EDITED: May 13th, 2024.

24 - Purpose

The way back to the castle grounds was silent.

At the front, Ron and Lupin hauled Pettigrew between them. The man shook, but he didn't try to escape. I hoped guilt ate at him. Then there was Sirius Black with his wand guiding Snape as some sort of sacrifice above us. I lost count of the number of times Black had purposefully made the other man bump into the rocky ceiling. Just as many as times as he whispered an insincere oops, my bad, I guessed.

Then it was Hermione, Harry, and me in the back.

"Mr. Black."

Only Hermione would call the mass-murderer (former?) 'mister'. Black stopped, looking over his shoulder inquiringly.

"If you don't mind my asking..., how did you escape the dementors?"

"Funny story that." Black mulled over it. He kept walking, but slowed his pace until we caught up. I stayed behind Harry—out of sight. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. It wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me. But it kept me sane. And it helped me keep my magic. Every once in a while, I would transform in my cell. Turns out dementors can't feel animals' thoughts. They are less complex than a human's. They sensed me, but they didn't, not truly. They must have believed I was mad like the rest.

"I had no hopes of ever getting out. But when I saw Peter in that picture, I couldn't bear the injustice of it. Somehow, I had a goal. And that goal was keeping Harry safe from him. I didn't know Peter anymore... I thought, 'if he sold James and Lily, why wouldn't he do the same to Harry?' Voldemort's followers would've welcomed him back. And that feeling, it wasn't a happy one... it became my obsession. I gathered my strength. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog... I was thin, very thin... thin enough to slip through the bars...I swam as a dog back to the mainland... and I went looking for Harry."

"How did you meet with Marie?" Harry asked.

He shrugged. "She thought I was a stray. And I was hungry. I was planning to leave before you made your appearance. And when you left for Hogwarts, I simply followed."

"Poor girl," mused Hermione. "She must've been so sad."

But Marie had never mentioned Snuffles' disappearance in her letters. She didn't mention him, period.

"Did she figure out you were human?" I asked bluntly.

Black sniggered. "Straight to the point. Yeah, she did. I thought she would rat me out, but she must have been really scared cause she let me leave without a word."

I frowned. "That isn't right. Marie isn't quiet at all. Unless..."

"Unless she told Natasha," said Harry grimly. "I'm really starting to hate her name, Anya."

"Who's Natasha?"

We stopped. At the lack of footsteps, Lupin and Ron stopped too.

"What do you mean?" I eyed him. "Natasha? Natasha Rosenberg? Your former fiancé? That's her full name—Thea is short for Natasha."

Sirius's eyes darkened. "My Thea is dead."

"No," said Harry slowly. "She's not."

I looked at Black's grim face, then searched for Lupin's in the dark. His eyes shone, but that was it.

"Tell him," I said. "Tell him she's alive. She's been all over the newspapers—"

"I know," snapped Black irritably. "I've read most of them. Saw the photos. That wasn't my Thea. She looked like her, even had her mannerisms, but... that wasn't her. I would know." He tapped his nose forcefully. "My nose would tell me. As would yours, Remus. What the hell is going on with this?"

"I'm afraid that's a story for another day, Padfoot," said Lupin, sounding grim. "Let us fix this mess before we tackle that."

"Oh, great," I breathed. "Another secret to reveal."

I walked ahead of them, closing in on Ron and Lupin.

"Not a great way to end the school year, right?" said the former to me in an undertone. "At least it wasn't You-Know-Who this time."

I stiffened. I'd forgotten—they didn't know. About Angelique Barton and Tom Riddle. I squinted at Lupin's back. What about him? And Black? Did they?

"I'll be glad to be at the dorms," I said. "I'll sleep like a log. Don't bother me for a week."

Ron chuckled. Then winced.

"How's the leg?"

"I'll live."

When he made a pained noise, Hermione rushed to our side.

"Are you okay?" She glanced down at his leg. "That looks painful."

