Chapter 10
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IT WAS THE SMALL THINGS THAT REMINDED HARRY THAT HE WAS AN ORPHAN.
It wasn't like he ever forgot that vital information. He knew his parents were gone, it wasn't as though he could forget, but the thought mostly lingered in the back of his mind, resurfacing only on some occasions.
When his uncle threw jabs at him, for instance. Or simply when his aunt ignored him all day, pretending he didn't exist whilst catering to Dudley instead. Or, more recently, people smothering him with fame, which only served as a reminder that his parents were in fact dead. He was Harry Potter, famous Orphan-who-lived who saved the wizarding world at the mere age of two. They didn't let him forget that his parents were dead heroes.
However, his parents have been missing from his life his entire life. Therefore, his brain treated the information, no matter all the reminders, as just that. A simple fact. His parents were dead, his name was Harry Potter, the sun was yellow. That was it.
It was only the small things that made Harry truly miss them.
Like when the Weasleys walked around Christmas with hand-knitted sweaters. When he saw Mrs. Weasley fuss over Ron or Ginny. When she lathered Harry's plate with more and more food. Or even when Aunt Petunia just lovingly brushed Dudley's hair away from his face.
Things Harry realized he'll never get to experience with his own parents. That was when he missed his parents the most.
When Ron invited him to his house for Christmas, Harry was ecstatic at first. The thought of spending the holidays with his best friend and his family was wonderful. But then he remembered just how out of place he would be there. The only one to stick out.
Harry didn't want to be a burden to them. He wondered if Adhara felt the same way about visiting the Grangers.
Harry was glad, though, that Adhara was spending the holidays with Hermione. He was going to decline Ron's offer and stay back with her if Hermione hadn't invited her. Or if Adhara decided not to go. After all, Adhara has done a lot for him. Staying back so that she wasn't alone for Christmas was the least he could do.
They were all going back home for the Holidays, it seemed. It was the first time Harry rode the train in the winter. The freezing window, however, reminded him of the attack in September so he stayed away from it.
"I thought the teachers wouldn't let you two out of their sight," Millie pointed out. "I mean, McGonagall had to chaperone Adhi when she went to Hogsmeade."
Adhara shrugged. "They can't stop us from going home."
"But you're not going home?"
"They don't need to know that."
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Adhara should've expected this. Hermione was smart. Very smart. And annoyingly perceptive. Adhara should've known she got those qualities from her parents.
Small details didn't go unnoticed in the Granger Household, Adhara realized. The slightest movement was picked on, and she could tell they suspected something was up the very first night when she caught Mrs. Granger's eyes linger for a second too long on her gloves.
They didn't question her much. They didn't pry. Of course, they asked the normal and usual questions one would expect from a parent — How is school? Are the teachers better this year? Do they take the train with you? — but other than that, there was nothing else. Which Adhara found very suspicious.
Had Hermione voiced her concerns with them? Did she tell them what she saw through the gap in her gloves back in first year? Is that why her parents were being so cautious? Why were they being so nice to her?
Adhara knew adults were cautious of her, telling their children to stay away from the lone member of the Black Family, from Sirius Black's niece. And even if muggles didn't know about the Ancient and Noble houses, they still knew about the wanted criminal on the newspapers who bore the same surname as her.
To top it all of, Adhara didn't look to be the best of influences. The scar on her face and permanent scowl aiding her in that matter, not to mention her complete lack of regard for any type of rules. Her uniform would usually help her look more put together, but she couldn't even wear that during her stay at the Grangers. No, she had to make do with casual clothes — her old and shabby and discoloured clothing.
So yes, Adhara expected questions. She expected side glances and talk behind her back. She expected judgmental eyes and wary parents. But she got none of that. Instead, Adhara received warm smiles at the train station and way too perceptive looks from both of them.
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Harry's socks were fuzzy. His sweater was also fuzzy and had a large H knitted in front of it, unmistakably marking it as his and no one else's. There wasn't anyone else in the Weasley Household with those initials. It wasn't a hand-me-down, it wasn't Dudley's, it wasn't even thrifted. It was new, and it was his own. Harry wondered if Ginny and George ever got their jumpers mixed up.
They were all wearing their sweaters, matching fuzzy socks hugging their feet, courtesy of Mr. Weasley, who wanted to join his wife in the knitting process this year but only had the skill level to create socks by the time Yuletide came around.
