The Slytherin Diaries: Heirs of Grindelwald

Through the corridors of sleep
Past the shadows dark and deep
My mind dances and leaps in confusion.
I don't know what is real,
I can't touch what I feel
And I hide behind the shield of my illusion.
So I'll continue to continue to pretend
My life will never end,
And flowers never bend
With the rainfall.
The mirror on my wall
Casts an image dark and small
But I'm not sure at all it's my reflection.
I am blinded by the light
Of God and truth and right
And I wander in the night without direction.

-Simon and Garfunkel, “Flowers Never Bends with the Rainfall”

Wednesday, August 19

Dear Diary,

I have two confessions to make. Well, three, but I don't think you'd be interested in hearing about how I broke my brothers leg. Really, it wasn't my fault! He knew I was on Sam's ‘experimental' broom and that I couldn't steer that well. But he just had to fly right in front of that Muggle basket we were using as a goal, just as I was trying to score. Actually, it was all pretty funny. He kinda looked at me like ‘Why is she flying straight at me?' and when I didn't stop he inched his broom over to one side. Then to the other, and the other and then BOOM! Sam really needs to work on the steering charm for his broom. Well, maybe it didn't help matters that I dropped our usual Quaffle in Mrs. Black's garden last week, and she wouldn't give it back so we had to use a bowling ball instead. And that I was holding it as far out in front of me as I could. But Mrs. Black fixed him right up (he landed in her garden-I wish she had given me the Quaffle back instead of my brother). Mum says she was the Hogwarts nurse before Madam Pomfrey. Well, I don't think anyone could be as good a nurse as Madam Pomfrey, but she fixed Niles right up. And she made me wait with this huge black mutt she just got that kept looking at me pleadingly for food. Not that he looked like he needed any more food, he really was gigantic. But cute all the same. And I don't even like dogs. I've always been a cat person. Course Mum won't get me one. She says they're pesky. (And I’m not bitter at all that she got Niles the toad he wanted for his first year at Hogwarts). Well, that was actually a celebratory "healing-the-leg-that-your-sister-broke (I did not!)" present, but still. Now that I think about it, I really only have one confession to make. But there were two events that made me realize it.

You haven’t met my brother Sameth, but the two of us used to compete...a lot. About everything. His black hair, my brown hair. His blue eyes, my green eyes. His Hufflepuff house, my Slytherin.

He was a sixth year when I started Hogwarts, on the Hufflepuff house team and everything. No Cedric Diggory, mind you, but quiet and liked by everybody. Except, of course, the Slytherins. They didn't like anybody who wasn't a Slytherin. Sam used to come home every summer and complain "Marcus Flint did this, that brat Malfoy did that." I used to hate Slytherin, and all I knew about it was one of the four houses at Hogwarts. I thought I would be a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Gryffindor and find my arch enemy in a Slytherin. Everybody needs an arch enemy. Otherwise, they'll end up hating themselves.

I was so excited when I went to Hogwarts! My brother even let me sit with him and the rest of the prefects on the train (there wasn't a single one from Slytherin that year) and introduced me to people like Percy Weasly and Cedric Diggory. Important people. I decided I wanted to be exactly like them, people the whole school looked up to.

And I remember what that blasted hat said, word for word.

"Hmmm...I had a similar case last year...greatness vs. goodness. Of course it's always possible to be both."

"I want to be great!" The tiny first year told the hat firmly in her mind, her brown pigtails shaking with excitement.

"Oh, very well. SLYTHERIN!"

The girl froze rigidly, her hair stopping midswing like hands of a clock that had suddenly stopped counting the seconds of time. McGonagall had to yell at her to get off the stage before she walked off. She couldn’t have told anyone how she found her way to Slytherin, but all of a sudden she was there. The one thing she did remember was the shocked look on her older brother's face. Her face, on the other hand, had a blank, unfeeling expression. It was as though everything she knew, the entire past eleven years of her life, were flying through her head at an amazing speed and blurring into this one, single void in her mind and eyes.

She couldn’t recall sitting down, but she would never forget who she sat next to. She had just buried her pale face in stiff hands when a sneering face topped by blond hair and icy blue eyes turning to her.

"First years sit over there." Was all he said. The girl shivered. She knew exactly who she had sat next to.

