❝ she likes to say 'i am just me', but what else is the sun supposed to say? ❞ — j. iron word

   Time passed. How much? Maybe just a few minutes, maybe an hour, or two, or three. I didn't know. I didn't care. All I cared about was my destiny which was now quite clear and obvious to me.

   My eyes had already run out of tears and were focused on a spot in the horizon, where the glassy lake and the cerulean sky blended with one another. I wished I could just dive in the cold water like a fish and swim away from everyone and everything.

   And to think that just a day ago, I had been thinking that my life was perfect.

   While my eyes were focused on the infinite blueness that had calmed my nerves just the slightest bit, a mass of milky white and bronze feathers swooped down from the sky. I would recognize that bird anywhere — Greg, my barn owl, the best companion to my solitude.

   He stopped once he reached his desired destination, which happened to be my left shoulder, where he landed softly, uttering a small hoot.

   "Hey, Greg," I said, my voice hardly above a whisper.

   I couldn't even believe that was actually my own voice — it sounded hollow, faded . . . downright pathetic. But that's what I was after all, a pathetic girl who was meant to be executed before she could even make sense of her own life.

   I ran my fingers through Greg's soft feathers, gently stroking his small head. Who would take care of him when I died? What would he do without his owner? He'd probably be better off without me, after all. Maybe he'd find a better owner someday, one who didn't happen to be a murderer's daughter.

   My melancholy thoughts came to a sudden halt once I noticed a note tied around Greg's leg with a red ribbon. My heart skipped a beat — was it mom's reply to my letter?

   I hoped not. It would be so tough for mom to lose me now that she had nobody else left. Oh, my dearest, poor mom! I shouldn't have been so harsh with her. If only I had known about all of this back then . . .

   But as I unrolled the piece of parchment paper and my eyes went through the lines, a wave of relief washed over me when I realized it wasn't from mon. However, my small attempt at smiling ebbed away when I noticed that the sender was Breeze.

   Polly,

   Wherever you are right now, please come back to my office. I have a lot of important things to discuss with you.

   I understand very well how you're feeling at the moment, which is what I dreaded the most and the reason why I have been avoiding this discussion for so long.

   But you are a strong girl, Polly. You told me you would handle the truth if I trusted you with it, didn't you? You told me you wanted to know everything. I know it must probably feel to you like the end of the world right now, but believe me, it isn't. Every problem has a solution, and so does this one.

   If you really were to die — and that would be the worst-case scenario — would you want to die with regrets and unanswered questions? Listen, Polly, I understand that this is all very tough for you. But together, we'll find a way to prevent this tragedy. I assure you that we will.

   But first, you have to come to my office right now. We seriously need to talk.

   ~Breeze

   As soon as I finished reading Breeze's note, I froze, my mouth almost dropping in astonishment. Her note was the last thing I expected.

   However, her letter made me think, and as I reread it a couple more times, I tried to reflect on every single sentence she had written. Breeze was right. Why did I even bother going to her office if I refused to hear her out?

   Of course there were still many unanswered questions invading my head and if I was meant to die, at least I had to know the truth about everything that had been kept hidden from me.

   But no, Breeze was suggesting something more. She was promising a solution; she was promising a way out of this messed-up situation; she was saying that not all hope was lost.

   And she was right — I could handle life on my own and I had proved it many times before. How did I even break down like this? I told her I would manage to handle the truth and that's what I was supposed to do, instead of storming out of her office and moping around.

   "Greg, I promise I won't ever leave you, alright?" I said to my barn owl in a more confident tone of voice as I tickled his neck. "I won't let those bastards imprison me just like they tried to do to my dad."

   Greg hooted lazily and I gave him a soft smile, extending my arm for him to fly away. Then I got up from my spot, brushed the dirt off my robes and wiped away the partly dried tear stains on my cheeks. My walk towards the castle was a self-assured, sure-footed one that resembled very much Sibi's manner of walking — chin up, eyes forward, posture straight.

   It was time I learned everything about my identity I should've known long ago.

▼

   "Polly, there you are," Breeze said in a relieved voice as I stepped in.

   "I'm sorry I ran away," I murmured sheepishly, not looking at her in the eye as my cheeks reddened.

