XXIV. Spirited

Full of energy, enthusiasm, and determination.

After Halloween, all the school can talk about is Sirius Black. The theories about how he entered the castle become wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott spends much of their Herbology class telling anyone who will listen that Black can turn into a flowering shrub. Jayla often corrects her that it seems impossible to turn into a flowering shrub, but maybe something else, almost hinting at the real reason. The young Darkmore Heiress keeps quiet about her secret and unexpected meeting with Sirius Black, where they said a quick prayer to her Aunt Davina before he decided to rip the canvas of the Fat Lady. The portrait has been replaced with another, Sir Cadogan and his fat grey pony. All of the Gryffindor students are unhappy about this new change. Sir Cadogan spends half his time challenging people to duels and the rest thinking up ludicrously complicated passwords, which he changes at least twice a day. Sir Cadogan is at it again as he brandishes his sword wildly as his pony grazes nearby, and a group of Gryffindors watch him. "Who dares challenge Sir Cadogan!" The painting shouts. "Back, you scurvy braggarts! You rogues!"

"He's barking mad!" Seamus snaps, waving his arms around in frustration.

"What d'you expect?" Dean questions. "After what happened to the Fat Lady, none of the other pictures would take the job."

"But he keeps changing the password. Twice just this morning! I've taken to keeping a list," Neville sighs, holding up a wrinkled piece of parchment, showing the others when the Golden Quartet exits the portrait hole.

"Farewell, comrades! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!" He shouts after them.

"Yeah, we'll call you…" Ron says, turning around. "...if we ever need someone mental." He mutters.

"I still can't understand why it had to be him," Jayla groans, tying her hair into a ponytail.

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," Percy reminds the Gryffindors, tired of all the complaints. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry is summoned to Professor McGonagall's office after noticing teachers finding excuses to walk along corridors with him and Percy acting on his Mother's orders, too, as Jayla calls him an extraordinary pompous guard dog. Harry sits in McGonagall's office, seeing her sombre expression, thinking some might have died. "There's no point hiding it from you any longer, Potter," She says in a serious voice. "I know this will come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black -."

"I know he's after me," Harry interrupts her. "I heard Jayla's Dad telling her Mum. Mr Darkmore works for MACUSA." Professor McGonagall seems taken aback, staring at him for a moment or two.

"I see! Well, in that case, Potter, you'll understand why I don't think it's a good idea for you to be practising Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the pitch with only your team members, it's very exposed, Potter -." Professor McGonagall informs him.

"We've got our first match on Saturday!" He exclaims, outraged. "I've got to train, Professor!" The Deputy Headmistress seems to consider him intently, and the teenage boy knows she is deeply interested in the team's prospects; it was her, after all, who suggested him as Seeker in the first place. Harry waits, holding his breath.

"Hmm…" McGonagall stands, staring out of her office window at the Quidditch pitch, just visible through the rain. "Well… goodness knows, I'd like to see us win the cup at last… but all the same, Potter… I'd be happier if a teacher were present. I'll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions."

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The weather worsens steadily as the first Quidditch match draws nearer. The Gryffindor team trains harder, undaunted by the weather, under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch. It is their final training session before Saturday's match, and Oliver gives his team some unwelcome news. "We're not playing Slytherin!" He announces, looking very angry. "Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Why?" The team questions, looking at their Captain.

"Flint's excuse is that their Beater's arm's been injured," Wood growls, grinding his teeth furiously. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances…"

"What a lame excuse," Jayla rolls her eyes, though she knows the wind and rain have gotten intense, and there is a distant rumble of thunder as Oliver talks.

"There's nothing wrong with any of their arms!" Harry argues furiously. "He's probably faking it!"

"I know that, but we can't prove it," Wood replies bitterly. "And we've been practising all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherinm, and instead, it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory -." Angelina, Alicia and Katie suddenly giggle, making everyone look at them. "What?" Wood asks, frowning at this light-hearted behaviour.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?" Angelina giggles, and Jayla rolls her eyes.

"Strong and silent," Katie sighs, and they start giggling again.

"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," Fred jokes, growing jealous of the girls' attention. "I don't know why you're worried, Oliver; Hufflepuff are a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Oliver shouts, his eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin are trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!"

"Oliver, calm down," Fred soothes him, looking slightly alarmed at the outburst. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously."

"Yeah, with our little tactical maniac playing too!" Katie laughs, making Jayla look at them.

"I thought I was playing the second match?" Jayla questions, frowning at the other girls.

"We agreed on Hufflepuff," Alicia reminds her.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The day before the match, the wind reaches a howling point, and the rain falls harder than ever. It's so dark inside the castle corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns are lit. The Slytherin team look the smugest than ever, and none more so than Malfoy. "Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!" The Beater teases with a dramatic sigh as the gale outside pounds on the windows. Harry has no room in his head to worry about anything except the match the next day. Oliver keeps hurrying the team between classes and giving them tips. The third time this happens, Wood talks so long that Jayla realises she and Harry are ten minutes late for DADA and pulls him along, running with Oliver shouting after them.

"Diggory's got a very fast swerve, Harry, so you might want to try looping him -!"

"We get it Ollie!" Jayla shouts and skids to a halt outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, pulling the door open and dashing inside, expecting to see Professor Lupin, but he's not there.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Jayla sighs, finding a seat with Harry when Professor Snape storms into the classroom, startling the students who watch him take out his wand, shutting the shutters with a loud thud as he walks through the middle of the room before pulling down a screen from the ceiling.

"Turn to page 394," Snape instructs them, and the students eye the Potions Master with guarded curiosity while getting their books out and turning the pages.

"Excuse me, sir, but… where's Professor Lupin?" Harry asks, moving over as the Potion Master walks to the back of the classroom.

"That's not really your concern, is it, Potter?" He questions. "Suffice it to say, your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time." He moves past the boy. "Page 394." He stands at a standing desk with a projector and taps his wand against it, turning it on. Snape spots Ron lazily flipping through the pages and flicks his wand, speeding the pages to the correct passage.

"Werewolves?" Ron gasps, looking at the pages in surprise.

"But, sir, we've only just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks -." Hermione voices, surprising everyone, wondering how she suddenly appears in the classroom, sitting behind Harry and Jayla.

