October to November 1993, 3rd year
"Did you notice that Professor Lupin was missing during breakfast?" Pansy asked.
"I hope he's not sick again," Harry said. "He does look rather frail and he already fell ill once this year."
"He just looks shabby and poor," Draco drawled. "That has nothing to do with fragility. You were fragile when you first came to Hogwarts, Professor Lupin is just worn down."
"By what, though? Worn down by what?"
"Names?" came Filch's nasty voice.
He was checking their names off of a long list of the students that were allowed to visit Hogsmeade. The line was steadily increasing in length behind them as more and more students finished with breakfast. The Slytherins were mostly early risers and finished well before the masses, but Filch wasn't the fastest when it came to checking his list.
They quickly left the castle behind, passing the greenhouses, the Whomping Willow and Hagrid's Hut on one side and the Quidditch Stadium on the other as they neared the low wall that encased the school grounds. Professor McGonagall watched the students exit the grounds, a Patronus in the form of a cat sitting on top of the gates to protect them against the Dementors. Lynea was glad that it was there, warding of the gloomy cold and all the unpleasant feelings the Dementors brought with them.
Hogsmeade was a beautiful little village with wooden houses and narrow streets. Most of the shops were settled on the Main Street, but according to Pansy there were more to be found hidden away in side alleys, if one knew where to look. Most of the shops were quite similar to those in Diagon Alley – a shop for clothing, an Apothecary, one that sold cauldrons, another for quills, a bookshop (very important) and the Post Office. Interestingly enough, a bright red, Muggle telephone box stood right next to the latter.
The older students were mostly interested in Zonko's Joke Shop, Honeydukes and one of the pubs, the Three Broomsticks. The third-years were more focused on exploring the village first, before actually entering any shops themselves. They found another pub, albeit a rather shabby one, called 'Hog's Head' and a ridiculously tacky tea shop that was mainly used by couples (according to Pansy).
On the edge of the village, a little way above the rest of the houses, stood the Shrieking Shack. It was the most haunted dwelling in Britain and certainly looked the part – boarded up windows, overgrown garden and all. Lynea persuaded Theodore, Harry and Blaise to slip through the collapsing and rotting fence to get a closer look. To her disappointment, though, there were no signs of a haunting whatsoever – there were lingering traces of some magic Lynea was unable to identify, but nothing else.
"It's not haunted at all," Lynea said disappointed. "No ghosts, no vengeful spirits, not even a Boggart or a Banshee."
"Oh, Lynea, darling," Blaise sighed. "Be glad there aren't any. Although it would have been highly interesting, I doubt an encounter with a Banshee would have been very pleasant."
"Why is it called the most haunted dwelling in Britain, then?" Harry asked.
"Apart from its appearance?" Blaise said. "The villagers sometimes hear scary noises coming from the house – shrieking, creaking, growling and howling, scratching, something that might be snapping bones and so on. No one ever saw anything, but they all heard the noises."
"I wonder what that means," Lynea murmured.
Theodore gave her a sharp look. "You will not go outside at night to investigate a haunted building, Lynea."
Lynea pursed her lips. Blaise glanced uneasily from Theodore to Lynea, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
"No, Lynea!" Theodore said insistently.
She was tempted to answer with "Yes, Lynea!" but thought better of it. "Fine," she said instead and sighed. "Fine. I won't investigate the haunted house at night."
"Let's go back to the others," Blaise said, still looking uncomfortable. "I'm sure Draco is already complaining about us taking so long."
"Spoiled brat," Lynea said fondly and Harry snickered.
The village was interesting, a nice change of scenery from the castle. But it was also packed with students and Lynea found that to be rather annoying. There wasn't even anything special apart from the shops – and they had survived their first two years without them just fine.
At least they managed to secure a table in the crowded Three Broomsticks, where all eleven Slytherins managed to squeeze together and order Butterbeer and some lunch.
They took the whole day to explore the village and the various shops, before returning to the castle to bring their acquired items to the dormitories and then attend the Halloween Feast. There was nothing new about the feast – pumpkins, bats, tacky decorations and all. At least the food was delicious.