   But instead of saying anything, Breeze walked towards me and pulled me in a hug. I was shocked at first, not expecting somebody as expressionless as Breeze to do such an affectionate gesture. But as soon as I relaxed, I wrapped my arms around her waist firmly, closing my eyes.

   I had been away from my mother for so long and I missed the chance to give her one last hug before leaving. Only now was I realizing how much I had missed this feeling.

"I'm truly sorry it has to be like this, Polly," Breeze whispered. "But I promise we'll find a solution."

I just nodded as Breeze slowly let go of me, although I was still unsure about what she had just said. My dad hadn't been able to find a solution; nor had other people before him. How would I, a fifteen-year-old girl, possibly find a way out of this?

"I've got something to give you," Breeze said as she walked up to her desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out a thick book with a dark blue cover.

"What's that?" I asked. I approached to get a better look at it.

It was a thick, ancient-looking tome with a title so blurry it was almost unintelligible.

"The darkest secrets of the Ministry of Magic," Breeze read aloud. "The trouble I had to go through in order to obtain this book from the Department of the Mysteries is inexplicable. But that doesn't matter. What matters is this book right here, which is the answer to all your questions."

Grabbing the book from the desk, Breeze handed it to me cautiously. It was heavier than I had thought, but I tried to act like its weight wasn't really bothering me. If what Breeze was saying was true and this book was indeed the key to our success, I couldn't wait to go back to the Gryffindor common room and start reading it.

"You're going to find useful information inside this one," Breeze said. "Now, what I want from you is to create a group of people who will support you in your initiative to change the Ministry's mind about their view on Dolphinuses. A group of trustworthy people, who will help you work in complete secrecy and won't tell you off to the Ministry, no matter what. Can you do that?"

"To be quite honest, it may be difficult," I replied hesitantly. "But I'll try my best, I promise I will. And I already have two friends who I know are going to help me in every step I take. Sibi and Mike are trustworthy enough."

"I'm really glad you three have become such good friends now," Breeze replied.

I couldn't help but nod in agreement. I remembered how much I hated them when I first met them both in the summer, especially Sibi. Funny how fast an opinion could change. I only hoped it would be this easy with the Ministry when it came to proving my innocence.

"But, Breeze," I said, "what if not all Dolphinuses have been innocent? I mean, if they were, then why does the Ministry hate them so much? I can't just prove my innocence without being informed and knowing the facts first."

"Polly, the reason I gave you that book is because it can give you much better and detailed answers to your questions that I possibly can," Breeze responded with a slight frown. "You will take your time to read it, analyze it, and what I'll be doing is creating a magazine that will help you spread awareness. What I want from you and your friends, once your group is formed, is to post convincing, persuasive articles to make people believe that your initiative is the right thing to do. I have my own connections outside Hogwarts, where I'll be working — and have been secretly for the past few years. But before we jump to that step, you have to create a group of at least twenty trustworthy people."

My heart flipped down my stomach.

"Twenty?" I asked with eyes agape. "But, Breeze—"

"I know," she interrupted me. "It will be difficult, I know. But no one ever said it was easy, after all. Would you rather get sent to Azkaban instead?"

"No, of course not!" I cried, terrified by simply the thought of it.

Yeah, maybe it would be harder than I had imagined, but deep down, I knew I had to fight. Fight against those people who were the reason my dad was now in such a terrible position; against those people who wanted to imprison — and later execute — me despite my innocence; against those people who had taken away so cruelly all those harmless children's lives.

I was going to do whatever it took just to figure out a plan. I couldn't end up in jail, or even worse: executed at the hands of my own father who didn't know who he was and what he was doing.

"When shall I start with this plan?" I asked.

"The sooner the better," Breeze said. "This weekend we have our first trip to Hogsmeade. You could use that to your own advantage."

"Yes, it would be a great opportunity to make new friends," I said, mostly to myself. Then turned to her, my voice laced with gratitude. "Thank you, Breeze. For everything."

She nodded, her lips curling up. Not quite a smile, but close enough. "I wish you all the best in your plan. You will never be taken away to Azkaban. Not as long as I'm here."

A shiver coursed its way down my spine. Azkaban. Just the thought of it made me more determined to make my plan work.

So what if nobody else had been able to find a way out of this problem before? So what if I was going to be the first one? I would fight — I was a Gryffindor after all. What was there to lose anyway?