"Quiet!" Snape orders them.

"When did she come in?" Ron questions, looking at his friends in a hushed tone. "Did you see her come in…?" Harry shakes his head, and Jayla shrugs.

"Now," He steps away, walking amongst the class as the slideshow at the front plays. "Which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?" The students stare mutely at the slide of a Werewolf attacking, and Hermione waits desperately for someone to respond first, raising her hand. "No one?" He turns around, seeing Hermione and Jayla's hands up. "Miss Darkmore?"

"An Animagus is a Witch or Wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A Werewolf has no choice. Furthermore, the Werewolf doesn't recognise friend from foe and responds only to the call of its own kind." Jayla answers when Draco interrupts, imitating a wolf howl, making his friends laugh.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," The Potion Master sighs. "Well done, Miss Darkmore. 5 points to Gryffindor. As an antidote to the rest of the class's ignorance, I prescribe two rolls of parchment on the Werewolf by Monday morning, with particular emphasis placed on recognising it." Everyone groans, wanting a quiet weekend with the Quidditch season starting, while Draco blows on the little paper bird, letting it fly towards Harry, who catches it.

"But, sir, it's Quidditch tomorrow," Harry points out, making Snape angry, slamming his hands on the desk and leaning towards the boy.

"Then I suggest you take extra care, Mr Potter," Snape sneers. "Loss of limb will not excuse you. Page 394." He steps away, moving to the back of the room again. "The term 'Werewolf'... is a contraction of the Anglo-Saxon word 'wer'... which means 'man,' and 'wolf.' Werewolf, man-wolf. There are several ways to become a Werewolf. They include being given the power of shape-shifting… being bitten by a Werewolf…" Harry ignores him, looking at the crude drawing of Harry on his broomstick getting hit on the head with a Quaffle and then struck by lightning repeatedly.

"He's gotten better at drawing," Jayla jokes, making Harry look at her. "Sir, Draco keeps distracting me!" She winks at him, taking the piece of parchment from him.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry wakes up exceptionally early the following day, and it is still dark outside, not because of the roaring wind but because Peeves is blowing hard into his ear, making him bolt upright out of bed. "What did you do that for?" Harry asks furiously. Peeves just puffs out his cheeks, blowing hard and zooming backwards out of the room, cackling. Harry fumbles for his alarm clock and looks at it, seeing the time. 4:30 a.m. and tries getting back to sleep but finds it difficult, now wide awake. Harry curses Peeves and rolls over, trying to get back to sleep with the thundering rumble overhead, the pounding wind against the castle walls and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. The noise and the thought of going on the Quidditch pitch and battling through the gale outside and giving up on sleep, getting up and dressed before picking up his Nimbus Two Thousand and tiptoeing out of the dormitory, afraid to wake the others.

Harry opens the door, and something brushes against his leg, startling him. He bends down just in time to grab Crookshanks by his bushy tail and drags him back outside. "You know, I reckon Ron was right about you," Harry mutters to Crookshanks, eyeing the cat suspiciously. "There are plenty of mice around this place; go and chase them. Go on," He adds, nudging the cat down the spiral staircase with his foot, "leave Scabbers alone."

"Poor, disgusting Scabbers," Jayla sighs fakely, making Harry jump out of his skin and swirl around to see the Darkmore Heiress standing behind him on the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Er… yeah. Well, Peeves was blowing into my ear," Harry tells her and stops. "I mean…"

"I know what you mean." She assures him, and they walk down into the Common Room, where the storm's noise is even louder.

"You don't think they'll cancel Quidditch, do you?" He asks her, seeing her with her Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"Never. Quidditch is life," The Heiress jokes, making him laugh, though he can't help but think about his opponent, Cedric Diggory, whom Oliver pointed out in the corridor once. Diggory is a fifth-year and much bigger than Harry, who, like most Seekers, is usually light and speedy, though Diggory's weight will be an advantage in the weather because he's less likely to be blown off course.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry and Jayla stay in the Common Room, whiling away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, talking and laughing about anything, and they take turns to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up to the boys' staircase, with Hades joining him sometimes later. "It's breakfast time!" Jayla exclaims, looking at the clock and making Harry jump. "I need my coffee!"

"I don't think you do," Harry lightly argues, earning a glare from the young Heiress.

"Stand and fight, you mangy cur!" Sir Cadogan yells as the two exit the portrait hole on their way to breakfast.

"Oh, shut up," He yawns.

"Bye, Sir Cadagon!" Jayla waves, pulling Harry away. "Don't antagonise him, he won't let you back in otherwise."

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry and Jayla are the first to arrive for breakfast in the Great Hall out of the whole school. Jayla takes a large gulp of her coffee as Harry eats his porridge, seeming to perk up a little. "You can't live on coffee," Harry warns, pushing the toast towards her.

"I know." Jayla groans, taking one and smothering it in blueberry jam.

"It's going to be a tough one," Wood comments, sitting down and not eating anything due to nerves.

"Stop worrying, Oliver," Alicia tells him soothingly, "we don't mind a bit of rain."

"Yeah, it's just a little bit of rain," Jayla giggles when thunder claps with lightning flashing across the sky. "Good timing."

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The time comes, and everyone ventures out to the Quidditch pitch through the storm because of the school's love for the sport, even with their umbrellas whipping out of their hands and their heads bowed against the ferocious winds as they run down the lawn towards the pitch. Just before Harry enters the changing rooms, he sees Malfoy and his cronies laughing and pointing at him under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium. The Gryffindor team change into their scarlet robes, waiting for Wood's pre-match pep talk, but it doesn't come, though he tries several times, making odd gulping noises, then shakes his head hopelessly and beckons them to follow him. "Don't you worry, Ollie, we'll win this for you," Jayla promises before they stagger sideways with the strong winds onto the pitch.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The crowd cheers, though it is barely over the fresh thunder rolls. Rain splatters over Harry's glasses, and he keeps having to wipe them as the Hufflepuffs approach from the opposite side of the pitch, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walk up to each other and shake hands; Diggory smiles at Wood, but Oliver looks lockjawed and merely nods. Jayla winks at Cedric, making him blush before Madam Hooch says, "Mount your brooms!" over the terrible wind and roaring rain. They pull their feet from the mud and swing onto their brooms as Madam Hooch puts her whistle to her lips and gives a blast that sounds shrill and distant - they are off. Harry rises fast, but his Nimbus swerves slightly with the wind. He holds it as steady as possible and turns, squinting into the rain. Within five minutes, everyone is soaked to their skin and frozen, hardly able to see their teammates, let alone a tiny Snitch or a deadly Bludger or a sneaky Quaffle. Jayla steals the Quaffle before passing it to Katie and flying past Harry as he flies backwards and forward across the pitch, passing blurred red and yellow shapes, with no idea of what is happening in the rest of the game.

