With the promise that she may never have to hear Tom Riddle's voice again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match, Gwen's prospects began to lighten. She felt as though there was something to actually look forward to now. Gryffindor were not out of the league, however they could not afford to lose another match, so the Anti-Dementor lessons were looking to be very important. Dumbledore's fury during the last match had made it clear to the Dementors that they were not to come onto the grounds, and there was no hint of them when Wood pressed the Gryffindor team to play harder than ever in the chilly haze of rain that continued into December.
Two weeks before the end of term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling white and the muddy grounds one morning were covered in a dusting of glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick had decorated the Charms classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be fairies.
The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. When McGonagall came round with the list of names who would be staying at Hogwarts that year, Gwen, Ron and Hermione all put their names down almost instantly. They came up with excuses of course, for Harry's sake, but they were really doing it to keep him company over the holidays.
There was also 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 Tooth Flossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!'
So on the last weekend of term, once again with Harry absent, Gwen, Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade. Gwen tried to ignore the skeletal horses when they climbed into the coaches. She didn't mention them again.
As they did last time, upon arriving at Hogsmeade, Gwen, Ron and Hermione set off into the shops to get the things Harry had liked most. The thatched roofs of the Hogsmeade buildings were covered in a thick layer of snow and the candles that dotted the trees were bathing the streets in their warm glow. As they stepped out onto the high street, of course, they began with Honeydukes.
They filled their shopping bags once again, getting as much as they could carry. They went through each section, grabbing their own sweets and some for Harry.
'Oh, Harry liked the Pepper Imps,' Gwen said, tipping four bags of the sweets into Harry's shopping bag.
'And a Honeydukes Mix, can't go wrong with that,' said Ron.
They shuffled around the shop, picking and choosing from the different categories.
'What about these?' said Ron, picking up a bag of hard, red bonbons which Gwen couldn't even pronounce.
'Urgh, no, Harry won't want those, they're for Vampires, I expect,' Hermione said.
'How about these?' said Gwen, picking up a jar of Cockroach Cluster.
'Definitely not.'
The familiar voice startled Gwen, so much so that she almost dropped the jar. 'Harry!'
'Harry, what are you doing here?!' Hermione gasped. 'How-- how did you--?'
'Wow!' said Ron. 'You've learned to Apparate!'
''Course I haven't,' said Harry. He glanced around, then lowered his voice. 'Fred and George gave me something.' He pulled some parchment from his pocket to show them, then hid it away again. 'It's called the Marauders Map. Shows everyone and everything on Hogwarts grounds, as they're doing it. I got here through the cellar, there's secret passages all over the castle.'
Gwen, Ron and Hermione stared at him, open mouthed.
'Those weasels!' Ron said. 'Fred and George never gave it to me! I'm their brother!'
'But Harry isn't going to keep it!' said Hermione, as though the idea was ludicrous. 'He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?'
'What, along with the Invisibility Cloak?' said Gwen. 'Not bloody likely.'
Harry ducked his head away as Seamus and Dean walked by. 'If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it,' he said. 'Filch would know Fred and George nicked it.'
'But what about Sirius Black?' Hermione hissed. 'He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle. The teachers have to know!'
'He can't get in through a passage,' said Harry quickly. 'There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And the other three, well, one's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through, it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there--'
Harry hesitated, and Gwen knew they were all thinking the same thing. What if Black did know it was there? He used to be a Hogwarts student. It was possible. Ron, however, cleared his throat and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the Honeydukes door.
BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.
Merry Christmas!
'See?' said Ron quietly. Gwen's mind was instantly put at ease. 'I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break in, wouldn't they? They live above the shop!'
'Yes, but-- but--' Hermione stammered, seemingly struggling to find another problem. 'Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade, he hasn't got his signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet-- what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?'
Gwen sighed. 'He'd have quite a job spotting Harry in this.'
'Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas!' said Ron. 'Harry deserves a break.'
Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.
Harry was grinning. 'Are you going to report me?'
'Oh, of course not-- but honestly, Harry--'
'Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?' said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. He was evidently done with the conversation. Gwen and Hermione followed, sharing a brief look.
'Oh, Acid Pops,' Ron went on. 'Fred gave me one of those when I was seven-- it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick.' He stared at the Acid Pops. 'Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?'
When Gwen, Ron and Hermione had paid for all their sweets, the four of them left Honeydukes for the icy breeze outside. Beside Gwen, Harry shivered almost instantly; he hadn't brought his cloak, so Gwen gave him her scarf, embracing the chill that crept up her neck.
Gwen, Ron and Hermione pointed out all the shops they had been in, the ones they were yet to explore, then, upon seeing Harry utterly shivering, Ron suggested the Three Broomsticks. Eager to get out of the snow, they shuffled inside the pub.