"It feels painful," Ron said, and his tone was much more dramatic. "They might chop it."

"Madam Pomfrey should fix it in a heartbeat." She smiled encouragingly. "Just hold on."

Ron shook his head. "It's too late."

Wow. The gall of him. Lupin chuckled.

Suddenly, Snape was above us, cutting off the little light we had. I turned my wand on and lit the path. Annoyed, I looked over my shoulder.

Black and Harry walked shoulder-to-shoulder, neither looking at the other.

"You know what this means?" said Black abruptly. "Turning Pettigrew in?"

"You're free," said Harry awkwardly.

"Yes... but I'm also—I don't know if anyone ever told you—I'm your godfather."

Harry's head twitched. I had the inkling that he'd almost looked out for me, but he didn't lift his head.

"Yeah, I knew that."

The awkwardness was palpable in the air. I could almost taste it.

"Well, your parents appointed me your guardian," Black continued, walking stiffly. "If anything happened to them..." he let the words hang in the air. "I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle, but... well... think about it. Once my name's cleared... if you wanted a... a different home..."

"What—live with you?" Harry exclaimed. "Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," Black said quickly. "I understand, I just thought I'd —"

"Are you insane? Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?"

My stomach dropped.

Harry couldn't leave. But... and this was a big but... if Black's name were cleared, then he would. The Dursleys were a nightmare. Anything was better than them. And Sirius had done all this for Harry. It showed how much he cared.

But what about me? There wouldn't be shared breakfasts anymore, or walks in the mornings. We wouldn't visit the diner near the tube. We wouldn't see each other as frequently, if ever.

You'll have Hogwarts.

But it wouldn't be the same.

Picturing this just made it all the worse.

"What about you?" said Black.

It took a beat to recognize the question was aimed at me. I squared my shoulders. Even my jaw hurt as I spoke.

"What about me?"

"Will you? Come and live with me—with us?"

I stared at him. It hadn't crossed my mind he would ask. But of course he would, he's my uncle, isn't he? He's got more right over me than Natasha does.

My uncle, yes. But only in blood. Just like Natasha. Other than his remorse about the role he played in the death of his sister, Black had never thought about me. Everything had been about Harry and Pettigrew.

Then why did he stay in St. Louise's?

Because of Harry. Harry was always there with me. Any person with half-a-brain would've correctly guessed he'd rather hang around me than the Dursleys.

I tried to shake off the resentment. It wasn't their fault. And truly, I wasn't jealous. Harry deserved the world. And I was happy with my place in it.

Something in my expression must have alerted him because the grin that had stretched across Black's face began to fade into a bitter smile.

"Alright," said Black, turning away from me.

"It's not the same for me. I'm not unhappy with the people or the place I live at. It's always been home. I know nothing else."

"It's fine–"

"Shut up and let me finish," I snapped. "It's not fine. Our lives are messed up. I just discovered that I have a godfather, that he's a traitor, and that my mother was in love with him. Harry finally gets to have an adult who cares about him, but he is a public criminal. Ron might have his leg chopped." Ron exclaimed a complaint. I ignored him. "And who knows if Harry really will get to stay with you. The Ministry already fucked up once, who's to say they won't again? And I refuse to leave Marie to Natasha's schemes."

"I get it," said Black gruffly. "Rules to follow. Morals to uphold. Just like your father."

It wasn't a compliment. He resented a dead man too much to see beyond himself.

Leaves a branches crunched under our feet. We didn't need to be quiet anymore, so when we reached the entrance from the Whomping Willow, nobody tried to keep their voices down.

Crookshanks was the first to dart up. Then it was Ron, Pettigrew, and Lupin. Black first let Snape float up and then let us pass.

It was very dark by now; the only light I could see came from the castle's windows. We set off in silence, except for Pettigrew who kept whimpering and wheezing along the way.

Lupin growled. The little hairs at my nape stood straight.

"One wrong move, Peter."