The commentary is barely audible over the wind, and the crowd hides beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. The Chasers have a hard time during the game with the rain as they try to avoid a barely visible Bludger and Harry as he almost crashes into them on his search for the Snitch. The sky grows darker as the storm grows worse as time goes and with the first flash of lightning comes the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle. Oliver gestures through the thick rain for the team to join him on the ground, and the squad splashes into the mud. "I called for time out!" Wood roars at his team. "Come on, under here -" They huddle at the edge of the pitch under a large umbrella, and Harry takes the chance, removing his glasses and wiping them hurriedly on his robes.

"What's the score?" Angelina asks, tying her hair tighter as a few strands come loose from the strong wind.

"We're fifty points up," Oliver informs them, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."

"I've for no chance with these on," Harry sighs exasperatedly, waving his glasses around and thanking the heavens when Hermione appears over his shoulder, holding her clock over her head and inexplicably beams.

"I've had an idea, Harry!" Hermione smiles, looking at Jayla. "I don't know why you didn't think about this, Jayla."

"I kinda did, halfway through the match, but I don't have my wand. I am so glad my Dad suggested getting these goggles." Jayla remarks, gesturing to the goggles she's wearing.

"Give me your glasses, quick!" She orders Harry, and he hands them to her as the team watches in amazement; Hermione taps them with her wand and says, "Impervius! There!" She hands them back to Harry. "They'll repel water!" Wood looks like he would kiss her, and Jayla pulls him back.

"Control yourself, Ollie," The Darkmore Heiress warns him jokingly.

"Brilliant!" Oliver calls hoarsely after her as she disappears into the crowd again. "Okay, team, let's go for it!" Full of fresh determination, they urge on even with the terrible weather, and Harry pushes through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Diggory, who streaks in the opposite direction. There is another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning, making the game even more dangerous. Harry and his team all think the same thing.

"Harry needs to get that Snitch now!"

Harry turns, intending to head back towards the middle of the pitch, and at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminates the stands. He sees something that distracts him completely: the silhouette of an enormous, shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats. Harry's numb hands slip on his broom handle, and his Nimbus drops a few feet. Shaking his sodden fringe out of his eyes, he squints back into the stands, but the dog has vanished. "Harry!" Wood yells in anguish from the Gryffindor goalposts. "Harry, behind you!" He looks wildly around and sees Cedric Diggory pelting up the pitch and a tiny speck of gold shimmering in the rain-filled air between them… With a jolt of panic, Harry throws himself flat against the broom handle and zooms towards the Snitch.

"Come on!" Harry growls at his Nimbus as the rain whips his face. "Faster!" But something odd happens. An eerie silence falls across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, seems to forget to roar. It is as though someone has turned off the sound, as though Harry has gone suddenly deaf. And then a horribly familiar wave of cold sweeps over him, inside him, just as he becomes aware of something moving on the pitch below… Before he has time to think, Harry takes his eyes off the Snitch and looks down. At least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, standing below. It is as though freezing water is rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he hears it again… someone screaming, screaming inside his head… a woman…

"Not Harry, not Harry, please, not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -."

Numbing, swirling white mist fills Harry's brain…

Making him forget what he is doing at that moment…

Why is he flying? He needs to help her…

She is going to die…

She is going to be murdered…

Harry falls through the icy mist, unaware of what is happening around him.

"Not Harry! Please… have… mercy… have mercy…" A shrill voice laughs, the woman screams, and Harry knows nothing else as everything goes black.

"Harry!" Jayla shouts, diving on her broomstick to catch the falling boy as he falls towards the ground with great speed. The Darkmore girl drops deadly fast, outstretching her hand as she gets closer and grabs his robe, trying to hoist him up, but he's too much dead weight, and she goes down with him.

"Arresto Momentum!" Dumbledore shouts, slowing the teens before they hit the ground, and everything goes black for them as they lose consciousness completely.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

"Looks a bit peaky, doesn't he?" Ron mutters, staring at Harry as he stands over the barely conscious boy in the hospital bed.

"Peaky?" Fred questions, looking at his younger brother as the team and friends stand around the hospital bed. "What d'you expect? He fell over 100 feet."

"Yeah, c'mon, Ron. Let's walk you off the Astronomy Tower and see how you come out looking." George teases, and Harry opens his eyes, regaining consciousness.

"Probably a right-sight better than he normally does," Harry jokes, trying to sit up, and the others laugh in relief. Jayla steps over to help him by moving his pillows, and he takes his glasses, putting them on.

"Harry! How're you feeling?" Hermione asks him, sitting on his bedside as Jayla nervously moves his pillow, avoiding everyone's stares; lucky, Madam Pomfrey is busy with a Hufflepuff player who has umbrella spokes in their neck.

"Oh, brilliant," Harry replies, looking at Jayla to see her with a bruise up the side of her neck down to her shoulder that he can see and wonder how that happened.

"You gave us a right good scare there, mate," Fred comments, sitting in the chair by Harry's bed.

"What happened?" He asks, looking around at his teammates and friends.

"Well, you fell off your broom," Ron informs him.

"Really? I meant the match. Who won?" Potter asks, looking at everyone, who grows silent and uncomfortable.

"Um, no one blames you, Harry," Hermione tells him, standing to her feet awkwardly. "The Dementors aren't supposed to come inside the grounds. Dumbledore was furious. As soon as he saved you and Jayla, he sent them straight off." He looks at Jayla, seeing her touching her shoulder, and he reaches out, taking her hand, making her look at him with a soft smile.