It was extremely crowded inside, noisy, warm and smoky. Madame Rosmerta was at the bar, as usual, and Ron, going slightly red, offered to get the drinks.
'That's Madame Rosmerta,' Gwen explained as they found a table. 'Pretty sure Ron fancies her.'
Their table was a small, round one which sat between the window and a huge Christmas tree. Gwen, Harry and Hermione sat around it and Ron came back with the drinks, four tankards of Butterbeer.
'Happy Christmas!' he said, raising his tankard.
As before, Gwen felt the warmth of the Butterbeer spread over her instantly. She drank half the tankard instantly, before a short breeze ruffled her hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, and Gwen almost choked on her drink. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick had just entered the pub, bringing in a flurry of snowflakes with them. The other three seemed not to have noticed; Gwen instantly grabbed the top of Harry's head and shoved him under the table, ignoring his Butterbeer splattering all four of them as he went down.
'What are you--?!'
Gwen shushed him quickly, then said, as quietly as she could, that Harry, Ron and Hermione could still hear, 'Teachers.'
After McGonagall and Flitwick had entered, Hagrid followed shortly behind, deep in conversation with a short man in a lime green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak; Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.
Gwen, Ron and Hermione watched as the group moved to the bar, got their drinks, then headed straight toward their table.
'Mobiliarbus,' Hermione whispered. The end of her wand lit up briefly and the Christmas tree rose from the ground, drifted sideways and landed right in front of their table, blocking them from view.
The teachers and the Minister sat down at the table right behind theirs. There was a brief moment where the group grunted and huffed as they sat down, then there was the click of heels approaching.
'A small Gillywater--'
'Mine,' said Professor McGonagall's voice.
'Four pints of mulled mead--'
'Ta, Rosmerta,' said Hagrid.
'A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella--'
'Mmm!' said Professor Flitwick.
'So you'll be the redcurrant rum, Minister.'
'Thank you, Rosmerta m'dear,' said Fudge's voice. 'Lovely to see you again, I must say. Hove one yourself, won't you? Come and join us...'
'Well, thank you very much, Minister.'
The clicking heels of Madame Rosmerta faded away, then returned moments later, a chair scraped against the floor, and she joined the teachers and the Minister. Gwen shared a look with Ron and Hermione. They had no idea how long the teachers were going to be there for, and Harry had to be back at Hogwarts before nightfall.
'So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?' came Madame Rosmerta's voice.
Fudge's chair made a slight scrape against the floor, then he said in a quiet voice, 'Who else, m'dear but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school on Hallowe'en?'
'I did hear a rumour,' Madame Rosmerta admitted.
McGonagall sighed. 'Did you tell the whole school Hagrid?'
'Do you think Black's still in the area?' whispered Madame Rosmerta.
'I'm sure of it,' said Fudge.
'You know that the Dementors have searched my pub twice?' said Madame Rosmerta; Gwen, Ron and Hermione all looked at each other again. 'Scared all my customers away... it's very bad for business, Minister.'
'Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do,' Fudge said uncomfortably. 'Necessary precaution... unfortunate, but there you are... I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore because he won't let them inside the castle grounds.
'I should think not,' said McGonagall sharply. 'How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?'
'All the same,' Fudge said, 'they are there to protect you all from something much worse... we all know what Black's capable of...'
Madame Rosmerta sighed. 'Do you know I still have trouble believing it... of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought... I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to do, I'd have said you'd had too much mead.'
'You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta,' said Fudge gruffly. 'The worst he did isn't widely known.'
Gwen felt Harry shuffle beside her legs.
'The worst?' said Madame Rosmerta. 'Worse than murdering all those poor people you mean?'
'I certainly do,' said Fudge.
'I don't believe that. What could possibly be worse?'
'You say you remember him at Hogwarts,' murmured Professor McGonagall. 'Do you remember who his best friend was?'
'Naturally,' said Madame Rosmerta with a small laugh. 'Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here-- ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!'
Beneath the table, Harry dropped his tankard with a loud thud. Ron kicked him.
'Precisely,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both bright, of course, exceptionally bright, in fact, but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers--'
'I dunno,' chuckled Hagrid. 'Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money!'
'You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!' chimed in Professor Flitwick. 'Inseparable!'
'Of course they were,' said Fudge. 'Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily, and James was due to be Black's best man, if they'd ever got the chance. Do you remember Darcie MacGuire?'
Madame Rosmerta hummed. 'Yes, of course. Sweet girl, always offered to lend me a hand behind the bar.'
'She and Black got engaged just before Harry was born,' Fudge went on. 'Naturally, James made Black Harry's godfather. Of course, Harry has no idea. You can imagine how the idea would torment him.'
'Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?' whispered Madame Rosmerta.