My brother cut back on his comments about Slytherin, but every time I talked to him, I could feel his loathing... ‘My sister is in Slytherin!' And I hated him for it. One day I just exploded at him, yelling all the meanest, nastiest things I could about him and his housemates. I felt this surge of empowerment, what my Mum calls the we-they syndrome. Bonding by exclusion. Our argument filled one of the busier corridors. Slytherins congratulated me, everyone else shot me dirty looks. And I felt great.

But Sam finished last year, and I had a whole year without an arch rival. All my anger at him dissolved. Or at least I think it did, because I realized that in the long run, it doesn't matter what house you're in. I hate to admit this, but I think I was jealous. I didn't even like my own housemates, and I couldn't figure out why the Thinking Hat had put me there. Am I just a bad person? Wait, don't answer. So I guess my confession comes down to this: I hate my house. I have no house pride. And given the choice, I would switch into any other house.

Oh, yeah, and I'm in love with Harry Potter.

~Camilla Alassandra Falco (Otherwise known as Andi, or BirdBrain, or
that annoying swamp eyed mud haired girl that's in my way)

Sat, Aug 22

Dear Diary,

Is it possible to miss someone you've never even met? I've never met my father. It's not that I miss him, the person, I just miss having a father. Maybe I'm feeling sorry for myself, but it's something I think about at the weirdest moments. Like at school, when Malfoy's complaining as loudly as he can about his father, and then adding some snide remark in my direction like "Well, at least I know who my father is." I think he knows something I don't. How else could he know I don't know who my father is? I've never told anyone that. All Mum ever says is that he left the same day I was born. Sam was five at the time, and he says he remembers Dad a bit. But I don't at all. It took me til I was ten (complete with a mind that had just been educated about sex) to realize that if Dad had left when I was born, then either Mum was lying or Neil wasn't my real brother. And since everyone kept telling me that I looked so much like my brother (complete with horrible bushy eyebrows) I figured that Mum wasn't telling the truth. It took me three whole days of thinking (something that should be avoided at all costs--as the Muggle playwright Shakesword said, "Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous." I passed Muggle Studies, by the way) to get up the courage to confront Mum. And she gave me the same reply as always! Well, not quite. She said, "He had to leave the day you were born." Not just "he left" but "he had to leave." That gave me terrific fantasies for a week about my long lost father returning after years of being a spy for the Ministry, or being an ambassador to Lebanon, or something equally romantic. Then he still didn't come, and I gave up. But I'd still like to have a Dad.

Mrs. Black brought over her dog again today. He started eating my essay for Professor Binns ("Witch Burning and Dumb Muggles"). I guess that was his way of telling my it was a load of crock and that I should start over. I'm inclined to agree. Especially since I only had one sentence, and it read "Muggles were extremely dumb to burn witches." Usually I do so well in all my classes. But I haven't been motivated at all this summer. All I want to do is have fun and relax. Though things are getting kinda boring around here. I used to be friends with everyone here, but we've grown apart since I got accepted into Hogwarts. How could I explain that Quidditch is much more fun than soccer, and that they'd never complain about their dog again if they'd ever had to take care of a Blast-Ended Skewball or what ever things were called? Or what it's like to meet a dragon for the first time?

I know, I know what you really want to know is why I, one of the Dark Artsie Slytherins, am in love with Harry Potter, whose only defeated "our" fearsome leader several times. Actually, you probably don't care. But I'm going to tell you anyways cause I have no life out here. Then again, I have no life at school either. Damn. But on to my horribly romantic story.

Oh, never mind, Mum's calling me for dinner. Damn again.

aNdI

P.S. Do you think this signature works? I'm too lazy to write out my whole long name.

Tues, Aug 25

Dear Diary,

You know, this whole "Dear Diary" stuff really isn't working for me. I mean, who says that? So I'll have to give you a name. Then I can say ‘Hey, so-and-so' instead of that same lame phrase.

So now I have to figure out what to call you. Let's see. Well, my mom gave me the diary for my birthday last month, but I can't name you after my mom. Hey, Mom, or Hey, Elizabeth really doesn't work for me.

