Ariadne did not speak as she walked out of the Defence classroom, and she could hardly prepare herself to have to sit through to Snape's Potions lesson for the remainder of the morning. She secluded herself in the corner of the classroom and did her best to shield her face her long sheet of hair, but nothing could truly be done to prevent the omnipresence of her classmates' stares. Astoria arrived soon after, placing her books down and seating herself on Ariadne's bench. She rested her elbows on the desk and her chin in her hands before sighing dreamily.
"Don't you think Draco looks so cute with his sling? I just want to nurse him back to health!"
Cute was the last thing that she'd call Draco right now, but Ariadne did not have the energy to disagree with Astoria as vehemently as she might have on a different day. She shrugged soundlessly instead.
"What's up with you?" Astoria pushed, reading the chalkboard notes before opening up her book to the Swelling Solution. The rest of the Slytherins followed suit, chatting with one another as they did. The Gryffindors, on the other hand, remained silent and motionless, uneasy still from whatever exactly had happened back in Defence.
"I'm certainly not surprised that only the Slytherins have deigned to pay attention to my instructions today." Professor Snape commented idly as he walked into the classroom, peering out at the students with a sneer firmly set on his sallow face. "But I can admit that this level of insolence is somewhat unprecedented. Care to explain...Mr. Creevey?" he called at random.
"Oh, um, I'm not really sure, Professor Snape." Colin squeaked out loyally. He shot a furtive glance at Ariadne, who did her best to pretend that she didn't notice. Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Two points from Gryffindor. Miss Vane? Unless you're unsure as well," he said abruptly, causing Romilda to snap her head up guiltily from where she and Lola had been trading hushed whispers.
"We just had our lesson on Boggarts, Professor Snape," Romilda explained primly. "And Ariadne's Boggart spooked everyone a bit, I should say."
Ginny glared at the back of Romilda's head with such heat that Ariadne was surprised Romilda didn't feel it.
"And what, pray tell, is Princess Black afraid of?" Snape drawled. "Low quality sheets? Being told 'no'? Or what about–"
"My mother," snapped Ariadne, cutting him off. She could feel the classes eyes on her, but Astoria's most pressingly. She kept her own trained on a spot just behind Snape's head, staring hard at nothing.
Taken aback by her answer but even more irritated by her interruption, Snape moved closer towards her until his dark robes were brushing up against the table that she and Tori shared, staring down at her over his large nose.
"I do not tolerate interruptions in this class," he said sternly. Dropping his voice an octave so that only those closest to her could hear, he continued. "Even if your lovelorn simpleton of a mother gave you a fright."
Ariadne said nothing in return. She merely stood up from her seat and tucked it back into the desk before gathering her books and placing them carefully in her bag. Every movement felt forced, like her brain had to tell her arms and legs what to do next. Her face felt hot, but Ariadne willed her mouth shut. She was afraid, somewhere in the back of her mind, of what she might say if she opened it.
Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, Ariadne turned around and placed one foot in front of the other. She felt wholly detached from her surroundings, and although she could feel the class's eyes on her, she could only vaguely hear Professor Snape's loud commands to come back at once over the thudding ringing in her ears. That helped.
She did not know how she made her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, but she found herself roped into a game of Exploding Snap with Fred and George. It was nice, for a moment, to pretend that everything was normal.
"Skiving off?" Fred had asked, spotting her enter the room. Ariadne nodded mutely.
George looked proud. "Us too," he winked. "It was hard convincing Pomfrey that Fred here really had fainted–"
"–but we managed. Nearly perfected it into an art, I should say. Maybe we'll let you in on the secret some time."
"But we'd have to charge you!"
If they could tell that something was wrong, they did not press her on it. The twins kept things light, grilling her only on new material that they could use to make fun of Ron.
By lunchtime, Ariadne had never more wanted to return to her dorm, get into her bed, and place the covers over her head to shut out the world for the next couple of days. Or forever. But she knew that wasn't an option. Not showing up to lunch would only arouse her friends' suspicions more after what had occurred this morning, anyways.
