❝ You are not alone. We are all wolves, howling to the same moon. ❞ — Atticus

Twelve hours later, I found myself in the Gryffindor common room. My mind was still in turmoil from the article I had read earlier that day, the words of which had imprinted themselves in my skull.

I reached for the blanket that lay discarded on the couch, pulled it over my legs and hugged my torso with both arms. Mike was sitting on the ground by the fireplace with his legs crossed. Sibi was next to me on the couch, her brows furrowed as she reread the article for probably the hundredth time. I glanced at the wall clock that hung above the fireplace. 1 a.m.

Greg's small head was tucked underneath my neck and I could feel its soft rising and falling as he breathed in his sleep. I brushed my fingers against his feathers and closed my eyes.

A soft hoot broke the silence, but it wasn't Greg's. It came from Sibi's tawny owl, Tirol, who had been sitting by the windowsill, pecking on some Owl Treats he now ran out of.

"I don't have any more cookies for you, Ti. I'm sorry," Sibi said. She put down the magazine and rubbed her face tiredly.

"What are we going to do?" asked Mike, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

"I'll go talk to Breeze tomorrow morning," I said. "Couldn't find her today. I hope those scumbags haven't put her in much trouble."

Sibi clenched her jaw, her hands curled into fists.

"I can't believe the lies that git Akker wrote about me," she muttered through gritted teeth. "And his bloody sister. How awful can one get? What they said about me, you, Stella, and professor McBon . . . Ugh, I can't believe them!"

"And to think you used to defend that arse," Mike mumbled.

I looked at Sibi in apprehension. A red glow came over her face. For a moment, I thought she would lash out in anger, but instead she just lowered her head and let out a sigh.

"If I could turn back time and change everything, I would," she whispered.

I reached out and squeezed her arm gently. I hated seeing Sibi defeated like this. I hated that she felt responsible for the awful behavior of two people we had all considered our friends.

"It's not your fault," I told her. "We all trusted them. I mean, who would have thought they'd turn out to be like this?"

"I mean, I did have my suspicions—" Mike started in an ironic tone, but stopped when I shot him a warning look.

He got up from the ground and took a seat on the couch next to Sibi.

"How did they even do it?" I asked.

"Polyjuice Potion," Sibi said. "Only explanation that makes sense. They wanted you out of people's sight for a reason. And professor McBon would never let anyone else hand her an article to publish, not even me."

I wanted to say something but came up blank. After everything that had happened, it was like my brain had gone numb to the feeling of shock. I only nodded my head in response, as if Sibi had just told me it would rain the next day.

"When did the article come out?" I asked.

"Two days ago," said Mike. "We wanted to talk to you as soon as we read it because it didn't make sense. We knew something was fishy. When we didn't find you anywhere, that's when we started to worry. None of the teachers seemed to know where you were—some of them straight up said they didn't give a damn either way."

"Professor McBon hasn't come back since she left to ship off the magazine," Sibi said. "Dashawn has been unreachable too. It was awful. We didn't know who to turn to."

"How could you not come back to the Hospital Wing, though?" I asked. I knew my tone was accusatory, but I didn't bother hiding it. To me, that was a no brainer.

"Polly, we thought you left," Mike said calmly. "When we saw Maddie heading to professor McBon's office, we thought it was you."

"And then, what, you thought I disappeared out of the blue?"

Sibi shifted in her seat and raised her palms in a stop signal. "Can we please not argue? This is literally the worst possible time. Haven't the Simmons caused enough trouble as is?"

I lowered my eyes and exhaled. She had a point.

"Sorry," I murmuredp.

Sibi sighed and rubbed her eyes. Tirol let out a hoot and came to rest on the arm of the couch. Suddenly I became aware of Greg's presence, who was still sound asleep on my shoulder.

"Let's head to bed," she said. "We'll deal with things tomorrow."

"Aren't, um . . . aren't the Ministry officials coming tomorrow?" Mike asked hesitantly, his eyes switching back and forth between Sibi and I.

My heart leapt to my throat. I had forgotten about that. "Oh."