Something wasn't right. I halted, watching Hermione and Harry walk past me. But Black stopped at my side.

"Something's wrong," he murmured. "My magic's tingling."

That's what he called it? Because it felt like a branch had whipped my back. Sharp, trailing—and the sting warning me that it wasn't over.

I saw ahead of us the edge of the Black Forest. Abruptly, the trees glowed. Not an eerie glow, no—something was illuminating them.

Alarmed, I looked up.

I seized Black's sleeve. "The moon," I gasped.

It was moonlight bathing us. A full moon's glow.

"Shite," Black cursed. He dropped Snape like a stone and threw his wand away.

Lupin began to shake, hunching over; his mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"He didn't take his potion!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's not safe!" She backed away, to the bushes.

Lupin howled. The sound pierced my ears. Ron grasped his sleeve and, with his wand sparking, freed Pettigrew from him. But he was still tied to Pettigrew, who couldn't run at his pace.

"Run! Run and don't look back!" Black yelled.

"But Ron?!"

The convict broke into a sprint. He tackled Harry, who was making way to the trio. Then he leapt into the air—and landed as a dog.

It was hard to mistake him as a dog now. Black's Animagus form, somehow, sprouted in size. He was as big as his human self. The silver eyes were gone—they were yellow, now, feral.

More than a match for the monstrosity taking shape in Lupin's stead.

It wasn't him. It was. I will be forever plagued by this—by the sight of clothes ripping apart, revealing bones breaking and healing in seconds, all over again. Lupin cried, and it was a mixture of his human voice and a monster's roar as hair sprouted from the skin, as his face stretched into a snout.

I was crying. I didn't want to look—but I did.

At last, the wolf sighed. Then it looked at the moon and howled.

The echo was Black's trigger. The dog threw itself at the wolf, full weight, and they rolled, down and down, jaws locked, claws flying everywhere while blood spilt—

Hermione screamed. "No!"

I snapped around.

Ron on the ground. Pettigrew hobbling a little , crouching, grasping a wand—

I didn't think about my magic. I ran at him as fast as I could, jumping on his back. He fell to his knees with an oof. I raised myself above him and curled my arm around his neck, using the other to add strength. I squeezed, hard as I could, telling myself I could knock him out.

He was gasping. Good. I reached for the wand—

Sparks. Behind my eyes. My nose hurt a bitch. My eyes teared up again and I fell flat on my back, holding my face.

"Cassiopeia, forgive me," I heard.

A red flash came for me—

•••••◘◘◘•••••

My eyes snapped open.

White ceiling. White curtains. The Hospital Wing.

A door snapped shut. Scurried steps followed, then the creaking of beds nearby.

I sprung forward and swung the curtains open.

"What. The actual. Frack."

At my right, Hermione lifted herself eagerly. "Anya! You're awake!"

Across from us, next to an unconscious Ron, Harry was waking up. Correction—Harry's eyes were already open, and his attention was on the door. He seemed to be waiting.

I focused there too.

Footsteps. And angry voices. One in particular stood out.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Barton," said Madam Pomfrey as she came out of her office, a familiar bag of potions hanging at her side. She raised an eyebrow when she caught me looking. "Are you going to complain?"

"I don't have the energy," I said.

She nodded knowingly. "Understandable. You were fully knocked out. You and Mr. Weasley over there—although, you'll be happy to hear you fared better."

"Yippee."

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

It took herculean strength to just... turn my head a little. She was flushed. Her hair in disarray. And panting. What had she been doing?

"Like a cat hit me." I frowned. "A car. Or was it a dog?" I rubbed my nose. It felt fine but it hurt a lot. "I'm confused."

"From what I was told, you were recipient of a 'head knock'." I could imagine Pomfrey making the quote marks.

My mind wandered. "Pettigrew knocked his head back... he hit my nose." I pressed the bridge. Intact. Thank whoever. Then I felt for the burn mark. That, unfortunately, wasn't gone.