Fred and George escorted her to the Gryffindor table, dropping her off with the already seated Harry, Ron, and Hermione before joining Lee Jordan further at the back. Ariadne did not look at her friends as she sat.
"Ariadne," Hermione said quietly after a moment, nudging Aria in the side as she spoke. "What was that about earlier, with Malfoy? Are – are you okay?"
Ariadne couldn't tell if the gentleness of Hermione's words stemmed from her fight with Draco or from the utter desolation of her current appearance, but she was grateful for her tact nonetheless. She turned to the side and met Hermione's warm brown gaze head on.
"Yes," she lied with a weak smile. "I'm fine. I'm just not feeling too well is all."
Harry was silent as he observed her with probing eyes, concern evident in his face, but Ron had no such reservations.
"Yeah, mate, you're looking rough," said Ron, frank as ever. He bit off a piece of the chicken that he'd been holding and did not fully swallow before speaking again. "Don't let Malfoy get to you," he continued, offering up a piece of comfort. "Twat barely knows what he's talking about anyway, does he?"
"What exactly was he talking about, Aria?" Harry asked finally, curiosity overtaking his concern now that she'd said she was alright. But Ariadne paled, a contrast to her usually bronzed complexion. Before she could respond, however, the doors to the Great Hall opened with a bang.
Ginny ran in and made a beeline for their table, ignoring the trio's curious gazes when she finally reached Ariadne.
"I came as soon as we were dismissed," she breathed heavily, brushing a strand of flaming hair from her eyes. "Snape's on an absolute rampage. I figured I should warn you. I owe you, you know, for–"
"Thanks, Ginny," Ariadne spoke quickly, cutting her off before she could say anything else. Ginny got the hint. That was one of the best things about Ginny, that she never pushed or prodded.
"Good luck, mate." She nodded with a cheeky grin before walking off towards the end of the Gryffindor table, evidently choosing to be as far from the fallout as possible.
"Ariadne, what's–?" Hermione began to speak, but she never got the chance to finish.
"BLACK!" A voice growled out as the doors to the Great Hall banged open once more. A few of the professors got to their feet, but Ariadne could not quite see who before she closed her eyes and prepared herself for the inevitable.
She felt his presence before he even spoke again, looming over her like a great bat. Ariadne bit back a smile. Harry, Ron and Hermione must be so confused, she thought. It would almost be funny, the vision of their shocked faces as Snape approached, if it didn't certainly end with her death at Snape's hands.
"Your insolence," he snarled, grabbing her by the back of her robes and pulling her out of her seat, ignoring Harry's indignant Hey! as he did so. "Your impertinence," he continued. She was on her feet by the time she dared to open her eyes, Snape's hands still wrapped around the collar of her robes and his hooked nose getting dangerously close to her own sloped one as he leaned down. His eyes were black with hate, and Ariadne was confident that he'd strangle her if there weren't so many witnesses.
No one in the Hall dared to make a sound as they watched the scene unfolding before them with wide eyes. Even Professor McGonagall had paused where she stood.
"You're just like your father," Snape sneered, releasing her with such great force that she nearly fell back. Ariadne steadied herself just in time and raised her chin in defiance but said nothing, glaring at him right back. "He too was an insufferable brat who thought he deserved the world, strutting about the school without care for anyone else, and look where that got him."
"It goes without saying," Snape continued with a glower. "That you have detention every single evening with me for remainder of the term. You shall not see your friends again. You will be. Miserable."
At the High Table, meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore lifted his head from where he had been speaking quietly with Professor Lupin, getting up and gliding towards Snape and Ariadne. The bottom of his fuchsia robes swished at his feet as he walked, all eyes on him.
"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore serenely as soon as he was near enough that only those closest to the scene could hear him. "All for skipping class? I'm sure you can remember the days of youthful exuberance?"
