Unfortunately, the Great Firebolt Confiscation of Christmas '93 meant that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ariadne were now firmly divided into two camps: Anti-Confiscation (Harry and Ron) and Pro-Confiscation (Hermione and Ariadne).
After McGonagall left, both Ron and Hermione stormed out of the Common Room with a simultaneity that would have been funny if Harry wasn't still holding his broom polish and staring straight in shock.
"I know you're upset, Harry," Ariadne tried. "But you have to understand– the only person alive besides the Malfoys who knows my birthday is my father. The risk that your broom came from him too, it's too dangerous. He could be trying to hurt you."
Harry scoffed.
"Or us," Ariadne added on. At that, he finally turned to face her.
Harry looked down at Ariadne's hand, gaze softening as he caught sight of the note that she still held between her fingers.
"You really think it was him?"
Ariadne bit her lip before nodding. "I can't be certain," she admitted. "But it makes more sense than anything else."
"Yeah, alright," Harry said begrudgingly. "I reckon I'd have done the same, if it was just the ring. Well, maybe not tell a teacher," he tacked on bitterly, before his shoulders slumped down with a sigh. "It's just– my Nimbus was one of the first things I ever got that was really mine. That I earned. This Firebolt was supposed to be a new– I don't know." Harry cut himself off.
Ariadne walked over to him slowly, taking the polish carefully out of his hands and setting it down. She waited until she had his full attention before speaking again. "We'll get your broom back," Ariadne promised seriously. She placed a hand softly on his shoulder. "That last match wasn't the end of it, alright?"
Harry searched her face before nodding once firmly.
Ariadne's lips lifted into a small smile. "Good. Try not to be too mad at Hermione? That goes for Ron, too. Make sure he knows I'm watching," she teased.
Though Harry agreed to talk to Ron, Ariadne resolved to stop by the boy's dormitory quickly before her final destination. She pounded on the third-year door twice.
"Don't be an arse, Ron!" Ariadne yelled from outside. "Unless you'd rather risk Harry's life for a broom!"
She did not wait to receive an answer before walking away, though Ariadne laughed lightly at the thunk that had resounded from inside the room. Ron throwing a book at the door, she was quite certain. He'd heard her, at least.
The next stop was Hermione.
The older witch had stood firm in her decision when pressed by Ron, lifting a stubborn chin and declaring that she'd done what was right. But Ariadne could see contrition flash across Hermione's face as she stormed out of the room. At the very least, it wasn't a decision that Hermione had made lightly.
Ariadne knocked on the third-year dorm, softly this time, before letting herself in.
"I suppose you've come to yell at me too," Hermione said coldly, not looking up from her book. "Look, I'm sorry about your ring, but–"
"I didn't come to yell at you," Ariadne cut in slowly. "I don't care about my ring," she half-lied. "I mean, I liked it, and I wish you had said something to me before going to McGonagall, but I'll get it back. And if I don't get it back, that means it would have killed me anyway, so I'd rather n–"
Before Ariadne could finish speaking, Hermione dropped her book and leaped out of bed, wrapping her arms around Ariadne's neck and nearly knocking her over.
"Thank you," Hermione sniffed.
Ariadne disentangled herself gently. "Just, you know, a heads-up next time might be nice. Harry was quite surprised when McGonagall arrived. He and Ron really can be oblivious sometimes, now that I think about it, but– are you alright?" Ariadne finally noticed the worry that had taken over Hermione's face while she was musing to herself.
"How angry are they?" Hermione's voice was timid. "Harry and Ron?"
Ariadne smiled. "Harry's being rather sullen, and I can't exactly speak for Ron, but they'll get over it. You know how it is, Hermione, boys and their brooms.
"Boys and their brooms," Hermione repeated with a scoff. She looked at Ariadne tentatively once more. "But Ariadne, I've been thinking about the note that came with the ring, and I'm not sure– I'm not sure if it's like the broom. Your father didn't sound like he was trying to hurt you, exactly. What if–"
Ariadne spoke before Hermione could finish her sentence, keeping her tone deliberately light. "Well, what else could it possibly be?" Her smile felt tight on her face.
Hermione observed Ariadne for a moment before nodding tactfully, pasting a hesitant smile on her own face. In return, Ariadne bid her goodbyes and walked out of the dorm. Her movements felt stiff, and as soon as she was alone she pressed her back against the door and let out one long, shuddering breath. Ariadne squeezed her eyes shut for just a second before straightening up once more. She had to meet Harry for dinner, after all.
Harry was true to his word for the duration of the break, making a concerted effort to show Hermione that he wasn't angry with her. Hermione still spent most of her time in the library anyway, partially to get ahead on her mountains of classwork, partially to research past hippogriff trials, and partially to stay out of Ron's way.
Ron had been a harder egg to crack, though his obvious turning away when Hermione entered the room was tempered by the way Ariadne would roll her eyes in reaction. He began to soften as the term began, following Harry's lead. Things became civil enough that the four of them were able to walk back from class and take their meals together, although with a somewhat stony silence on Ron and Hermione's ends.
Sometimes silence was better than the alternative. As evidenced by the day that Ariadne left Charms to join Ron, Harry, and Hermione on their way to the Great Hall as they left Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" Ariadne joined as Ron spoke. "He might not even make it to your lessons in the state he's in, Ariadne. What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"
Ariadne wasn't quite sure who Ron was referring to, until Hermione lightly snorted from beside her.
"Something funny?" Ron asked hotly, while Harry turned around and rolled his eyes.
"No," answered Hermione, tone imperious. "It's just– it's obvious, isn't it?"
"Hermione…" Ariadne cautioned, eyes darting around the not-quite empty hallway. It wasn't that she thought Hermione should keep what she learned secret from Harry and Ron. But this certainly wasn't the place.
Hermione followed Ariadne's gaze to a group of Hufflepuffs giggling as they exited from Charms.
Ron glared at them both. "Well don't tell us, then! If you don't want us to know!"
Harry raised his hands, as if asking to be left out of the conflict. Ariadne wished she could do the same, but Hermione grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her away, huffing out a "Fine!" as she did.