"Son of a—"

There was a loud, banging song from far away, followed by a roar of fury from above.

"What was that?" said Madam Pomfrey in alarm.

The angry voices from before were close now. Madam Pomfrey watched the door with narrowed eyes.

"Really—they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?"

"He must have disapparated, Severus," said a voice. It sounded a lot like the Minister of Magic. "We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out—"

"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS — HAS — SOMETHING — TO — DO — WITH — POTTER — AND — BARTON!"

"Severus — be reasonable — Harry has been locked up and Miss Barton is still unconscious—"

BAM!

The hospital wing's doors were thrown open and Snape strolled in, his cloak billowing dramatically. It matched the awful sneer on his face. Behind him followed Minister Fudge and Dumbledore, the former twisting his hat nervously in his hands while the latter watched Snape with a curious eye.

"OUT WITH IT, POTTER, BARTON!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU TWO DO?"

"Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!"

"See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw—"

"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!"

"You son of a hippogriff!" I jumped to my feet.

"Stay down!" Madam Pomfrey barked, putting a hand on my chest and shoving me down. I ignored Pomfrey's hands, pointing at my forehead.

"Look at what you did! This is permanent, you arsehole!"

"Miss Barton, watch your mouth!" said the Minister appalled. "That is now way to speak to your teacher!"

"He threatened me! He pointed his wand at me! Because you wanted Black—" I stilled. "Where's Black?"

Snape walked up to me. He was taller, and his stare was forbidding. "That's what we would all like to know. Care to share, Barton?"

"If we could all just take a deep breath—"

Snape's chest inflated.

"YOU DON'T KNOW THOSE TWO! THEY DID IT, I KNOW THEY DID IT—"

"That will do, Severus," Dumbledore cut in, his voice sharp enough to shut everyone up. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" Madam Pomfrey said offended. "I would have heard them! Miss Barton just woke up, too!"

"Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Anya are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."

Snape stood there for a moment, glaring at everyone and whirled around, storming from the ward.

"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," Fudge said at last. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore."

The headmaster's expression softened, clearing the tension. "Oh, he's not unbalanced. He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Fudge gave a little laugh. "He's not the only one. The Daily Prophet's going to have a field day! We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! All it needs now is for the story of that Hippogriff's escape to get out, and I'll be a laughingstock! Well... I'd better go and notify the Ministry..."

Escaped hippogriff, Black escaping too... what happened while I was unconscious?

"And the dementors?" Dumbledore asked. "They'll be removed from the school, I trust?"

"Oh yes, they'll have to go," Fudge said. "Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent boy...Completely out of control...no, I'll have them packed off back to Azkaban tonight... Perhaps we should think about dragons at the school entrance..."

"Hagrid would like that."

As he and Fudge left the dormitory, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the door and locked it again. Muttering angrily to herself, she headed back to her office. There was a low moan from the other end of the ward. Ron had woken up. I could see him sitting up; he was rubbing his head and looking around.

"What—what happened?" he groaned. "Harry? Why are we in here? Where's Sirius? Where's Lupin? What's going on?"

"That's what I would like to know," I said, feeling lightheaded.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then laughed.

"You explain," said Harry, taking a bite from a large chunk of chocolate.

The story was wild. Apparently, when they woke, Dumbledore told them Black would be kissed by the Dementors, and that there was a way to stop it. He hinted at Hermione's Time-Turner ("That's how you've been getting to all your classes?"), and that Buckbeak could be saved too. After freeing the hippogriff, Harry and Hermione waited hours for the showdown that we lived—and then the story took a dark turn.

Hermione picked up the narrative.

"After Pettigrew knocked you both down, I howled. Well, this me, the one that time-traveled. I diverted Professor Lupin's attention from the other us — and got ourselves into a tight spot." She grimaced.

"She means he chased us," said Harry.

"Right, well. Buckbeak saved us, and then we heard" —her lower lip quivered; she hugged herself unconsciously— "the dementors."