"I cannot," Snape growled, but Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't.
"While we cannot condone such behavior, perhaps we can understand it. As such, I'm sure your punishment of choice, while well-intentioned, may be a tad severe. Instead, I suggest that Miss Black spend her detentions with Professor Lupin during every Hogsmeade trip for the rest of the year, where they can discuss the actions that may have led to today's events."
"But she's not even a third-year," Snape spluttered.
"Ah!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily. "All the better!"
Snape continued, lowering his voice and ignoring Dumbledore's exuberance. "I don't believe that's wise, considering the... concerns that I have already voiced." He glanced at Ariadne, but upon noticing that she was still listening, fixed his eyes back into a glare.
Concerns about her?
"And they have been taken into account," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Alas, my mind his been made. Miss Black," Dumbledore addressed Ariadne directly, causing Snape to finally release her. "You will be spending the Hogsmeade excursions with Professor Lupin. I'm sure the experience will be very fruitful. Now!" He walked towards the Gryffindor table. "Has all the treacle tart been eaten yet?"
Ron handed him a piece wordlessly, staring at both the headmaster and Ariadne.
"Wonderful!" Dumbledore took a bite and chuckled, before heading back to the High Table. Snape shot Ariadne one last scowl before following, no doubt to further protest her punishment.
Ariadne, meanwhile, sat back down with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all of whom were staring at her with wide eyes.
"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron broke the silence.
Ariadne, taking a bite of her own treacle tart, only smiled in response.
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Over the next few weeks, Ariadne merely brushed off Harry, Ron, and Hermione's entreaties as to how she earned Snape's ire.
"I ditched," she'd explain simply, "and it seems that he found that to be disrespectful."
Nothing was ever really that simple, of course. But Ron was too impressed to press her any further (Ariadne caught him, sometimes, looking back and forth between her and Snape, moony-eyed and grinning), and Hermione was likewise too tactful. She'd figure it out on her own eventually, Ariadne was sure, but she enjoyed the chance to keep quiet for the time being nonetheless.
It was Harry, then, who Ariadne most had to worry about. But sightings of Harry were few and far between these days, now that the Quidditch season had begun in full. Adamant about securing his last chance to win the Cup, Oliver Wood had the team practicing nightly for hours on end. Harry had dutifully thrown himself into the team single-mindedly, and Ariadne was happy to let him focus.
One October night, while Hermione and Ron were chattering excitedly about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip and Ariadne was doing Charms homework by the fire, Harry walked in from practice flushed from exertion and dripping from the night's heavy rains.
Waving goodnight to Fred and George, who had entered beside him, Harry threw himself into a plush armchair that Ariadne had reserved for him (having earlier waved off an eager Cormac McLaggen with nothing but a glare).
"What's happened?" asked Harry once he'd settled into his seat, observing the excitement abuzz in the room.
"Oh!" startled Hermione. "Er–" she looked at Harry guiltily.
"First Hogsmeade weekend, mate." Ron explained for her. "On Halloween. Are you sure you can't get McGonagall to sign off for you?" he asked when Harry sighed.
"I've already tried! She won't budge."
"Well, what about the cloak, Harry? Maybe you can sneak–"
"Ronald!" Hermione hit Ron on the shoulder with a light thwack! "That's dangerous! Harry's got to stay in school. He can go next time." Now it was Ariadne's turn to receive a guilty look. "Once Black's been apprehended. Sorry, Ariadne."
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "My dad's a mass murderer chasing after Harry, Hermione. I get it. I'm used to it. There's no need to keep apologizing."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione went fell into a rather uncomfortable silence, and Ariadne cursed herself for speaking before thinking. She wasn't used to it, of course, and she doubted that she ever would be. But she'd never get the chance, not if everyone kept looking at her guiltily each time her father was brought up. He was bad, he had done something bad, and he was not spoken about positively. Ariadne was not used to it, but it was her life. She had no choice.