"No way they actually know anything–" Ariadne heard Ron tell Harry bitterly. Harry looked like he could not care less, but the comment evidently struck Hermione anyway.
"I do know!" Hermione insisted as she pulled Ariadne into the empty Charms classroom. "I'm right! I've researched, I even figured out that potion–!"
"I know that, Hermione," Ariadne said gently, lowering her voice in the hopes Hermione would match her tone. She didn't want anyone to overhear. "The potion?" she asked, redirecting her friend's attention.
"Right, the potion. It's not a cure," Hermione murmured, catching onto Ariadne's sotto voice. "But it alleviates the symptoms. It's called Wolfsbane, but it's really new. It allows a werewolf to keep his mind. It's really complicated, actually, and rather impressive that Professor Snape–"
Ariadne tuned Hermione out, keeping her face politely impassive rather than interrupt whatever passionate academic frenzy Hermione would inevitably work herself into. She was happy Hermione was happy, but she could do without listening to someone extol Snape's virtues for five minutes straight.
So. Wolfsbane. With a name like that, how could that potion be anything but confirmation that Professor Lupin was a werewolf? Ariadne hadn't thought that Hermione was wrong– she'd never be so senseless– but she'd certainly hoped.
Narcissa had said once that werewolves shouldn't bother to attempt to integrate into Wizarding society, that they'd be caught out at once because they were so fundamentally beastly that they could never hope to blend in. Ariadne would never had suspected that Professor Lupin was a werewolf – it didn't surprise her that the Malfoys were blinded by their own prejudice. But perhaps Narcissa wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps that was the explanation – why Lupin felt so strange to Ariadne, yet so familiar all at once. Perhaps she could sense the distance that he kept, his struggle to identify and to assimilate.
Or perhaps there was another reason altogether, brewing under the hazy fog of her addled memory. He was someone, if not something. Ariadne was sure of it.
That night, Ariadne excused herself as Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Great Hall after dinner, promising to catch up with them after dinner. She found herself walking to the opposite end of the Hall, single-minded in her determination. But when she arrived, she felt rather nervous.
"Hello," Ariadne said timidly, feeling strangely unnerved to approach this end of the Gryffindor table, filled only by older students. "You don't know me, really, but I'm–"
"Ariadne Black," Oliver Wood greeted genially, and Ariadne winced as he put his hands up in teasing submission. "Hard to forget. What can I do for you?"
"Sorry about that," she rubbed her neck sheepishly. Oliver waved her off, and Ariadne smiled slightly before stepping forward. "Well, as you know, McGonagall confiscated Harry's Firebolt–"
"Bloody tragedy that is," the older boy muttered, dropping his fork onto his plate in frustration. A pretty girl across from him glared at the noise before turning back to gossiping with her friends. "She should know Quidditch is more important than anything else. Even if Siriu–"
"Right. Well, he's being stubborn about ordering a new one, and I know he's going to get the Firebolt back, but this is quite an important match so…" Ariadne found herself rambling, catching herself as Oliver watched her expectantly. "Anyway, I'm hoping you can give me suggestions? I don't know much, you see."
"Suggestions?" Oliver repeated slowly.
"Oh, yes," Ariadne said hastily, realizing her mistake. "About what broom to buy him? Just in case."
Oliver's face split into a wide grin, perhaps the widest one she'd ever seen on another person. He looked utterly overjoyed, pushing over the boy next to him to make room for Ariadne. He gestured wildly for her to sit, which she did, before pulling out a copy of Which Broomstick? from his trouser pockets.
"Do you carry that around everywhere you go?" Ariadne asked with a slight laugh, but Oliver was undeterred.
"Of course!" he replied seriously. "You never know when a situation might arise. Now come on! Let's get your boy a broom."
Athena delivered a small rectangular box to Ariadne at breakfast the next morning, which she unlatched from her bird's leg before feeding her the corner of her pumpkin pasty. Ron and Hermione hardly noticed, too busy engaging in an unspoken glaring contest to see beyond themselves. Harry, however, looked at Ariadne curiously. She smiled giddily in return.
"Go on," Harry demanded with interest when Ariadne waited to open the parcel in the Great Hall. This was the first package that Ariadne had ever received, after all. Besides Christmas, that is. "Open it!"
Ariadne shook her head, gesturing instead towards the entrance. "Not here. Follow me." She tried unsuccessfully to suppress her grin.
Harry did not hesitate to stand, looking only briefly at Ron and Hermione before electing to leave them to their silent battle. He followed Ariadne back to the empty Gryffindor Common Room, where she finally turned around and shoved the box in his hands.
"You open it!" she ordered, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. Harry eyed her suspiciously for a moment before returning his attention to the small box when Ariadne kept her face innocently placid. Lifting the lid, Harry's green eyes widened before he reached a hand in, pulling out a new Nimbus 2001.
"How did you–"
"Undetectable Extension charm," Ariadne answered before he finished speaking. "It's only a couple galleons extra– I thought the surprise would be worth it." Ariadne bit her lip nervously. "I know you didn't want the same broom as Draco, but Oliver said it really is one of the best in the market. It's not a Firebolt, but you've got a match coming up, and it won't do to practice on old Shooti–"
It was Harry who cut her off this time. "No," he reassured, finally looking up with an expression that Ariadne couldn't quite place. "It's brilliant, Aria, thank you. I– I don't know what to say."
"Well, that's easy," said Ariadne blithely, relaxed to know Harry was pleased. "Say 'I'll stop being a git about my Firebolt because my beautiful best friend Aria got me a new broom and I'll get the other one back eventually anyway."'
Harry grinned slowly, revealing a row of straight teeth. "I'll stop being a git about my Firebolt because my beautiful best friend Aria got me a new broom and I'll get the other one back eventually anyway," he parroted. "I really was being a twat, wasn't I?"
"Yes," Ariadne confirmed, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. She had received no shortage of compliments during her life, but something about hearing them from Harry made her feel warm. Even if she had put the words in his mouth. "But not as much as Ron was. And I forgive you, anyway."
"Thanks," Harry said dryly, but his eyes were soft. Ariadne fidgeted under his gaze.
