Hi, guys! Sorry for the delay! Hope you like this little chapter, I'm hoping to get back into writing more frequently this year, it's one of my resolutions eheh
Let me know what you think!
Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline
"I Hold the Moon"
ooo
"I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you — and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me."
- Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
WINTER DAYS
Nora was on cloud nine. Some mornings she woke up and still couldn't believe she'd gotten so lucky as to have a man like Lupin fancy her back. Why would he? But then he would look at her from across the room, smile in that sweet way of his, and she could see in his eyes endless affection.
They had gone back to meeting early before class, picking things up where they were left off seamlessly, discussing books and music while waiting for the first students to arrive. Even though they hadn't spoken about their kiss and he hadn't kissed her again yet, there were stolen glances and subtle, loving touches in the corridors or in the Great Hall in between classes that simply took her breath away. It all felt like a dream come true.
Her friends seemed to gladly welcome her drastic mood change with open arms. Julia, of course, was ecstatic. The day after Nora confronted Lupin, she had then dragged Julia aside at the first chance she got and told her everything. She couldn't help herself, her happiness was too immense to keep stuffed inside. If she could've, she would've shouted from the rooftops. And as it turned out, Julia was just as happy for her; she squealed so loudly that Nora had to cover her mouth to keep everyone in the courtyard from staring at them.
"You can't breathe a word of this to anyone, not even to the twins," Nora told Julia gravely afterwards.
"Right, like I would ever want to tell Liam about your torrid affair with Mr. Darcy," Julia quipped dryly.
Nora gave her a friend a weirded out look. "I think you need to brush up on your Jane Austen. Lupin is nothing like Mr. Darcy. Maybe Henry Tilney if anything…"
"Oh who gives a Doxy's nip what some muggle old maid wrote last century?" Nora opened and closed her mouth without a sound, fully outraged by Julia's depiction of the great Jane Austen. Julia just rolled her eyes and gave her a cheeky nudge, "Well? How was it? Bet he's a great kisser."
Nora felt her whole face burn. The mere memory of Lupin's kiss was enough to make her heart race. None of her dreams could have ever made justice to it, to the thirsty strokes of his lips over hers, the way his hot and heathen mouth had sipped from hers all that she had for him, or the deep longing in his hands as he grabbed her and pressed her to his solid body desperately. Just thinking about it — picturing it so vividly in her mind… had her yearning for more.
"Psh, look at that face," Julia mocked good-naturedly. "Don't even have to tell me anything, I can it see it all right there!"
So Nora didn't tell Julia about her dreamy, wonderful kiss, only that indeed it had indeed been very nice. She figured she should hold on those sweet details all to herself. After all, she did earn the right to be at least a little greedy when it came to Professor Lupin.
Everywhere in the castle students were getting excited about the holidays. Professor Flitwick, as per usual, had already decorated his classroom with pretty, fluttering fairies that from a distance looked a lot like shimmering Christmas lights. In the Great Hall, a giant pine tree was brought in and set up in a corner next to the faculty table, although it was yet to be decorated. Christmas was in the air it seemed. Meanwhile Nora was doing her best no to dwell on what this year's holiday would actually meant for her and her brother. Having to go home took all the fun and excitement out of it.
Friday teachers posted a notice in the common rooms announcing a new visit to Hogsmead, set for the last weekend before the end of term. The school's buzz heightened with the upcoming trip. Nora thought it was a wonderful idea too. In fact, it was the perfect opportunity to try and get Christmas gifts for everyone. Seeing as there would be no way for her to leave Cavanaugh Manor while she was there, she would have to make due with the few shops in Hogsmead. Her biggest concern was Professor Lupin's gift, because she'd had an idea of what to get him but she wasn't sure anyone in the village could help her with that particular a thing. She also needed to confer with Tristan since her idea in a way also involved him and she wanted to make sure he was comfortable.
