~ chapter ten: the marauder's map ~
Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry and I in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. I didn't argue or complain, but I wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remains of my first broomstick. I was being stupid. I know. Laugh at me all you want. I knew the Nimbus Two Thousand was beyond repair, but I couldn't help it; I felt like I'd lost one of my best friends, one that helped me through my first two years of being a student here.
Harry and I had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering us up. Hagrid sent us a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with get-well cards she'd made herself, which sang shrilly unless we kept it shut with our bowls of fruit. The intention behind those cards was really quite sweet, and besides, it was the thought that counted. The Gryffindor team visited us again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told us (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn't blame us in the slightest. Ron and Hermione left our bedside only at nights. But nothing anyone said it did could make me feel better, because they only knew half of what was troubling me.
I hadn't told anyone about the Grim (except Harry, because as it turned out, he'd seen it too), not even Ron and Hermione, because I knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff. The fact remained, however, that it had now appeared twice, and both times had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, we'd nearly been run over by the Knight Bud; the second, fallen fifty feet from our broomsticks. Was that it? Were we going to be haunted by the Grim forever, then?
And then there were the dementors. I felt sick and humiliated every time I thought of them. Everyone said that the dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one heard echoes in their head of their dying mothers.
Because I knew who those screaming voices belonged to now. I had heard their words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while I lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight that decorated the ceiling. When the dementors approached me, I heard the last moments of mine and Harry's mothers lives, her attempted to protect us, Harry and Y/N, from Lord Voldemort, and Voldemort's laughed before he murdered them. . . . I dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake and talking with Harry, both of us dwelling on the last moments before they got murdered.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where Y/N was forced to think about other things, even if she and Harry 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 them falling off their brooms. Malfoy spent much of their next Potion class doing dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron 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!"
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 hrrobiel squelching noise against the glass.
When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Y/N among them, but—
"Wait a moment, Y/N," Lupin called. "I'd like a word."
"I'll wait for you outside," said Harry.
Y/N nodded, then doubled back to watch Professor Lupin cover 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 Y/N. "The tree smashed it to bits. Harry's is fine, though, so that's good," she added, trying to be optimistic.
Lupin sighed.
"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year 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 Y/N with difficulty.
Lupin looked at her 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 why you and Harry fell?"
"Yes," said Y/N. She hesitated, and then the question she had to ask burst from her before she could control herself. "Why? Why do they affect us like that? Are we just—?"
"It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read her mind. "The dementors affect you and Harry worse than the others because there are horrors in your pasts that the others don't have."
A ray of wintery sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupon'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 a Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too close to 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. . . soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you and Harry, Y/N, is enough to make anyone fall off their brooms. You have nothing you feel ashamed of."
"When they get near me—" Y/N stared at Lupin's desk, her throat tight. "I can hear Voldemort murdering mine and Harry's mums."
Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Y/N's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then—
"Why'd they have to come to the stupid match?" said Y/N bitterly. "If they hadn't Harry would have caught the Snitch, or even if we'd lost, we'd at least still have both our brooms back."
"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," Y/N 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," said Y/N 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 Y/N suddenly.
"There are—certain defenses 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 defenses?" said Y/N at once. "Can you teach us? I'm sure Harry would want to learn this too—"
"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Y/N . . . quite the contrary. . . ."
"But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need the ability to fight them, and so does Harry—"
Lupin looked into Y/N'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."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
What with the promise of anti-dementor lessons from Lupin, the thought that he might never have to hear her and Harry's mothers' deaths again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, Y/N'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. Y/N saw no hint of a dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to keep them at their stations at the entrances.
Two weeks before the end of 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 returned out of reall 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, Y/N wasn't fooled; they were doing it to keep her and Harry company, and she was very grateful.
To everyone's delight except Y/N's and Harry's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of 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, Y/N borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Wood, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes. She had been riding one of the school brooms at team practice, an ancient Shooting Star, which was very slow and jerky; she definitely needed a new broom of her own.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"What's this rubbish?" Harry frowned at the parchment Fred and George had handed Y/N.
Fred scoffed. "Rubbish, he says. That there's the secret to our success."
"It's a wrench giving it to you, believe me," George said.
"But we've decided your need's greater than ours. George, if you will . . ."
George took out his wand and recited, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
He touched his wand to the parchment in Y/N's hand. She and Harry watched in amazement as the map of Hogwarts drew itself into view. When the map had finally drawn itself, Y/N read the names that had now appeared at the top.
"'Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder's Map . . .?'"
"Ah . . ." George sighed. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. We owe them so much."
"Hang on. This is Hogwarts." Y/N looked up at the twins, then back at the map. "And that . . . no. Is that really . . .?" She pointed at a moving dot, labeled 'Dumbledore.'