"Listen," she said suddenly. "Give this one to Ginny when you do get the Firebolt back, alright? She had a knack for flying during lessons last year," Ariadne shuddered at the memory, having never gotten the hang of taking off into air. "Well, at the beginning of last year. And I know she sneaks into the broom shed at the Burrow and uses her brothers' brooms. She could be quite good."
"Yeah, alright," Harry said agreeably, stepping back from Ariadne. "But she's got to share with Ron, too. I think that might be good for him."
Ariadne nodded. "Yeah, I think it might."
Harry looked down at his new broom with a smile before looking back up at Ariadne. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking again, though his tone remained uncertain. "Listen," he said slowly, before speaking quickly enough that Ariadne struggled to catch each word. "I've got to meet Lupin this week for anti-dementor lessons. I've been thinking it might be good for you to come too. You could learn the spell, or maybe you could ask him about, y'know, the Obliviation thing. I'll probably make an arse of myself, but I just thought–"
"I'd love to."
After dinner on Thursday night, Ariadne and Harry bid their goodbyes to Ron and Hermione before heading over to the History of Magic classroom to meet Professor Lupin for Harry's anti-dementor lesson. They waited for five minutes, Harry quite nervously, before Professor Lupin finally arrived.
Lupin heaved a large case before turning around to greet Harry, though he was surprised to find Ariadne at his side.
"Ariadne!" He exclaimed. "I didn't know you were coming." He looked at his case rather unsurely before looking back at her. "We don't have a Dementor," he explained. "Only a Boggart. You'd have to, er, avoid interacting with the Boggart directly, but–"
"It's alright, Professor," Ariadne assuaged. "I'm only here to support. I don't intend how to learn how to repel a Dementor– not yet, at least."
Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he looked at her. "You're not?"
"No," Ariadne responded, having decided when Harry first asked her to join. It was probably quite a stupid decision, but sometimes the necessary ones were. "It's quite advanced, anyway. You'll have to teach it to me later, alright?"
Harry nodded in agreement. "I solemnly swear," he promised.
Professor Lupin, who had been looking quite relieved at Ariadne's refusal (probably at the thought of not having to see her dead mother again, not that she could blame him) suddenly made a choking noise. His eyes remained trained on Harry, rather unseeing, before he noticed Ariadne and Harry staring up curiously back at him.
He cleared his throat. "Right. Let's get started, shall we? The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when it sees you, so you'll be able to practice on it. I must warn you, however, that Ariadne was quite right to be apprehensive about how highly advanced this spell is. It's far beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. Most adult wizards, even some of the Hogwarts professors, are incapable of casting it. It is called the Patronus charm."
"What will it look like?" asked Harry.
"Each Patronus is unique to its caster," Professor Lupin explained. "And it can only be cast if you focus, with all your might, on a very happy memory. And even then, you must be highly magically skilled. The incantation is Expecto Patronum."
A happy memory? Ariadne was glad she wasn't doing the spell, suddenly. She could hardly remember the last time that she was well and truly happy. At Christmas, maybe? The day she got her Hogwarts letter? Or was it before that, even. Years ago, before the Malfoys. Before magic. When it was just her and her mum. But was she even happy then?
Well, yes, she decided. She'd been happy. She just couldn't put her finger on when, exactly. Ariadne was happy on Christmas, before the ring arrived. And she was happy during Harry's hippogriff ride, before Draco got injured. Was it possible to focus on the good without the bad?
A wisp of something silver emitting from Harry's wand knocked Ariadne out of her melodramatics. He'd done it! He'd done something, at least! She clapped as he exclaimed proudly.
"Very good," said Professor Lupin, smiling down at Harry. Harry was not looking, too mesmerized by the silver haze still in the air, but Ariadne eyed him inquisitively. He really did look quite proud of Harry, something almost paternal glazing into his eyes. She looked for any signs of anything else as he opened up the case to release the Boggart. Anything to show without a shadow of a doubt that he was indeed a werewolf. But Ariadne could find nothing, aside from some light scarring on his face and hands. He looked human, through and through. Take that, Narcissa.
The room suddenly felt several degrees cooler as the Boggart faced Harry, transforming almost immediately into a ghastly Dementor. She did her best to keep herself turned away, listening to Harry's cries of Expecto Patronum, but the sound of her mother's voice was unavoidable.
It was only very faint, now, evidently tempered by the fact that there was not a real Dementor in sight. But she strained her ears to listen anyway, desperate for anything more. For a clue, a hint. For someone to tell her what she'd heard.
But she got nothing besides the usual footsteps before the lights turned on once more. Ariadne opened her eyes to find Harry lying down on the floor. Lupin shook him awake and handed him most of a Chocolate Frog before handing Ariadne the rest. She shoved it in her mouth greedily.
"It's worse now– it was louder this time. I could hear her clearly, and him – Voldemort."
Professor Lupin paled.
"Maybe you should stop, Harry," Ariadne encouraged gently, though she knew that it was fruitless. Not when he had a match coming up. She nearly rolled her eyes when Harry said as much.
"If we lose this game," he explained, "we lose the Cup!"
"All right then," Professor Lupin agreed hesitantly. He ignored Ariadne's narrowed eyes. "You must select a different memory, then. A happier one."
Harry gripped his wand tightly before getting up, steeling his jaw. Ariadne had to admire his courage, even as she turned her back from the Boggart and covered her ears preemptively. She shivered as the room darkened once more, the tell-tale sign that the Dementor had arrived. But the darkness lasted for shorter this time, before the lights came on once more. Ariadne turned around, teasing admonition on the tip of her tongue, when she saw Harry lying on the ground with Professor Lupin standing over him. He wasn't waking up.
"Harry!" she called, before kneeling down next to him. He was breathing, she could see, but they were shallow, and his skin was covered in a cold sweat. Not sweat, she realized. Tears were trickling out of his shut eyes, disappearing over the side of his face. She wiped them away gently. What could it have been? she wondered. When he hadn't cried for his mother?
Harry stirred after a particularly hard tap from Professor Lupin. He blinked twice before sitting up, swiping at his eyes with the hem of his sleeves and taking in his surroundings.