Harry held a mug of hot chocolate between his hands, sitting beside the fireplace as the Yule log burned away. Ginny sat close, Luna Lovegood right beside as her father recounted stories of strange creatures and magical beasts.
Strands of Xenophilius' blonde hair stood up straight, static making them look like straw atop his head. His colourful glasses made Harry wonder if it was rude of him to think he was strange. Or perhaps this was considered normal amongst wizards.
One look at Ron and Percy told him it wasn't.
Ginny's hand flew up, right as Mrs. Weasley came around to clean up the empty plates of ginger biscuits.
"What are heliopaths?"
Luna beamed, eyes going wide. "Oh! This is so exciting!" Her hands clasped together as she started eagerly explaining to her friend about galloping creatures and fire.
Molly Weasley looked as though she was contemplating whether she should be glad Ginny was making friends at school or if she should be questioning the Lovegood's dubious beliefs.
She waved her wand, muttering a levitation charm. The plates and the empty mugs floated away towards the kitchen.
It was a sight that caught Harry off guard each time. Even though this was his second time visiting the Weasleys — the first time being during the summer before his second year when he spent almost a month at the Burrow — he still wasn't used to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley complete tasks with only their wand. The kids weren't yet seventeen, and they had to finish their chores the muggle way.
Maybe it was because, back at Privet Drive, he was the one who carried out daily tasks. He knew for certain, if Aunt Petunia were to be here, Harry would be the one to bring those plates and mugs back, balancing one on top of the other.
He tried to help around the Burrow. Harry wanted to do something, to show his gratitude towards the family for having him over. That would be the logical thing to do, would it not? They gave something to him, so Harry should reciprocate by giving back.
Seeing how everyone was distracted, concentrating solely on the words leaving Xenophilius' mouth, Harry took the opportunity to slip away. He left the living room, following the smell of freshly baked biscuits cooling down on the counter in the kitchen.
He went to put his own mug away in the sink when he noticed how full it was. Stacked with trays and bowls from all the baking that was being done. Without even thinking, Harry grabbed the sponge and the soap, getting to work.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were very kind, Harry thought. Mrs. Weasley filled up his plate more than Ron's. They pulled out a mattress to let him sleep in Ron's bedroom when the couch downstairs was absolutely fine. They didn't let him do any chores around the house, insisting he was a guest.
Harry wondered what he could do to repay them.
"Harry! Harry! Har-"
Harry hummed, indicating he was listening to him but kept his overall focus on the soapy spoons in his hands.
"What are you doing?"
He blinked, finally registering what exactly he was doing. He thought maybe the Weasleys didn't like some stranger touching their stuff, prodding inside their kitchen, and that was why they didn't want him doing chores around the house. Harry dropped the spoons in the water-filled sink. Was he using too much water? Do they have to pay for water? He cursed himself for not thinking this through.
"S-sorry. I thought I should wash my mug and kinda grabbed the spoon out of habit."
He slowly looked back, expecting to see Ron standing there with an angry expression. The red-headed boy rolled his eyes, scoffing. Harry braced himself for the worst.
"Never mind that! I know you're used to doing things the muggle way, but really! Mum can finish this with a whip of a wand!"
Harry stood still, hands still covered in soap, the front of his fuzzy jumper damp from when he was leaning into the wet edge of the sink. He could feel water deep into his socks. He simply blinked again.
Ron grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the kitchen. "Come on! Luna's babbling things about something called thestrals, and Percy says this time, it's actually real apparently."
Harry quietly followed.
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The second time Adhara noticed the Grangers' lingering stare was on Christmas Eve when family friends were coming over, and Mione decided to wear a dress. Adhara didn't have one, and she didn't want to borrow one. So she settled for a pair of jeans that fit her the best, and a jumper of which she rolled the sleeves up to hide the holes. It looked fine, and it was comfortable, so Adhara was okay with it.
The only problem was that Hermione's house was too hot. And Adhara didn't like the heat. Wearing a button-up underneath her jumper would suffocate her, so she discarded the idea altogether. Except now, her scar was on full display.
When Mr. Granger came to fetch them both for supper, he caught onto it right away, only now realizing just how long and deep it ran. Adhara expected him to pry, to ask how it happened, and if it was her fault or not. But he didn't. He only smiled, although it was quite tight, and gestured both teenagers to come downstairs for dinner. As if he didn't notice the scar at all.