When she went to find Tristan, even though he was extremely excited about the idea for Lupin's gift and totally on board, she thought him a bit down. Pressed about it, eventually he confessed that he was torn about Hogsmead. On one hand he wanted to go and do his Christmas shopping too, but on the other he didn't want to leave Harry behind on his own. Nora, finding her brother's dedication to his best friend deeply endearing, offered to get whatever he needed from the village. He, however, declined her offer, claiming there were things he wanted to pick out himself this year. Secretly, she suspected Tristan wanted to buy Luna a gift, but she kept her thoughts airtight, knowing he would only get flustered and defensive were she to ask him about it.
Over breakfast on Sunday morning, Nora was pleasantly surprised by an owl from Lupin inviting her for lunch in his office. Half an hour before having to meet him, she enlisted Julia's help for an excuse to slip away while they were in the courtyard studying so she could slip away without raising any suspicion from the twins. She made her escape at the first chance she got.
Lupin welcomed her into his private quarters with a beaming smile, steering her over to the couch with his hand on the small of her back. Food was already set on the coffee table in front of the fire and music was playing softly from the old record player. They ate and talked about their week, sharing funny stories, seeking each other's opinion and debating different points of view. Afterwards they dove into literature and poetry as usual, and she had the absolute pleasure of listening to a few more poems recited in his deep, toe-curling voice.
"I rather enjoyed that one," said Nora, peering at him coyly from over her glass of wine after he'd finished Love's Philosophy by Percy Shelley.
"Did you now?" Amused, Lupin lowered the book to his lap and reached out to tuck behind her ear a stray curl that had slipped from her ponytail. "And why's that? Might there be something else on your mind you would like to share?"
His body was partially angled towards her, one leg crossed over the other casually, posture oozing charm and confidence. The smile on his face was pure flirt. She felt her heart flutter and her cheeks heat up, but the slightest amount of wine she'd had that was now circulating in her veins gave her enough dare to keep her resolve.
Setting her goblet on the table, she then scooted closer to him along the couch, until the edges of her knees were pressed against his outer thigh. "I was simply appreciating the beautiful use of Shelley's metaphor about nature's phenomenons to beseech a kiss from his lover. It's quite clever of him, don't you agree?"
"Hmm…" He made a deep thrumming noise in his throat, staring at her lips shrewdly, before flickering his darkened eyes back up to meet hers. "I'm personally adept of a more… practical approach to such a sweet request."
Nora chuckled quietly and leaned in, raising her hand to his chest, holding it there, just above his heart. "Need I only ask then?"
"Depends,"Lupin drawled with a hint of playfulness. He brushed the tips of his fingers softly over her cheek, dragged them along her jaw, then took her chin between his thumb and index finger and tipped her face up towards him. "Are you asking me to kiss you, darling?"
Her whole face felt like it was on fire and her heart stuck in her throat. She'd kissed him the first time without giving herself a single moment's thought, and their second kiss had been almost too abrupt, like he was too scared she would vanish from his arms or suddenly regret her decision to kiss him in the first place. It was different to now be looking straight into those eyes, full of mischief, longing and passion, knowing there was nothing holding them back, knowing he wanted her as hard as she wanted him.
"I've thought of nothing else the entire week," she confessed breathlessly.
At once he pulled her in and took her mouth, kissing her with the kind of violent fervour that was both soft and relentless, the kind that shattered her soul into tiny pieces. She shivered when he cupped the side of her neck, tracing his fingers down reverently, and dropped his other arm to her waist so he could squeeze her firmly. Needy whimpers fell from her lips, coaxed by the expert strokes of his tongue, each one swallowed hungrily by him.
The hand Nora had on his chest came up to the back of his head while the other came to his neck, like he'd done to her. She held his face and threaded her fingers through his soft hair, gripping slightly as she angled herself better until he was backed fully against the couch and she was halfway on top on him, on her knees. He groaned into her mouth, breathing harshly and loud, hands roaming up and down her back, grabbing desperately at her waist. All the moving and friction had rumpled her shirt, and his warm hand grazed the skin that was exposed when it rode up, sending shivers and tiny goosebumps all over her body. His touch was electrifying, lighting every inch of her on searing hot fire, building inside of her all kinds of want, need, frustration and anticipation, a strange mix of feelings that scared her but also excited her. She wanted him to put his hands everywhere on her, to feel them over her bare, feverish skin.