"It was my dad," he mumbled. "It's never been him before. He tried to fight Voldemort off himself, tried to give me and my mum time to run for it."
Ariadne felt her own eyes well up, and this time it was Harry who wiped her tears away. The movement had been instinctual, and he averted his eyes when he realized what he'd done.
"James?" Professor Lupin choked out, staring down at Harry before he cleared his throat once more. "I mean– you heard James?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed, and he looked to Lupin with something like hope. Ariadne was somewhat more suspicious. "Why? Did you know my dad, Professor?"
"I–I did," Professor Lupin stumbled on his words. "Yes, we were friends at Hogwarts." He changed the subject quickly, but Ariadne noticed the too-casual note to his voice. "Listen, Harry, perhaps this is enough for today. The spell is quite advanced, after all, and–"
Harry got to his feet, prepared to argue, but it was Ariadne who spoke. "No!" she exclaimed, surprising even herself. "No, you've got to give him another shot. You can't leave it like that," she quieted, but Harry looked at her with appreciation.
"Right!" he agreed. "I'm not thinking happy enough thoughts. If I just focus…" Harry squeezed his eye shut before cracking one open, observing Ariadne one last time. He closed his eyes again before facing the case with the Boggart, gripping his wand tightly.
"This will be the last time then, Harry. Ready?" Professor Lupin asked, sounding anything but. Harry nodded.
The room became cold and dark once more, but Ariadne did not even manage to hear footsteps this time. She heard only Harry, whose Expecto Patronums were growing only louder and clearer. He sounded surer of himself, at least, and when a large and far more opaque silver shadow appeared from his wand once and for all, the lights in the room began to flicker on once more.
"Riddikulus!" yelled Lupin, vanishing the Boggart back into the case. It was a moon now, Ariadne noted with mild interest. A full one. Merlin, Hermione was good.
"Just one more go," Harry pushed, shaking from exertion. Ariadne all but stamped her foot, moon Boggart be damned.
"Absolutely not, Harry James Potter. You can try again next week, but you are done for tonight."
"Well said, Ariadne," said Professor Lupin, sounding rather amused. "But I shall see you both next week, I presume?"
Harry nodded for them both. "But Professor Lupin," he began. "If you knew my father at Hogwarts," he glanced at Ariadne from the corner of his eye before pressing forward. "Did you know Aria's parents as well?"
"Do you mean to ask about Sirius Black?" Professor Lupin said harshly, words nearly a growl. Ariadne stepped back, dragging Harry with her. She knew Harry was asking for her, prodding for answers he did not know she already had. Professor Lupin softened at her fear, something akin to regret in his eyes, but she raised her chin in obstinance.
"He did," Ariadne answered for Harry, before turning to the Gryffindor. "And Professor Lupin did know my parents at Hogwarts. He and my father, and your father too–" Ariadne's eyes widened with realization.
"Professor Lupin!" she said excitedly, forgetting her irritation from only moments earlier. "Were you a Marauder, by any chance?"
"How do you know that name?" Lupin and Harry asked her simultaneously, before turning to one another in shock.
"Well," Ariadne said decisively. "That answers that. Shall we go, Harry? I could use your help on a Transfiguration essay I've got due."
And with that, she pulled an open-mouthed Harry out of the classroom, leaving a frozen Professor Lupin behind to deal with the ghosts of his past on his own.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked her when they returned to the Common Room. It was empty besides the two of them, with the rest of Gryffindor evidently having gone to bed. Or snuck off to Merlin knows where.
"The Marauders?" Ariadne clarified, though she was quite sure she knew what Harry was referring to. He nodded impatiently.
"Yes, the Marauders. How do you know them?
"How do you know them?" Ariadne countered.
"I've got this map," Harry admitted, reaching into his pocket robe. He pulled out a blank sheet of paper before tapping it once. Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present… "The Marauder's Map. Fred and George gave it to me, said they nicked it from Filch's office. It shows everyone at Hogwarts – where they are, where they're going. And it's got secret exits as well. It's their Map, the Marauders. They're wicked, but I don't know who they are."
"I do," Ariadne said, amazed at the bit of spellwork their parents had managed in their school days. "At least, I'm quite sure of most of them. I'm certain about your dad and mine, that they were the Marauders. That's what they called themselves in school, at least. And Professor Lupin too, after tonight. My mum used to tell me stories about them– the pranks they pulled, the grades they received. They were quite popular, I think. And quite loud. I'm not quite sure who's who, though."
Moony was Professor Lupin, obviously. Not too inventive as boys, considering they'd just made a semi-sentient magical map. But who could her dad have been? Wormtail? Padfoot? Prongs?
"My father?" Harry asked, voice hushed with reverence. Ariadne nodded, but Harry's brows furrowed at an apparently unpleasant reminder. "My father," he repeated, whispering now. "When I heard his voice tonight…" Harry trailed off. "I've never heard my dad before. Or my mum, for that matter. And all I've got is the Dementors, of them being murdered. But I can't help but want to hear it, I think. It's all I've got." Harry shook his head. "It's stupid."
Ariadne placed a hand on his. "It's not stupid," she insisted. "I can hear my mum when the Dementor gets near. I'm not sure what it is that I'm hearing, exactly. That's why I think the memory's been Obliviated. But I'm afraid that the Dementor might be the only way to get it back. That's why I didn't want the Patronus lesson. And that's stupid."
"It's not," Harry disagreed, but he smiled when Ariadne tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes at the same time. "Alright, maybe a bit. But we'll get your memory back," Harry insisted. "And then I'll teach you the Patronus. You won't need it anyhow, if I can do it. I mean, you'll have to stick near me, but–" he reddened.
"Just have to stick near you, will I?" Ariadne grinned. "'Course, that won't do me too much good when my dad comes skulking back to Hogwarts, and you're his number one target."
"Hey!" Harry laughed good-naturedly. "You're his target too! You got a cursed gift, same as I did." The teasing intonation that Harry placed on the word 'cursed' was telling about the stance he still took on Hermione's decision to report their gifts to McGonagall. But his smile stilled as Ariadne's did, and he nudged her in concern.