'Worse than even that, m'dear...' Fudge dropped his voice and began to speak in a sort of low rumble. 'Not many people are aware that the Potters knew that You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once, He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who isn't an easy person to hide from, so Dumbeldore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.'
'How does that work?'
Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. 'An immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret Keeper and is henceforth impossible to find, unless, of course, the Secret Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret Keeper refuses to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed into their sitting room window!'
'So Black was the Potter's Secret Keeper?' whispered Madame Rosmerta.
'Naturally,' said Professor McGonagall. 'James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning on going into hiding himself... and yet Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret Keeper himself.'
'He suspected Black?'
'He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,' said Professor McGonagall darkly. 'Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing information to You-Know-Who.'
'But James insisted on using Black?'
'He did,' said Fudge heavily. 'And then barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed--'
'Black betrayed them?' breathed Madame Rosmerta.
'He did, indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it--'
'Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!' said Hagrid, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.
'Shh!' hissed Professor McGonagall.
'I met him!' Hagrid went on. 'I musta been the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me who rescued Harry from Lily an' James' house after they was killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead... an' Sirius Black turns up on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn't know he'd bin Lily an' James' Scert Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!'
The bar went silent again.
'Hagrid, please!' McGonagall hissed. 'Keep your voice down!'
'How was I ter know he wasn' upset abo' Lily an' James?' Hagrid went on angrily. 'It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, "Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him, I'll take him ter Darcie--" Ha! After what he did ter her too-- but I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end, he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. "I won't need it anymore", he says.' There was a clunk of a tankard as Hagrid took a swig of his mead.
'I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it any more? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run for it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him.'
Hagrid sighed deeply; another clunk of his tankard against the table alerted them he was drinking again. 'But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out to sea. His bes' friend's son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore...'
A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Then Madame Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, 'But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!'
'Alas, if only we had,' said Fudge bitterly. 'It was not we who found him. It was Peter Pettigrew-- another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret Keeper, he went after Black himself. Darcie MacGuire had found out, not sure how, found Black and Pettigrew in the street, tried to stop Black after finding out about his betrayal. She tried to save Pettigrew, but alas, could not defeat Black.'
'Pettigrew...' said Madame Rosmerta. 'That fat little boy who was always tagging around after Black and Potter at Hogwarts?'
'Hero-worshipped them,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Never quite in their league, talent wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I-- how I regret that now...' McGonagall sniffed.
'There now, Minerva,' said Fudge kindly. 'Pettigrew and MacGuire died a hero's death. Eye witness-- Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later-- told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing. "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!" MacGuire showed up, crying her eyes out, tried to reason with Black, but, of course, there was no reasoning with him. Pettigrew reached for his wand and, well, Black was quicker. Blew both Pettigrew and MacGuire to smithereens...'
Professor McGonagall blew her nose. 'Stupid boy... foolish boy... he was always hopeless at duelling... should have left it to the Ministry...'
'MacGuire had always had a talent for duelling,' Flitwick piped up. 'But I doubt she could bring herself to do so with Black... she was always too kind for her own good... believed she could talk him down, she was too gentle for the likes of Black...' He too blew his nose.
'I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands-- I'd've ripped him limb from limb,' Hagrid growled.
'You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid,' said Fudge sharply. 'Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on scene after Black murdered all those people. I-- I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, cackling, with what was left in front of him... a heap of blood stained robes, and a few-- a few fragments...' he trailed off and there was the sound of several noses being blown.
'A finger,' Fudge managed to continue. 'That was all that was left of Pettigrew. Miss MacGuire, well took us a good few hours to recover her body, or what was left of it... she'd fallen so deep into the crater--' he blew his nose again. 'To think that Black could do that to the woman he loved, to his best friends...'
Silence fell. There was a clink of glass on wood.
'Well, there you have it, Rosmerta,' said Fudge finally. 'Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, Pettigrew and MacGuire received the Order of Merlin First Class, which I think was some comfort to Pettigrew's mother. MacGuire was Muggle Born, so trying to break that news to her parents was more difficult. Black's been in Azkaban ever since.'
Madame Rosmerta let out a long sigh. 'Is it true he's mad, Minister?'
Fudge paused. 'I wish I could say that he was. I certainly believe that his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew, MacGuire and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered, desperate man-- cruel... pointless. Yet, I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark, there's no sense in them... but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was... unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored-- asked if I'd finished with my paper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him-- and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door, day and night.'
'But what do you think he's broken out to do?' Madame Rosmerta said. 'Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?'
'I daresay that is his, er, eventual plan,' said Fudge. 'But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing... but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again...'
There was another chink of glass on the table.
'You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the Headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle,' said Professor McGongall.
One by one, the chairs scraped back and footsteps faded away, the clicking of Madame Rosmerta's heels going back toward the bar. There was a gust of wind, and a flurry of snowflakes, and the Minister and the teachers had gone.