But Lupin had hesitated at the first graze of flesh, even though she could tell by the way his fingers trembled that he too wanted to keep exploring. He drew back from their kiss and held his forehead against hers while working to catch his breath.
"You'll be the death of me, darling," he said with a short-winded chuckle. If possible, his voice sounded even deeper than it had before, raspier and sultrier.
"Is that a bad thing?" Nora managed to ask, looking at him from under her eyelashes. The taste of him still lingered on her tongue, all she could think about was kissing him again.
As though he could read her mind, he brushed his lips very softly against hers one more time before pulling away completely. She sat back too, cuddling against his side and leaning her head against his shoulder when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"Far from it," he said good-naturedly. "You make me feel like a teenager again. Never did I imagine myself indulging in a risqué romance like this at my age."
She rolled her eyes with a smile. "You're not that old, professor."
He winced visibly. "Please don't call me that when we're alone, I've only just started to process the guilt."
"There's nothing to be guilty about, we're not doing anything wrong. And besides, I'm already of age," Nora argued firmly.
"That might all be true, but you are still my student and I am still your teacher. I hardly think the Headmaster, or the rest of the faculty for that matter, would approve of what's been taking place between us behind closed doors."
"I don't see why it should concern them at all." She reached for her goblet and sipped a bit more of her wine, tasting its rich fruity notes. "Unless you're going round the castle breaking innocent young girls' hearts and making them fall madly in love with you." Just to tease him, she glanced up at him with her eyebrows raised, "You're not, are you?"
Lupin shot her an amused look. "Oh yes, that's precisely what I've been doing in my spare time. I think you've had quite enough wine for tonight, give that here—"
She laughed and moved playfully out of the way when he tried to take her goblet, but he managed to get a hold of it anyway, so she just let him have it. He did have a certain point, she had had enough wine for one evening, especially since she wasn't used to drinking. Her head felt somewhat fuzzy and the room was already starting to tip sideways.
The needle in record player hit the middle of the record. He went to flip it and put the music back on before coming back to her side, wrapping his arm around her again. Nat King Cole's The Christmas Song came on, it was one of Nora's all-time holiday favourites.
"Are you still planning to go home next week?"
"I have to," she told him, shifting slightly with discomfort at the topic brought up. "It won't be pretty if Tristan and I aren't on that platform when they come to get us. My father is perfectly capable of storming through Hogwarts and drag us back by himself."
"I'd love to see him try," Lupin muttered angrily against the crown of her head. "I'm sure the Headmaster would straighten him out nicely."
Nora felt her chest tighten. "I doubt that. My father's on the Board of Governors."
There was a tense moment of silence. She could feel in the way Lupin's entire body had tensed that this information was new and definitely surprising. Worry surged over her when he suddenly drew back to look at her sternly.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Nora, if your father has even the smallest amount of power over Hogwarts, our relationship is much more dangerous. We need to be extremely careful. Usually the Board keeps out of internal affairs, but they might have an inclination to jump in if word gets out that a member of the faculty, someone who was hired by the Headmaster himself and who also happens to be a werewolf, is partaking in illicit activities with one of his students."
Nora shrunk under his severe tone, not out of fear of him, but rather fear that he would end things between them now and push her away. She didn't think she could handle that again, her heart had barely recovered from the last time it was broken.
"I couldn't have known you shared my feelings. It all happened so fast between us these last few days," she said in a small voice, although also a little defensively. Her big, bright eyes turned up towards him. "Do you regret it? Telling me how you feel?