"Heard?" I asked cautiously. Harry's face had grown stormy.

"They came in hordes," Hermione whispered. "Many more than when they infiltrated the Quidditch field. It was odd—dementors can't make noise but—"

"The quiet," Ron said grimly. "And then?"

Hermione glanced at Harry.

"Sirius tried to protect me, but he wasn't strong enough," he murmured. "He fainted first. Then, when they were about to give me the Kiss—" He shrugged. "A strong light warded them off."

"It was Harry," Hermione explained. There was a awe in her eyes. "He casted a patronus so strong it not only created a corporeal manifestation, it also came with a shield."

"That's amazing, mate!" Ron praised. "What form did it take?"

Again, Hermione peered at Harry, but when he didn't continue, she said, "A stag."

It clicked in my head.

Moony was a werewolf for obvious reasons. Same with Wormtail, Peter the rat. Snuggles was Padfoot...

"Prongs," I murmured. At Harry's jerky nod, I pushed. "And then?"

And then they flew to the tower where Black was imprisoned. At the courtyard, Harry convinced Black to take Buckbeak and escape, which he did, with promises of writing back.

A secret to keep—this time ours.

Ron shook his head. "Blimey. But—what about Pettigrew?"

Harry's face darkened. "He escaped."

I slumped back onto the pillows. "I figured. Without him, Black can't be exonerated."

Ron scrunched up his nose. "But what if we tell the Minister? I can tell him about Scabbers—Dad and Percy could testify too—"

"We tried," said Hermione tiredly. "They though we were spelled. Confused. Snape made us out as traumatized children. They'll never believe us."

•••••◘◘◘•••••

"Leaving so soon, Miss Barton?"

I turned quickly; I winced. "I think I overstayed my welcome."

"I'm thinking about putting your name in a bed," said Madam Pomfrey, walking out of the threshold of her office. "The number of times you have been here..." There was an unspoken and the times you will be here.

She was holding a black, leather handbag.

"Here," she said, offering it to me. I took it.

"More replenishing blood? I thought you said I was cleared!"

"You are. These are not for that. I know the symptoms of shellshock when I see them," she said, making me gap at her. "Or PTSD? That's what the Muggles call it now, isn't it? Well, we don't have an official name but Healers can recognize when a witch or wizard has gone through a traumatic experience."

"I don't have PTSD," I argued weakly. I wasn't sure what it meant but I would be reading about it back home.

"Just because you keep thinking about the events doesn't mean that you don't. You avoid the subject with your friends—and don't deny it, Miss Granger told me so; you keep having nightmares of the attacks, too, I suppose, as well as the persistent guilt; hypervigilance, problems with concentration—"

I listened with growing horror as she listed the symptoms.

Madam Pomfrey's stern gaze softened. "This bag is full of bottles with Draught of Living Death and Draught of Peace. After last week's events, I believe your anxiety could increase, as well as the other symptoms."

I didn't know that. Hadn't known that. If it was true, then everything would be worse; I would be driven insane.

Before I left, I had something else to ask.

"And the nightmares? Will they go away?

She shook her head. "Miss Barton, I believe you know—as well as I do—that the nightmares never go away."

Yeah, I knew. It had been a foolish question, but I hadn't been able to suppress that tiny spark of hope in my chest.

•••••◘◘◘•••••

I sighed, stretching out my legs under the grass and fell down on my back. For a moment, I watched as the clouds drifted before I closed my eyes.

Lupin had left, and the conversation had been rueful. I wasn't used to saying goodbye.

("Hello Anya, Harry." At our surprised looks, Lupin chuckled and pointed down at a very familiar piece of parchment. "I saw you two coming."

I only managed to utter, "Why?" and Harry added, "The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?"

"No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." Lupin sighed. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he — er — accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

"Snape's an utter bastard," I said darkly. "I don't understand why you would care of what that tosser thinks."