Harry cleared his throat. "It's too bad that you've got detention, Aria, or else we could have–"
"What? Snuck in together? You two? Harry James Potter," and Harry winced as Hermione brought out the full name, "that is the last thing either of you need."
Harry had just opened his mouth to argue when Crookshanks appeared, setting his yellow eyes furiously onto Ron. Ariadne still didn't like cats, but she supposed Crookshanks wasn't too bad. He kind of reminded her of Mr. Tibbles with his flattened face, and the way he had it out for Ron was actually quite funny.
Ron didn't really think so, yelping when Crookshanks leapt at him in order to claw furiously at his bag. Ron clutched it to his chest.
"Oy!" he roared. "Scabbers is in there!"
That didn't matter to Crookshanks, who flung the bag around so that Scabbers flew out and onto the ground. He scurried away, but Crookshanks was faster, pouncing on him with a claw out.
"Catch that cat!" Ron yelled. George made a half-hearted attempt from nearby, but it bought Scabbers enough time to hide away under a cabinet, where Crookshanks couldn't reach him. Ron walked over and pulled Scabbers out, though Scabbers' little paws moved in such a way that it was clear he did not want to leave his refuge.
"He doesn't know any better, Ron! Cats chase rats!" Hermione defended, grabbing Crookshanks from the ground and petting his head soothingly. Crookshanks hissed at Ron anyway, who harrumphed and went upstairs, murmuring comforts to Scabbers as he did.
Harry and Ariadne locked eyes and shared a smile as Hermione sniffed and walked back to them, but then Ariadne remembered herself. Just like your father a voice that sounded suspiciously like Snape seemed whisper from the back of her mind. Traitor. She averted her gaze first.
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Ron remained angry with Hermione for the remainder of the week, the silver lining of which being that Ariadne harbored very little jealousy over her inability to join them at Hogsmeade. She wished them fun at breakfast, and luck to Harry in his attempts to get there, before entering Lupin's office to serve the first of her detentions.
"Hello," she greeted timidly, standing in his doorway. His office was a bit like him– worn-in but comfortable, with well-loved books lining his shelves and a stack of papers in disarray on his desk. It was homey, at least.
"Come in!" he greeted, gesturing for her to sit in one of the armchairs across from his desk. "Cup of tea?"
Ariadne sat, admiring the worn leather, before nodding yes. "Two sugars, please."
Lupin handed her a steaming mug before taking his own seat.
"I want to apologize to you, Ariadne," he began, meeting her gray eyes briefly before somewhat faltering. "I was the year above your mother at Hogwarts. I didn't know her well, but – I knew her."
"Please, Professor," Ariadne began, keeping her words polite. "It's alright. It's my fault, really. I shouldn't have– we don't have to do this."
Lupin smiled weakly at her protest; her obstinance familiar, albeit more subdued than the brash willfulness he had been used to.
All of him looked weak, really. He looked so terribly worn-out, dark bags under his eyes and patches of graying hair, that Ariadne had to take a second to remind herself that he must only be thirty-three.
"You really do remind me of her, you know," Lupin said instead, switching tactics.
"Yes," she replied. Ariadne didn't know what else to respond. It wasn't a compliment, not really. "I've heard either parent. Theodore Nott's father told me the same."
"Nott..." Lupin seemed to be testing the word in his mouth, racking his brain for memories of a life lived long ago. "Thaddeus?"
"I think. Do you know him?"
"Not well – I believe that he and your mother were old friends, before – well, before you were born, I think. Did she introduce you to him?" he asked, brows furrowed slightly.
"Oh, no. My mother hardly–" she cut herself off, unsure of what she'd even been trying to say. "I met him at the Malfoy's. I live with them, you see."
"How is that?" Lupin asked casually, keeping his tone deliberately light as he raised his mug to his mouth.
"It's alright," Ariadne shrugged, sipping her own tea. "It could be worse, really. They're better than those awful muggles that Harry has to put up with, at least."