He faltered at the question, took her hand in his reassuringly. "No, of course not. I'm so happy, darling. Words can't make it justice — believe me." The absolute certainty with which he'd spoken, eased some of Nora's burden. "But I am worried. The last thing I want is to aggravate your and Tristan's situation at home. Your father doesn't scare me, I've dealt with much worse in my life, but it's not about me, it's about the two of you."
"Can't get any worse than it already is," she grumbled, looking away. What else could her father do to them that he hadn't yet? She honestly didn't think there was anything left to be done.
Lupin had a different opinion. "There is always a way to get worse, darling. Always."
An ominous shiver shot down her spine, shaking her whole body and filling her with icy cold dread. For a moment, the black cloud that had been hovering over her head for the last few weeks seemed to finally catch up to her, casting dark shadows all over her world.
She tried not to let it show to him how deeply affected she'd become by feigning an air of indifference. "That's a bit depressive, isn't it?"
He shook his head, staring ahead with a hard and morose expression for a long time. Then he turned back to her and the look in his eyes almost scared her so intense it was. "Please promise me that you'll be careful, that you'll let me know the minute something bad happens. I will do whatever I can to help you."
It moved Nora, his fierce desire to keep her and her brother safe. He was such a decent, kind and wonderful man. She felt so lucky to have met him, to have him in her life. However, help was beyond his or anyone's power at that point. And just as he wanted to protect her, she wanted to do the same for him. She wanted to keep her monster of a father away from this precious person she loved so much, because she knew that if Maximus ever found out about Lupin, who he was or what he meant to her, it would be the end — for both of them.
The following week, Saturday morning rolled in with silver and black clouds that spewed falling snow, which had piled on overnight, covering the world in a fluffy white carpet. The Black Lake had frozen solid, calling out for iceskating and snow fights on the grounds. Tristan saw the beautiful landscape through the window in his room and grinned brightly. He loved wintertime, at Hogwarts it was all the more magical.
He'd decided, after much internal debate, to stay in the castle with Harry and forsake his chance to personally pick out Christmas gifts, although he had given Hermione a short list of items she could purchase in case she came across them. Harry, obviously, wasn't too happy about it. That was nothing new. His friend had been in the foulest mood ever since his broom got mangled by the Whomping Willow. Tristan didn't blame him really, he thought anyone being forced to ride one of the school's rickety Shooting Stars withheld a right to act like a raging prat.
He and Harry walked with Ron and Hermione to the courtyard where everyone was gathering before heading into the village. Snow started falling softly while they were bidding goodbye, so once Ron and Hermione disappeared through the crowd he and Harry hurried back inside the castle to escape the cold. The corridors were mostly empty and eerily quiet. Seemed like a lot more students had decided to take the opportunity to visit Hogsmead this time around.
"Psst — Harry! Tris!"
They looked at each other and turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to find Fred and George peering out at them from behind the statue of the humpbacked, one-eyed witch.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously.
"Yeah," said Tristan. "How come you aren't going to Hogsmead?"
"We've come to give our mate Harry here a bit of festive cheer before we go," Fred answered with a sly, mysterious wink. "Come in here…"
When Fred nodded towards a door on the left, Tristan and Harry looked at each other again, both equally confused and curious, but they followed Fred and George into an empty classroom next to the one-eyed witch.
George closed the door quietly, and then turned to Harry, beaming. "Early Christmas present for you, Harry!"
Wearing a similarly joyous expression, Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it out on the nearest desk. It was a large, square-shaped, worn piece of parchment, completely blank. Tristan stared hard at it, eyes squinted in suspicion. Looked harmless enough, yet one could never know with the Weasley twins.
"What's that supposed to be?" Harry demanded to know, and by his tone of voice it was clear that he was thinking the same.
"This, Harry, is the secret to our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly.
"It's a wrench, giving it to you," Fred continued desolately, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."
"Anyway, we know it off by heart. We bequeath it to you — we don't really need it anymore."