Adhara held onto her jumper tightly the entire evening. That really should have been the last straw.
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But it wasn't. The Grangers didn't kick her out, and it confused Adhara greatly. Surely, they must've realized just how much of a bad influence she was on Hermione. Adhara didn't bother to hide things about herself to satisfy people's expectations. They knew something was up because of the gloves she never removed, they saw the scar on her neck and face. Her quiet and reclusive behaviour should have put them on the edge.
But nothing she did was wiping off those smiles on their faces. Their facade didn't fall, and Adhara wondered just how far she could push and tug before it did.
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"Adhi, stop worrying." Hermione's voice cut through her thoughts.
"I'm not worrying."
"Stop picking at your hands then."
Adhara stopped, squeezing her hands one last time to calm her nerves.
"You haven't done anything wrong. They don't hate you."
"They should."
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Ron's older brothers, the ones who already graduated Hogwarts, couldn't join them for the festivities. In fact, Harry later found out that no one was really planning on coming back to the Burrow for Yule, it was a very last-minute decision.
The winter solstice passed, Harry didn't even notice how Christmas was now also gone. He was cozied up on the couch, the burning fireplace keeping him warm enough to not require a blanket. His temporary bed inside Ron's room was already made, and Harry didn't want to bring down the blanket and leave the bedroom messy.
The house was quiet, strangely. Ron and the twins went outside, apparently to buy groceries, and Ginny joined Luna at the latter's house today. Percy locked himself in his room, leaving Harry on his own. The multitude of books in the overfilled shelves was there to entertain him.
The house was quiet, the living room was peaceful. Harry only had the crackling of the fire to keep him company, accompanied by the soft whistling of the wind that crept in from a small crack of a window.
The faint sounds were lulling him to sleep, he practically melted into the couch. The fuzzy sweater fit him too big, but it belonged to him and no one else, and it smelled like gingerbread and firewood. It reminded him too much of the Gryffindor Common Room, the atmosphere feeling too light, too pleasant.
If Harry closed his eyes, he could imagine Hermione leaning against his legs as she scribbled away. If he relaxed enough, Harry could pretend like he could feel Ron's familiar weight on the couch next to him, as he talked his ear off about his day.
So Harry did. He closed his eyes and relaxed further into the couch, drifting off.
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"Is he asleep?" asked Percy.
"I think so?"
Ron muttered under his breath. "Fucking finally, I say. Took him a while to finally get comfortable here, didn't it?"
"Hush! Keep your voice down. Mum'll kill us if we accidentally wake him up."
"Stop that, Fred!"
"Aww, but he looks so cute. I wanna pinch his cheeks!"
"Let's take off his glasses, at least."
"Where's the blanket? Why is the window open?! Freddy, close the window, would you?"
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Of course, Adhara hadn't expected the lack of prying to continue. Concerned parents as they were, obviously Mr. and Mrs. Granger were going to ask questions to this thirteen-year-old girl who apparently has been close friends with their only daughter for almost three years now.
They asked what curious muggle parents of a magical child would normally ask. They asked questions that were to be expected from Hermione Granger's parents. Questions Adhara didn't know how to answer.
How is the sorting performed exactly? Can the hat read your mind? Also, why do wizards follow such a random sequence of currency?
But they also asked what all adults would be curious about. They questioned about school, about teachers, and more frequently, about their other friends.
"So," Mr. Granger leaned forward on the chair, the glint of mischief too obvious in his eye, "what kind of shenanigans do you kids get into? I know Hermione over here is a firm rule follower, but I refuse to believe you all spent the entire year in that castle in the middle of nowhere doing absolutely nothing."
Hermione was sending her some not-so-discreet signals from the other side of the living room, where she sat on their couch. Adhara was on one of the upholstered chairs, a sage green colour gone dull from age, with Crookshank in her lap. She understood right away why Mione was looking at her with big eyes. The speed at which she turned back to her innocent facade when her mother looked in their direction made Adhara snort.
Clearly, Hermione didn't want Adhara to reveal the many adventures they have been on, which all began with the troll attack back in first year. She understood, though, why Mione didn't want that. Their misadventures weren't what magical parents were used to, let alone muggle ones. They involved trolls, and giant spiders and a mass murderer.