Professor Lupin was back, too. He looked worn out and wary, even more than usual, but he had a cheerful smile on his face as he conversed with Professor Flitwick.
At the end, the Hogwarts ghosts provided some entertainment for the students by doing some kind of formation gliding, which was a new addition to the feast. Sir Nicholas even re-enacted his own beheading to the delight of most of the students, certainly Lynea's.
When everything had been cleared away and the ghosts had received their applause, the students returned to their dormitories, most of them only briefly to get ready for the proper Samhain celebrations.
Lynea had just returned with her candles and her ritual knife, only to see Professor Snape standing near the entrance. One look at him was enough to tell her that there would be no celebrations tonight. Stiff posture, thin lips, slightly narrowed eyes – he was angry.
One by one, all of Slytherin House gathered in the common room, already looking apprehensive in anticipation of what their Head of House had to say.
"I bear unfortunate news," Professor Snape said to his silent students. "It appears that Sirius Black has attempted to break into Gryffindor Tower."
A quiet murmur ran through the crowd.
"As you have probably already guessed, in light of this development the Samhain celebrations have, once again, been cancelled."
This time, there was an enraged murmur running through the crowd.
"That's the third time, now!" someone exclaimed loudly.
"I am aware, Mister Bole," Snape drawled. "Unfortunately, you won't be able to perform the rituals in the common room, either. Headmaster Dumbledore has degreed that all students shall be brought to the Great Hall and spend the night there. Meanwhile, the staff will conduct a thorough search of the castle."
There were more outraged shouts and exclaims at that, but they all knew there was no use in arguing.
Professor Snape sighed. "Bring the candles with you, if you must. But I advise you to honour your ancestors in less … frivolous ways than is custom. Some of the other students are not accustomed to the old ways and might – ah – misinterpret what you are doing."
The expressions on all of their faces grew even more grim than they had already been.
The Slytherins quickly changed into their night robes, grabbed some other necessities and then followed Professor Snape to the Great Hall, where the Gryffindors were already waiting.
"Why do we need to be here, when Black tried to get into Gryffindor Tower?" Pansy grumbled.
"Because everyone thinks he's after Harry," Lynea said.
"Then what about Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?" Pansy asked.
Lynea shrugged. "Don't ask me, ask our barmy old headmaster."
Pansy only snorted.
As soon as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had arrived, Professor Dumbledore explained the situation once more and then conjured up hundreds of squashy, purple sleeping bags.
Draco wrinkled his nose. "He can't be expecting us to sleep in that!"
"It's like a massive sleepover!" Harry said, his eyes gleaming.
"Everyone in their sleeping bags!" the Head Boy, Pinhead Weasley, shouted. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes."
Lynea raised her eyebrows. "And what about our traditions? Does no one care about them anymore?"
"Not where Dumbledore is concerned," Pansy sneered.
Lynea huffed, grabbed a sleeping bag and dragged it over to where most of Slytherin had already set up. The others followed behind.
"This is the one night in the year where the veil is the thinnest," she whispered furiously. "How can they deny us that?!"
"Our safety is more important," Gemma Farley, one of the Slytherin prefects, said. "I know you are upset, but there is nothing we can do about it."
Lynea nodded tersely, her mind full of murder.
"Black probably isn't even in the castle anymore," Draco whispered to her right, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her over Harry, who was lying between them. "Their search will be futile."
"It doesn't even make any sense," Lynea said quietly.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"The tower was empty, when he tried to break in – it must have been, judging from the time frame and going by what makes the most sense. I assume the Gryffindors left the feast, discovered the break-in marks and called for a teacher. The whole school left the feast at the same time, they wouldn't have discovered the marks after entering their common room."
"Maybe they heard him from inside?" Harry mused.
