Sirius Black was never found on the grounds that night, but his presence could still be felt in the way the atmosphere in the school had changed. Someone had managed to break into what was supposed to be the most secure place in the wizarding world. No one felt safe anymore. None of the professors had expressly spoken to Harry but he could tell that they were watching over him. At least one professor would conveniently find themselves in whatever corridor he was walking down. To him, that confirmed the theory that Black was after him, though he would have preferred it if they outright told him. Even Hagrid had grown on edge. They'd been to see him one night to find out if he knew anything else about the break in, but he had instead berated Harry for being so foolish for leaving the castle at night, and had berated the other two for letting him do that. When the half giant was being so brisk with them, it was obvious that something was wrong.
What didn't help was their following Defence Against the Dark Arts class being led by Snape unexpectedly. He had mentioned something about Professor Lupin not being well enough to teach them, and Harry thought back to what he had seen transpire in front of him. Had there really been a poison in that goblet, obviously a slow acting one? Lupin had told Harry himself that he expected to be out of commission because of his condition, so was he simply overreacting and jumping to conclusions? It was something Harry often tended to do when it came to Snape. But that didn't stop the lesson being easily the worst of the year, across all of his subjects. For some reason, the potions master had them learning about werewolves, a topic far ahead in the curriculum they'd been following. Whenever anyone questioned that decision, they were immediately silenced by the temporary teacher. He refused to accept answers from Hermione, and shouted at them for getting things wrong that they hadn't learnt yet. Matthew had lost Gryffindor House thirty-seven house points in six minutes thanks to his continued animosity towards Snape. Yet none of the other students could really begrudge him that. He'd just been the bravest one to voice what they had all been thinking.
"I'm going to complain to Dumbledore," Matthew said as soon as they were outside the classroom. "He should be kicked out of the school. What does he honestly bring to the table, other than a vitriolic treatment of any kid that isn't in Slytherin? How could he expect the rest of the class to know about werewolves when they won't have looked that far in their books? Of course, we've done some extra studying and that still didn't help us, because Snape wouldn't acknowledge us! Unless I was abusing him. And don't get me started on the homework. It's ridiculous. Dumbledore has some explaining to do."
"Don't you think the headmaster has more important things to worry about?" Hermione countered, even though she shared his sentiment.
She was right about that. Everyone knew of Dumbledore's distaste towards the Dementors and the creatures had been encroaching closer onto Hogwarts territory with each passing day. Harry could only imagine what he was going through, trying to keep them out. He'd heard talk of the creatures going hungry, since they were separated from their food source. He was perfectly happy to let them starve.
Harry was right to have that concern as the weekend came by. It was the first quidditch match of the year, though that didn't interest him or his friends. They had taken one look out the window that morning, had seen the awful storm battering at the window, and had been content to spend their day inside rather than out in the stadium. They had their usual set up. Harry and Matthew were getting ahead with work on one sofa, though his friend was already at the stage of tidying it up compared to Harry, who was approaching the penultimate paragraph. Hermione, meanwhile, was curled up in the armchair that Matthew believed was his, although he always seemed to let her have it. She was reading the book that she'd been given for her birthday, working her way past the halfway point. Harry had spotted Matthew a few times glancing nervously at her, as if he expected her to read something of note. Nothing had happened like that had happened so far.
The door to the common room swung open, disturbing their peace, and a horde of soaked students waded in. There was something off about them. They were shaking, but Harry could tell that it wasn't solely down to the cold. Their faces were pale, frozen in a sort of look of fear. People were murmuring to one another quietly, when they normally would have been making quite the ruckus, especially if they'd won. No one was celebrating. He shared a worried look with his friends. Matthew was sitting straighter and Hermione had stowed her book away to get a better look at what was going on. Hermione waved over a sodden figure and Ginny slowly wandered over, shivering heavily. As she sat down, a blanket was produced for her by Matthew and she took it gratefully. Harry half wondered where it had come from, but was more concerned with the state the younger girl was in. It reminded him of the condition they'd found her in in the Chamber of Secrets, which wasn't a memory that Harry was in any rush to relive. Her skin was practically translucent and Hermione was doing her best to give her some warmth through a side hug. They waited patiently for her to be able to speak; her teeth were chattering so much that they thought it might be hours before that was possible.