"Dumbledore."
"In his study."
"Pacing."
"Does that a lot."
"You mean," Harry started, "this shows . . ."
"Everyone."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone."
"Where they are."
"What they're doing."
"Of every minute."
"Of every day."
"Brilliant!" Y/N beamed. "Where'd you get it?"
"Nicked it from Filch's office," said Fred, "of course, first year. Now listen. There's seven secret passageways out of the castle. But we'd recommend. . . ."
"This one," the twins said, pointing a finger at a passageway on the map.
"The One Eyed Witch on the third floor," George elaborated.
"The One Eyed . . ." Y/N muttered.
"Witch, right." Fred nodded as he and George got up. "But you best hurry. Filch is heading this way." As he and George got up and started to head away, he called over his shoulder, "Oh. And Y/N, Harry? When you're done, make sure to give it a tap and say, 'Mischief managed.' Otherwise, anyone can read it."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Come on," Y/N said to Harry. "We've got to try this out for ourselves."
"I. . . . I don't know if this is such a good idea," Harry said nervously. "I think I oughta go by myself . . . it's easier that way . . . safer, too. . . ."
"Safer?" said Y/N incredulously. "Harry, I have been waiting to get into Hogsmeade just as long as you have—nothing you say will change my mind."
Harry studied Y/N's face closely. She looked determined, all right—but he still wasn't letting up that easy. "What about Mateo?"
"What about him?"
"He disappeared a while ago, didn't he? What if that was Sirius Black's doing? He's found a way inside the castle, so who's to say he wouldn't get rid of someone while he was in it?"
"Harry, I can defend myself," said Y/N sharply, "and like I said before, nothing you or Hermione say can or will change my mind."
"Fine." Harry let out a breath. "But I'm coming with you. And stay beside me, all right? I don't want you wandering off. It makes you too easy of a target."
"We've wandered off tons of times by ourselves, but fine by me," said Y/N, nodding. "And do you have your Cloak?"
"Yeah. Let me see that." He outstretched a hand, and Y/N handed him in the map. He traced the secret passage to Honeydukes with his finger.
Then, quite suddenly, as though following orders, he rolled up the map, stuffed it inside his robes, and he and Y/N hurried to the door of the classroom. He opened it a couple of inches. There was no one outside. Very carefully, he edged out of the room and behind the statue of the one-eyed witch.
What did they have to do? He pulled out the map again and saw, tohis astonishment, that two new ink figures had appeared upon it, labeled 'Harry Potter' and 'Y/N Black' respectively. These figures was standing exactly where the real Harry and Y/N were standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. Harry watched carefully. His little ink self appeared to be tapping the witch with his minute wand. Harry quickly took out his real wand and tapped the statue. Nothing happened. He looked back at the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to his figure. The word inside said, "Dissendium."
"Dissendium!" Harry whispered, tapping the stone witch again.
At once, the statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a fairly thin person.
"Brilliant, Harry!" Y/N said, beaming, which made Harry's heart skip a beat
He glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then tucked the map away again, allowed Y/N to go first, then hoisted himself into the hole headfirst after her, and pushed himself forward.
They slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. Harry and Y/N stood up, looking around. It was pitch dark. Y/N held up her wand, muttered, "Lumos!" and Harry saw that they were in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. He raised the map, tapped it with the tip of his wand, and muttered, "Mischief managed!" The map went blank at once. He folded it carefully, tucked it inside his robes, then, heart beating fast, both excited and apprehensive, he and Y/N set off.
It took ages, but Harry had the thought of Honeydukes to sustain him. After what felt like an hour, the passage began to rise. Panting, Harry and Y/N both sped up, his face hot, his feet very cold.
Ten minutes later, they came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Harry began to climb, Y/N following after him. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count as he climbed, watching his feet. . . . Then, without warning, his head hit something hard.
"Ow!" he muttered to himself.
"Quiet!" Y/N hissed.
The two stayed silent for a few moments, not daring to breathe, when Harry examined what he had hit his head hard on. It seemed to be a trapdoor. Harry stood there, massaging the top of his head, listening. He couldn't hear any sounds above him. Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge.
He was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Harry and Y/N climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it—it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. Both of them traded looks before they crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Now Harry could definitely hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door.
Wondering what they ought to do, he suddenly heard a door open much closer at hand; somebody was about to come downstairs.
"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out—" said a woman's voice.
A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Y/N seized Harry's robes and dragged him behind an enormous crate as they waited for the footsteps to pass. Harry heard the man shifting boxes against the opposite wall. He might not get another chance—
Quickly and silently, the two of them traded looks, nodded determinedly, and dodged out from their hiding place and climbed the stairs; looking back, Harry saw an enormous backside and shiny bald head, buried in a box. They reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it, and found themselves behind the counter of Honeydukes—they ducked, crept sideways, and then straightened up.
Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Harry and Y/N. They edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined the look that would spread over Dudley's piggy face if he could see where they were now.
There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbert balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were "Special Effects" sweets: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps("breathe fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice ("hear your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermint creams shaped like toads ("hop realistically in the stomach!"), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.
Harry and Y/N exited the shop with the Invisibility Cloak over them—they'd slipped it on—and examined the different shops of Hogsmeade.
"Isn't that Ron and Hermione?" Y/N asked, pointing ahead of them after a while.
Harry squinted to see. "Blimey, it is! Reckon we should go up to them?"
"Is that even a question?" Y/N retorted as she grabbed Harry's hand with one hand—making his face heat up—as she seized the Invisibility Cloak with the other, making sure they stayed covered.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"It's meant to be the most haunted building in Britain," Hermione explained to Ron. "Did I mention that?"
"Twice."
"Oh." A slight pause, then—"Do you want to move a bit closer?" she asked as she looked at Ron.
"Huh?"
"To the Shrieking Shack."
"Oh. A-actually, I'm fine here."
"Well, well, look who's here?"
Harry's first thought as he, Y/N, Hermione and Ron turned around was, 'Not this prick.'
"You two shopping for your new dream home?" Malfoy went on as he headed down towards the two. "Bit grand for you, isn't it, Weasle-Bee? Don't your family sleep in, uh, one room?"
"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Ron said, looking down.
"Ooh, not very friendly. Boys, I think it's time we teach Weasle-Bee how to respect his superiors." Malfoy smirked as he tugged on his coat.
Hermione laughed sarcastically as she walked in front of Ron. "Hope you don't mean yourself!"
"How dare you talk to me?" (Harry and Y/N traded looks before they crouched down, making sure they were still covered, and standing back up, snowballs ready in their hands.) "You filthy little mudblood—"
Harry aimed and threw his snowball, making it land right on target—on the side of Draco Malfoy's head.
Malfoy and the others turned around to see nothing behind them, making Y/N snicker.
"Who's there?" Malfoy demanded.
Nobody responded—but Y/N launched a snowball into the air, making it hit Malfoy again, making the boy let out a sound of surprise and stumble back. Again and again while holding back laughter, Y/N and Harry kept making snowballs and launching them at Malfoy, while Ron and Hermione watched apprehensively.
"Don't stand there! Do something!" Malfoy demanded, shoving Crabbe.
"What?" Crabbe asked stupidly.
Y/N and Harry, stifling laughs, traded looks before springing into action; Y/N pulled Goyle's hat over his head while Harry pulled down Crabbe's pants and kicked him in the arse, making Crabbe fall down on the snow while Hermione laughed and Ron started to smile.
Y/N picked up Goyle's scarf and spun him around a couple of times while Harry kicked Malfoy in the stomach, making the blond boy fall down on his back into the snow. Finally, she shoved him into the ground, making him fall on his back. She and Harry seized each one of Malfoy's legs and dragged him down the mountain, making him let out screams of horror.
"What's up, Malfoy?" Ron called as Malfoy traveled down the hill. "Lost your skis?"
When Harry and Y/N had had their fun, they let go of Malfoy's legs. The blond boy immediately got up and sprinted back up the hill, shoving Crabbe in a desperate attempt to get away.
"Move out of the way! Move—"
"Malfoy! Wait! Wait!"
Hermione laughed even harder as Harry toyed with the strings of Ron's hat and Y/N toyed with the soft locks of Hermione's hair. "Harry, Y/N!" she called playfully.
Not being able to control their laughter anymore, Harry and Y/N finally broke down in laughter as Harry took off the Cloak. He, Y/N, and Hermione laughed while Ron said, "Bloody hell, Y/N, Harry. That was not funny."
The three of them just continued to laugh.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Those weasels!" Ron fumed as the four stood in a Hogsmeade street. "They never told me about any Marauder's Map!"
"They won't keep it," said Hermione strictly. "They'll turn it over to Professor McGonnagall. Aren't you?" she said to Harry and Y/N.
"Oh, sure," said Ron sarcastically. "Along with his Invisibility Cloak and her dagger."
The four turned around, and Hermione said, "Oh, look who it is. Madame Rosmerta. Ron fancies her," she added playfully.
"That's not true!" Ron defended.
"Aww, ickle Ronnie-kins, you don't have to lie to us." Harry reached out to ruffle Ron's hair, laughing.
Ron slapped Harry's hand away. "Shove off, Harry."