"I'm more concerned that the ring's not cursed," Ariadne admitted after a moment, finally voicing aloud what she had implicitly forbidden Hermione from saying all those weeks ago. She hadn't been ready then, hadn't wanted to admit the other possibility to herself. But this was Harry, and he was her best friend. He deserved to know all of her. And she deserved to let him. "Because if it's not…" she trailed off. "What if the Ministry's right? That he doesn't want to hurt me. That he wants me to join him. What if– what if he thinks I'm like him? What if I am like him?"
"You're not," Harry insisted. He shifted his body to face her directly, looking into her gray eyes intently. "You're nothing like him. You sneak vegetables into Ron's gravy, and you make Hermione take breaks in the library before she even knows she needs one. You confronted bloody Voldemort when he was possessing Ginny. You're good, Aria," Harry said fiercely, before faltering. "You're– you're Aria."
Ariadne stared up at him, suddenly hearing the loud roar of her blood rushing to her ears. She could feel that her lips were slightly parted, but no sound came out. She had never– no one had ever said anything like that to her before. Not even her mother. Ariadne felt tears prickling in the corner of her eyes, but she willed herself to keep them in. How humiliating would that be? To cry after receiving one compliment? Even if it was from Harry. Or, when it was only from Harry.
Harry looked away first, raising a sheepish hand to his neck. "I– er, I suppose that means I ought to share the Map with you, doesn't it?"
"The what?" Ariadne asked, blinking once to clear her mind from whatever that had been. "Oh, right. I suppose it does. It is my inheritance, after all." She stuck her nose slightly in the air. "Shall we come up with a custody agreement? You'll get it every other weekend?"
"Excuse me," Harry said hotly, looking distinctly more at ease in the face of familiar banter. "Why should I get every other weekend when Fred and George gave the Map to me. You've just been reduced to visitation."
Ariadne shoved at him, catching him by surprise and nearly toppling him over in his seat. She was the one to fall out of her chair anyway, keeling over in laughter at the sight of surprise on his face. The bruise on her knees had been worth it, though, for Harry's own laughter in return. Perhaps chocolate was not the only remedy for the cold distress bestowed by the Dementor.
The next month continued with much of the same, though Ariadne only managed to see Harry once a week when she attended his Patronus lessons with Professor Lupin. Quidditch practices had ramped up to five times per week, but Harry was happy enough to try out his new broom and Oliver had been pleased his star player was done practicing with frayed Comets.
The lessons remained the same as well, with Harry managing to get only as far as the thick silver fog he had already transmitted from his wand, and Ariadne able to hear no more than the vague sound of footsteps and laughter. Perhaps the memory was particularly weak because the Dementor was not real, but Ariadne was not exactly planning to go out of her way to find out.
Ariadne saw even less of Hermione than she did of Harry, and the older Gryffindor girl's class schedule was growing into a puzzle of escalating logical improbability. But this was Hermione, after all. She knew what she was doing. Usually.
This left Ariadne with Ron much of the time, which meant that she spent many an hour being soundly defeated at Wizarding chess and avoiding being sprayed with crumbs while he ate. He wasn't bad company, all in all, and Ariadne could tell that Ron felt the same way about her, if the way that he was increasingly willing to comment on girls' looks to her was any indication. Ariadne was beginning to think that Ron actually did think that she was a boy. At least he was consistent.
After one particularly discouraging Patronus lesson, Harry was more despondent than usual as the two left the History of Magic classroom in companionable silence. Ariadne's eyes twinkled as she spotted something in the distance sure to improve his mood, and she nudged his arm to get him to lift his head.
He did in the nick of time, just barely managing to avoid walking headfirst into Professor McGonagall, who Ariadne was sure would not have appreciated the gesture.
"I've been looking for you in the Common Room, Potter," Professor McGonagall said sternly, but even she was smiling slightly. "I suppose I could have just as well been looking for Miss Black instead– I should have known I'd find the two of you together."
But Professor McGonagall did not even give the two Gryffindors time to blush before pulling something out from behind her back that caused Harry's jaw to drop instantly. She placed the Firebolt in his hands, and Harry looked at it speechlessly.
"You'll need this for Saturday's match, I gather?" McGonagall said knowingly. "Do try and win, Potter, as I'm not sure I can bear Professor Snape taunting me for an eighth year in a row. And do try and keep him in line, Black. I won't hear of any attempts to ride the Firebolt off the Astronomy Tower, will I?" She sounded as though she spoke from experience.
Ariadne nodded dutifully, but she said nothing else as she waited in front of McGonagall expectantly. McGonagall hesitated only slightly before bidding the two a good night, a hint of apology in her eyes. Not yet, then. Had they found something?
Harry grabbed Ariadne by the arm and began sprinting towards the Common Room. She laughed as she struggled to keep up – she may have been tall for her age, but Harry was taller still, providing him the additional benefit of longer strides. Still, Harry's infectious enthusiasm helped her shake off the disappointment.
As they turned the corridor back to Gryffindor Tower, however, the two were stopped by a tearful Neville Longbottom and an unyielding Sir Cadogan.
"Hark!" Sir Cadogan declared upon seeing Harry and Ariadne. "Bear witness, fair maiden and young nobleman. This dastard here is attempting to breach the walls of this fortress!"
Neville turned to Harry miserably. "I've lost the passwords! You've got to help me, Harry. I wrote them all down because he keeps changing the passwords too often, and now I've gone and lost them. Oh, what will Gran say?" Neville sniffled before flushing as he caught sight of Ariadne. "Bye," he said abruptly, turning around and running rather slowly away from the tower.
"There's nothing in that direction, Neville!" Ariadne called out, before giving up. He was always running from her, though Ariadne could hardly fathom why. Harry was looking at her curiously, the corner of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly.
"What?" Ariadne asked. Harry merely shrugged, returning his attention to Sir Cadogan.
"Oddsbodkins," he said instead, cutting off Sir Cadogan's rant about how he'd been right that Neville had been a nefarious lurker. As soon as the portrait opened, however, the Common Room exploded into a flurry of movement and noise that Ariadne could only recall seeing several times before, including the night that Harry and Ron arrived at Hogwarts via a Ford Anglia.