"Lucky the ground was so soft," Katie comments, looking at Jayla and Harry's hands, smiling at the cute pair of friends.

"I thought they were dead for sure," George remarks, making Angelina slap him on the chest to stay quiet.

"But he didn't even break his glasses," Fred replies, getting a slap from Katie.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life," Neville mutters, seeming paler than the boy in the hospital bed whose body aches in pain.

"But the match," Harry questions. "What happened? Are we having a replay?" No one says anything, and the horrible truth sinks like a stone. "We didn't - lose?"

"Diggory got the Snitch," George informs him. "Just after you fell. He didn't realise what had happened. When he looked back and saw you and Jayla on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a re-match. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" He asks, suddenly realising the Quidditch team Captain isn't there.

"Still in the showers," Fred tells him. "We think he's trying to drown himself." Harry becomes overwhelmed with guilt and buries his face in his knees, gripping his hair, and Jayla sits on the bed, pulling him into a hug. Fred grabs Harry's shoulder, shaking it roughly, though he's careful of the bruised Jayla. "C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before."

"There had to be one time, you didn't get it," George agrees with his twin.

"It's not over yet," He promises, trying to cheer him up. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," George reminds his brother. "But if they beat Ravenclaw…"

"No way, Ravenclaw are too good. But if Slytherin lose against Hufflepuff…"

"It all depends on the points - a margin of a hundred either way -." The twins argue, and Harry buries his head deeper into his knees, wondering why they lost when Madam Pomfrey comes over to tell the team to leave the poor boy alone.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred tells him as the team leaves, trailing mud behind them. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry; you're still the best Seeker we've ever had." Madam Pomfrey shuts the doors behind them, looking disapproving of the mud, and Hermione and Ron move nearer the bed, letting Jayla stay comforting Harry.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione says in a quaking voice, remembering the anger from the Headmaster. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the pitch as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you both hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium straight away… he was furious they'd come into the grounds, we heard him -."

"Then he magicked you two onto stretchers," Ron adds. "And walked up to school with you both floating on them. Everyone thought you two were…" His words fade away, but Harry hardly notices, thinking about the Dementors, the screaming voice and enjoying the comfort Jayla is giving him. He looks up and sees Ron and Hermione looking at them so anxiously that he quickly casts around for something to say.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?" His friends share a look.

"Er -," They mutter.

"What?" Harry asks, looking from one to the other.

"Well… when you fell off, it got blown away," Hermione says hesitantly.

"And?"

"And it hit - it hit - oh, Harry - it hit the Whomping Willow," She informs him, and Harry's insides lurch, thinking of the violent tree that stands alone in the middle of the grounds.

"And?" He asks again, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," Ron remarks. "It - it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came round," Jayla informs him in a small voice as Hermione slowly reaches down for a bag at her feet, turning it upside down and tipping a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," She mutters, feeling guilty as her broom is in better shape than his, with only a tiny dent because it hit the ground with them.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Madam Pomfrey insists on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend, and he doesn't argue or complain, but he won't let her throw away the shattered remnants of his Nimbus 2000. He knows he's being stupid and understands that the Nimbus is beyond repair, unlike Jayla's, but Harry can't help it; Harry feels like he's lost one of his best friends.

He has a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. Hagrid sends him a bunch of earwiggy flowers that look like yellow cabbages, and Ginny blushes furiously and turns up with a 'get well' card she made herself, which sings shrilly unless he keeps it shut up his bowl of fruit.

The Gryffindor team visits again on Sunday morning; this time, Wood accompanies them, telling Harry, in a hollow, dead sort of voice, that he doesn't blame him in the slightest. Ron, Hermione and Jayla only leave Harry's bedside at night or when Jayla has her bruises need looking at. But nothing anyone says or does can make Harry feel any better because they only know half of what is troubling him. He does like it when he spends time with Jayla, talking about nothing as she tries to get his mind off of everything. But Harry doesn't tell anyone about the Grim, not even Ron, Hermione and Jayla, because he knows Ron will panic, Hermione and Jayla will scoff. The fact remains, however, that it has now appeared twice, and both appearances have been followed by near-fatal accidents. The first time, he was nearly run over by the Knight Bus. The second, he falls 100 feet from his broomstick. Making him wonder, is the Grim going to haunt him until he actually dies? Would he have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the beast? Harry feels sick and humiliated whenever he thinks of the Dementors outside the castle grounds. Everyone says they are horrible, but no one else collapses every time they are near one or hear the echoes in their heads of their dying parents.

Harry knows who is screaming. He hears her words over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while he lies away, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the Dementors approach him, he hears the last moments of his Mother's life, her attempts to protect him, Harry, from Lord Voldemort, and the dreaded monster's laughter before he murdered her… Harry dozes fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotten hands and petrified pleading, jerking away only to dwell again on the sound of his Mother's voice. "I wish I had my candle." He mutters, thinking of the birthday present from Jayla.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Monday comes as a relief with the noise and bustle of the school, where Harry is forced to think about other things, even if he has to endure Draco's taunting. Malfoy voices his glee at Gryffindor's defeat. Slytherin's Beater finally removes his bandages and celebrates the full use of his arms again by taunting the Gryffindor team. Draco spends half their next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon, with Jayla slapping him to stop messing around. Ron finally cracks, flinging a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hits him in the face and causes Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

"If Snape's taking Defence Against the Dark Arts again, I'm going off sick," Ron decides as they head towards Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione." She obliges, peering around the classroom door.

"It's okay!" Hermione announces, making everyone sigh with relief as Lupin is back at work, and they head into the classroom to see their Professor, who certainly looks as though he has been ill. His old robes hang more loosely on him, and there are dark shadows beneath his eyes, but he still smiles at the class as they take their seats. It doesn't take long for the students to burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behaviour while Lupin was ill.

"It's not fair; he was only filling in; why should he set us homework?"

"We don't know anything about Werewolves -."

"- two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asks, frowning slightly, and the babbling breaks out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind -."

"- he wouldn't listen -."

