The Worst Day Since Yesterday

"He's not there."

"What?" Sirius Black whirled around, surprised that anyone was still awake in this particular ungodly hour of the night. There was a first-year sitting on one of the couches near the Gryffindor commons room fire, lazily staring at him, completely unperturbed. She had paused from reading some Muggle novel. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. And why was she not screaming bloody murder because there was an escaped convict in the same room as her? Well, innocent man who had been incarcerated in a living hell after being denied trial that had escaped the wizard version of Alcatraz. But she didn't know that.

"The rat has left the building," the girl answered laconically. "You will find no not-rats here." She set the book down on the table next to her and cocked her head to the side. "Why are you here again?" she asked almost disinterestedly.

Sirius did not know how to react to the strange black-haired girl. On one hand, this was probably the most civilized discussion he had had in nigh twelve years. On the other hand, why was she talking to him in the first place? "You do know who am, right?" he asked. Maybe she was crazier than he was. (A hard thing to accomplish, according to Prongs.)

"Sirius Black, aged thirty-three, accused of the betrayal of the Potters and murder of thirteen people, former Auror," the girl replied with a smile. "Of course. I'm not blind." She resumed her reading, and Sirius just stood there in disbelief. The girl looked back up. "You're still here," she stated. Shrugging, she continued, "I'm Gemma, pleased to meet you. Please don't go off on a tangent about how I shouldn't be talking to you. I can't sleep, and you're the only person around I can talk to at the moment. I don't need you lecturing me like you're my father."

Sirius was very confused at this point. The girl's--Gemma's--logic made a degree of sense, but even if that was the case, why in God's name did she decide to strike up a conversation with him? Would not she realize that twelve years in solitary confinement were not conducive to good social skills? Hell, he had not been much of a confidant before prison. "Are you sure you want to talk to me?" he asked, just to make sure she was in her right mind and not just acting on a mind addled by sleep deprivation.

"Yes, and I shall now tell you why you are an idiot," Gemma declared. She set her book down on the small side table next to her. Clearing her throat she said, "Chasing the rat is not a good idea if your goal is becoming guilty of one of the crimes for which you were imprisoned." Sirius was about to protest (he did not have to listen to this girl a third his age tell him to not pursue vengeance), but she cut him off, "You would be better off convincing the wolf and then catching the rat. I recommend Veritaserum. Luna agrees, although she thinks not right whys. She's right about what she sees."

"Do you always talk in riddles?" Sirius asked wryly. "Your parents must hate it."

"Mother gets irritated. I expect my father finds it amusing--to a degree." Gemma smiled and tilted her head to the side. "I really did expect you to go away after I started talking," she admitted. "I could scream for a teacher at any moment. But you're still here."

Sirius glanced nervously towards the portrait-hole. The entire faculty of Hogwarts could come rushing through there any minute, and he was just standing there talking to an eleven-year-old. For God's sake, he could be back in Azkaban in little over an hour, Dementors and all! He did not dare to think what would happen if he ran into one on the school grounds... and what had the Ministry decided to do with him? Sirius glanced back at the girl, who was watching him expectantly. She had meant the comment as a compliment, but there was a very real danger that someone else would come in and shout bloody murder and that would be the end of Sirius Black's Great Escape. "I have to leave," he said as calmly as he could, but when he made to go, a third-year walked into the commons. Sirius' breath caught in his throat as he made eye contact with the student, and he braced himself for what came next.

"SIRIUS BLACK IS IN THE CASTLE!" the red-haired boy shouted, causing Sirius to turn and run back the way he came. He glimpsed the girl staring at him with fear in her eyes as he had turned. He thought nothing of it.

Minutes later, the teachers had swarmed into the Gryffindor commons and were making a fuss, but no one bothered to question the dark-haired girl who had struck up a conversation with a man wrongly accused of murder.

------

Professor Artemesia Vector could not sleep. She was sitting in her office, grading third-year Arithmancy papers. It was the same old grind, except Miss Granger had turned in her Divination paper by accident, something that was always good to break the monotony. That girl really did need to cut her workload. She was excellent at Arithmancy, but obviously shared the same opinion of Divination as Professors Vector and Sinistra (although Auriga was more denying her everlasting love for a particular dungeon-dwelling, greasy git than disbelieving in a branch of magic.) Speaking of denial, the professor was also in it. He had escaped.

She could not face the repercussions of that single thought.

It did not matter anyway. She had carried on and forgotten, like the rest of the wizarding world. It was irrelevant. Absolutely nothing should come of it. He had betrayed them all and was found guilty. Even Remus believed it, so Vector held the party line, even if it could be wrong. She had long given up, so she had relegated one of the last men she had ever thought would turn to the last circle of hell where he would burn with the rest of the traitors.

Because he could not be innocent.