The Gryffindors, young and old alike, began to swarm around Harry, excited for the opportunity to even graze the returned Firebolt.
"When'd you get it back, Harry?"
"Reckon I can have a go?"
"How's the speed like?"
"Ravenclaw may as well forfeit now, eh Harry?
As the swarm closed in on Harry and his broom, however, Ariadne felt herself being pushed and prodded out of the way and back in the direction of the room's entrance. She didn't mind, content to allow the students their moment. She was certain she'd catch up with Harry when the commotion died down, after all.
But a loud "Oi!" cut over the noise, and soon Ariadne found the crowd parting somewhat to make room for just the right side of Harry's body. It was enough, however, for him to reach out and grab her, pulling her forward and beside him. Ariadne peered up at Harry gratefully, though he did not notice, having returned to allowing the crowd to engage with him and his broom. Still, he made sure to keep a careful hand on her arm as he did.
When the crowd finally did depart, Ron eagerly offered his services to place the broom upstairs for Harry. In exchange, Harry agreed that Ron would be the first person besides him to be able to ride the Firebolt.
"I'd have agreed anyway," Harry whispered to Ariadne after Ron was out of earshot. Ariadne giggled as she whacked him on the back of the head with admonishment.
In the corner of the room, Hermione was surrounded by a crowd of her own in the form of a mountain of books and papers that seemed to be closing in on her. Ariadne nudged Harry in her direction.
"See, Hermione," he smiled triumphantly. "It wasn't cursed after all!"
"Well, it could have been!" Hermione insisted hotly, though she looked faintly chagrined. She turned to Ariadne. "I suppose I overreacted about the ring as well, didn't I?"
Realization dawned across Harry's face as he looked at Ariadne. "Not quite," she admitted. "McGonagall didn't say anything, but she must have found something, right? I mean, why else wouldn't I get the ring back if Harry's got his broom." She wondered aloud.
Harry opened his mouth to apologize, but Ariadne waved him off. "Oh, stop it. I'd rather one of us have something then both of us have nothing. Besides, a broom's rather more useful than–"
Ariadne did not get to say what a broom was more useful than, for Ron chose precisely that moment emit a bloodcurdling scream. Harry began to run towards the dormitory, Fred and George following closely behind, when Ron came downstairs clutching a bed sheet.
"LOOK!" Ron yelled, pushing past the three boys in front of him. Even Fred and George looked utterly bewildered. "LOOK!" Ron repeated, until he was getting far too close to Hermione's face to be yelling so loudly. Ariadne stepped between them.
"Calm down, Ron," Ariadne spoke in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "What–"
"CALM DOWN?" Ron asked hysterically. "LOOK!" He turned towards Ariadne this time, shoving the bed sheet into her face. She didn't see anything wrong with it, until something red caught the corner of her eye.
Blood.
"Did you–?" she began to ask, scanning his body for injury. But Ron was perfectly fine, save for his remarkable fury.
"It's not mine!" Ron yelled, shaking the blanket manically. "SCABBERS! He's gone!" He turned to Hermione now, slapping the sheets atop her pile of work. "And look what was left behind."
Three long, ginger cat hairs.
"How d'you suppose Ron knows that the hair wasn't his?" Harry whispered to Ariadne. She did her best to hide her laugh behind her hands, knowing that even the slightest hint of anything besides solemnity could set Ron off once more.
The three of them, it seemed, had entered some sort of informal period of mourning over Scabbers. Hermione did not partake, insistent as she was in Crookshanks's innocence. It seemed quite clear to Ariadne that Scabbers was dead, but she wasn't particularly torn up either way. He had certainly lived long enough – Ariadne didn't know how long Scabbers had been in the Weasley family, but Ron had had Scabbers for as long as she'd known him, and she'd Harry mention once that Ron had taken Scabbers onto the Hogwarts Express on the first day of his first year. So that was at least two years – and how long were rats supposed to live, anyhow?
Still, Ariadne temporarily switched out her red and gold Gryffindor tie for a black one, and charmed Harry's and Ginny's to do the same. Out of respect for Ron's grief, at the very least. And also because the dramatics were quite funny.
"I expected this from Harry!" Hermione had said when she spotted Ariadne and her tie in the morning. "But you? And you?" she sniffed, disappointed when Ginny walked down the stairs similarly dressed.
"Oh, come off it, Hermione," Ginny shook her head. "It's just a bit of a laugh. Ron's practically beside himself over Scabbers – you'd think it was his boyfriend, or something."
"Right," Ariadne agreed. "I mean, he's definitely being a bit dramatic. But Hermione! Even you've got to admit it's definitely dead."
"I will not! If you think about it logically, it's far more probable that Ron misplaced Scabbers than Crook–" she cut herself off when it became clear that Ariadne and Ginny would not be convinced. "Alright, fine! You hold your little funeral. If you need me, I'll be in the library."
And she had not left since, as far as Ariadne was concerned. How Hermione managed to be taking so many classes would forever remain a mystery. But Ariadne suspected that her absence was for the best, at least for the time being. To give Ron a chance to cool off.
He did, somewhat. Over the course of the next week, Ron would occasionally descend into sudden fits of utter depression, looking so forlorn that even Fred and George stepped in to extol Scabbers' virtues. But by Saturday, he had overcome his grief enough to allow color to re-enter their lives. Gryffindor colors, of course.
Ron and Hermione mutually agreed to set aside their feud for several hours in order to support Harry at the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, so the three of them headed over together in relatively tense silence just as the players were entering the field.
The Ravenclaw team came out first, headed by Cho Chang, a pretty Seeker two years above Ariadne. Last she'd heard, Cho was moony-eyed over Cedric Diggory, who'd hardly given her the time of day in favor of starting things up with Heidi McAvoy, a Chaser on the Hufflepuff team. Only, Heidi was graduating this term anyway, so Cho had been telling her friends she was certain she and Cedric would be dating by this time next year.
That's what Ariadne had overheard, at least, during sleepless nights where she'd had nothing to do but listen to Romilda and Lola chatter.