"Was the match really that bad?" Harry eventually asked. Maybe Gryffindor had lost badly. That always put them in a bad mood. Especially when it was against their big rivals.
"We…we won the match," Ginny managed to get out.
"Then what's all the glum faces for?" Matthew pressed, leaning forward. Hermione gave him a look that told him he was pushing her too hard, but if something had gone wrong, they wanted to get to the bottom of it.
"The dementors…they…we were enjoying the game, despite the weather. Gryffindor was smashing Slytherin, at least that's what the scoreboard was telling us. We couldn't see most of the action through the rain. But then Slytherin's new seeker…Malfoy…it was his debut, wasn't it? We thought he was making a play for the Snitch but he was actually trying to get away from the dementors. For some reason, they came down to the stadium, causing havoc with the players. It's a miracle that no one fell off their brooms. As soon as they were spotted, Dumbledore stopped the game, not before our seeker inadvertently flew into the snitch on his way down. From what we could see, Dumbledore was irate. I don't think anyone's seen him that angry in a long time."
"But everyone's okay?" Hermione wondered.
"Yeah, just a bit shook up. I've never felt a cold like it. As soon as they were near, all I could feel was…despair. I never want to experience that again."
Matthew nodded his head gravely. "I can understand that. Hermione, why don't you take Ginny up to your dorm and warm her up? I've still got some chocolate left over from Honeydukes if you want to use that."
She nodded her head and began to lead a quivering Ginny away, heading up the stairs and leaving the boys on their own. Matthew appeared to be thinking heavily about something. Harry watched as his brow creased in consternation, both of them considering what this new development meant.
"Why would the dementors try to attack the students?" Harry knew that they were dangerous, but surely there was a line to that. "I thought they were working with Dumbledore. I thought he had it under control."
"You can't just control a dementor," Matthew explained. "It's not that simple. They do what they want. The only reason why they're so cooperative at Azkaban is because it's like an open buffet for them, constantly feeding on the souls of the damned. But, at Hogwarts, they're being told to resist the basic urges that drive them. Perhaps such a large gathering of people was too much for them to resist. I wouldn't be too surprised if Dumbledore chooses to suspend the quidditch season until the matter is resolved." Matthew rubbed at his chin, his gaze still distant. "I don't think anyone expected it to take this long to find Black…and the longer it takes, the less amenable the dementors will become."
"What do we do then?"
"For once, keep our heads down. Stay out of trouble. And, whatever you do, don't go near one of those creatures."
xxxxxxxxxx
With the Black and Dementor attacks coming so quickly after one another, it was understandably difficult for the school to get into the festive spirit as December came around. November was basically a blur for Harry, as he spent every day thinking about where Black could be hiding, as well as focusing on avoiding any dementors when he was forced to go outside. He was surprised to find out that another Hogsmeade visit had been planned towards the end of the term, perhaps acting as a last hurrah before students left for Christmas. Hermione had once again been hesitant to let him go, even more so than last time. What had stunned Harry was that Matthew had begun to agree with her, showing a more cautious side that he hadn't seen from that particular friend. It felt like his own experiences with the dementors had affected him in some way, though he still wouldn't talk about it fully. It had taken a lot of bargaining on Harry's part to convince him to let him go, despite the fact that it was surely his choice no matter what. Part of the deal had clarified that, if anything else happened, he wouldn't be going on any more of the visits. He had agreed to that only because he felt he could win the debate again if it came to it and wriggle his way past their defences.
Hogsmeade was somehow more picturesque than the last time they'd walked through it. The small thatched cottages and shops had roofs covered in a few inches of snow, and each footstep took a little extra effort as they waded through the dusting that was on the ground. Unlike last time, they headed straight for the Three Broomsticks, just wanting to get warm more than anything. The pub was heaving but they were still able to find a table right in the corner, obscured by a large Christmas tree, close to another table that had been reserved for some sort of group. Harry was fairly curious about who that would contain, but not as fixated as he was on his butterbeer when Matthew brought them over. The heat that spread through him as he drank it seemed to reach every part of his body and was just what he needed. He was definitely going to ask Madam Rosmerta, the woman behind the bar, how to make it because he didn't think he would survive the summer with the Dursleys without the sweet beverage.
