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chapter ix
(prisoner of azkaban)
ariana gets a cool map
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MADAM POMFREY INSISTED ON keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend, while she let Ariana leave after only one night. She had taken some nectar and ambrosia that had healed her quickly. Though her ears still hurt from Annabeth's yelling as soon as she found out. The girl had gone ballistic when she realised that the Ariana had fallen down through the stands.
Harry, on the other hand, had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. Hagrid sent him a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with a get-well card she had made herself, which sang shrilly unless Harry kept it shut under his bowl of fruit. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told Harry (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn't blame him in the slightest. Ron and Hermione left Harry's bedside only at night. Ariana would too, but whenever she sat near Ron, he looked at her as if he were expecting her to kill him any second. But nothing anyone said or did could make Harry feel any better, because they knew only half of what was troubling him.
He hadn't told anyone but Ariana about the Grim, not even Ron and Hermione, because he knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff. Harry told her that it had now appeared twice, and both appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, he had nearly been run over by the Knight Bus; the second, fallen fifty feet from his broomstick. Was the Grim going to haunt him until he actually died? Was he going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the beast?
Ariana thought he was being slightly dramatic, but she understood his fear. Many people at camp had become superstitious or developed OCD due to their trauma. A similar thing was happening to Harry. She told him that it was probably a coincidence, but that he could be right. This seemed to both reassure him and calm him down.
And then there were the Dementors. Ariana felt sick and humiliated every time she thought of them. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one else (other than Harry) collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their head of their friends and family.
Because Ariana knew who that screaming voice belonged to now. She had heard the words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while she lay awake, or in her dorm, after a bad nightmare. When the Dementors approached her, she heard the last moments of her aunt's life, her attempts to protect her, Ariana, from the lady in the ground, and her laugh before she made Ariana....
She dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of one-eyed demons, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake to dwell again on the voice.
On Sunday afternoon, Ariana sat cross-legged on her bed, arguing with Hermione.
"Mione, we probably won't have to do it. I mean, Snape isn't the teacher, is he?" she exclaimed.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ariana Black, you will do your homework! Just because you might get away with not doing it, doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."
"Why not?!"
"Because!"
"But why?"
Hermione frowned at her. "Huh? What language was that?"
"Um...English?"
Hermione looked at her, eyes narrowing, clearly confused. Suddenly, it clicked in Ariana's head. Sometimes her brain would switch between Greek, English and French. God knows why.
Ariana concentrated. "Greek? Or French."
"Well, it definitely wasn't French."
"Greek it was."
Hermione looked at her hopefully. "Can you teach me?"
Ariana rolled her eyes. "Let's just do the essay."
While doing the essay, the girls realised that the symptoms of being a werewolf sounded quiet similar why Professor Lupin was missing classes. Ariana didn't really care. The book said that the person who was bitten had no control over themselves while they were a wolf. And if he wanted to kill her, he probably would've already.
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where she was forced to think about other things, even if she had to endure Draco Malfoy's taunting. Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor's defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Harry falling off his broom, while Pansy imitated Ariana. Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ariana finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.
"If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," said Ron as they headed toward Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione."
Hermione peered around the classroom door.
"It's okay!"
Professor Lupin was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behavior while Lupin had been ill.
"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"
"We don't know anything about werewolves --"
"-- two rolls of parchment!"
"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly.
The babble broke out again.
"Yes, but he said we were really behind --"
"-- he wouldn't listen --"
"-- two rolls of parchment!"
Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face.
"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."
"Oh no," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!"
"And forced me to do it too!" Ariana exclaimed.
They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a Hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless looking.
"Lures travelers into bogs," said Professor Lupin as they took notes. "You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead -- people follow the light -- then --"
The Hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.
When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Ariana among them, but --
"Wait a moment, Harry, Ariana" Lupin called. "I'd like a word."
Ariana doubled back and watched Professor Lupin covering the Hinkypunk's box with a cloth.
"I heard about the match," said Lupin, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"
"No," said Harry. "The tree smashed it to bits."
Lupin sighed.
"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."
"Did you hear about the Dementors too?" said Harry with difficulty.
Lupin looked at him quickly.
"Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time...furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds...I suppose they were the reason you both fell?"
"Yes," said Harry. He hesitated, and then he asked a question "Why? Why do they affect us like that?"
"It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Harry's mind. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."
A ray of wintry sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's gray hairs and the lines on his young face.
"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself -- soul-less and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."
"When they get near me --" Harry stared at Lupin's desk, his throat tight. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."
Ariana took a few steps back, getting the feeling that she was eavesdropping on a private conversation.
Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then --
"Why did they have to come to the match?" said Harry bitterly.
"They're getting hungry," said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up...I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement...emotions running high...it was their idea of a feast."
"Azkaban must be terrible," Harry muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.
"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheery thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."
"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said slowly. "He got away..."
Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.
"Yes," he said, straightening up, "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible...Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long..."
"You made that Dementor on the train back off," said Harry suddenly.
"There are -- certain defences one can use," said Lupin. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."
"What defences?" said Harry at once. "Can you teach me?"
"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry -- quite the contrary..."