Lupin frowned. "Is it that bad? I had heard that they didn't get along, but they treat him well, I'm sure."
Ariadne scoffed, remembering the venom in Vernon's eyes when she called Harry boy. "I guess that depends on your definition of 'well,' Professor. They're absolutely horrid to him. It's amazing how well Harry's turned out, considering."
"I didn't know," Professor Lupin said quietly, placing his mug down. He was silent for a moment and did not look Ariadne in the eye. "No one told me."
Ariadne placed her mug down as well, confused at Lupin's shift in mood. He looked devastated, really, eyes downcast and lips turned down. "Why would they have?" she asked genuinely, before clasping a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry– that was rude."
Lupin grinned softly at her embarrassment, but his eyes remained sad. "Not rude," he disagreed, something rueful edging on his words. "Why would they have, indeed."
The two remained silent for a long moment, and though the atmosphere was not tense, it was not exactly comfortable either. Ariadne did not quite know what to make of Professor Lupin, she supposed. More than anything he seemed to be a man of apparent contradiction; both old and young, familiar and unfamiliar, nearby and yet painfully distant. She felt as though he were stretching out a hand to her, yet unable or unwilling to step any closer. And she could not meet him halfway if he refused to meet her there himself.
Ariadne watched as Lupin opened his mouth to speak before seeming to think better of himself and closing it once more. Say it, she wanted to scream. She felt resentful suddenly, angry at this man who'd shown her nothing but kindness. This man who looked at her like he knew her. Or like he should have known her. She wanted to throw a book, push his papers off his desk, knock his tea over. Who are you? she felt like asking.
But she did not. And so she and Professor Lupin remained in their odd sort of silence, an unspoken standoff that perhaps only Ariadne was engaging in.
It was this silence, however, that allowed them both to hear two voices rising outside. Filch scolding someone– scolding Harry.
Lupin grinned at her conspiratorially and Ariadne, forgetting herself for a brief minute, found herself grinning back. He heaved himself out of his chair with a slight wince before opening his door and peering outside.
"Harry? Why don't you come in?" Ariadne heard Lupin ask. She leaned back in her chair, craning her neck around to smile at Harry as he walked in.
"No luck?" she asked Harry, who had taken a seat in the chair next to her.
Harry shook his head, casting a wary glance over at Professor Lupin, and Ariadne grinned as he ruffled his hair sheepishly.
Something about the sight, however, seemed to startle Professor Lupin, who knocked over his tea in a slight daze. Ariadne found him frozen as he moved to sit back down at his desk, looking at the two of them without really seeing them at all.
He sat as he met Ariadne's eyes, clearing his throat and ridding himself of the puddle at his feet with a quick 'Scourgify', which Ariadne tucked away for any potential future cleaning needs.
Lupin cleared his throat again. "Yes, well. Harry, we were just discussing the Boggart lesson. I'm sure Ariadne's told you–"
"–how rubbish I was," she cut in quickly, and Lupin looked at her curiously but did not say anything. "I botched the Riddikulus spell, it was humiliating." She forced out a nervous laugh and found that she could look at neither Harry nor Professor Lupin. "Did you do alright?"
"Oh," said Harry, looking taken aback by the topic of conversation and the nervous edge in Ariadne's rushed words. "Well, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Professor."
"Oh?" said Lupin, drawing out the word and raising an eyebrow.
"Why didn't you let me fight it?"
"I assumed," Lupin said slowly, "that the Boggart would take the form of Lord Voldemort, and I thought best not to subject the class to that experience. I take it that I was incorrect?"
"Not Voldemort," Harry confessed. "I think of the Dementors."
Lupin looked impressed and said as much. "That suggests, then, that what you fear the most is fear itself. Very impressive, Harry."
That did not surprise Ariadne in the slightest. She would never assign a single trait to Harry– she knew that he was more complex than that. But he was, in many ways, the quintessential Gryffindor. And if the House was defined by its bravery, it made sense for fear to be what he feared most.