But Mr. Granger looked way too eager to listen to their stories, and Adhara suspected he wouldn't let her off with a simple 'nothing'. She had to say something to appease him.
"Not much, really. There isn't much to do, the most we've done is have a sneaky sleepover at Mione's dorm room."
If possible, Mr. Granger's expression turned even more gleeful. He clapped his hands together, turning towards his daughter's direction.
"Hermione, you sneaked around? That's wonderful!"
Adhara raised a brow. She was sure that wasn't what parents usually said.
"I hope you're not sneaking around too much, though," came from beside Hermione, "wouldn't want to cause your teachers too much trouble."
"No, no, mum. Of course not," replied Hermione, laughing nervously. She threw a glare at Adhara who only shrugged in response.
A smile was tugging at her lips, and Adhara decided to indulge herself and allowed herself just go along with the relaxed atmosphere. She was petting the cat instead of looking at anyone's reaction. "It wouldn't be trouble as long as we don't get caught."
She heard a hearty laugh come from Mr. Granger, and when Adhara sneaked a glance at Mrs. Granger, she was also smiling. Adhara expected Hermione to still be glaring at her, but surprisingly, she was beaming at her instead.
Adhara rolled her eyes, seeing her expression. Shaking her head, she reclined back into the chair and just listened to the rest of the conversation.
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"Are you afraid of Binns, then?"
There were four of them cramped inside Ron's small bedroom. The extra mattress was taking up half the floor space, leaving only the area in front of the door available to walk. There were posters of the Chudley Cannons stuck on the walls, the corners turning brown. If the room wasn't so dark, Harry would be able to see the colour red that embedded almost every nook of the room, making it almost an exact replica of the dormitories back at Hogwarts.
Fred's long legs were taking up half of Ron's bed. Harry was on the other side, squished into his best friend who sat right next to him. George declared ownership of Harry's mattress on the ground.
It was long after midnight, and the rest of the household was asleep, so they had to be careful when speaking. The brothers were having a difficult time remembering, though, so one of them had to shush the other almost every five minutes. Or maybe they simply did not care.
"Does it spook you every time he grabs the chalk with his grey and transparent hands?" George stood up, on the mattress, using a torch to make his face look creepy.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Course not, that was only when I was younger."
Fred jumped up, a white sheet covering him entirely. "Oooooh," he mocked. "Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord! Afraid of ghosts!"
He jumped, throwing the sheet over the two third years instead, making Harry laugh out loud in the process.
Ron tried to untangle himself from the sheets, instead, but he felt his other brother flop himself over the two, Harry somehow crashing onto him in the process. "Ge'off, George!"
"Nope!"
Fred joined the pile.
Harry could feel Ron trying to get out, but the twins weren't budging. He laughed, even more, trying to suppress the sound, however, since it was late at night, and he didn't want to wake anyone up.
Ron huffed, giving up. He laid down flat, arms spread out as the twins and his best friend laid on top of him. He gave one last wiggle in the hopes of escaping only to fail once more. He released an annoyed sigh.
A thought passed over him as he realized something.
"Harry?" Ron's voice was barely a whisper. Harry was the closest, so he was sure his brothers couldn't hear him.
"Yeah?"
"If ghosts used to be your fear when you were little. Why is the cupboard your boggart now?"
Harry's smile fell.
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"There's something you're not telling me."
It was almost four in the morning by the time the twins left. Harry and Ron still weren't sleeping, the redhead resolutely staying in Harry's mattress until the boy spoke.
"There's something you're hiding."
Ron tried to burn two holes into the side of Harry's head, who tried his best to avoid looking at him. But if there was something Ron came to understand in the last few years, it was that if you wanted Harry to open up, you had to be persistent.
The same way as he persistently stayed up late at night to keep his friend company after a nightmare.
"Harry," Ron started slowly. "Why is a simple cupboard your worst fear?"
Harry stayed quiet, hands wringing about, but Ron could see how he was restraining himself from playing with the edge of his shirt. It was borrowed from Percy since they seemed to be closer in size.
"Harry."
Harry groaned again, burying his head into his hands. "It isn't important."
Ron huffed.
"Why are you making such a big deal out of it? It doesn't matter!"
"Well, if it isn't a big deal, why can't you just tell me?!"