They were rather annoyed when the warmth they'd managed to envelope themselves in was disturbed, the door to the pub opening and letting the cold breeze shatter the cosy atmosphere. A strange assortment of people wandered in before the door was promptly slammed shut again. Professors McGonagall and Fliwtick were the first to enter, already an odd duo to look at. Hagrid bounded in after them, only just managing to get through the door. And then their unexpected guest was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who they had met once before, though he didn't know that because they'd been hidden under the invisibility cloak at the time. It became apparent that the spare table had been set up for them, and Harry found that he was thankful that the tree was there to shelter his presence. The last thing he needed was the Minister coming up to him, probably asking for some photo op.
Matthew's face was suddenly next to his. "Are you eavesdropping, Mister Potter?" he whispered with a wicked grin. "I almost feel bad for the bad influence I've had on you."
Harry shushed him as Rosmerta returned to the table, bringing with her a baffling collection of drinks for each patron. Harry leaned forward, for some reason wanting to know what they were talking about and why the Minister would be spending time with them. Surely it didn't bring good news for Hogwarts. The last time he'd reared his pompous head, Dumbledore had been kicked out of the school. Harry was worried that that was going to happen again if he didn't give into the dementors' wishes.
"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" Rosmerta's voice rang out through the din. Harry saw Fudge twist in his chair as though he were checking for people around them and he subconsciously ducked further behind the tree. Even Hermione was listening in now, not wanting to be left out.
"What else but Sirius Black?" the Minister replied tetchily. "I daresay you heard what happened at the school on Halloween?"
"I did hear a rumour."
"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" McGonagall's exasperated voice entered the conversation. Without seeing her face, Harry could tell she was rolling her eyes at the half-giant.
"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" The question had Harry moving closer, wary of scraping the bench against the stone floor.
"I'm sure of it," Fudge replied shortly.
"You know that the Dementors have searched the whole village twice?" There was more than a hint of anger in Rosmerta's tone. "They've scared all my customers away. It's very bad for business, Minister. Thank goodness for these school trips still happening."
"Rosmerta, dear, I don't like them any more than you do. But they are, nevertheless, a necessary precaution. It's unfortunate, but there you are." It was clear to see he was reverting back to his political way of speaking that he'd mastered over the years, trying to appeal to the common people through a shared struggle. "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, again, adding her own two galleons worth into the mix. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"
"Hear, hear!" Flitwick agreed, the first time he'd spoken. Harry could see his feet were dangling a foot from the ground.
"All the same," Fudge said, quickly taking back control of the conversation, "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," Rosmerta added thoughtfully. "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. The worst he did isn't widely known."
"The worst? Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"
"I certainly do."
"What could possibly be worse?"
Harry was just as eager to find out too.
"You say you remember him at Hogwarts." McGonagall murmured. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"
Rosmerta laughed slightly. "Naturally. I never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"
Harry blanched. It was only through Matthew's quick thinking that he didn't knock his tankard over in the shock.
"Precisely. Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both were very bright but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers."
"You would have thought they were brothers, with how inseparable they were," Flitwick agreed.
"Of course they were." The Minister sounded annoyed that the talk had drifted away from his own exploits. "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."
Harry could feel Hermione's hand slip onto his arm, as if she were trying to preemptively stop him from doing something. He didn't know if he could do anything. His body felt frozen as he listened in.
"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Rosmerta offered.
"It's somehow a lot graver than that. Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against Him, 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. But, as you can suspect, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."
"An immensely complex spell," Flitwick explained before the barmaid could ask. "It involves the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret Keeper, and is therefore impossible to find. The only way to break it is if 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?" Rosmerta assumed.
"Naturally." McGonagall's voice was full of spite, more than they had ever heard. "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. He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements. He had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."
"And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed," Fudge began.
"Black betrayed them?" Rosmerta finished breathlessly.
"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role and was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. This left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it."
"I met him!" Hagrid suddenly growled. "I must have been the last to see him before he killed all them people! It was me who rescued Harry from Lily and James's house after they were killed! Just got him out of the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, and his parents dead. Sirius Black turns up, on that flying motorbike he used to ride. It never occurred to me what he was doin' there. I didn't know he was their Secret-Keeper. I thought he must have just heard news of the attack. He was all pale and shaking and…and…and I comforted him! Him! After what he'd done to them!"