So who else? I've never met my grandmother, and besides, her name was Alassandra. How weird would it be to talk to your middle name each day? And my great-grandmothers name was Camilla, so that obviously doesn't work. Plus, she kinda disowned Mum. Mum used to live with her grandmother a lot, because her parents were always traveling all over the world on Ministry business. They died only a few months after she graduated Hogwarts. Mum decided to follow their footsteps and work in the Department of Mysteries. I guess that's when she and great-grandma got into this huge row and haven't spoken since. I think great-grandma's still alive. Though I'm not sure if Mum would know-or care-if she died.

Mum transferred over to the Department of International Magical Cooperation after that. After my father left, that is. Aunt Chiasma let it slip once that he worked with her in the Department of Mysteries, and it was because he left that she switched.

Now Chiasma is a possibility. Actually, it's perfect. She isn't actually my aunt, she's my great aunt. She married my grandmother's brother Sameth. Great-grandma Camilla disapproved of her, too, and I think that's why she and Mum get along so well. She used to visit all the time, and then this summer she just disappeared. I think Mum knows where Aunt Chiasma went, but she isn't telling.

So I think it's time to start over.

Hey, Chiasma,

Okay, doesn't work for me. Let me try again.

Hello, Chiasma,

Goddamnit!!!

Dear Chiasma,

Well, it's better than Dear Diary at least. It'll have to do.

But now I'm so stressed out about figuring out who to write, I don't think I'm going to tell you about my fabulous day. Or my horribly boring day, but I'd rather let you think I have a life. Oops too late. Oh well. Sorry, Chiasma (does that sound weird?)

But you don't get to hear about Harry Potter, either.

~Camilla Alassandra Falco (Back to the regular signature)

Wed, Aug 26

Wednesday, Aug 26

Dear Chiasma,

Do you think I should write Wed, or Wednesday? I'm betting you don't care all that much. Who else spends this much time worrying about the format of their diary? It's not like I'm a perfectionist. Actually I am, I'm just an imperfect perfectionist. I like to make whatever I can perfect, but after a few tries I usually give up. My rooms a total mess, my grades are good but not great, and my quidditch game varies in style on a day to day basis. So I figure if I can make this one small diary absolutely perfect, it'll make up for everything else. Maybe.

Sameth added more powerful steering charms to is broom (he's already given it a name; the "Hippogriff" after a certain class he had back in seventh year). Unfortunately, he also added a much more powerful acceleration charm. I went flying into my brother again. This time Niles only twisted his wrist. Actually, that wasn't cause I went flying into him. Mrs. Black took the bowling ball after the last incident, but her dog stole one of those Muggle ‘hammers' that they throw in the Limping Games and gave it to me. Where he got it, I have no idea. So when I went flying into Neil, the chain twisted around my brother’s wrist. And then I kinda let go by accident. I returned the hammer back to Mrs. Black while she was fixing up my brothers wrist. She wasn't pleased at all.

Her sister Mrs. Figg was there too, today. Mrs. Black said she'd stopped by to have tea, but I peaked into the living room and saw a bunch of files floating over the coffee table. They looked like personal files, but her lamp started screeching at me so I didn't get to see any of the names. Well of course I was intrigued. And I'd only caught a glimpse of Mrs. Black's sister when she apparated downstairs to give her sister an "Can't you get rid of these annoying kids look?", so I wanted to get a better look. I tried sneaking upstairs, but that pesky dog got in the way. I'm thinking I'm going to sneak back over tonight.

You know, when I said I was in love with Harry Potter, I think I was just bored. You know when you fall in love, just cause you have nothing better to do. It was something like that. And my horribly romantic story boils down to is hedroppedhisglassesandIpickedthemupandwebumpednosesandmalfoyteasedmeforaweek. Not that it matters, cause Malfoy always teases me. But that girl Harry's always with (Rita Skeeter said they're in love, but who believes her?) went out of her way to be nice to me after that. Or at least not glare at me or punch me like she does to other Slytherins. Come to think of it, she's kinda a bully. So it's a good thing she likes me. I think.

Well, I think I'm definitely going to go sneaking around tonight. So I guess that means I should stop writing now. Bye.

~Andi

Camilla Alassandra, or Andi, as she prefered to be called, looked at the green ink before her with a smile. Why she was smiling, she couldn't have said, but she was pleased all the same.