"Yes, well, that's all very well and good, but you two should get under the Cloak right now," warned Hermione. "We don't need anyone else seeing you two are at Hogsmeade. Especially with who just showed up."
"Why? Who just showed—" Y/N's eyes traveled around, and her eyes widened when they landed on the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Harry." She nudged Harry's arm. "Harry, for Godric's sake, look over here—"
"Why?" said Harry, following Y/N's eyes, and they, too, widened, and he immediately shoved Y/N and himself under the Cloak before the two of the headed into the Three Broomsticks, Ron and Hermione waiting outside.
"Now," said Madame Rosmerta, "tell me what this is all about."
"Well, now years ago, when Harry Potter's parents and Y/N Black's mother realized when they got marked for death—remember? They went into hiding. Few knew where they were. One who did was Sirius Black."
Harry and Y/N watched with widened eyes as Fudge took over. "Not only did Black lead him to the Potters and his own wife that night, but he also killed one of their friends, Peter Pettigrew!"
"Peter Pettigrew?" Madame Rosmerta repeated questioningly.
"Yes, little lump of a boy. Always trailing after Sirius Black. . . ."
Harry and Y/N backed up, their breath heavy, as Madame Rosmerta seemed to recall him. "I remember. Never let James, Azora and Sirius out of his sight. But what happened?"
"Peter tried to warn the Potters and Azora, and might have managed to, had he not run into an old friend, Sirius Black," Professor McGonagall monologued.
Y/N's heart was beating as fast as she was sure it could beat. Black did this? Black was the reason her mum and Harry's parents were dead?
A hand immediately found hers and squeezed it for comfort. Wanting to offer it as well, Y/N squeezed back, leaning closer into Harry.
"Black was vicious." Fudge poured himself a bottle of something Y/N didn't care to know about at the moment. "He didn't kill Pettigrew. He destroyed him! A finger." He held up his pinky. "That's all that was left. A finger! Nothing else."
"Oh, yes. Sirius Black may not have put his hands on the Potters and Azora, but he's the reason they're dead!"
"And now he wants to finish what he started."
'Finish what he . . . does he mean Harry and I?'
"I don't believe it."
"That's not even the worst of it." Fudge handed Professor McGonagall the glass.
"What could be worse?" Madam Rosmerta asked incredulously.
"This," said Professor McGonagall simply, "Sirius Black was, and remains to this day, Harry Potter's godfather and Y/N Black's father!"
That made Y/N's heart stop beating altogether.
'Sirius Black . . . is my father?'
That had to have been what Malfoy was getting at the other day. Ron and the teachers knew. But why . . . why had they not told her?
She hurriedly blinked back the tears that were starting to form in her eyes.
'Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy?'
Breathing hard, Harry grabbed her hand, and the two sprinted out of the Three Broomsticks, slamming the door open on their way out. Y/N didn't care whether anyone would notice—all she cared about was getting out of there as fast as she and Harry could. They ran right past Hermione and Ron, who were sitting on a bench near the Three Broomsticks, Harry gripping her hand tighter and tighter, she squeezing his hand just as hard.
They ran right through the group of choir students that were practicing, angrily shoving them along the way, knocking them down. She didn't have the heart in her to care—instead, she and Harry just kept running.
It felt like an eternity before they stopped running. They sat down, and Harry wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Y/N and hugging her close to his chest, both of their breathing shaky. Y/N wrapped her arms around him as well, hiding her face in his chest, and finally, finally, the tears started to slowly but surely pour down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be." Harry hugged her tighter as he, too, started to quietly cry.
Y/N felt the Cloak hesitantly be lifted off of them, but she didn't care.
'He betrayed them.'
'He's the reason they're dead.'
'He murdered them.'
That last thought made her so angry, tears started pouring down faster. They finally looked up at Hermione, who was crouching in front of them, looking incredibly sorry—but Y/N didn't care about that.
"Harry, Y/N, what happened?" Hermione asked gently, as to not provoke them any further.
"He was their friend," Harry said shakily as Y/N pushed herself slightly away from him, but so he was still hugging her.
"And he betrayed them," Y/N said, wiping her eyes with her free hand.
"He was their friend!"
Hermione and Ron suddenly looked surprised at Harry's angry shout, but Y/N gritted her teeth and spoke as well.
"I hope he finds us," she said angrily. "Because when he does, we're gonna be ready!"
"When he does, we're gonna kill him!" Harry angrily finished.
Y/N finally pushed herself away from him, looking angrily at Hermione, then Ron behind her, daring them to try to change their minds.
But they didn't.
Instead, they looked at them with sadness in their eyes.
Harry was thinking along the same lines, though.
When Sirius Black found him and Y/N, they were going to kill him.