The trio were used to Hagrid's tendency to get over-emotional but this was something else. He sounded like he was close to wailing. Other people were beginning to turn around and Harry was worried that the conversation would be killed by their large friend.
It seemed that McGonagall had the same thought. "Hagrid, please! Keep your voice down!"
"He wanted to take Harry himself," Hagrid continued in a quieter tone, though he paused to blow his nose in a giant tissue. "But I had my orders from Dumbledore and I weren't about to let him down. Black eventually relented and told me to take the bike. At first, I was confused as to why he'd hand over something so precious but I later figured it must have been easy to track. If Dumbledore knew he was the Secret Keeper, then he would have suspected Black straight away. Giving me the bike made it easier to disappear."
A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Harry could feel his heart thundering, barely noticing the concerned looks his friends were sharing. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him the next day!"
"Alas, if only we had," Fudge sounded very bitter. "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?"
"He hero-worshipped Black and Potter," McGonagall told her. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I…how I regret that now…" Harry doubted he had ever heard her sound so forlorn. The closest it compared to was when she had told them Matthew had been petrified the previous year.
"There, now, Minerva." They were faintly surprised to hear how compassionate Fudge sounded, as if he was actually being a person rather than a politician. "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, crying about the Potters and simply questioning how their friend could do something like that. And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens. The team that arrived barely found any remains. Just a finger. A finger left from an entire person. Just imagine the sort of darkness that must have been cast into that spell."
McGonagall blew her nose in a handkerchief Rosmerta handed over. "Stupid and foolish. He was always hopeless at duelling. All he had to do was leave it to the Ministry…"
"I tell you, if I'd gotten to Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands…I would have ripped him limb from limb, and even that would be too merciful a punishment," Hagrid growled.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," Fudge intervened sharply before his volume increased again. "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." Fudge paused, seemingly composing himself. "Well, there you have it, Rosmerta. Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."
"Is it true he's mad, Minister? There are so many different stories making the rounds."
"I wish I could say that he was. I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man. It just speaks of how unnecessary it all was. 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. Their minds have long betrayed them. But I was astounded at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored. The strangest thing was that he asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, something about missing doing the crossword. Yes, I was concerned at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him, especially since 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?" was Rosmerta's next question, still transfixed by the subject. "He isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he? Surely that's not possible."
"We hope to catch Black long before that," the Minister assured her, shutting down that topic.
McGonagall set down her glass after finishing the drink off. "Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle."
"Quite right. I wouldn't want to keep the man waiting, what with all the stress he's under."
Harry watched them leave in silence, watched them walk through the door as if what they'd said was almost inconsequential. He could feel the gaze of his two friends on his back but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge them. What could they say? What could they possibly say to make him feel better? Why hadn't anyone told him? As soon as Black had escaped, why hadn't anyone come up to him to explain the full story. He couldn't blame Arthur Weasley for he hadn't known either. But Dumbledore…Dumbledore had known. Was that why he had barely seen him all year, the headmaster hiding away out of guilt?
He thought back to the photo album Hagrid had given him. The photos Harry had memorised through looking at them so often. The images that were burnt into his mind. The one of his parents' wedding day. Black must have been there, standing next to them. Harry had never made the connection. Perhaps twelve years in Azkaban had scarred him so much that he no longer resembled the Best Man in the photograph. Had he been plotting to kill them even back then? Had he smiled and laughed with them, whilst knowing what their fate was intended to be?
Harry needed more. More answers, more reasons, more accountability. The professors and Fudge were heading back to the school. In the weather conditions, that would take them some time, enough of an opportunity to catch up to them. Then he'd ask them all about it and why they'd hidden the truth. Hagrid had been one of his friends yet had never told him. McGonagall, one of his most trusted tutors, hiding behind a veil of deceit, always looking at him in pity but never telling him why. What could they do? Tell him off for asking questions about his own life? Run away? He'd just keep pestering them until they broke down.
Moving at an unexpected speed, he launched himself away from the table, darting through the pub crowd, trying to put some distance between him and his friends. He was picturing it now, their expressions when he confronted them with his knowledge of the truth. He wondered if they would make excuses. He could feel a burning rage building up inside him, making him impervious to the biting cold as he barged his way outside. But then he felt a strong tug on his cloak and he was suddenly being thrown against the wall of the Three Broomsticks, Matthew's seething face close to his as his hand pressed down on Harry's chest.