"Of course not," he scoffed, smiling lightly. "But by this time tomorrow, owls will start arriving from parents...They will not want a werewolf teaching their children. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you... That must never happen again."

"You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" said Harry. "Don't go!"

Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers.

"From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned...Tell me about your Patronus."

"How d'you know about that?" said Harry, distracted.

"What else could have driven the Dementors back?"

Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he'd finished, Lupin was smiling again.

"Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed," he said. "You guessed right...that's why we called him Prongs."

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry.

"Here — I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. "And..." He hesitated, then took out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you back this as well."

He paused; then, with quick hand moves, he folded the parchment in a way that it ended in a small square with four folded triangles meeting on the inside. He held it out to me and I took it hesitantly. Harry watched from my side, curious.

"When I said we put a bit of ourselves in it, I meant it," Lupin said quietly. He tapped the map with his wand. Lines began to appear, almost as if they had burst from the tip, moving around in circles, turning into italic letters.

To my dear Marauders,

A day without laughter is a day wasted. Against its assault, nothing can stand.

Good luck – not that you'll need it.

Blitz.

"She was a hurricane, your mother: you saw her coming but you weren't able to outrun her," said Lupin. I stared down at the map, tracing the wording with one finger, only to stare shocked as a small drop of water fell and disappeared.

"Anya," said Harry worriedly. I blinked, and more tears fell.

"It's okay," said Lupin soothingly. My lip trembled. Lupin drew me into his arms and I hid my face in his chest, feeling awfully embarrassed. I wasn't a crier. I'd never been. But the fact that there was proof—actual proof that Cassiopeia Black had existed—was relieving. "It's okay."

"Did she even care?" I choked out. "About me? About us?"

Lupin stepped away, holding me at arm's length. He moved a lock of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear.

"I don't know, Anya. We will never know. I understand that everything you have gone through has been too much, but you are young. You still can live. The path you're walking will not become easier, but you have your friends. And as long as you let them be by your side, you can learn to live with the scars. I did... and I will."

He cleared his throat. Drawing back, he raised his wand and tapped the Marauder's Map again.

"Mischief managed." )

I heard the leaves crunching. A shadow fell over me for a moment and without opening my eyes, I knew who it was. I heard him shuffle awkwardly before he finally settled down on the grass. I expected him to be asking of what Lupin meant back there, or of what happened in the Shrieking Shack. Instead, he took off his cloak and folded it beside him. Like me, he leaned back and closed his eyes, basking in the sun.

"I never realized how peaceful Hogwarts can be," he said.

"Neither did I." I snorted. "Then again, we really haven't had the time to admire the view, have we?"

Harry hummed. "You think Sirius is okay?"

"Well, judging by Snape's constant death glare, I'd say he's as far as he possibly can from here." I peered at him. "He's okay, Harry. He survived twelve years in an impossible prison—what can't he take on after that?"

Harry hummed doubtfully.

"What's really the matter, Harry?"

He hesitated. Then sighed.

"I've been thinking. About everything. The Marauders, my mum, your mum and dad—and I keep going back to the mirror of Erised."

I blinked. "The mirror of Erised?" I repeated. "What's it got to do with them?" It dawned on me quickly. "Oh. Oh." I covered my mouth. "I forgot. I shouldn't have. So what were you thinking about exactly?"

"You know what. The ifs, mostly." His jaw tightened. "And Pettigrew. It should've been a sign."

"How? He didn't appear because neither of us knew him."

"Yeah, but we didn't know about Sirius or Lupin and they still appeared."

"One can never tell how magic will work, Harry. It's unpredictable. Then again, we did meet them as babies. Maybe our subconscious remembered them."

"Yeah." He sat up and hugged his legs. "Would you have done it?"

That, I knew what he meant. I mirrored his position, but I tucked my chin on my knees. I stared at the Black Lake while I thought how to answer.