"- two rolls of parchment!" Professor Lupin just smiles at the look of misery on every face.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay." Lupin assures them,

"Oh no," Hermione and Jayla sigh, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!" After that, they have a delightful lesson. Professor Lupin brings along a glass box containing a Hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who seems as though he is made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking.

"Lures travellers into bogs," Lupin informs the class as they take notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead - people follow the light - then -." The Hinkypunk makes a horrible squelching noise against the glass. When the bell rings, everyone gathers their things and heads for the door, Harry amongst them, but Remus stops him. Wait a moment, Harry," Lupin calls, "I'd like a word later if you don't mind." Harry nods, and Jayla doubles back and watches the Professor cover the Hinkypunk's box with a cloth. "Yes, Miss Darkmore?" He turns back to his desk and starts piling books into his briefcase.

"I was wondering if I could get your signature for the Restricted Section," Jayla requests, holding the form, and Remus looks at it, wondering why she would need anything from there.

"And why do you need a book from there?" The DADA Professor questions, looking at her, knowing the bright Witch has an incredible mind that hovers up all information.

"I need a book for a personal project," She answers, surprising Lupin and Harry as a ray of wintry sunlight falls across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's grey hairs and the lines on his young face. "I think you'll like it, sir. I promise."

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Over the weekend, Harry meets up with Lupin, and they walk along the grounds, heading for the Black Lake. "I heard about the match," Remus remarks, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No," Harry answers. "The tree smashed it to bits." Lupin sighs, thinking of the Whomping Willow and looking at the trees around them, spotting Hedwig soaring through the sky above them.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance." He tells the raven-haired teen.

"Did you hear about the Dementors, too?" Potter asks him with difficulty, and the Professor looks at him quickly.

"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?" Remus questions, looking at the boy that reminds him of his long-lost friend.

"Yes," Harry answers and hesitates before he asks the question he's been bursting to ask before he can stop himself. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just -?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Remus sharply assures him as though he read the boy's mind. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have. Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places; they glory in decay and despair; they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor, and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something itself - soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that has happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of." Lupin tells the boy.

"When they get near me -." Harry says, staring at Lupin's desk, his throat tightening. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my Mum." Lupin makes a sudden motion with his arm as though he is about to grab Harry's shoulder but thinks better of it, and there's a moment of silence. "Why did they have to come to the match?" Harry asks bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," Remus answers cooly, shutting his briefcase with a snap.

"Azkaban must be terrible," He mutters, and Lupin nods grimly.

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks," The DADA Professor informs the boy.

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," The Boy Who Lived adds slowly.

"He got away…" Lupin's briefcase slips from the desk, and he stoops quickly to catch it. "Yes," He says, straightening up. "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible… Dementors are supposed to drain a Wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…"

"You and Jayla made that Dementor on the train back off," Harry argues suddenly.

"There are - certain defences one can use," Lupin replies. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defences?" He asks at once. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry - quite the contrary…" Remus warns him.

"But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them -," The raven-haired teen argues, wanting a solution. Lupin looks into Harry's determined face, hesitating for a moment.

"Well… all right." Lupin agrees, giving in. "I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill." A weary smile appears as Hedwig's reflection glides over his eyes. "Beautiful…" Harry looks up, watching Hedwig pinwheel through the blue and passing the Clock Tower.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry's mood takes a definite upturn with the promise of Anti-Dementor lessons with Lupin and the thought of never having to hear his Mother's death again, with Ravenclaw flattening Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November. Jayla spends a weekend with Cedric after the game, trying to cheer him up, but she couldn't help smiling at the thought of Gryffindor's next win as they aren't out of the running after all. Wood becomes repossessed with manic energy, working the team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persists into December. There seems to be no hint of Dementors within the castle grounds. Dumbledore's anger seems to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Two weeks before the end of term, the sky lightens suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds are revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. The buzz of Christmas is all around inside the castle, with Professor Flitwick decorating his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. Harry loves watching Jayla smile as she interacts with them during class but seems to get distracted. During lunch, Jayla drops a surprising bombshell for her friends when she tells Professor McGonagall, "We're all going to mine this Christmas, Professor." Hermione, Ron and Harry look at Jayla in shock as their Head of House moves on. "Did I not tell you?"

"No, I think you forgot to mention that," Ron replies, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry," She blushes, shrugging her shoulders. "My parents wrote and said you could all come for the holidays."

"I've never been to your house before," Hermione replies.

"Thank God. I can't stand two weeks with Percy," Ron groans, making the others laugh.

"Harry?" Jayla turns to him.

"I'd love to," Harry agrees.

"Brilliant!" She beams, jumping up. "I will write them back. Oh, it'll have to wait." She sits back down, enjoying her breakfast before class.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The last Hogsmeade trip before Christmas arrives on the last weekend of term. "We can do some Christmas shopping there," Hermione suggests. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!" Harry knows he's going to be the only third-year staying behind again and borrows a copy of Which Broomstick from Oliver and decides to spend the day reading up on the different makes and getting some ideas for his next broomstick because he's been riding one of the school's at practice, an ancient Shooting Star, which is very slow and jerky. Harry sits by the window in his dorm, looking out at the snow falling and a ragged line of students following Professor McGonagall towards the bridge. An idea comes to mind as he jumps from the windowsill, grabbing his Invisibility Cloak.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Fred and George stay behind, playing in the falling snow, making a snowman when footprints appear, moving quickly to join the other students at Hogsmeade when suddenly, Fred and George move away, heading oppositely. The twins grab something, making the footprints reverse themselves, moving into the castle again. "Clever, Harry," Fred remarks, dragging the boy.

"But not clever enough," George agrees.

"Besides, we've got a better way," He says, coming through the great door and throwing Harry onto the stairs, who rips off the clock, revealing himself, looking angry at the Weasley twins. Instantly, Fred slaps a worn roll of parchment into the grumpy third-year student's hand, and Harry unfurls it, frowning, seeing it's blank.

"What's this rubbish?" Harry snaps, looking at them.

"'Rubbish', he says. That there's the secret to our success," Fred replies, pointing at the piece of parchment.

"It's a wrench giving it to you, believe me," George pouts, thinking of losing the most important thing to their mischief-making.

"But we've decided your need's greater than ours. George, if you will…" He tells his twin.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." George touches his wand to the blank parchment, and then suddenly, ink intricacies from the centre on the surface, spreading like veins.

