At first Harry was a little dazed – which I assumed was a little side effect of him losing the memories of the past conversation. In his mind, Harry had pulled me aside, apologised and I had forgiven him just like that. No shouts of "you're working with a murderer!" or "it was Pettigrew who betrayed my parents!"

Whilst Harry might've forgotten our argument, I certainly hadn't. Even with Harry's surprise party as a distraction. No matter what I did, that scene kept replaying in my head over and over again. And yet, I still had no answer to the question that had been buzzing around my head since I'd muttered those words that had wiped Harry's memory.

Why?

Why had I obliviated him? Why not stun him and float his body up to the Hospital Wing like I'd originally planned? It wasn't like he was going to stop me.

Whatever the reason, I knew it was definitely the right choice. As I watched Harry enjoy his party and nearly deafen everyone with his golden egg's eye pitched screams, I couldn't help wish I was as carefree as he was at that moment, despite having another two near-impossible tasks ahead of him.

That was when I made a decision to forget. Just because I might not be able to wipe my own memories through magic, doesn't mean I can't at least try to forget them. And I can start by vowing never again to think about Sirius Black and whatever relationship he has with Harry. I'd act like I'd overheard nothing that night in the common room, and had instead gone straight to bed.

Everything went back to normal the next day.

Harry and I were talking again. Ron had reclaimed his spot in the group. And as a result, they didn't need me anymore so I started hanging more with Neville. Not that I minded in the slightest. In fact, Neville and I were becoming quite good friends.

As were Hagrid and I. Which could be the only logically explanation as to why I found myself with numerous burns and cuts after attempting to round up the six foot long monsters known as Skrewts, while my brother and his friends watched from the safety of Hagrid's hut.

"Well, well, well... this does look like fun."

Hagrid threw himself on top of the last Skrewt, flattening it, and tied it up before turning to face the new voice.

The stranger introduced herself as Rita Skeeter, a Daily Prophet reporter, before immediately bombarding Hagrid with questions about the Skrewts and his job in general. I just stood to the side and watched hopelessly as Hagrid agreed to an interview later that week.

"She'll twist everything you say!" I told Hagrid once the reporter Rita Skeeter, along with the rest of the class, had left. "Seriously, Hagrid, she has a nasty habit of making everyone she interviews look bad."

"Don' worry, Lean." Hagrid assured. "I'll be fine, we're jus goin' ter have a little chat, tha' is all. Now, go off ter lunch will yeh, I have another class I have ter prepare fer..."

But as it turned out, Hagrid's interview was the least of my concerns. As I walked up the slope towards the castle, a large eagle owl suddenly swooped down low over my head, before circling back and landing on my out-stretched arm. Attached to its leg was a letter addressed to me.

I didn't need to read it to know who it was from. Scanning the page, I bit my lip angrily.


Leaena,

I have no idea what is going on in that head of yours! Your mother has been distraught ever since we heard the news regarding your Sorting - she blames herself! How could you do this to her? We've also heard from Draco that you've made plenty of friends; Muggleborns, blood traitors and even Harry Potter himself! Come now, Leaena, I thought we raised you better than that. As punishment, you will not be welcome home for Christmas. This is decision is not open for debate so don't bother. I will see at the end of the school year.

Your father,

Lucius Malfoy


"Brr..." Neville said, handing the letter back to me. "That's cold. I mean, my grandmother has said some real inconsiderate things to me, but nothing so... so..."

"I know," I sighed sadly. "And what's worse is that we just sort of reconciled at the end of the holidays. After what happened at the Quidditch Cup I wasn't sure I could... Now, I feel like all that effort I put into forgetting what happened was for absolutely nothing. Nothing! I still hate them and want to scrunch up this letter and stick up their—"

"Lean!" Neville hissed. "Look, I know this isn't how you imagined everything turning out. But did you really want to return to the Manor for Christmas?"

"Of course not."

"Then, there really isn't any harm done."

"Any harm done? Neville, my father just disowned me in a letter! He kicked me out of my own house for Christmas! He disapproved of all my friends – who, by the way, are the only ones who have ever actually cared about me. Like you Neville, you've been listening to me this whole time I've been rambling on and not once complained."

Neville smiled weakly. "What are friends for?"

I returned his smile. "You are the best, Neville."

He laughed slightly and pulled me into a sideways hug. "So... while we're at it, is there anything else you need to get off your chest?"

Suddenly, a memory popped into my mind. Harry. I wanted nothing more than to confess what I'd heard and what I'd done, but I knew that was not as easy as it sounded. For one, I couldn't risk passing on the information that Harry was involved in something to do with Sirius Black...

No, I told myself stubbornly. You promised yourself you would forget about them. Just forget about it!

"Nah, that's all," I lied. Then I focused the conversation back on Neville, leaving all thoughts on Black behind me...