Her room was very messy, with robes lying in heaps and several broomsticks pushed under her bed. The bed wasn't made, the drawers were overflowing, books were spread across the floor. And her hair was quite knotty. Well not knotty, but a bit tangled. Glasses were perched on top of a slightly nesty head, small green ones that matched her eyes. She took them off and stared at them for a moment in disgust. Then she sent them spinning across the room to land on a mountain of clothing, and slid off her bed with a sigh. Her mother had long ago promised to have her eyes magically fixed, and it still hadn’t happened.

"Broomstick, black clothes, omnicorder. Did I miss anything?" Andi ran a hand through her hair. Or tried to. "Oh, yeah, a witchlight. No, the omnicorder does it's own thing in the dark. So no witchlight."

She dug through several piles until she found a satisfactory black robe with long sleeves and a hood. Because she was feeling slightly adventurous, she decided to put on high black boots.

"Of course," she said sourly to herself. "Spying is a very Slytherin thing to do. ‘Do you want to be good or do you want to be great?'" Andi mimicked the thinking cap half-heartedly. "Great, I said. Great." She cursed some more under her breath, not noticing the door creak open.

"Andi?" Her brother was peering into the doorway, looking abashed and almost cautious. "You're not still hung up about the Slytherin thing, are you?" He looked at her pleadingly, begging her to say no.

So he doesn't have to feel bad for always making me feel inferior, Andi thought viciously. She’d be the first person to admit she was bitter, although the last person to admit that she was jealous.

Sam was cute. Sam was smart. Sam was liked by everybody. He worked hard at the Ministry everyday, taking the long commute without complaint and still having the energy to exercise his creative spirit on his broomsticks every night. He and a few of his friends had even started their own band and performed every now and then at the Leaky Cauldron and Three Broomsticks and places like that (most of their audience was usually drunk, but the fact still remained that they had an audience).

And then there was Andi. Plain except for evil looking green eyes, currently dressed all in black to add to the effect. She had no friends because she wasn't mean enough for Slytherins or nice enough for the rest of the school. The teachers mostly ignored her, except for Snape and McGonagall, who yelled at her because of course she could never do anything right and because she wasn't her supremely intelligent brother the hardworking Hufflepuff.

It didn't help matters that she loved her brother very much, and was torn between wanting to be like him and wanting to be better than him.

"Of course not," she said cheerfully, even adding a smile (albeit a weak one) to go along with her reassurance. "It'll make me smarter than you." She shifted uncomfortably under her brother’s gaze, hoping she’d said the right thing to make him go and leave her alone again.

Sam grinned, obviously relieved. "Just checking." He pushed her door open a bit wider. "Andi, you room is a mess." He lifted his eyebrows at her. "Like I thought Neil's was bad, but you are definitely the clear winner for the messiest room award." Andi blushed under his scrutiny of her dirty room.

"Gee, thanks," Andi said sarcastically. "Now would you excuse me? I’m studying for school." She waved to the various books lying around the room. Sam looked at her doubtfully, arching an eyebrow.

"If you say so." He didn't sound like he meant it. But he left anyways.

Andi glared at the closing door. Spying on Mrs. Black no longer seemed exciting. She looked around for something else to do, but all she could see was her schoolwork. Well, she definitely wasn’t doing that. With the choice before her of good student and sneaky Slytherin, she once again took the more exciting road. One of these days she would really have to stop doing that.

Twilight was setting over their neighborhood, casting shadows over the darkening roofs. It was a mostly Muggle neighborhood, and already nightly convocations had begun. The faint smell of tobacco filled Andi’s nostrils as she opened her window (she’d always had a good nose) and she shook her head in disgust. Recently her childhood playmates had turned to darker pastimes.

Then again, she wasn’t really one to talk.

“Accio Hippogriff!” It was a whisper, but a powerful one that sent the broom flying into her outstretched hand. She was good at charms, or at least better at them then most of the Slytherins. Charms tended to be a bit too delicate for most of them, Andi thought with amusement. Her amusement quickly turned to bitterness as she realized that it was just one more thing that separated her from the rest of her housemates.

She breathed on the red jewel on the omnicordor, turning it on and slipping the strap over her hand. She looked over her room. “I feel like I’m doing something stupid,” she said dryly, feeling as though she had said something ironic without knowing why. “Verbal irony, to be precise,” she elaborated, remembering elementary school grammar. “I wonder what my room knows that I don’t?”