"Maybe in part," Harry said, looking bashful. He looked between Lupin and Ariadne before speaking again. "When the Dementors are near, I can–"
He did not get to finish, as at that moment, Professor Snape entered holding a mysteriously smoking goblet. That's odd.
"Potter and Black." Snape observed acerbically. Harry lifted a hand in greeting, causing Ariadne to stifle a giggle. Snape glared at them both. "Lupin," he continued. "How... nostalgic... you must feel. Be careful not to get too caught up in the past. I know that this time can be especially trying." He placed the goblet on Lupin's desk.
Ariadne looked at Harry, who looked just as confused as she did. She had no idea what Snape was trying to imply, but it sounded vaguely threatening.
If it was, however, Professor Lupin did not react. "Professor Snape," he greeted instead. "Thank you very much. Ariadne, Harry, and I were just discussing the Grindylow demonstration that I plan to present in my next lecture, if you'd care to join us."
Snape looked between the three of them suspiciously, though it was very clear that he cared to do no such thing. Suspicious of what, exactly, Ariadne could not say. When he did decide to speak, Snape elected to disregard the invitation.
"You should drink that quickly, Lupin," he directed.
Lupin smiled pleasantly. "Yes, Severus, I shall. Thank you very much."
Snape nodded and backed out of the room. Ariadne watched with curiosity as Lupin took a sip of Snape's drink, cringing as he did. Harry, however, was incredulous at her lack of concern.
"Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts," he blurted. "And the Defence position."
"Is that so?" Lupin asked mildly, as if Harry had told him that the weather was nice and not that Snape was attempting to poison him. He dismissed them soon after, when the noises in the corridor made it apparent that the Hogsmeade trip had ended for the day.
Harry and Ariadne joined Ron and Hermione at the Halloween Feast, where they were presented not only with candied pumpkins and treacle tarts aplenty, but also heaps of gifted candies from Honeydukes.
"And you said nothing?" Ron asked incredulously, when Harry finished relaying the story of Snape's supposed poisoning attempt.
Ariadne shrugged innocently before defending herself. "Don't look at me like that! It's not like Snape would have poisoned Lupin right in front of me and Harry. And Lupin was eager enough to drink it, wasn't he? I was curious, is all. Something's off about him."
She eyed him at his place at the High Table, where he looked perhaps a bit more downtrodden than usual but overall, no worse for wear. He engaged in a friendly conversation with Professor Flitwick, smiling charmingly has he did, but the sadness in his eyes remained palpable.
Ariadne shook her head of the thought, determined to enjoy the Feast with her friends. And she did, laughing loudly as the four walked back the usual path to Gryffindor Tower. When they reached the corridor, however, a hoard of students blocked the Fat Lady and the entrance to the Common Room.
Not again, Ariadne thought, remembering the last time a hoard of students crowded at a wall. She had been accused of killing a cat and opening the Chamber of Secrets. It had been a particularly distasteful cat, but still. She bit a full lip nervously.
"What's going on?" she asked Harry quietly, as he was taller than her and could see above the crowd.
"The portrait's closed," he responded, but had no better explanation to give until Percy Weasley began to make his way through.
"Head Boy, excuse me, Head Boy walking through. Yes, I'm Head–"
A silence fell over the crowd, broken by Percy's shout. "Get Professor Dumbledore. Now!"
Professor Dumbledore arrived only a moment later, and the parting crowd revealed what the fuss had been about. The Fat Lady would not open the door because the Fat Lady was gone, leaving behind an empty portrait with violent slashes cutting through the canvas, chunks of it littering the floor.
"You won't find her!" a cackling voice declared.
Ariadne groaned silently as Peeves appeared, happily enjoying the pandemonium that had stored.
"Peeves," Dumbledore addressed seriously. "Do you know who did this?"
"Peevesie always knows," the poltergeist leered. He looked at the students before spotting Ariadne, sending a wink her way. That couldn't be good. "Not our first Black Attack, is it Professorhead?" he asked, flipping over in the air before peering out at Dumbledore from between his own legs.