Which is why Ariadne was a bit confused to see Cho flash Harry a brilliant smile when he lined up across from her to shake hands, twirling the ends of her hair around a finger as she did. And she was even more confused, then, when Harry cast a small smile in return, flushing red enough that Ariadne could see it from the stands. How did they even know each other, for Merlin's sake?
Ariadne nudged Ron with an elbow, harder again when he didn't notice, eyes trained on the players launching themselves into the sky.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"She's popular, isn't she? Cho Chang?"
"Yes?" Ron said slowly, certain he was being tested. When Ariadne did not react, he allowed himself to continue. "Yeah, 'course she is. I think she might keep up with Quidditch better than I do. Plus she's a looker, isn't she? You should hear the boys talk about her." He snorted before continuing. "Not me, of course. She's a Tornados fan – you know what that means," Ron intoned knowingly.
Ariadne did not, in fact, know what that meant. Because Ariadne hardly understood Quidditch as a game, let alone well enough to keep up with the League. And she was practically afraid of a broom. She suddenly found herself feeling terribly inadequate, wishing not for the first time that she had been raised normally in the Wizarding World. Perhaps her father would have taught her.
Insecure as she was feeling, Ariadne did not dare ask Ron who exactly the boys entailed. She didn't want to know the answer, though she was not entirely sure why. Instead, she trained her eyes back onto pretty Cho Chang, who soared through the sky with a grace that made Ariadne scowl.
Harry made an abrupt dive only minutes at the start of the game, and Cho was quick to follow at his tail. The Snitch disappeared, but the rest of the match continued similarly. Cho made sure that she was never more than a meter from Harry. Though it doesn't seem to bother him too much, does it?
As Gryffindor began leading in points, highlighted by Lee Jordan's exuberant commentary on Harry's Firebolt (to McGonagall's chagrin), Cho ramped up the aggression. When Harry began aiming for the Snitch once more, she appeared in front of him suddenly, blocking him from completing the dive.
"Just knock her off!" Ariadne shouted, before slapping her hands in front of her mouth with a gasp. Dean Thomas hooted from behind her, clapping Ariadne on the shoulder heartily. Ron, meanwhile, looked at her as though she was insane. He turned to look at Cho, seated serenely before Harry's broom, before shifting his eyes back to Ariadne. And then, oddly enough, he began to laugh.
A lot.
"Are you quite finished?" Ariadne asked indignantly, placing her hands on her hips.
Ron held up his index finger as he caught his breath, keeled over at his midsection. He stood up after what seemed like forever, wiping the corners of his eyes dramatically, before looking at her with a grin that Ariadne wanted to slap off his face.
"What could possibly be that funny?" she asked once more, though her cheeks were burning with the humiliation of her outburst.
"Nothing!" Ron insisted, placing his hands in the air. He sighed mockingly, shaking his head. "It's just, the two of you! You're so bloody–"
Ron's words were stopped with the abrupt muzzle of a small hand being placed over his mouth. Hermione glared at Ron, smoothing out her expression to shoot Ariadne an innocent grin.
"Who knows what nonsense he was going to say!" Hermione declared, chuckling with practiced nonchalance. "Probably just explaining some Quidditch rules to us. You know how out of touch we are!" She widened her eyes at the redhead before removing her hand. "Right, Ronald?"
"Right," Ron agreed, touching the corner of his mouth as he spoke. He shook his head and patted himself quite hard on the jaw before continuing, though he continued to look at no one in particular. "I was just going to say that you can't knock someone off their broom in Quidditch." He forced out a laugh, glancing at Hermione with marked fear. "You're so bloody out of touch, that's all."
"What are you talking about, mate?" chimed in Seamus Finnegan from his place beside Dean. "'Course you can knock people off their broom in Quidditch. What would be the point if you couldn't?"
Ron rubbed the side of his neck, freckles becoming more prominent as he reddened under the questioning. "Right, right," he hesitated. "Yeah, I'm talking about that one rule that was in place a couple of seasons ago. They got rid of it, of course—"
"Are you talking about the rule back in '89 about Bragsoff and Hobbes? 'Cos that wasn't about knocking off brooms, it was about knocking off–"
"Okay, thank you Seamus!" intervened Hermione, and Ron openly breathed a sigh of relief.
Note to self: never ask Ron and Hermione to lie for you. They are terrible at it.
But Ariadne didn't want to involve herself in whatever weird squabble the two were obviously in now. Their fights always manifested in the oddest ways, and she really was not in the mood to allow this fake Quidditch rule thing turn into the trial against Crookshanks once more. She frowned at them both, turning her attention back to the game.
When Harry dove for the Snitch a third time, Cho was quick to follow once more. This time, however, as Harry began to accelerate, Cho began to slow down.
"Oh!" she screamed, and Ariadne followed Cho's pointer finger to the front of the stands, where two students in black robes appeared to be prancing around and flailing their arms.
What–?
Ariadne looked back at Harry who, reacting on instinct, reached for his wand and yelled some incantation. She was not entirely sure what was going on– why would Harry need to defend himself against two dancing students, after all– until she saw the silvery light emit from the end of his wand.
She had seen it many times before, in those late, frustrating nights in the History of Magic classroom with Harry and Lupin. But it had never been this bright, nor this enormous. And it had certainly never had legs before.
Ariadne could see now how, from afar, the two squirming students could be misconstrued as Dementors. How dare they? Who would–?
Ariadne stopped moving with a horrible thought. But when Ariadne looked over to the Ravenclaw side of the stands, the sight of a shock of platinum blond hair eased her fears. Until she realized Goon 1 and Goon 2 were not beside him. And they were always beside him.
She almost got out of her seat, ready to fight, when Hermione tapped her on the shoulder instead.
"Look!" Hermione yelled, clapping excitedly.
Harry had not let the Dementor scare deter him and had continued ceaselessly in a downward thrust to the Snitch. Cho, unable to catch up to Harry's speed nor finesse her broom accordingly, fell further and further away from Harry until his hand finally wrapped around the golden ball, and Madam Hooch's whistle sounded out the end of the match.