She mounted the broom prototype with the ease and grace of someone who had practiced for many ears, and stuck the omnicorder to the front of the broom. When she’d first gotten it, she’d made the mistake of putting the omnicorder up to her eyes as it recorded and had had her perception confused for several days afterwards. Omnicorders took in absolutely everything around them, then create a globe for the viewer to watch. But the actual process of the recording looked like an eclipse that moved through frames hundreds of times faster than reality, throwing whoever was unfortunate enough to watch into not only an altered perception of space, but time as well.

Andi had learned this all the hard way, and was now careful never to look at it until the red jewel at the top changed to blue. Omnicorders were generally very expensive, but it had been a birthday present from her mother one year who claimed she had gotten it for free through her job. Andi couldn’t see how the International Department would need an omnicorder, but then again, why should she argue?

Checking the night sky once more to make sure it was clear, she fluttered softly out. They had a large back yard that was blocked from the view of most by the Falco house on one end, Mrs. Black’s on the other and tall trees along the edges, which made it ideal for playing Quidditch. And for sneaking around.

By now it was fully dark out, but just to be safe Andi clung to the trees as she moved slowly towards her neighbor’s house. The fact that all the lights were off made the witch sure she had been right about her neighbor. No one was in bed by eight o’clock, not even old ladies.

Andi flew softly so that she was just under the second floor window. Now that she was closer, she could see light coming from further in, casting figure like shadows on one of the walls. Andi moved up ever so slightly, and then even further so the omnicorder peeked in.

Six people were in a room Andi had never seen before, and that was odd because she was certain she had seen all of Mrs. Black’s house. It was an odd room, too, full of filing cabinets and desks and a strange gold sphere in the center. Mrs. Black and her dog were nowhere to be seen.

Andi looked at the people more closely. Mrs. Figg was still there, a slender black cat perched on her shoulder that matched her neat black robes perfectly. Next to her, and arguing furiously with her if his shaking hands were any clue, was an elderly man with a long silver beard and a smile that wouldn’t go away, though his eyes were deadly serious. A few feet away from them stood the oddest woman Andi had ever seen, dressed in flowing robes that kept changing color. Her hair, too, would flash different colors at different moments, but it seemed to be timed so that her hair would always clash with her robes. She reminded Andi strongly of Proffessor Trewalney, but that could have been because of the blank, unfocused look she had on her face. No, it wasn’t unfocused, actually, it was extremely focused. Her mouth was set into a sharp frown, and she appeared to have no inclination whatsoever to be social.

The other three occupants sat around a table closest to her, pouring over the files Andi had seen earlier. Andi gasped as she realized who all three of them were.

The first was her second year DADA professor, Professor Lupin, who had resigned after it became common knowledge that he was werewolf. He looked as tired and shabby as he ever looked, not at all the threatening menace he had somehow become in Andi’s memories, but she still glanced superstitiously at the moon and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was only a quarter full.

The second man was much older, and Lupin’s successor at the DADA teaching job. Andi gasped as she once more saw the revolting glass eye, and had a momentary fear that he could not only see through walls but through the dark as well. But even his constantly jumping eyes seemed to pass right over her. If possible, he seemed even more nervous than usual, and much less sure of himself.

Though seeing Lupin and Moody scared her, they were nothing compared to their companion. Andi had a fleeting thought that only she could see him, because everyone else in the room seemed to be perfectly comfortable with him. Of course, they might all be Death Eaters, but Andi, for whatever reason, trusted Lupin and Moody and even Mrs. Figg.

Sitting not six feet away from her was Sirius Black.

Black, Andi’s mind registered dully. Of course. He’s related to Mrs. Black. She shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

Despite his years in Azkazban, and the years followed by them running from the Ministry, he looked like he could have been twenty. Clean shaven, long hair tied back in a neat ponytail, with eyes that were both mischevious and serious at the same time. He didn’t resemble the picture of him in the wanted ads at all.

For that matter, he didn’t even look evil. Snape looked eviler. Actually, Snape probably was eviler.