Still suspicious as ever, Tristan watched as his friend picked up the paper and turned it over in his hands for a better look. "And what exactly does Harry need with a ragged, old parchment?"
Fred shut his eyes with a grimace, as though Tristan had mortally offended him. "A ragged, old parchment! Explain, George!"
"You see, when we were in our first year, young, carefree and innocent—" Harry and Tristan snorted simultaneously. Like Fred and George had ever been innocent, what a joke! "Well, more innocent than we are now… But anyway, we got into a spot of bother with Filch."
"Yes, we let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason."
"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual…"
"Detention—"
"Disembowelment—"
"Etc—"
"And we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."
Harry had started to grin. "Don't tell me…"
"Well, what would you have done?" Fred shrugged, nonchalant but proud. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open and grabbed — this."
"It's not as bad as it sounds you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."
"And do you know how to work it?" Tristan couldn't deny that they'd got his interest peaked.
"Oh yes," answered Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."
"You're winding us up," said Harry, looking at Tristan, then at the old parchment dubiously.
"Oh, are we?" George took out his wand, tapped the parchment lightly and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
At once, from the tip of his wand that had touched the paper, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web. The lines joined each other, crisscrossed, fanned into every corner of the previous blank square. Seconds later, big curly green words blossomed across the top.
Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present
THE MARAUDERS MAP
Tristan's jaw dropped in sheer awe. That old, ragged bit of parchment had transformed into a complete map of Hogwarts, showing every single detail of the castle and its grounds. But that wasn't all — there were also tiny dots moving around, each labelled with a name in minuscule handwriting. In the top left corner one showed Professor Dumbledore pacing back and forth in his study; Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves was bouncing around the trophy room. Tristan also zeroed in on Luna Lovegood's dot, which was currently holed up in Ravenclaw Tower. He wondered what she was doing, if she might've been reading her magazine or some other interesting book, and wished he could check on her.
"Wait…" said Harry, who was just as gobsmacked and had also been studying the map intensely. "Are those—"
"Passageways leading to Hogsmead?" Fred was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes, my good friend, yes they are. There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four—" He pointed them out with his finger, "But we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but now it's caved in, completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And, as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."
"This is brilliant!" Tristan exclaimed, definitely impressed.
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," George sighed loudly, patting the head of the map. "We owe them so much."
"Noble men, working tirelessly to help out a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly.
"Right," said George briskly. "Oh, and don't forget to wipe it after you've used it."
"Yeah or anyone can read it. Once you're finished, just tap it again and say — Mischief managed!— and it'll go blank."
"So, young Harry and young Tristan," Fred began, doing an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourselves."
George gave them a little wink. "See you in Honeydukes."
Having done what they'd set out to do, the Weasley twins left the room with satisfied smirks. For the moments that followed, Tristan and Harry didn't utter a word to each other, still trying to assimilate the absolute wonder they were now in possession of.
"Got to hand it to them," Tristan said after a while. "They might annoy the heck out of everyone, but it was certainly admirable of them to part with this thing for you."
"It really was," Harry agreed without taking his eyes off the map. He traced the secret passage to Honeydukes, then suddenly rolled up the map and stuffed it in his jacket. "C'mon, I want to check out this Hogsmead place by myself."
"Now we're talking!"
Excited, Tristan followed Harry out of the classroom. The corridor was still empty, lucky for them. Quietly and carefully, they slipped behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. Harry pulled out the map again for further instructions. Two new dots had appeared with their names underneath, and Harry's dot had formed into a small figure of himself and was tapping the statue with his wand. Real Harry was quick to replicate the action. However, nothing happened.
Tristan looked back at the map. "You've also got to say this—"
Seeing it too, Harry nodded and tapped the statue again while saying, "Dissendium!"
The witch's humpback slid open upon the magic word, revealing an opening only barely wide enough to admit a fairly thin person. They gave the corridor one last once-over before Harry tucked the map away, hoisted himself into the hole and dove in headfirst. Tristan went right behind him. Although, in retrospect, he should've perhaps waited at least a few seconds, because when he reached he bottom of the stone slide he crashed straight into Harry and they both toppled onto the cold, damp earth.