The rest of the students turned to look at Ariadne, who felt a very distinct sense of déjà vu.
"He got very mad when she wouldn't let him in, you see," Peeves continued, grinning widely. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
Not good indeed.
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"It's lucky he picked tonight. It's the only night of the term that we'd all be in the Hall," Hermione noted once they'd all congregated in the Great Hall, where Professor Dumbledore determined they'd sleep for the night while the professors patrolled the castle. He had transfigured the chairs into sleeping bags before walking off with McGonagall, leaving the students to their fate. Well, they had left Percy Weasley in charge, which really may have been worse.
"Lucky?" Ariadne mused aloud. "Maybe. But he went here," she said cautiously. "He'd have known we were all at the feast, wouldn't he?" Something even she could not identify lined her words, or perhaps something that she did not want to identify. Her father was evil, she knew that. She had come to terms with it. But what if he wasn't? a small part of her wondered, a part that she had thought died at eleven when Narcissa told her the truth about her father. But it had lived for eleven years before that, in a young girl who had hoped beyond hope that one day her father would come and he'd be everything that she dreamed. A young girl who was a complete and utter fool.
"It's not like they've got calendars in Azkaban," Ron reminded her, though not unkindly. It was then that Harry returned, having seized sleeping bags for the four of them. Ariadne smiled thankfully as she held out her arms for her own before setting it up on the floor. They each got in fully clothed before propping themselves up and continuing to talk.
Even as Percy manically walked up and down the rows of students in an effort to get them quiet before Dumbledore returned, there seemed to be one question that kept everyone awake and talking: How did he get in?
"He could've flown?"
"Might know how to Apparate."
"Not to Hogwarts," Hermione murmured, likely citing some obscure passage from Hogwarts: A History that no one else in the history of the school would have bothered to read.
"Well, maybe he disguised himself?" a Hufflepuff fifth year tried.
"I'm sorry, are we all having a laugh?" said an older Ravenclaw incredulously. "Who would Sirius Black know inside Hogwarts who could help him get in? His daughter, perhaps?"
Harry sent a glare the boy's way, opening his mouth to speak before Ariadne placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It's alright," she said softly. It had been her father, after all. The accusations were inevitable. "Besides, he'll shut up now anyway," she added, sending a glare of her own.
Harry's glare had certainly been effective, and when Percy Weasley announced that it was time for lights out, the Ravenclaw smartly took the opportunity to stop speaking.
But even in the utter darkness of the Hall, with no illumination besides the stars circling the night sky, the whispers continued. They petered off slowly for the rest of the night, until around three in the morning when even Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep. Only Ariadne and Harry were left awake. It felt that way, at least, and if Ariadne hadn't had Harry to keep her company, to keep the emotions of the night at bay, she didn't know what she'd have done. Though they faced one another in their sleeping bags, they spoke quietly and seldomly, lest they alert a wandering professor. But his presence was enough.
Their silence paid off. Even from far away, Ariadne barely had to strain her ears to hear Professor Dumbledore and Snape compare searches for her father. To hear if he had been caught. She hoped that he had been. Right?
"Do you remember our conversation at the start of the term, Professor?" Snape addressed Dumbledore secretively, attempting to speak quietly enough so that Percy Weasley wouldn't hear. Wrong students.
"I do," Dumbledore said, something akin to warning edging through his words. Snape pressed on anyway.
"It would be... impossible... for Black to have gotten into the castle without help from the inside. I did express concerns when you allowed–"
Ariadne barked out a laugh, startling even herself as she struggled to get a hold on herself, not stopping until Harry reached out a hand and placed it over her mouth to stifle her mirth. The noise had frightened off both Snape and Dumbledore, who quickly parted ways at the realization that students remained awake, but Ariadne could not help it.