"Nope," Pansy said, rolling onto her back to look at them, her head right above theirs. "Gryffindor Tower is guarded by a portrait. Didn't you hear Peeves cackling earlier? The Fat Lady, which I presume is the inhabitant of said portrait, ran off to hide and cry in another painting. Plus, I overheard some Gryffindors talking about how terribly the painting had been slashed."
"You always know everything, don't you, Pansy?" Harry asked in awe.
Pansy grinned and winked at him.
"It is also odd," Lynea said, bringing them back to the initial topic, "that he tried to enter Gryffindor Tower. If he's after Harry, then he should have gone for our common room instead."
"Maybe he thought Harry's a Gryffindor," Draco said. "We all thought he would be. His parents were in Gryffindor, after all."
"I'm not my parents," Harry said quietly.
Draco gave him a gentle smile. "We know that, Harry. And we are glad to have you – you are aware that, right?" He looked at Lynea. "We already established that Black is mad. He probably didn't know the tower was empty and, like I said, he most likely thinks Harry is a lion not a snake."
"Might be," Lynea said. "But he must have heard the feast."
"How did he get in, anyway?" Pansy asked. "If he apparated in front of the entrance, then he wouldn't have overheard the feast."
"You can't apparate into Hogwarts," Theodore mumbled from Lynea's left side. "There are enchantments in place to prevent that."
"And the Dementors won't be fooled by any spells or other disguises," Draco said. "Dumbledore himself said so during the Welcoming Feast."
"He escaped Azkaban," Lynea reminded him. "He already fooled the Dementors before. Who's to say he can't do it again?"
"That's true," Draco said thoughtfully.
"The lights are going out now!" Pinhead Weasley called out. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"
All the candles around the hall went out at once, leaving only the silvery ghosts and the stars high above them to illuminate the room. Lynea sighed to herself as she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. There were too many people around, breathing and snoring and moving around in their sleep, too much magic, buzzing and swirling and drowning her. She wouldn't be able to fall asleep like this.
A teacher checked in on them every hour and, eventually, Dumbledore returned. Lynea watched him approach Pinhead Weasley, briefly locking eyes with Harry, who was wide awake just like her.
"Any sign of him?" Weasley asked in a whisper that barely carried over to them.
"No," Dumbledore said. "All well here?"
Through their conversation Lynea learned that they had found a replacement for the Fat Lady, while Mr Filch would restore her painting. Then Professor Snape entered the conversation.
"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before – ah – the start of term?"
"I do, Severus," Dumbledore said, his tone taking on a subtle, but unmistakably warning tone.
Harry gave Lynea a wide-eyed look.
"It seems," Professor Snape said slowly, "almost impossible – that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed –"
"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," Professor Dumbledore said sharply and then excused himself to inform the Dementors of what they had found (which was nothing).
Lynea was not very fond of Dumbledore – would certainly never forgive him for disrupting Samhain – but she was quite relieved and, maybe, thankful, too, to hear that would never let the Dementors enter the castle. Even a blind man may perchance hit the mark.
"Lynea," Harry whispered and Lynea opened her eyes again to look at him. "Could –" He bit his lip. "Could I hold your hand?"
Lynea wordlessly extended her arm to him and Harry clasped her hand in one of his own. She looked at him with a silent question.
Harry lowered his eyelashes. "Halloween isn't my most favourite day."
And Lynea understood. She did not understand his feelings, perhaps, but she knew it wasn't easy for him. His parents had died on this night. Normal people grieved and felt sad on the days they were reminded of the death of their loved ones. And Lynea knew what sadness was, if not grief over a dead person.
"You seemed fine until now," she whispered.
"It gets worse at night," Harry replied very, very quietly.
Lynea looked at him for a few moments longer, but let it be. He held her hand throughout the whole night, never letting go, while Lynea mulled over Dumbledore's words, listening to the muffled noises of the hundreds of students all around her, trying to block out the magic pressing down on her. Being a light sleeper in a dormitory was not easy. Being a light sleeper in the Great Hall with all other students was an utter inconvenience.
She missed the traditional Samhain celebrations.
o
"Lupin?" Harry asked with a disbelieving look. "You think they were talking about Lupin?"