Gurgling an embarrassed apology, Tristan stood up and helped Harry off the floor. They glanced around. It was pitch black. He cast a quick Lumos spell, finally seeing that they had landed in a narrow passageway that seemed underground.
"Don't forget to wipe the map," Tristan whispered to Harry, who hurried to do just that before they set off. The passage was full of twists and turns, sort of like the burrow of a giant rabbit. The poor lighting of their wands barely illuminated the way under their feet and they kept stumbling along the uneven floor.
Time seemed to drag out endlessly to Tristan. His heart was beating fast from the effort, his body felt hot and sweaty, yet his feet were freezing and humid. After what felt like hours, the passage began to rise. Not ten minutes later, they came to the foot of some worn stone steps, also rising up and out of sight. They were cautious not to make a peep as they climbed one hundred steps, then two hundred, then a few more, give or take. Harry was upfront. When he reached the end of the stairs, he hit his head on something hard — a trapdoor.
They stood there for a moment, listening for sounds or signs of movement outside. They couldn't hear anything. Very slowly, Harry pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge. It was a cellar full of wooden boxes and crates. Feeling bold and more confident, they climbed out, closed the trapdoor, which blended so well with the floor that one could barely make it out, and went for the staircase at the end of the cellar.
"Do you hear that?" Harry asked Tristan when they were halfway up. Tristan nodded anxiously. He could hear a bell ringing, a door opening and shutting, and lots of voices.
Suddenly another door opened, much closer to where they stood.
"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out," came out a woman's voice, followed by heavy footsteps.
Uh oh, Tristan thought; somebody was about to come down the stairs. Fast as lightning, they jumped behind a large crate and waited for the footsteps to pass. He took a peek around the crate, saw a man shifting boxes against the opposite wall, and signalled Harry for them to quickly take the chance. Harry nodded and at once they dodged out of their hiding place, silently going up the stairs.
When they slipped through the other door, they found themselves behind the counter at Honeydukes. Harry reacted fast, ducking down and yanking a startled Tristan along with him. They crept sideways, but then straightened up as they realised the shop was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one would even look twice at them. They blended right in.
"Blimey!" Tristan whispered under his breath, looking around the place.
Shelves upon shelves rose high against the walls, stacked full and neatly with the most succulent sweets imaginable — creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat toffees, and all different kinds of chocolate. There was a huge barrel of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beansand another of Fizzing Whizzes. On the other side of the room, they found a nook labelled Special Effects Sweets, which included Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Toothflossing Stringmints, black Pepper Imps, Ice mice,sugar-spun quills, exploding bonbons, and even some peppermint creams shaped like toads.
"This is bloody brilliant," Harry told Tristan, sounding a little breathless. "Oh hey, look—"
Underneath a sign that said Unusual Tastes, hanging in the furthest corner of he shop, Ron and Hermione were examining a tray of blood-favoured lollipops. Tristan and Harry had to squeeze through a crowd of sixth-years to get to them.
"Urgh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying.
Ron shoved a jar of Cockroach Clusters under her nose. "How about these, then?"
"Definitely not," Harry chimed in, nearly making Ron drop the jar.
"Harry! Tristan!" Hermione squealed, glancing back and forth from one to the other, hardly believing her eyes. "What are you doing here? How — how did you—?"
"Wow!" Ron gave them a very impressed look. "Which one of you's learnt to Apparate?"
"Don't be daft, mate," said Tristan, rolling his eyes. "No one's allowed to learn that while they're underage."
"No way we could do it on our own anyway," Harry said. Dropping his voice so that none of the sixth-years would hear him, he gave a brief account of Fred and George's goodwill and told them all about the Marauder's Map.
Of course Ron was outraged. "How come Fred and George never gave it to me? I'm their brother!"