"But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them --"
Lupin looked into Harry's determined face, hesitated, then said, "Well...all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."
The two turned to leave but Lupin called Ariana back.
"Yes, Professor?" she asked.
"I wonder, Ariana, could we talk about what happened last week?" he said gently.
Ariana frowned. "What happened- oh."
The week before, Ariana had forgotten her book, and was "sharing with Dean", although she couldn't read a thing. The Professor had asked her to read, and she hesitated a few seconds, to be saved by the bell. She had hoped he had forgotten, but obviously not.
"Nothing happened, I was just trying to find where we were, that's all." She swung her bag around her shoulders. She did not need Lupin to know she couldn't read. It was mortifying. Sure, her work and notes were full of spelling mistakes and incorrect translations, but she was getting As and Es in every subject (apart from Divination and History of Magic). "If that's all Professor I need to get to my next class."
Not waiting for an answer, she walked out of the room.
Remus watched the girl leave. She certainly had her father's stubbornness.
° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °
What with the promise of anti-Dementor lessons from Lupin, the thought that he might never have to hear his mother's death again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, Harry's mood took a definite upturn. Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Ariana saw no hint of a Dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.
Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to remain at Hogwarts, and though Ron said it was because he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library, Harry wasn't fooled; they were doing it to keep him company, and he was very grateful.
Ariana, on the other hand, was going back to America for the holidays. She had been called to McGonagall's office the day before to figure out how she was going to get from Kings Cross to New York. They decided to send Ariana to Kings Cross, where she would get the night bus to the Leaky Cauldron, where she would floo to MACUSA headquarters, and then get she can get to camp from there.
To everyone's delight except Harry and Ariana's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.
"We can do all our Christmas shopping there!" said Hermione. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!"
Resigned to the fact that they would be the only third years staying behind again, Harry borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Wood, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes. He had been riding one of the school brooms at team practice, an ancient Shooting Star, which was very slow and jerky; he definitely needed a new broom of his own. Ariana needed to pack that day.
On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry and Ariana bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase alone, and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower. Snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet.
"Psst -- Harry! Ariana!"
She turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at them from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.
"What are you doing?" said Harry curiously. "How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?"
"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," said Fred, with a mysterious wink. "Come in here..."
He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Ariana followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry.
"Early Christmas present for you two," he said.
Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Ariana, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it.
"What's that supposed to be?"
"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly.
"It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."
"Anyway, we know it by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."
"And what do we need with a bit of old parchment?" said Ariana.
"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."
"Well...when we were in our first year, Harry -- young, carefree, and innocent --"
Harry snorted, and Ariana cocked an eyebrow. She doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.
"¨C well, more innocent than we are now -- we got into a spot of bother with Filch."
"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason --"
"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual --"
"-- detention --"
"-- disembowelment --"
"-- and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."
"Don't tell me --" said Harry, starting to grin.
"Well, what would you've done?" said Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed -- this."
"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."
"And you know how to work it?"
"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."
"You're winding me up," said Ariana, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment.
"Oh, are we?" said George.
He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that Ariana couldn't read.
It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labelled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Ariana bent over it. A labelled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Ariana's eyes travelled up and down the familiar corridors, she noticed something else.
This map showed a set of passages she had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead --
"Right into Hogsmeade," said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four" -- he pointed them out -- "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in -- completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."
"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly.
"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it --"
"-- or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly.
"Just tap it again and say, "Mischief managed!" And it'll go blank."
"So, young Harry, and Ariana" said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself."
"See you in Honeydukes," said George, winking.
They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.
Ariana stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. She watched the tiny ink Mrs. Norris turn left and pause to sniff at something on the floor. If Filch really didn't know...she wouldn't have to pass the Dementors at all....
But even as she stood there, flooded with excitement, Harry was frowning.
"Harry? Everything ok?" she asked.
"Mr. Weasley told me never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain. What if this map was one of those dangerous magical objects Mr. Weasley had been warning against?"
"But then," Ariana reasoned, "We only wanted to use it to get into Hogsmeade, it wasn't as though we want to steal anything or attack anyone, is it? And Fred and George had been using it for years without anything horrible happening. What's the worst that can happen?"
"We could be possessed by Voldemort and kill each other," Harry deadpanned.
Ariana rolled her eyes. "Come on Harry. Live a little!"
She rolled up the map, stuffed it inside her robes, and hurried to the door of the classroom. She opened it a couple of inches. There was no one outside. She grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him behind the statue of the one-eyed witch.
What did she have to do? She pulled out the map again and saw to her astonishment, that two new ink figures had appeared upon it, labelled 'Harry Potter' and 'Andromeda Black'. These figures were standing exactly where the real Harry and Ariana were standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. Ariana watched carefully. Her little Ink self seemed to be tapping the witch with her tiny wand. Ariana quickly took out her real wand and tapped the statue. Nothing happened. She looked back at the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to her figure. The word inside said, 'Dissendium.'
"Dissendium!" Ariana whispered, tapping the stone witch again.
At once, the statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a person. Ariana glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then tucked the map away again, hoisted herself into the hole headfirst, and pushed herself forward.