Miss Granger, on the other hand, did know an amazing amount of Divination for one who professed so much to hate the class. It really was strange. What had possessed one of the most scientific-minded of the third years to take Divination? There was no rhyme or reason to it! Unlike Arithmancy, which was essentially the magical equivalent to the Muggle trigonometry and calculus (both of which were amazing subjects; Vector still could not get over how one could predict the position and velocity of a falling object with just two data points.)

With Miss Granger's paper filed in "Wrong Essay" box, Vector was about to move on to the next essay when Auriga burst through the door. Vector stared at her friend, who looked like she had been trapped in a room with Quirrel again. Trying to keep a passive face, she asked, "What brings you to my office at two in the morning? Do you need help stalking various male members of the faculty, or is this a different kind of social call?"

"That was only ... twice!" Auriga replied in an attempt to defend herself. She shook her head and continued, a much more seriously, "We need to talk about something else." Vector did not like the look on her friend's face. She usually took calculated risks (not that once events were set in motion was the risk all that calculated anymore,) but she figured that it would be best to just let Auriga continue, despite her hesitation to do so. "He came back, Arty, but he didn't do anything," Auriga continued. "It doesn't make much sense, does it? I mean, His Gitness is convinced of the worst, but you got to admit that that is strange behavior."

Vector shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "I don't pretend to know how that man thinks, Aur. He hasn't made much sense for a long time. I can only guess that he feels guilty... It always made him irrational." She shook her head and continued acidly, "Then again, he cannot get away with what he did simply based on temporary insanity. I hope they catch him."

"Do you really want that?" Auriga asked quietly, having shut the door. "He has been given a death sentence. I don't believe it myself, but what if he actually was innocent? He was not given a trial." She grimaced. "I don't think anyone deserves the Dementor's Kiss. I know I'd rather be put to death than live that no-life," she murmured.

"He betrayed everyone he cared about and killed thirteen innocent people! He is just like the rest of his accursed family, despite what he had said and done before!" Vector exclaimed, almost hysterical. "He cannot be--I refuse to believe anything other than..."

"I know," Auriga said placatingly. "I agree with you; I just disagree with the new sentence, that's all." She stood there in silence for a moment, watching her friend. "I just want to know if you feel all right about everything. I'm here for you to talk to, Arty. The rest of the staff's worried about you; you've been off kilter for the entire year. Even the overgrown bat has noticed, and normally he couldn't care less! Even I'm acting more normal this year!"

At that point in time, Vector broke down sobbing, and Auriga felt very awkward. She probably should not have uttered that last sentence, but it needed to be said. Auriga did know that Vector's breakdown was in all likelihood due to repressed emotions, and she had just happened to be the one to push the big red button with the "Do Not Push" sign on it and let loose the deluge. Auriga walked over and sat down next to Vector, who then started sobbing into her shoulder. The only words she could make out were "Why? He had everything! How could he?"

------

The next morning, Luna Lovegood was contemplating the meaning of table. Yes, a table was an elevated surface with supports, but what was really the absolute table-essence? For instance, what was the difference between the Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables in terms of their tableness? Was there some sort of inherent meaning? Could not an occupant of the Slytherin table get along completely well with an occupant of the Gryffindor table? Was it that they sat at the respective tables that caused the imagined schism? Or was it more of the House-essence that determined it? Also, the teacher table did not have any qualities particularly different from the House tables, although it was on a platform, so it did have a different table-essence due to the superiority complex the table would be given.

There was a particular dark pall cast on all of the tables today. Luna did not approve. So what if Black broke in to the castle? He had not done anything. He had nothing left to lose, did the Ministry not understand? Whatever he was doing had nothing to do with the students, otherwise there would be dead students. Therefore, the Dementors had nothing to do at Hogwarts. They needed to go back to killing the souls of the imprisoned in Azkaban. Let the innocent be and lying lions lie.

The Ravenclaw table-essence was just like the table-essence of the other three houses. They all had dividers yet all were the same. A depressing thought. Luna could not wait for Divination. Yet she could. She saw a Grim in her teacup and knew it did not mean death. Cedric had an arrow and it did. Luna sighed. Too much was happening. She idly wondered why Professor Vector was sad and why Professor Lupin looked guilty. Professor Snape was angrier than usual, and Professor Sinistra looked pensive. Once a lion, always a lion; once a snake, always a snake; once a badger, always a badger; once a raven, always a raven. But a lion can be snake-like; a snake, lion-like; a badger, raven-like; a raven, badger-like. And all combinations. A lion could betray, and a snake could be loyal. A raven could fly into walls, and a badger could do Arithmancy. Dogs are loyal, and rats rat out. Don't bite the hand that feeds. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Betrayed and murdered from a certain point of view. Diana's lover dies from pride at the hands of a scorpion. So does the light fade. "Pass the butter, please," Luna said.