Something struck her about his looks that she couldn’t quite lay a finger on. He was very handsome, she realized, but there was some sort of familiarity nagging in the back of her head. Somewhere she had seen him before, looking the way he does now. Or maybe someone he looked like. Not his mother.

With a sudden jerk, Andi realized.

Sirius Black looked almost exactly like her older brother.

Andi blinked, once quickly, then again, more slowly. The resemblance was definitely there. Their hair was exactly the same color, and it even looked like the same fineness. They had the same slightly crooked nose, and the same ears that stuck out just a bit too much. Their eyes were even the same shape, though different colors, each with long and thick eyelashes.

Andi let in a long breath, and looked more closely. They still looked alike, but she was relieved that now she could point out some differences. Sameth’s forehead was slightly bigger, his mouth slightly wider, and he was a good five inches taller than Sirius. But they still could have passed for cousins, a thought that chilled Andi.

Three more figures apparated into the room, each surprising Andi more the previous one. Watching them, she didn’t notice her one-eyed Proffessor whisper something to Sirius Black, or see the wanted criminal nod and disappear. Andi watched intently as she took in everything – and everyone – that was in the room.

The first was not only one of her professors, but the one that represented her house. Professor Snape, looking even more annoyed and filthy than usual, apparated first. Something green flashed on his arm and Andi could see him clench his teeth in pain. His normally greasy hair looked even greasier as beads of sweat appeared on his face. Snape’s dark eyes looked almost murderous as he glanced around the room. Andi’s first thought was that he was going to kill them all, but her more rational side told her that he was just in pain. From what, she didn’t know.

Two more people came into substance next to him, each taking on of his arms over their shoulders to support him. One was Mrs. Black, evidently returned from wherever she had been. Her spectacles were pushed up as high as they could fit on her nose, and she looked extremely cross.

Andi nearly fell off her broom as she looked at the last new arrival, none other than her missing Aunt Chiasma, the very same she addressed her diary to. Her great aunt looked different from when she had last seen her; much older, and more haggard. Her blue eyes were more somber than Andi remembered, and after beholding her aunt for the first time in so long Andi almost wished she could go back to her memories.

Any emotion at the site of her aunt was cut short by a haunting bark just below her and a large, furry force that knocked the broom out beneath her. Dimly she realized that it must be Mrs. Black’s new dog, but no dog could possibly jump that high. Actually, she’d seen the rats at the pet store in Diagon Alley could jump nearly as high, but they were enchanted.

Of course Mrs. Black would have an enchanted dog, Andi thought sourly, barely realizing as the dog started dragging both her and her broom away. She did notice, though, when he started pulling her up the steps in the most ungraceful movement she’d ever made in her life. Her whole body ached so much by the time the rhythmic bump against her back stopped that she was sure she’d never be the same.

Then she was inside the room she’d been looking in earlier, only it was lit much more brightly then it had seemed from outside. Andi caught only little bits of the conversation, the aching pain in her back making it painfully hard to concentrate.

“…as bad as last time, really, Bessa, stop…”

“…we know she’s your niece, but you know who she married…”

“…comes down to this. Who can we trust the fate of the wizarding community to?”

Andi’s stomach gave a lurch as she heard the last bit. The dog, evidently deciding she had heard enough, gave an impatient bark that sent silence into the room. Andi’s vision was still slightly blurry, but she could feel several aggravated pairs of eyes on her. At that moment she would have given anything for an invisibility cloak. Andi had grown to hate attention, especially attention from adults that weren’t looking too pleased with her.

“Camilla, dear what are you doing here?” Andi hear footsteps as her great aunt crossed the floor. A figured bending over blocked the light. “Sirius, what did you do to her?” Chiasma’s voice became stern and disapproving, but her eyes seemed to have lightened somewhat at the sight of her niece.

Her slowly returning vision registered a smug look on the dog’s face, and she decided it was most definitely a weird dog.

“This is the daughter of the woman you want me to trust?” Alastor Moody’s sharp voice cut through the silence, sending waves of infuriation through the room. “Probably sent here to spy on us by Voldemort himself!” The dog rolled his eyes and drooled a bit.

Andi cringed at the name. “I was not!” She blurted out before she could stop herself. She wasn’t usually one to speak without thinking, but that was the most insulting thing anyone could have said to her. She sat up, ignoring the dizziness in her head, and surveyed the faces around her. Some were pitying, some angry, others blank. The dog laid a comforting head on her shoulder and growled.