"I expect that's exactly why they didn't," Tristan laughed.
"But Harry's not going to keep it," said Hermione, like the otherwise idea was absurd. "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"
"No, I'm not!" Harry declared loudly.
Both Ron and Tristan goggled at her as though she were insane.
"Are you mad?"
"Why would Harry hand in something that good?"
"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it and Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!"
"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"
"Oh come off it, he can't be getting in through the passages," argued Tristan, annoyed.
Harry elaborated, "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows four of them. And the others are either caved in, so no one can get through it, or underneath the Whomping Willow."
"Yeah, I'd like to see Black trying to get through there." Tristan smirked and held his fist out for Harry to bump it.
"What about the one you've just came through?" Hermione pointed out sharply, arms crossed, face set into a stern glare.
"Well—" Harry got really nervous and started stammering clumsily. Next to him, Tristan wanted to facepalm. "It's, uh — it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar — so unless he it was there—" He cut himself off, clearly having realised the same thing Tristan had, that there was a great possibility that Sirius Black might actually know about the passage through the one-eyed, humpbacked witch.
Jumping to his friends rescue, Ron cleared his throat significantly and pointed to a notice stuck on the inside of the entrance door. It was an official notice from the Ministry of Magic, announcing that Dementors would be patrolling the streets of Hogsmead after sundown and as such customers should complete their shopping until then for their own safety.
"See?" Ron said quietly. "Black isn't going to try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the owners would probably hear a break-in, wouldn't they? I mean, they live right over the shop!"
"Yes, but — but…" Hermione's resolve faltered slightly and she seemed to struggle to find another problem. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmead if he hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll get into so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet, what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"
"I think he'd have his work cut out for him, trying to spot Harry in this—" Tristan waved his hand vaguely around him, at the crowd of students that was currently visiting Hogsmead and at the windows that showed thick snow falling outside. "Now's the perfect time for Harry to walk around without anyone noticing him."
"And it's Christmas," Ron insisted as well, appealing to her soft nature. "Come on, Harry deserves a break, doesn't he?"
Hermione chewed on her lower lip, unconvinced and extremely worried still. But Harry, knowing her by heart, was already grinning victoriously. She would never be capable of reporting him to McGonagall.
They spent a good amount of time in the Honeydukes, scrolling through thousands of different sweets and trying out free samples. Tristan ended up buying a bagful for himself and Harry, and Ron and Hermione didn't leave empty handed either. Once everything was paid for, they left the warm, toasty shop for the blizzard outside.
Hogsmead was like a picture straight out of a Christmas card with its little cottages and shops covered in crisp snow, holly wreaths hanging on the doors, evergreen garlands around the windows, and strings of candles decorating the surrounding trees. Despite the terrible weather, plenty of students could be seen spread out through the village, going into one shop and exiting another, huddled in their cloaks and scarves to keep from the cold. Tristan envied them openly; he'd forgotten to bring his cloak, and he prayed not to cross paths with his sister because if he did, she would not only for sure give him an earful about sneaking out of the castle without telling anyone, but also for not wearing enough clothes.
Ron and Hermione showed Tristan and Harry around, pointing out each shop by shouting over the noisy blizzard and through their scarves. Eventually, when they could no longer handle the weather, Ron suggested they grab a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. They were all eager to agree.
The pub was crowded, noisy and full of smoke, but it was also homey and pleasantly warm. A tall, curvy woman stood behind the bar tending to a group of rowdy warlocks.
"That's Madam Rosmerta," Ron explained and promptly offered to get their drinks, his whole face slightly red.
"Guess somebody's got a bit of crush, don't he?" Tristan joked, elbowing Hermione on the side. She shot a glance over her shoulder at the counter and shook her head with a giggle.
The three of them pushed their way to the back of the room where there was a small vacant table between the window and a great fireplace, next to which stood a beautiful Christmas tree. Ron joined them five minutes later, carrying in his arms three foaming tankards of hot Butterbeer.
