𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐏𝐎𝐀 𝟖

Harry didn't have a very clear idea of how they had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more.

All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing, because his head was still pounding with the conversation he had just heard.

Why had nobody ever told him? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, Cornelius Fudge... why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Harry's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them?

Ron and Hermione watched Harry nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what they'd overheard, because Percy was sitting close by them.

Emily hadn't come down to dinner, Ethan had asked them where she was but none of them had an answer.

When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of term high spirits.

Harry, who didn't want Fred and George asking him whether he'd reached Hogsmeade or not, sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory and headed straight for his bedside cabinet.

He pushed his books aside and quickly found what he was looking for, the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given him two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of his mother and father.

He sat down on his bed, drew the hangings around him, and started turning the pages, searching, until...
He stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding day.

There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions.

There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad.

And there... that must be him. Their best man... Harry had never given him a thought before.

If he hadn't known it was the same person, he would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph.

His face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken?

Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him? Did he realize he was facing twelve years in Azkaban with his son, twelve years that would make him unrecognizable?

But the Dementors don't affect him, Harry thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face.

He doesn't have to hear my Mum screaming if they get too close.

Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his robe and glasses and got into bed, making sure the hangings were hiding him from view.

The dormitory door opened.

"Harry?" said Emily's voice uncertainly.

But Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep.

"I know you're not asleep. I saw you looking at the photos." Emily said, he heard her walking closer to him and finally decided to sit up.

"You shouldn't be in here." Harry quietly said, watching as she leaned against the bed.

"I know, I just wanted to check you were okay. It couldn't have been easy hearing all that at once. You okay?"

"No! No I am not okay! None of this is okay! Your dad betrayed my parents! Your dad got them killed! Your brother killed Pettigrew at the age of four! They're all crazy! The whole family!" Harry shouted, he had stood up and threw the photo album on the floor, landing next to Emily's feet.