Of course Snape suspected her. She shouldn't have expected anything less, really, except that she had. He hated her, of course, and hated her murderer of a father. And her simpleton of a mother, apparently. But still. Everyone thought that she was evil. Not everyone, she realized, looking at Harry. Not the one person who should.
"I'm sorry," she said to Harry, who had begun to laugh as well when it became clear that she could not stop. She didn't know what she was apologizing for, really. Perhaps everything. His face turned serious as he watched her silently for a moment, lifting his hand that was still near her face to wipe a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. When had she begun to cry?
"Promise me you'll be careful, Aria," Harry requested lowly. "He's not just after me, you know. He's your father. I know you know, that people won't let you forget it, but I think they forget, sometimes. That you could be in trouble too."
Ariadne felt her heart drop to her stomach, throat constricting such that she felt suddenly she could no longer breathe. It was guilt, flooding her lungs and clawing its way up her throat. She didn't deserve to have him look at her like that. Like he was concerned. Like she was his friend; like he was hers. "Harry," she began, but he did not let her finish.
"Listen," he continued. "When I'd heard that you were the one in the Chamber..." Harry trailed off. "Just promise you'll be careful, alright?
"Harry," Ariadne whispered more urgently this time, dread building in her stomach as she willed her mouth to speak the words that her brain told her not to. "I've got to talk to you."
"What is it?" he whispered back worriedly. Ariadne shut her eyes at his concern before forcing them open once more.
"I should have said something a long time ago," she began slowly. Maybe she was procrastinating. It was, after all, the end of her friendship that she was putting off. "But I didn't know how. And I didn't know when. But I should have."
Harry looked at her for a long moment before nodding. "It's okay. I can handle it, whatever it is."
"It's– do you remember on the Knight Bus, when I told you that my dad didn't just kill twelve muggles? I tried to say that he was also working for Voldemort–"
"Oh, that," Harry said, looking relieved. "I already knew that your dad followed Voldemort. It's all anyone would talk about last year. But that's got nothing to do with you, Aria."
"Yes," Ariadne confirmed. "It's just– Harry, after I say what I'm going to say, you're going to hate me. You won't be able to look at me, and I won't blame you at all for it. But you've got to let me just say it, or else I'm afraid I'll never be able to tell you. Alright?" Ariadne could tell from the way the light reflected off Harry's glasses that he had nodded. "Our dads were best friends at Hogwarts– Phineas Black told you that. And my dad killed twelve muggles, and he ended up following Voldemort. Only, I don't think that they had some falling out before they went their separate ways."
"I think–" Ariadne continued, before catching herself. Harry deserved certainty, deserved to know the extent of her lies. She swallowed before starting again, struggling to keep her voice firm. "My dad betrayed yours, Harry. Betrayed your parents. I don't know how, I really don't, but– I think he gave them up to Voldemort, Harry. I'm sorry."
Harry was quiet for so long while lying flat on his back that Ariadne wondered if he had fallen asleep. "Harry?" she checked tentatively.
"I don't hate you," he said calmly, staring up vacantly at the night sky reflected onto the ceiling of the Great Hall. But his next words were spoken with pure venom. "I hate him. But you, I can't... you're right. I can't look at you. How long have you known? How could you not tell me?"
"I couldn't!" she cried, words tinging on hysterical. Hermione stirred next to her and she lowered her voice to a whisper once more. "I should have, I know that. But I couldn't bring myself to. I've wanted to tell you so many times, but I couldn't stand the thought of you hating me. Of you seeing me the way that you do now. I– you're my best friend, Harry. I didn't know what I would do without you. I was being selfish, I know."
"You were," Harry agreed, and he was quiet once more. "I just– I can't be around you right now."
And so, Harry got up, picking up his sleeping bag and walking over to the other corner of the room as Ariadne miserably watched him walk away. What have I done?
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okay not my favorite chapter but a necessary one to get to the good stuff, which will be coming. soon. don't forget to VOTE and also comment bc ur comments are actually v funny :)