Ron didn't get why he was making such a big deal out of it either. He wasn't sure himself why he insisted on knowing the reason behind Harry's fear. In fact, truth be told, Ron would rather be in bed right now. But there was a sour feeling in his gut that pushed him right now, a feeling more familiar than he'd like to admit. The same one he got on the train at the beginning of the year, because when the train came to a halt way before it was meant to, Ron wasn't sure if he was as surprised as he was supposed to be.
"Because it's embarrassing!"
"I'm a countryside kid who's afraid of spiders. That's also embarrassing."
That feeling in his stomach wasn't going away, and so he wasn't going to stop until he got a proper answer out of his friend.
Harry finally removed his hands from his face. He wrapped his arms around himself as though he was hugging himself. He looked like he was fighting to not peer in Ron's direction, a battle he eventually lost when Harry looked up with a scrunched brows and groaned out loud when he saw the redhead still waiting.
"You should use that patience of yours in more useful ways."
Ron rolled his eyes. He closed the small distance between them both, putting a hand on the other's knee. Hopefully, Harry would understand the gesture for the comfort it was meant to provide.
Harry took a deep breath. "It's embarrassing."
"You've told me."
"You can laugh."
"I won't," Ron promised.
"Okay." He looked away, holding one of his upper arms with the other hand. Harry inhaled another breath, and then released it all at once. "I used to sleep inside the cupboard."
Ron didn't think he heard that right. His mind couldn't compute, every inch of freezing for a moment.
When Harry saw his friend's lack of movement, the wide eyes with which he was staring at him, which seemed to have forgotten how to blink, he poked him.
"Ron?"
"Repeat that."
"I used to sleep inside the cupboard?"
"Yes. Umm. W-what do you mean by that?"
"I mean, it used to be my bedroom?"
Ron said nothing.
"Until after first year, when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon decided to give me Dudley's second bedroom."
"....se-....second bed-" He stopped talking again, the information taking more time to process than usual. He blinked, hands tightening around Harry's wobbly knee.
"...Ron?"
Ron didn't go back to his own bed that night, deciding to stay in Harry's small mattress. Harry didn't seem to mind much.
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This was it. This was the end of her peaceful break from reality, thought Adhara. Christmas was gone, and the newspapers didn't wait a second before jumping right back into business.
Adhara hadn't expected it. She let herself relax too much the last few days, she loosened her grip way too much.
The front page of the newspaper was normal, nothing odd about it. So when she caught sight of it on the breakfast table, she didn't think anything of it.
But then Mrs. Granger came downstairs and opened it up on the first page, showing a blown-out picture of a wanted convict — although not moving since they were in fact in a magicless world — and Adhara's breath caught in her throat.
"Would you look at that?" She leaned back, tapping a finger on the picture to show her husband, "Sirius Black, sighted in London. Oh, I do wish they would catch him already."
Adhara forgot how to breathe in. She jabbed her nails into her palms until she couldn't feel her fingers anymore. But her jaw stayed relaxed in place, and eyes remained impassive. She wasn't comfortable enough to show anything on her face yet.
The 13-year-old didn't look up from her the table. She didn't need to. Adhara noticed how quiet the table had gotten, how the conversation had slowly come to an end. And she could feel the Grangers' stare on her, something she got used to noticing over the Holidays.
It didn't a genius to put two and two together and realize that the Adhara Black sat at their breakfast table was related to the Sirius Black in the newspapers.
"Adhi-"
She didn't want to hear it. She got out of her chair and bolted upstairs.
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Hermione entered her room to a frantic Adhara, quickly stuffing her trunk with her belongings. She left the door open, allowing Crookshanks to smugly waltz inside the bedroom, with no awareness about what was going on around him.
"What are you doing?"
"Leaving."
Hermione bit her lip, slightly apologetic, slightly annoyed, but mostly just very worried. "Where?"
"Leaky Cauldron. I can't exactly go back Aleyne-"
She watched as Adhara closed her jaw tight right away. She didn't bother to explain herself and continued to pack. But Hermione was more concerned with the first part of her answer.
"Leaky Cauldron? You're going to London?"
Adhara didn't answer her this time, focusing on packing.
"Did you not hear my mum? Sirius Black was sighted-"
"I did hear her. And it doesn't matter. He won't recognize me."
Hermione huffed, her irritation taking over the rest of her emotions. "My parents aren't going to let you go."