"I don't know. I mean—I was so angry then, I would've done it in a heartbeat. But now? I'm not sure. I think about it and... it's scary to think."

"I don't believe you would've done it," said Harry confidently. There was no bite or judgment, nor was it accusing. To him, it was a fact.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, golden boy," I murmured, smiling.

Harry smiled as well. "You have very bad aim. Could've shot me."

"Oi."

•••••◘◘◘•••••

Nobody but us knew what happened that night. Many people whispered of how Black had suddenly disappeared, and theories were thrown about how Lupin came to be a werewolf. Malfoy was still fuming about Buckbeak until the end of the term, but no one cared.

Bets were placed for the next DADA teacher, and once, when I was playing chess with Neville, I heard Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas wagging if the teacher would be either a vampire or finally someone normal. Snorting, I looked up and told them bluntly, "It's going to be an Auror."

Looking suspicious at each other, they asked me why.

I shook my head. "Dunno. Seems like it'll be." In reality, I suspected this would happen because of the past three years: either the Ministry or Dumbledore would request an extra pair of eyes to keep everything under control.

Seamus grinned, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. "You're on, Barton."

By next week, exam results came out, and I was pleasantly surprised to see I got everything well, even in Herbology and Potions. Both were miracles, considering. Neville had really been marvelous at tutoring, but Snape had looked like he would bite my head off at any time, and what a better one than around exams?

Meanwhile, thanks to the team's spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, Gryffindor had won the House championship for the third year running. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot as everybody celebrated.

A whistle was heard across the air and the train started to pull out of the Hogsmeade station.

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast," said Hermione. "I've decided to drop Muggle Studies."

"But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!" said Ron astounded.

"I know," Hermione sighed, "but I can't stand another year like this one. That time-turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again."

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us about it," Ron said grumpily for the tenth time this week. "We're supposed to be your friends."

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," Hermione stressed.

I rolled my eyes. I looked up to where Hedwig had been placed and felt a pang in my chest. I had shrunk Otto's cage and tucked it inside my trunk, where it would probably be for a long time.

"Oh, cheer up, Harry!"

I looked over at Harry to see him looking out the window at a disappearing Hogwarts.

"I'm okay," Harry said quickly. "Just thinking about the holidays."

"Come on, Harry, I promise I won't bother you... much," I said.

"Yay," he said flatly.

"I've been thinking about them too," said Ron. "Harry you've got to come and stay with us. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now –"

"Telephone," Hermione and I said.

"Honesty, you should take Muggles Studies next year..."

Ron ignored her. "It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! You too, Anne. Dad can usually get tickets from work."

"Yeah... I bet the Dursleys will be pleased to let me come... especially after what I did to Aunt Marge..."

After that, they started to play a cheerful game of Exploding Snap, and I took out a copy of the Daily Prophet, grinning from time to time when I found articles about 'Black's Evil Plans'. But it was not until late in the afternoon when something new happened.

"Harry, what's that thing outside your window?" Hermione asked.

I lowered the paper and squinted through the glass. Two ridiculously small balls, one gray the other brown, were bobbing in and out of sight.

"They are owls," said Harry slowly, standing up. "They are carrying a letter."

He opened the window and stretched out his arms, catching them both.

Harry laughed. "They are like fluffy snitches!" He brought them inside carefully, and the letter fell on his lap. When he released the owls, they began to zoom around the compartment, looking very pleased with having accomplished their task.

Harry was right. The owls were so small they could have fitted in my hands perfectly. They were alike, even for the golden color of their eyes and it was only the color of their plumage that differed. From her perch, Hedwig clicked her beak in a disapproving way and Crookshanks watched them curiously.

"It's from Sirius!" Harry said, opening the letter.

"What?" Ron said. "Read it aloud!"

Dear Harry and Anya,

I hope this finds you both before you reach London's train station. I don't know if where you live you can receive owl post for whatever reason.

Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I'm not going to tell you where in case these owls fall into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about their reliability, but I rest assured, since they came from the best breed.

