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