"Get off me!" Harry yelled, trying to move away but Matthew was stronger than he looked, able to drag him away from the entrance of the pub and down the side alley, far from prying eyes. Hermione watched on with a pained expression, hating seeing the amount of hurt her friend was going through.
"What do you think you're doing?" Matthew shouted.
"I have to find out more," Harry bit out through the struggle. "I have to speak to them."
Matthew removed his grip, leaving Harry slumped and panting. "What do you think that's going to achieve? If you start going on a rampage, yelling about Sirius Black, all you're going to do is make them more worried about you. There'll be no chance of you leaving the castle again."
"Do you really think I care about that? They lied to me! They all lied to me!"
"I know…I know." Matthew's voice became slightly softer. "I can imagine what you must be going through right now but this…this anger…it won't help anyone."
"How could you possibly know what I'm going through?" Harry was still raging. "He killed them! He killed my parents! He was their friend and he left them for dead. All I'd been told up to this was that he'd be interested in me, that he's searching for me. I say…let him. Let him find me and then we'll see what happens."
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "You can't be talking like that. That's exactly what Black wants. He wants you to do something stupid and expose yourself."
"Is it that stupid to want to get revenge for what he did? He's responsible for how awful my life was. He took away my chance to have a proper family."
"What are you going to do then, hmm?" Matthew challenged him, some of the bite returning to his clipped tone. "When you find him. What are you going to do? Kill him? Because I don't think you're capable of that."
"Since when were you the expert on what I can and can't do?"
"You're better than him, Harry! If this is true, and he is responsible for what happened that night, then killing him would just take you down to his level."
"You just need to wait for the dementors to do their job," Hermione added tentatively. "They'll capture him and then he'll be back in Azkaban where he belongs."
"You heard what Fudge said," Harry countered. "Azkaban didn't affect him. It wouldn't be a punishment for him."
"That's not up to you to decide," Matthew told him.
Harry bit his lip, wanting to get away from them, at least just to think on his own. He knew they wouldn't let him walk to the school on his own because of the supposed danger, but as soon as he was inside Hogwarts, he would be keeping his distance for the time being. He just needed that. Some privacy. A chance to comprehend information that had transformed his outlook on a key part of his life. They wouldn't understand. They couldn't understand.
"I won't go looking for him," Harry responded, at least in the effort of placating them rather than being truthful. "But, I swear, if he finds me, I won't hold back."
xxxxxxxxxx
The end of term should have brought with it a festive atmosphere, and yet it couldn't have been further from it. Harry was keeping to himself, mainly locking himself away in his dorm room. That had the effect of souring Matthew's mood, who snapped at most people who tried to talk to him. Hermione, therefore, had taken the opportunity to have some time on her own as well. With the common room practically empty, especially at this time of night, she was able to read in peace, pouring over every single word of the book Matthew had given her. It was still puzzling her why he'd made it sound so important. So far, it had just been a collection of essays concerning theories on where magic originated from and how people came to be lucky enough to possess such talents. She didn't know what she had expected. She had hoped that the first page would tell her about him in block capitals so she couldn't miss it, yet there was nothing that jumped out at her.
Until the penultimate chapter, which spoke of magic in its base form. The person writing it had been hundreds of years old when the book had first come out, meaning the theory was practically ancient by now. But, like with all the other pages before it, Hermione forced herself to concentrate. It spoke of pure magic, before it had spread through the populace, before it had become diluted. And what caught her attention was the description included, that claimed that such pure magic took on the pure colour of gold, a signature of its power. She didn't know why it fascinated her until she tried to put it into a context surrounding her friend. When the dementor had attacked on the train, when darkness had engulfed them, there had been a golden glow, she was sure of it. And, if she thought back to their first year, after battling against the Devil's Snare, the same phenomenon had appeared. Was that it? Was that what Matthew had wanted her to find? It was a stretch and it certainly could have been a trick of her imagination but, after researching for so long, she was willing to cling onto anything that seemed remotely possible. Hermione slammed the book closed, knowing it was too late to wake him now. But, for the first time, she felt she had the artillery to finally have that conversation with him.