So much for getting some rest that night. As if a week long of potion-induced sleep didn't screw up my sleeping schedule as it was, the anxiety of seeing the Ministry officials in less than twelve hours kept me up for the rest of the night. The next morning, I found my legs shaking as Sibi and Rosalinda left the dorm for breakfast.

"I can't come, guys," I told them. I wanted the ground to open beneath my feet and swallow me whole. This was one of those moments I'd trade anything to not live through.

"It's going to be okay, Polly," Rosalinda told me gently. "We've got your back."

I shook my head vigorously. Yeah, easy for her to speak.

"Listen, I've been bullied for practically all my life, but this is different. I don't think I can take this. I actually feel like I might be buried alive."

Rosalinda scoffed. "Don't be overdramatic. You'll be fine, I promise."

"I feel so much better," I muttered under my breath.

Sibi approached me and put a hand on my shoulder in comfort. Her big hazel eyes were round with worry.

"You have us, Pol," she whispered. "We'll support you, no matter what."

▼

I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I made my way down the hallway. Glaring, glowering, judgmental eyes. Some seemed to be trying hard to not even glance my way. As if they would drop dead on the floor by simply looking at me. Even Nearly Headless Nick didn't greet me when he floated by.

I tried to ignore them and continued walking. Quickening my steps each time somebody called my name. I could hear whispers, grunts, snarls, babbles, insults muttered under breaths or through gritted teeth. The more I heard, the more it all tore at my insides, but I continued walking.

What finally made me stop and turn around was an object that hit me on the back of the head. My heartbeat was pounding on my veins as I spun around and came face to face with a group of Slytherins.

They all wore looks of rage or disgust and seemed to be trying to keep a safe distance from me, as though they'd catch a disease if they came closer. I looked down at the object that had hit my head, which now lay on the floor. My magazine.

"What do you have to say now, murderess?" snarled a Slytherin boy.

"Your time's up. The Ministry is on their way," chirped a girl.

"Leave me alone!" I snapped, losing what little patience I had left. My voice betrayed me by breaking at the end.

I whirled around again and continued walking—running, more like. Though I tried not to let on, the girl's words had hit me like a truck.

The Ministry is on their way . . .

Once I reached the gargoyle statue that led to Breeze and Dashawn's offices, I was panting. Only then did it hit me I didn't know the password.

"Please," I begged. "I need to see Breeze. It's urgent."

But the statue didn't budge. I let out a frustrated sigh and gathered my frizzy hair in fists.

"Ms. Kin, may I help you?"

I turned around at the sound of the voice and found myself opposite an old man with shaggy orange-coloured hair, attired in sapphire blue robes. The thick glasses over his nose were slightly askew.

"Headmaster Dashawn," I said breathlessly. "I need to see professor McBon. I have to talk to her."

Dashawn eyed me for a moment, warily, his tired gaze analyzing my face. Then he looked down, shook his head, and when he met my eyes again, they held a sorrowful look.

"I'm sorry, ms. Kin," he replied. "Professor McBon is at the Ministry right now. She will be facing a trial with the Wizengamot."

"No," I whispered, mostly to myself than to the headmaster. I shook my head stubbornly. "This can't be happening. Breeze can't end up in Azkaban! What those bastards have written isn't true, sir, I swear. Breeze never had any intentions of taking over the Ministry. She was only trying to help me and Stella. If you want to blame anyone, blame me."

Dashawn held up a hand to silence me. I gulped. The back of my throat burned.

"I know Breeze McBon for about sixteen years now, ms. Kin," he said. He looked at me pointedly. "Nobody better than me knows of her intentions. I don't suspect for a moment those involved staging a coup against the Ministry."

He rested a hand on my shoulder. The lines on his face looked deeper from such a close distance, and I noticed the roots of his orange hair were powder-white.

"I'm sorry, ms. Kin," he repeated. "I believe that there's truly nothing to be done now."

I gulped hard once again and closed my eyes. My chest felt heavy. Dashawn dropped his hand from my shoulder and reached into the inner pocket of his sapphire robes.