"Happy Christmas!" he sung happily, raising his tankard.
Tristan raised his own, then drank greedily. He'd had a Butterbeer before, one time when he and Nora had sneaked out of Cavanaugh Manor and headed into the nearby town to visit a summer fair set up by muggles. Much to their surprise, there had been a gipsy couple in one of the booths selling magical foods and beverages. Nora had bought him one small pint with the little money she'd managed to nick from their grandmother. He remembered his first sip like it was yesterday, the luscious foam melting in his tongue, the hot buttery liquid warming him up from head to toe. It felt precisely the same now.
A bell rang as the front door of the pub opened, letting in a stream of icy wind. Tristan looked over absentmindedly, only to nearly choke himself to death. Next to him, Harry had a similar reaction. McGonagall and Flitwick had just waltzed in, shaking snowflakes off their hats and cloaks, and they were shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak. Tristan immediately recognised Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.
In a splitting instant, Ron and Hermione both placed hands on top of Harry's head and forced him off his stool and under the table. Tristan heard the sloshing of his friend's drink spilling over and winced. What a waste of Butterbeer.
Hermione, still not happy with their hiding spot, pulled out her wand, pointed it to the Christmas tree and uttered, "Mobiliarbus!"
The tree rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them completely from view. Good thing too, because the teachers' group had just sat down at the table right beside theirs.
Worked out nicely that way — no one could see them, but they could listen to their entire conversation quite clearly. The first few minutes were spent with polite chitchat, boring stuff really, while the teachers and the Minister said their orders to Madam Rosmerta. Things took an interesting turn, though, when the topic of Sirius Black came up. At the mere mention of the name, Tristan felt Harry move under the table so he could get a better listen. He, himself, did the same, leaning in closer.
"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge was saying gruffly, speaking of Sirius Black. "The worst he did isn't widely known."
"The worst?" Madam Rosmerta asked, voice rising a note with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"
"I certainly do."
"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"
"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," Professor McGonagall murmured. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"
"Naturally," Madam Rosmerta replied with a smile. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"
Shock splintered through Tristan like a blade. Under the table, there was a loud clunk and then the whole table shook when Ron kicked Harry, but even he was pale as wax, his freckles more pronounced than ever. Hermione had brought both her hands to her mouth, stunned to silence. Sirius Black and James Potter were best friends? What the devil, Tristan thought. That made no sense!
Desperate to know the rest, to make sense of everything, especially for his friend's sake, Tristan dragged his chair carefully closer to the tree and leaned further in.
"Black and Potter," continued Professor McGonagall. "Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers."
"Dunno 'bout that," Hagrid interjected with a gruff laugh. "I bet Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."
Professor Flitwick decided to also add his two cents. "You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers! Inseparable, they were!"
"Of course they were. Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily and they named him godfather to Harry. Poor boy has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."
"You mean because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" It was Madam Rosmerta who asked again.
"Worse even than that, m'dear…" Fudge dropped his voice to a low rumble, "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, obviously, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."
The name struck a chord with Tristan. He was sure he had once read something about that charm. It was, if he remembered correctly, an incredibly hard spell to cast, but when done successfully it sort of concealed a secret inside somebody, inside their very soul.
Flitwick explained to Madam Rosmerta exactly that. "The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find. Unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting-room window!"
"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"
"Naturally," Professor McGonagall nodded solemnly. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself... and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."
Madam Rosmerta gasped, "He suspected Black?"
"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements. He had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."
"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"
"He did," said Fudge gravely. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed—"
"Black betrayed them?"
"He did indeed…"
Tristan had heard enough, however the conversation continued for quite some time, always getting worse. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Harry must've been feeling, listening to all that, about the man who was responsible for getting his parents killed, nearly getting him killed too, and who was now intent on finishing the job. It was awful. He didn't believe Professor Trewlaney or her divination rubbish, but he couldn't help thinking that the Grim in Harry's cup was beginning to take shape into something very real.