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present The Marauder's Map…

Harry reads aloud, seeing the map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and ground. But the remarkable thing is the tiny ink dots moving around, each with labels saying a name in minuscule writing. Harry bends over in astonishment, seeing a label dot in the top left corner showing Professor Dumbledore pacing in his study. Another is the caretaker's cat, Mrs Norris, prowling the second floor, and Peeves bouncing around the trophy room. And Harry's eyes travel up and down the familiar corridors, noticing something else. The map shows a set of passages he has never entered, many of which seem to lead to the one place he really wants to go.

"Right into Hogsmeade," Fred says as if reading his mind and traces one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four -," He points them out, "- 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 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."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," George sighs, patting the map heading. "We own them so much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," Fred adds solemnly.

"Right," He says briskly, "don't forget to wipe it after you've used it -."

"- or anyone can read it," His twin finishes warningly. "Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."

"So, young Harry," Fred says, in an uncanny impersonation of their older brother, Percy, "mind you behave yourself."

"See you in Honeydukes," George winks. "We'll keep an eye out for Jayla and her secret boyfriend." Harry blushes, standing there as the twins leave the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.

"How do they know about that?" Harry wonders and gazes at the miraculous map, watching the tiny ink: 'Mrs Norris' turns left and pauses to sniff at something on the floor. "If Filch really doesn't know… I won't have to pass the Dementors at all…" His excitement stops as he remembers what Mr Weasley told them last year. Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. The map is one of those dangerous magical objects Mr Weasley has been warning against… but then, Harry reasons, he only wants to use it to get into Hogsmeade, not as if he wants to steal anything or attack anyone… even if it is Jayla's secret boyfriend… and the Weasley twins have been using it for years without anything terrible has happened… Harry traces the secret passage to Honeydukes with his finger, rolls up the map, stuffing it inside his robes and hurries to the stairwell door. He opens it a couple of inches, checking no one is outside and the cost is clear, and he very carefully edges out of the room and slips behind the statue of the one-eyed Witch. Harry wonders what to do next and pulls out the map again. To his astonishment, he sees a new ink figure appear in it, labelled Harry Potter. This figure stands exactly where the real Harry is standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. He observes, and his little ink self appears to be tapping the Witch with his miniature wand. Harry quickly takes out his real one and taps the statue, but nothing happens, so he looks back at the map, and the tiniest speech bubble appears next to his figure. The word inside says 'Dissendium', which Harry whispers, tapping the stone Witch again. The statue's hump opens, wiping enough to let a reasonably thin person inside at once, and Harry glances quickly up and down the corridor, then tucks the map away again, hoists himself into the hole headfirst, and pushes himself forward.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry slides down a considerable way that feels like a stone slide, then hands on the cold, damp earth. He stands up, looking around, but it's pitch dark, so he holds up his wand, muttering, "Lumos!" the light shows a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. He raises the map, tapping it with the tip of his wand and mutters, "Mischief managed!" The map goes blank at once, and he folds it carefully, tucking it inside his robes; his heart beating fast, both excited and apprehensive, he sets off. The passage twists and turns, more like the burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else, and he hurries along, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor, holding his wand out in front of him. It seems like it takes ages, but Harry thinks of Honeydukes, and after what feels like an hour, the passage begins to rise. Panting, Harry speeds up, his face hot, his feet very cold; he finds the exit he's been looking for and pushes on the hard stone tile that has slivers of light pouring in and gives it a hard push, lifting it up carefully not to make too much noise and attract attention.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry peeks his head out from under the stone tile, finding himself in the cellar of Honeydukes and lifts the trapdoor fully before pulling himself up when he hears a door bang open, making him jump as a dense chattering roar from above. Harry hides, watching a man's boots descend the stairs. "A box of Jelly Slugs as well, Horace. We're nearly cleared out." A woman's voice shouts as Horace grunts, moving boxes. Harry looks up to the cellar door, takes out his Invisibility Cloak, covers himself and makes a break for the door, running up the wooden stairs.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The cellar door opens, but no one appears, and Harry smiles under the Invisibility Cloak as he looks around the sweetshop swarmed with customers. He tries getting through and accidentally pumps into Neville as he's about to lick his lollipop when it gets stuck to the cloak and disappears out of the door into the main street.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Harry looks around the village, wondering where his friends are and decides to go somewhere he knows Hermione has been dying to see. He heads to the Shrieking Shack and finds Ron, Jayla and Hermione standing at a fence rather stiffly. He can see why as he looks at the eerie scene before him with the gloomy silhouette of the Shrieking Shack through the thick mist that hangs in the air. "It's meant to be the most haunted building in Britain. Did I mention that?" Hermione asks, trying to keep the conversation alive.

"Twice," Ron replies, making Jayla giggle.

"Should we move a bit closer?" She asks, surprising the redhead.

"Huh?" He squeaks. "Oh… I'm all right…"

"Perfect," Jayla snickers, earning looks from her friends.

"Well, well," A voice echoes, and the friends look back to see four figures appear from the trees: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Pike. "Look who's here. You two shopping for your dream home? Seems a bit grand for you, Weasel-Bee. Don't your family all sleep in one room?" Draco teases them. "Come on, Cousin, you need to know better."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Ron grumbles, hanging his head.

"Now, that's not very friendly. Boys, I think we're going to have to teach Weasel-Bee to respect his superiors." Malfoy clicks his tongue in arrogance.

"Hope you don't mean yourself," Hermione says with a harsh chuckle, and Draco's eyes shift, regarding her with disgust, the hate still ingrained in him from his father.

"How dare you speak to me like that, you filthy, little mud -." He sneers and stops himself, hearing his father, and before he can apologise, something hits him in the face; it's a snowball. "Who did that?!" He splutters, glancing around in confusion when another snowball hits him out of nowhere in the face again with another two, splatting him across his back. Hermione and Ron glance at each other uneasily, wondering where they're coming from, and Jayla looks worried for her cousin. "Well. don't just stand there!" He shouts at his goons, and Crabbe and Goyle walk towards Ron, Hermione and Jayla when the goons' knees go out, and they fall headfirst into the snow. Draco begins backing away fearfully with Pike, both eying the mist for anything but seeing nothing. Suddenly, Pike's woolly hat gets pulled over his eyes, freaking him out as he's spun around before getting a rough kick on the rear, sending him stumbling over the rise. Draco looks around in fear, with Crabbe and Goyle following Pike before Draco looks at his cousin as he runs away. Hermione, Ron and Jayla laugh at the sudden situation before it grows tense as they wonder what happened, and then it hits them.