“So that’s who was spying on us.” But Mrs. Black sounded amused, almost pleased. “What does that prove, Moody, other than she’s smart and nosy? These days, they can be a dangerous pair, but more to the bearer than the people around her and it certainly doesn’t make her evil.” Andi sensed approval in her neighbor, but she couldn’t understand why.

“I’ve had dumber students,” Snape admitted sourly. He was scowling. “Eviler, definitely.” He sneered at her, and Andi somehow felt he meant it as an insult. Again, that lovely reminder about how she really didn’t belong in Slytherin.

“She’s in Slytherin!” Moody sound outraged. “And yet you tell me, trust her mother!” His glass eye was flashing around so rapidly Andi thought it would fall out of his head.

Snape’s voice became dangerous and low. “So,” he hissed, murder on his face, “was I.” The murderous look came back into his eye.

Lupin rushed in the middle of the glare-thrown daggers. “We’ve been over this before.” His voice almost became the aggressive werewolf’s that Andi had imagined. “We’re supposed to work with each other.” He looked at Moody and Snape each in turn, his gaze reflecting the moon that ruled who he was.

“It’s my job to mistrust people,” Moody retorted finally, face purple. Everyone in the room seemed to have forgotten Andi. She briefly wondered if she could sneak out, but the panting of the dog behind her reassured her that she most definitely couldn’t.

“No, Moody.” The old man in the corner piped up for the first time, shaking his finger angrily at Moody, who was at least a foot taller than him. “It’s your job to trust whoever Dumbledore says to trust.” His previously playful eyes were sharpened in frustration.

Again, Andi spoke without thinking. “Dumbledore? But…but…Sirius Black… Dumbledore?” Her voice came out as a disbelieving stutter.

“Yes, Falco.” Another loathing sneer appeared on Snape’s face, but instead of being directed at her it was directed at the dog next to her. “Dumbledore trusts the spawn of Muggle filth, the man the ministry would most love to get their hands on, the…”

“You forgot to say the man whose going to kill you when this is all over.” The hatred in this new voice matched Snape’s to the letter. Andi didn’t turned around, because she knew who she would see. And now she knew who the dog was, too. Her knees felt, if possible, weaker.

“Yes, I was about to say murderer.” Snape flashed. His nostril’s were flaring like a bull’s, but his eyes had become slitted like a snake.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Their was a light growl in the convicts voice, like the dog he could transform into.

“I would like to interrupt for a moment,” a low, other worldly voice droned. Her comment was well timed, as Snape’s mouth hung open on the verge of speaking. “Professor Snape, if I recall correctly, who just called Sirius there the ‘spawn of Muggle filth’.” The Professor Trewalney-looking women spoke for the first time. Her hair finally settled on an electric shade of blue, with lighter blue robes. Her face was only lightly lined, but Andi saw at least half a century in her eyes.

“Now I wonder,” she continued, a sense of bemusement in her voice, “does that make me Muggle filth?” She turned her eyes to Snape, who began to stutter apologies. Andi would have laugh if she hadn’t been so shocked to find out that Sirius Black, the ministry’s most wanted criminal, actually had a mother.

“Cassandra,” Lupin began warningly, but his eyes were grateful. He stopped suddenly as he noticed the old man playing with Andi’s omnicorder. “Dedalus, what are you doing?” He asked, unbelieving.

The man called Dedalus turned around, seriousness gone as his eyes twinkled with excitement. “Look at this!” he exclaimed, tossing in lightly in the air. “Have you ever seen anything like it? So ingenious!”

“It was a birthday present from my mother,” Andi said slowly, surprised that the odd man hadn’t seen one before. “She said she got it from the Ministry.”

“It was made for the Department of Mysteries years ago, but it got recalled shortly afterwards,” Moody said with equal slowness, giving Andi a long, judging look. “About the time your father…”

“Moody!” Mrs. Figg interrupted sharply. “We have to put a memory charm on her, remember, and emotional information like that would make it ten times harder for us to make her forget! Speaking of which,” she turned to Andi sternly, rolling up her sleeves and drawing up her wand, “Obliviate!”