"They should be kicking me out."
"They aren't going to kick you out!"
"They should," said Adhara, resolutely. She flung the lid of her trunk shut, still not facing Hermione properly. "My uncle is a murderer. My entire family is-"
"What your family is, or what they do, has got nothing to do with you. My parents understand that, they're not going to kick you out for that."
Adhara picked up her trunk, holding the handle tightly with both hands. But she didn't move from her spot. Hermione took that as her chance to approach, making sure to stay within view as to not startle the other. She put her hand on the trunk, choosing not to remove Adhara's hands from the handle. It was better she gripped onto that instead of clenching her fingers into her palm. Her gloves were already ripped, and Hermione was afraid to find out what state her hands were underneath.
"You're only thirteen, Adhara. They don't blame you for what happened with your uncle." When she still didn't move, Hermione tapped the trunk, "Come on, open your trunk. I know you brought a spare pair of gloves. You can change into then while I bring your breakfast upstairs."
She waited for Adhara to slowly blink. Once, twice and then a nod. It was slow, it was hesitant, but it was enough to finally let Hermione take a breath of relief.
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A few days later, Hermione received an owl.
"Adhi!"
"Hmm?" She was working on a crossword puzzle, with Crookshank in her lap.
Hermione was holding up a letter towards her. "Ron's asking if we want to visit them for New Year's."
Adhara didn't hear a question there, only a statement. She clicked her pen until Hermione continued.
"Would you like to go?"
The clicking stopped.
"Will there be cake?"
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There was no cake.
Well, there was no real cake. There was a fruitcake, but that didn't count.
There was a tray full of mince pies. There were chocolate chipped cookies and a gingerbread house.
But no cake.
Adhara picked up a cookie.
The table was laden with deserts, however, so she wasn't complaining. Although most of it was leftover from previous festivities, it was still much, much more than what Adhara was used to.
They were all in the living room: the twins taking up the space on the sofas as the other four, Adhara, Harry, Ron and Hermione, sat around the small table in the middle. The group of third years were writing out their plan for Buckbeak's upcoming trial.
"Oh, come on, Adhara! Have the fruitcake!"
Adhara continued to nimble on her cookie instead.
"What do you have against fruitcake?" asked Ron.
She shook her head. "Nothing. Don't really like the idea of fruits and cakes."
Ron either looked offended or simply nonplussed, she couldn't tell. But the look on his face was apparently amusing enough to make both Harry and one of the twins laugh.
"I'm assuming, then, that you must find the idea of vegetables and cake even more off-putting?"
Was that a question? It wasn't phrased like one, but the intonation sure did make it sound like a question. Either way, the statement made Adhara's face contort into one of disgust.
Now, she was confident that the look on Ron's face was indeed offence.
"Have you ever tried carrot cake?"
She shook her head once again. Ron looked flabbergasted. He got up to his feet right away.
"You are having carrot cake right now. Right at this instance!"
Adhara blinked. "You have some?"
"No, we're going to bake one."
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"Why's it called the 'Shrieking Shack'?" she inquired, tapping the cake pan to even put the mixture like how Ron showed her to.
"Cause there's a ghost!"
"Oh. Alright, then. Where do I put the cake? There's no oven."
"Oh? OH? That's all you got to say? I just told you it was a ghost!"
"So? We've got plenty of 'em back at the castle."
"Y-Yeah. But. They don't shriek!"
"No. You're right, they don't. We haven't got a shrieking ghost. Instead, we have a Moaning Myrtle, a Bloody Baron and a Nearly Headless Nick."
Ron's mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"And the last two are way worse than one that screams."
"You're just saying that because you've never seen it!"
Adhara rolled her eyes, still looking for that oven.
"You wouldn't feel the same if you actually had to go inside the shack!"
She had half a mind to call for Mrs. Weasley but then the woman would have to witness the mess in her kitchen. And Adhara didn't want to give her another reason to dislike her. She already didn't look too fond of the Slytherin.
"And it'd be worst if you were stuck there with- with-" He tried to think of something worst than ghosts.
"The shrieking ghost?"
"No, Sirius Black!" Ron blurted out, then smacked a hand over his mouth when he realized who he was talking to.
But Adhara simply rolled her eyes once more. "I'd hex Sirius Black if I ever see him. Now, where in the world is your oven?"
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