"Harry?" Jayla giggles, feeling her hair playfully tugging, and the Invisibility Cloak flies off, revealing Harry, grinning.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron snaps, relaxing. "That was not funny!" The girls laugh, and Ron joins them, but Harry gasps as Jayla grabs some snow and stuffs it down his hoodie.

"Jayla!" Harry howls, trying to run away from her, but thanks to her waterproof black and white trainers, she's faster. "No!" Ron and Hermione laugh, watching them mess around. "Help me!"

"No! Harry, no!" Jayla shouts as the tables turn, and Harry grabs some snow, throwing it at her and soaking her navy blue jacket. She takes it off, throwing it at him, showing her grey fluffy jumper and white long-sleeve thermal that goes with her black skinny jeans. "I am going to kill you!" Jayla growls, tackling Harry into the snow and making their friends laugh.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The Golden Quartet trudge through the snow with Harry disguising himself, using Hermione's scar and Ron's hat as they enter the Hogsmeade. "Those weasels! They never told me about any Marauder's Map!" Ron complains after Harry explains how he sneaked into the village.

"But Harry's not going to keep it. He's going to turn it over to Professor McGonagall," Hermione replies.

"Oh, sure. Along with his Invisibility Cloak?" He grumbles.

"No, I'm not!" Harry exclaims,

"Leave her alone," Jayla snaps, slapping the boys' arms.

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!" He reminds her, not wanting the twins to get into trouble.

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hisses. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," The raven-haired boy argues quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And the other three, one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through - well - it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar - so unless he knew it was there -." Harry hesitates, wondering if Black does know the passage is there? Ron, however, clears his throat significantly and points to a notice pasted inside the sweet shop door.

BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is, therefore, advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.

Merry Christmas!

"See?" Ron says quietly. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners, would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!"

"Yes, but - but -," Hermione seems to struggle to find another problem. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade; he hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet - what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"

"He'll have a job spotting Harry in this," Jayla jokes, nodding through the swirling snow. "Come on, Hermione, it's nearly Christmas; Harry deserves a break." Hermione bites her lip, looking extremely worried.

"Are you going to report me?" Harry asks her, grinning, and Jayla nudges him in the ribs so he corrects himself and pouts.

"Oh - of course not - but honestly, Harry -." Hermione tells him, worrying about her friend's safety.

"Seen the Fizzing Whizzbees, Harry?" Ron asks, grabbing and leading him into the shop and over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven - it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with his broomstick." Ron stares broodingly into the Acid Pop box. "Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?"

"No," Jayla answers and the Golden Quartet pay for their sweets before leaving Honeydukes for the blizzard outside. Hogsmeade looks like a Christmas card with the little thatched cottages and shops covered in a layer of crisp snow and the holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees. Harry shivers because, unlike the others, he doesn't have a winter coat to keep him warm. They head up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves.

"That's the Post Office -," Hermione suggests.

"Zonko's is up there -," Jayla suggests.

"We could go back to the Shrieking Shack -," She adds, knowing what Ron will say.

"Tell you what," Ron says through chattering teeth, "shall we go for a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?" Harry is definitely willing, with the fierce wind freezing his hands, so they cross the road, and in a few minutes, they enter the tiny inn.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

The Three Broomsticks is exceptionally crowded, noisy, warm and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face is serving a bunch of rowdy Warlocks up at the bar. "That's Madam Rosmerta," Hermione smiles cheekily. "Ron fancy's her."

"I do not," Ron argues, going slightly red.

"I'll get the drinks, shall I?" Jayla smiles. "I'll put in a good word," She teases the redhead.

"No, you bloody won't," He grumbles, joining the Darkmore Heiress at the bar as Harry and Hermione make their way to the back of the room, where there is a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree which stands next to the fireplace. Ron and Jayla return five minutes later, carrying four foaming tankards of hot Butterbeer and something to snack on besides their sweets. "Happy Christmas!" He says happily, raising his glass. Harry drinks deeply, enjoying the newly familiar deliciously drink that seems to heat every bit of him from the inside. A sudden breeze ruffles their hair as the pub door opens again. Harry looks over the rim of his tankard and chokes, surprising Jayal as she slaps him on the back, trying to calm him.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick enter the Three Broomsticks in a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who is deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and pinstriped cloak: Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. In an instant, Ron, Hermione and Jayla place their hands on Harry's head and force him off his stool and under the table. Dripping with Butterbeer and crouching out of sigh, Harry clutches his empty tankard and watches the teachers' and Fudge's feet move towards the bar, pause, then turn and walk right towards him.

"Mobiliarbus!" Jayla whispers somewhere above him, and the Christmas tree beside their table rises a few inches off the ground, drifting sideways and landing with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Staring through the dense lower branches, Harry sees four chair legs move back from the table beside theirs, then hears the grunts and sighs of the teachers and Minister as they sit down. Next, he sees another pair of feet, swearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and hears a woman's voice.

"A small Gillywater -,"

"Mine," Professor McGonagall says, raising her hand and taking the glass.

"Four pints of mulled mead -," Rosmerta says, placing them on the table.

"Ta, Rosmerta," Hagrid smiles.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella -," The barkeeper says.

"Mmm!" Professor Flitwick smacks his lips.

"So you'll be the redcurrant rum, Minister," She smiles, placing the drinks on the table.

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," Fudge replies. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"

"Well, thank you very much, Minister," Rosmerta gushes, and Harry watches the glittering heels march away before returning. His heart pounds uncomfortably in his throat, and he feels Jayla nudging him with her leg to comfort him.

"I can't believe they're here. Teachers should stay at school," Jayla jokes, looking at Hermione and Ron.

"What's the Minister doing here?" Hermione wonders, looking worried.