I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they won't find me. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted.

There is something I never got around to telling either of you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt.

"Ha!" Hermione said triumphantly. "See! I told you the presents were from him!"

"Yes, but he hadn't jinxed them, had he?" Ron said. One of the owls nibbled sharply on his finger. "Ouch!"

Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as fourteen birthdays' worth of present from your godfather.

Anya, the present I gave you isn't new, but it's yours. It has always been. I am returning it to its rightful owner. I hope it does not bother you I kept it for long.

I would also like to apologize for frightening you the night you left your uncle's house, Harry. And your friend, too. Tell her I'm sorry she got caught up in my plans.

I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. Legally, regardless of my status, no one can't fight it.

If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me.

I'll write again soon.

Sirius.

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There were two more pieces of parchment in there. Smiling, he read:

I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends.

"That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" said Harry happily. He looked back at Sirius's letter. "Hang on, there's two PS..."

PS. I thought your friend Ron might like to keep one of the owls, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat. The other, though, maybe you want to keep it, Anya, it's both a gift and an apology. As I said before, it's from the best lot.

PSS. Give this to Marie. Do not read it unless she gives you permission.

I grabbed it before Harry could open it. He let out an offended Hey! But I was already tucking the letter inside my breast pocket.

"So, you're mine now," I told the tiny owl in my lap.

"Keep him?" said Ron uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to my surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?"

Crookshanks purred.

"That's good enough for me," Ron said happily. "He's mine."

I laughed and looked over the two owls, frowning. I looked closer and saw, to my astonishment, that both had a few tawny feathers. And their wide, honey-colored eyes looked at me with their heads cocked to the side in a very familiar way.

"You're joking!" I said loudly, smiling widely and shaking my head. Otto's own legacy stared back at me, and a tiny spark of hope flared up in my chest. The rest of the trip was full of talk of our plans for the summer, while Harry kept reading his letter over and over.

When we crossed the barrier between the Wizarding World and the normal one, the first thing I saw was Harry's uncle standing a bit off from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after us as Harry and I bid him and Hermione goodbye.

Once we were alone, we turned to each other.

"So, this is it, then?" I said awkwardly.

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Don't worry," I told him. "I have the feeling we're going to see Sirius sooner than I thought."

"Why's that?"

"Let's call it a feeling," I said quietly, seeing a certain scarlet-haired woman sitting two benches away.

Harry followed my gaze. "What will you do about that?" he asked quietly.

"I honestly think this is something we shouldn't stick our noses in. They are the grown-ups—let's let them deal with it."

Harry nodded uncertainly. "Right."

"See you later, golden boy."

"Don't forget to write, Barton."

"Don't forget to visit."

Harry walked away. I let out a deep breath through my mouth and squared my shoulders. I started toward Natasha and stopped in front of her. She didn't look up.

"Hello."

"Hello yourself," she said.

That's not my Thea, Black had said. Lupin had all but confirmed it with his sad eyes. But this woman, sitting straight like a soldier, eyes darting back and forth between all the people around us and me... this was my Natasha.

She wasn't trustworthy nor did she trust easily, not even an eight-year-old child. She was a liar by omission, but honest to the point of rudeness. I had a clearer vision of the why. I even related a little.

My purpose when I chose Hogwarts was to discover who my parents were. Maybe who I was, too. That was done. But there were more mysteries to solve. More people to unmask. Much left to learn.

"You're very rubbish at talking," I told her.

She cocked her head and smiled. It wasn't a big thing. Barely a quirk of her lips. But it felt like a grandiose thing.

"So I've been told."

I could play Natasha's game a little longer.

It's been so long since the last update, but like Anya, I can play the game longer too. I really hope someone's still reading her story, because I will keep writing her, to the very end, no matter how long it takes. Next up, an epilogue before beginning the next story, The Masks We Wear.

Hope you're all okay! Best wishes.