"Professor McBon did tell me to give you this, though," he said and pulled out a letter.

I grabbed it eagerly and all but tore it open.

Polly,

If you are reading this, I am most likely away and out of reach. What it also means, much to my dismay, is that the Ministry officials have arrived.

The unexpected and appalling turn of events saddens me. I owe you an apology for not practicing more caution and scrutiny when receiving the draft of the article. How foolish of me to simply grab the folder without skimming through it before shipping it to be printed! The damage I have done is irreparable and for that I am truly sorry. As you are reading this, I am exactly where I need to be in my best attempts to mend this.

I know this may come across as futile, but I want you to trust that the fight isn't over. That I can assure you of. If anything, the real fight has truly only begun.

I will ask one final thing of you: don't fight your fate, Polly. Nobody is dejected by the idea of seeing you in Azkaban more than me, who is directly responsible, but I must ask of you to not attempt running away as your father once did. The outcome of such an occurrence would be catastrophic.

I will continue to fight for your right to freedom and will assist you—even in ways that may not be as conventional or transparent.

Keep your friends close. You will need their support. I am hoping to see you sooner than you might think, but I'm afraid I can't make any promises as of yet. Do not be concerned about me. I have my resources I can reach out to for backup. I will be fine.

May we meet again under much more pleasant circumstances.

My throat had gone dry. I felt tears brimming the corners of my eyes and clutched the letter tightly, as if doing so would make Breeze Apparate in front of me. When I lifted my head, Dashawn was gone. I swallowed and put the letter in my pocket. My heart was heavy.

I made my way down the flights of stairs. On my way back, I did the same thing I did when I was heading to Breeze's office, ignored all the nasty stares and comments, and didn't stop once to reply to anyone. I decided to go meet Hagrid.

As I was passing by the third floor, I saw Christine walking toward me. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up and she was holding a rag in one hand.

"There you are," she said as she approached me. Sweat was beading along her forehead and her arms were stained with dirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pointing to the rag she was holding.

She huffed and rubbed the sweat off her forehead with her forearm.

"Cleaning up the Trophy Room," she said. "Got a week's worth of detention for breaking Maddie Simmons' nose and using a Knee-Reversal Hex on Akker. Fuckin' worth it, if you ask me."

"Knee-Reversal Hex?"

"Switches knees from fronts to backs of legs," Christine explained. "The Richards helped me plan it. They also got detention. They're helping Umphassen prune some Flutterby bushes. But of course, I had to get the short end of the stick and end up cleaning people's shit the muggle way."

The left corner of her mouth twitched upwards and I didn't suppress the light laugh that made its way to my lips.

"That's actually quite funny," I said.

Christine let out a soft chuckle, but her face quickly grew serious again. She knitted her eyebrows together and pursed her lips.

"What are we going to do?" she muttered. Her tone was low but her narrowed eyes held a flicker of hopelessness.

I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know what we were going to do. I didn't know what would happen next. I had thought of the possibility of life in Azkaban before, but I had thought of it the same way I used to think of life at Hogwarts back in my muggle high school in Newbury Park. Like something plausible, but so out of reach it verged more on daydreaming than reality. And now it was about to be my reality in a couple of hours.

I reached into my pocket and handed Christine Breeze's letter. She grabbed it with her free hand and took a moment to read it. When she was done, she looked up, but not at me. Her lower lip trembled and she inhaled audibly.

"Fuck," she cursed under her breath.

The hand that was holding the letter gathered into a fist. She turned her head sideways, her brown eyes brimming with tears. She caught them with the back of her hand before they could spill.

I wanted to say something, but there was nothing realistic that would make either of us feel better, and I wasn't one for false words of comfort. Christine spat on the ground, the veins on her neck prominent. Then she turned around and strode away without another word.

I looked down at the ground, finally deciding to pay some acknowledgment to my racing heart. I probably had less than an hour left before the Ministry officials came. The teachers had already started preparing the Great Hall for their arrival and announcements were made for students to be excused from their first and second-period classes during the examination process.