"I hope they go soon," Ron mumbles, growing nervous as Hermione's leg twitches nervously.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" Madam Rosmerta asks, sitting at the table, and Fudge twists his thick body, checking for eavesdroppers.

"What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black?" Cornelius questions in a quiet voice. "I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Hallowe'en?"

"I did hear a rumour," She admits, having heard the hot gossip.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" McGonagall asks the gentle half-giant.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" The pub owner whispers.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge confirms shortly as if his word is law.

"You know that the Dementors have searched my pub twice?" Rosmerta questions, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away… it's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," He tries to assure her uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution… unfortunate, but there you are… I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore - he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," McGonagall agrees sharply as Hermione and Ron try to stop Jayla from jumping towards the Minister. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" Professor Flitwick squeaks, his feet dangling a foot from the ground.

"Stupid nitwit," Jayla grumbles, siping her Butterbeer angrily.

"All the same," Fudge demurs, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse… we all know what Black's capable of…"

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," Madam Rosmerta replies thoughtfully, and Jayla has to stop herself from nodding. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought… I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," He says gruffly. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" She asks, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people and his wife, you mean?"

"I certainly do," The Minister informs her.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?" Rosmerta wonders.

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," Professor McGonagall murmurs, thinking of the boy she remembers. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," She agrees with a small laugh. "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!" Harry accidentally drops his tankard with a loud clunk, making Ron kick him.

"Precisely," The Deputy Headmistress agrees. "Black and Potter. 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 -."

"I dunno," Hagrid chuckles loudly. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were Brothers," Professor Flitwick chimes in. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," Fudge replies as if he knew. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him Godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Madam Rosmerta whispers.

"Worse even than, m'dear…" The Minister drops his voice and proceeds in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who had a number of spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does it work?" She questions, breathless with interest, and the Charms Professor clears his throat.

"An immensely complex spell," Professor Flitwick explains squeakily, "involving the Magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. 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?" The pub owner whispers.

"Naturally," Professor McGonagall replies. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself with his wife… and ter, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be in the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" Madam Rosmerta gasps.

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," She tells her darkly. "Indeed, 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?" The barkeeper questions.

"He did," Fudge sighs heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed -."

"Black betrayed them?" Rosmerta breathes in shock, remembering the four boys when they were at Hogwarts.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His Master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it -." The Minister agrees, and Jayla can't stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid yells so loudly that half the bar goes quiet.

"Shh!" Professor McGonagall says, looking embarrassed by the half-giant's outbursts.

"I met him!" He growls, feeling foolish. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them, people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James' house after they were killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead… an' Sirius Black turns up on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' Janes' Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin'. He was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR, WHO MURDERED HIS WIFE!" Hagrid roars, attracting the attention of the pub.

"Hagrid, please!" The Deputy Headmistress warns him, seeing the looks they're getting. "Keep your voice down!"

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his Godfather, I'll look after him -' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no; Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his Aunt an' Uncle's. Black argued, but in the end, he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. 'I won' need it any more,' he says. I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike; what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it any more? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run ter it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him. But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friend's son! But when a Wizard goes over ter the dark side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em any more…" There's a long silence after Hagrid's story.

"But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him the next day!" Madam Rosmerta remarks with some satisfaction.

"Alas, if only we had," Fudge replies bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew - another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew… that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" She questions, thinking of the boys from the past.

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," Professor McGonagall grumbles, thinking of them. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I - how I regret that now…" She sounds like she has a sudden head cold, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

"There, now, Minerva," Fudge soothes her kindly. "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses - Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later - told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing. 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…" Professor McGonagall blows her nose at the retelling of the story.

"Stupid boy… foolish boy… he was always hopeless at duelling… should have left it to the Ministry…" McGonagall sniffles.

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands - I'd've ripped him limb - from - limb," Hagrid growls, imagining it and wishing he could go back and change it.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," Fudge reminds him sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I - I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him… a heap of blood-stained robes and a few - a few fragments -." Fudge's voice stops abruptly, and there is the sound of five noses being blown.

"And his poor wife… the Muggles said she was there at the time… Sirius Black killed his own wife when she confronted him about the death of the Potters." There's a deadly silence. "Well, there you have it, Rosmerta." He says thickly. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor Mother. And Black's wife's family still don't believe Black killed her. Black's been in Azkaban ever since." Madam Rosmerta lets out a long sigh.

"Is it true he's mad, Minister?" Rosmerta asks him.

"I wish I could say that he was," The Minister agrees slowly. "I certainly believe his Master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew, his wife and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man - cruel… pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them… but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored - asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword with his wife. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him - and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door, day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" She wonders. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his -er - eventual plan," The Minister agrees evasively. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing… but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again…" There's a small chink of glass on wood as someone sets their drink down.

"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the Headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," Professor McGonagall tells him, and one by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry take the weight of their owners once more, and the hems of clocks swing into sight. Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappear behind the bar. The door of the Three Broomsticks opens again with another flurry of snow, and the teachers disappear.

"Harry?" Ron, Hermione and Jayla's faces appear under the table, staring at him at a loss for words.

After hearing what their Professors, the Minister and Rosmerta, said about Harry's parents and Sirius Black, Harry jumps from under the table and puts on the Invisibility Cloak before racing out of the pub, the door flying open. "After him!" Jayla whisper-shouts, shoving her friends, going after Harry out of the pub as they follow the footprints in the snow out of the village.

⒴⒠⒜⒭ ⑶

Jayla, Ron and Hermione run after Harry under his Invisibility Cloak to the outskirts of Hogsmeade, following the footprints in the snow and hearing sobs from a rock. Ron takes Hermione's arm, stopping her from going further, letting Jayla go instead, and she takes the Invisibility Cloak off of Harry; seeing him crying at what he heard in the pub, she holds him, and he looks up at his friends as they stand, watching the pair. "He was their friend. And he betrayed them. He was their FRIEND!" He shouts, making Jayla cringe at the level of hate. "I hope he finds me. But when he does, I'm going to be ready. When he does, I'm going to kill him!" Hermione and Ron stare at him in shock, and Jayla holds him tighter, not knowing what to say.