"Professor Lupin is the only new addition to the staff this year," Lynea said. "What did Snape say? A conversation before the start of the term," she ticked off one finger, "Black having outside help, Snape having concerns about an appointment," she ticked off two more and looked up at the others, "and then Dumbledore stating that no person in the castle would help Black. It is obvious."
"And Snape hates Lupin," Harry said, understanding dawning on his face. "So he would accuse Lupin of helping Black."
"There might be more to it than we are aware of," Lynea said.
Draco nodded. "I do not think that Uncle Severus would imply something of this sort, if his suspicions were merely based on hatred alone."
Harry frowned. "Are you sure about that?"
"He's my godfather," Draco said in exasperation. "I know him, Harry. Better than you do, anyway."
"So why would Snape think that Lupin is helping Black?" Harry asked. "Lupin is a good person. It doesn't make any sense."
"Maybe they knew each other at school?" Lynea mused. "Naenia said that Snape attended Hogwarts with your parents and we know Black was good friends with them. I think Lupin might be around the same age as them."
"You mean Lupin and Black were friends?" Harry asked.
Lynea nodded. "That would explain Professor Snape's hatred as well – Naenia said James Potter and his friends bullied him. James Potter was friends with Sirius Black. They both were most likely friends with Professor Lupin – does anyone know his first name, by the way? – therefore, Snape hates Lupin. And Black as well, I guess."
"And me," Harry said. "Don't forget that he hates me. Or hated. I don't even know anymore."
"Does this justify Snape's suspicions of Lupin, though?" Theodore said. "I mean, if he thinks Professor Lupin helped Black because they were friends once that sounds kind of logical. But if he suspects him because he can't see past his hatred …"
Harry sighed. "There is no one we could ask to find out, is there? Snape certainly won't tell us. Black is on the run. We don't really know Lupin all that well, so that could go horribly wrong. And my parents …"
"Alchys attended Hogwarts at the time," Lynea said.
"Who?"
"First cousin once removed." Lynea's mouth twitched. "On the Lémure side."
"Would it be weird if you asked her?" Harry asked.
Lynea shrugged. "Yeah, but the whole family is weird, so I doubt it matters much. She certainly won't mind me asking."
Alchys was one of the few people that weren't as strange as most of the Lémure family. Most likely, because she was still alive. Lynea wondered if she would ever become like the rest of them and then quickly shoved that thought far, far away.
"In any case," Draco said, glancing at Lynea as if asking her for permission to change the subject. "We need to keep an eye out for Harry. Black has proven himself to be a madman, there is no knowing what he might do next. Watching out for Lupin can't hurt, either, while we are at it."
Lynea nodded. "Do you think we should make sure Harry has more people around himself, again?"
Harry groaned. "Please don't. It's bad enough I can never go anywhere without you guys. I don't need more people around me, I need less."
"I know, Harry," Lynea said gently. "I would prefer to have more alone time, too. But your safety takes priority."
"I can take the cloak with me everywhere. Won't that be enough?"
"No," Draco said decisively, glancing at Lynea for confirmation. "There are ways to circumvent even an Invisibility Cloak. And you certainly don't want to reveal to an enemy that you have one in the first place. Take it with you, Harry, just to be safe. But you also need to stay with us all the time, no wandering off on your own."
Lynea nodded.
"Fine," Harry said with a long, suffering sigh.
He kept grumbling about it for weeks. He was nearly as bad as the Gryffindors, who were constantly complaining about the mad portrait that was filling in for the Fat Lady.
There were wild rumours circulating the school about Sirius Black. Most people didn't know that he was after Harry, because the Ministry hadn't made that particular piece of information public. To the students he was known only as a mad mass murderer.
But the teachers knew. It was apparent in their behaviour, always finding excuses to walk along in the corridors with Harry and his overprotective Slytherins. They even had Madam Hooch watch the Slytherin Quidditch practice, just in case. It was slowly, but steadily driving Harry mad.