hour!"

"What? No, Harry, it's been, like, five minutes. You need a watch."

"Um, no," he looks confused. "It's been an hour, Ori. I swear – Ron passed by a few minutes ago. Ask him if you don't believe me. It's you that needs the watch."

"Whatever," I dismiss with an eye-roll.

"So, what happened?" Harry asks eagerly. "What did Moody want?"

"He didn't 'want' anything," I reveal. "We sat, we chatted, and he gave me this," I lift the book to show him. "Did you know he knew my dad? They were friends and everything."

"That's cool," Harry admits. "But, are you okay? I could've sworn I heard shouting."

"No, no shouting…" I give him a worried look. "Harry, are you okay? Are you hearing voices again?"

Harry huffs at me, batting away the hand I tried to put on his forehead.

"I'm fine. Come on, Ron said Hermione was looking for us. Something about House-Elves."

Special thanks to Camille785 for reviewing the last two chapters! I'm glad you like this story and hope you enjoyed this chapter. Keep favoriting, following, and reviewing, dear readers!