Ariadne, Ron, and Hermione ran their way down to the pitch, as usual, while the rest of the Gryffindor team tackled Harry in the sky. When they finally made their way back down, Ron led the cheering crowd in adulations of Harry, lifting his arm with an ecstatic yell.
Harry, meanwhile, looked happier than Ariadne had ever seen him. He should have been exhausted, of course, as beads of sweat dripped down the side of his face, but the wide smile on his face was fueled purely by adrenaline.
Ariadne fought her way through the crowd, finding herself by Harry's side and throwing her arms around him in a congratulatory hug. He squeezed her waist tightly with his right arm in response, the other still held in the air by Ron.
She slid out of the embrace as Professor Lupin arrived, slipping quietly over to the heap of black robes still struggling to disentangle themselves in front of the stands. Draco was standing in front of them now, having made his way down from his seat. He was speaking heatedly to Crabbe, who might have been hanging his head, though Ariadne could not tell as the great size of his neck did not exactly allow his head to hang.
Whatever Draco was saying ceased as soon as Professor McGonagall arrived, fury etched into every crevice of her face. She began to shout, and though Draco glared up at her hatefully, he did not attempt to defend himself.
Having broken away from the crowd of his fans, Harry made his way over to Ariadne, Ron and Hermione following closely behind.
"Wicked," he grinned, observing the Slytherin's plight. "Now come on," he turned to Ariadne. "Fred and George are throwing a party in the Common Room."
Ariadne looked over to find that the Gryffindors were indeed making their way back to the castle in droves. She could see an older boy hand Oliver Wood a flask of something banned from school grounds, if Wood's surreptitious glances before taking a sip were anything to go by.
"You go!" Ariadne said, pausing as she noticed Harry's happiness dampen ever so slightly. "I'll meet you in just a minute! I've just got to ask McGonagall a question."
Harry nodded, glancing back once as Ron and Hermione led him back into the crowd of celebration. But Ariadne was gone by then, having indeed walked over to Professor McGonagall.
"Detention to all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin!" McGonagall shouted as Ariadne arrived. "Now go! I expect to find you scrubbing bed pans at 6 AM tomorrow!"
Ariadne grabbed Draco by the arm before he scattered, though he had seemed determined to avoid her, preparing to sprint away if need be.
"Did you tell them to do it?" she demanded.
"No," he insisted coldly, but he would not look her in the eyes.
"You did, didn't you? They don't do a single thing without your go ahead." Even now, Crabbe and Goyle had stopped their return from the castle in order to wait for their leader, standing closely behind. "Why–?" she began, unable to stop the hurt from seeping into her words.
"I didn't!" Draco wrenched his arm away, lifting his head to face her for the first time. Ariadne was surprised to see that he looked almost pleading. "I mean, I did. But that was before. I told them not to. They're just too stupid to follow basic directions," he finished by calling out Crabbe and Goyle leadingly, though the two gave no indication that they could hear his words. They only continued to stare Ariadne down, arms crossed.
"Before?" Ariadne echoed, before softening. "Draco, what happened that night? With the Dementors?"
Draco watched her for a moment, gray eyes searching her face. "I don't know," he whispered. And with that, he turned around and walked off, Crabbe and Goyle following as he did.
Besides Ariadne, Professor McGonagall stared down at her, expression akin to surprise.
"Sorry about that, Professor," Ariadne explained, embarrassed. "Family matters, you know."
"I do," Professor McGonagall said sternly, though she straightened up. "Regardless, I'm glad you're here, Miss Black. I've been meaning to return something to you."
Ariadne held her breath in anticipation as Professor McGonagall reached into her robes, pulling out the black velvet box that held her ring. Ariadne practically grabbed it from her hands, opening the box to find that the gold remained pristine. Then it hadn't been too abused. She eyed it carefully before slipping it back onto her right hand.
"So, it wasn't enchanted after all," Ariadne said, smiling up at McGonagall cheekily.
McGonagall coughed. "It was, actually." Oh. She moved to take the ring off, but McGonagall held out her hand to stop her. "Any potential dangers have been removed. I can attest to that myself. Now go on, I know you Lions are planning a party in the Common Room." McGonagall cut Ariadne off when she began voicing her denial. "Don't bother. I will be stopping the party at midnight; you can be sure of that. But that was an excellent, excellent win. It deserves to be celebrated."
Ariadne thanked her and began to run off, eager to join her friends once more. But McGonagall called out to her after she had only gotten a few yards, forcing her to turn around once more.
"Miss Black," McGonagall said before hesitating slightly. "I don't suppose you know anyone with the initials R and T, do you?"
Ariadne shook her head, and McGonagall seemed to deflate a little, relieved of some kind of stress. "Excellent," she called back. "Now go on," she repeated. "Enjoy the victory."
Okay! First and foremost, I'm sorry that it's been so long since my last update! These past few weeks have been truly hectic, but they've just cleared up massively so I can/will update much more! If you're all still reading, that is.
Second, I am beyond blown away by the response I've gotten to this fic, and especially the last chapter. The best best possible motivation is knowing that people like it, and I have been so overwhelmed! Thank you all so much.
I know that it seems like things are very similar to canon right now. I guess in response to that I'll say: 1. I'm not a stickler for canon, per se, but I very much want everyone to keep in tune with their canon characters and feasible storylines– that has been my number one priority. So while Ariadne's presence will change things and impact characters, I don't want it to be too unbelievable. 2. That being said, I am very much playing the long game with this fic. Things are planned out, and things will change. Believe it or not, things are still relatively early here. They'll kick off more soon.
In that same vein! If you are looking for a fic where some characters are suddenly geniuses/ drastically more powerful than/ different from their canon counterparts etc., I don't believe that this is the fic for you! I love the books because I love the characters, flaws and all, and I want to capture some of essence of the nuance of the characters and their relationships. I'm very aware that OC fics often throw that out the window, and that an OC fic inherently engenders Mary Sue-ishness (in all characters), but I'm attempting to stray from that at least a bit. Still, though, this is really a labor of love/ self-passion project above all else, so you might not like what I like. That's okay!
Feel free to ignore this note regardless. But leave a review! Keeps me going!