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of it. I was terrified and there was no reason to hide it anymore. What was I going to do? I couldn't run away, but the urge to do so grew stronger with each passing minute.

Had my poor father gone through this same experience when he was only twelve years old and then flown all the way to America, where he lived the rest of his life? As much as I took pride in my independence, I couldn't imagine myself surviving under the same circumstances. My father was braver than I ever could be.

My grumbling stomach jerked me from my flow of thoughts. Food was the last of my concerns at the moment, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd put anything in my mouth, so I had to eat. I made my way out of the castle and toward Hagrid's hut.

The winter air was chilly as I walked on the snow-covered grounds, my hair stinging to my face. The snow no longer resembled a plumped-up pillow that sparkled under the faint glimmer of sunlight. Now the snow was just a light dusting, slushy and grey, and there were a number of thin frozen puddles that cracked under my boots as I stepped on them.

I knocked thrice on the wooden door of Hagrid's Hut. He answered it in almost an instant. As soon as his eyes fell on me, the giant man's face fell and he pulled me in a firm, bone-crushing embrace.

"I heard 'bout wha' happened," Hagrid said when he broke the hug. I inhaled deeply to fill my lungs with air. "It's hard ter believe wha'—tha's really terrible, Polly. How can a friend do somethin' like tha? Azkaban . . . Blimey! The Ministry's mental. They can't lock yeh away in Azkaban. Yer only fifteen."

Hagrid led me inside and as he closed the door, heavy tears leaked out of his eyes. I was too tired to cry myself, so I just followed him inside the house and took a seat on the scarlet armchair.

"Can I have something to eat, Hagrid?" I asked.

Hagrid sniffled up his tears forcefully and cleared his throat.

"'Course," he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

His old black dog, Fang, approached me and lay down by my feet. I flinched and quickly pulled my feet up and tucked them underneath me. Hagrid reappeared with a tray of food in his hands and placed it on the table before taking a seat opposite me.

"Thank you," I said.

The tray contained slices of wheat bread, marmelade, some cherry tomatoes and sliced cucumbers, and a mug of milk. I took a slice of bread and added some marmalade to it before taking a bite.

"Wha's happenin' is unbelievable," Hagrid said and let out a deep sigh. "Reminds me o' the day yer dad disappeared. The poor thing, he looked so scared an' all. They're merciless, the Ministry people. I feel ashamed tha I believed it back then. They blame yeh guys for killing innocent people, supposedly." He scoffed. "Killing innocents . . . tha's exactly wha they're doin'."

I hadn't realized that a lump had formed in my throat at the mention of my father's name until I swallowed my bite. I grabbed the mug of milk and took a gulp.

My father . . . He was a Dolphinuses' executioner. He was one of the Ministry men that I would see today. As the thought sank in, I almost dropped my mug.

Out of everything I would have to face, somehow this seemed like the hardest one. How would I be able to do it? To stare into the eyes of the man with a fake identity and appearance, knowing that the person hiding underneath was my own father? My father who had no idea what he was doing and would murder his daughter with his own hands, without the slightest hint of remorse or recognition.

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes at the thought of being killed at the hands of my father. I fought with everything I had to keep them from falling. Dying in Azkaban seemed like a luxury compared to being executed by my dad.

What if I didn't die in a prison cell? What if I survived the remaining two years until my seventeenth birthday, when I'd be then executed?

I gulped down all of the milk and ate the bread so quickly I almost choked. Despite the crestfallen look that had settled on Hagrid's face, his eyes narrowed in surprise as he observed my actions.

"Are yeh in a hurry ter get somewhere?" he asked.

"I have to say some last goodbyes," I said, not entirely lying. I couldn't stay there and continue having that conversation.

Hagrid looked at me for a moment. Without any warning, he broke into uncontrollable sobs.

"Oh, Polly," he wheezed. "Yeh'll be strong, won't yeh? I've told yeh that yer a tough girl, a warrior. We will all fight fer yeh, Polly. Don succumb to pain an' misery. I believe in yeh. Breeze will make this all righ'."

Holding back my own tears became difficult as I looked at Hagrid, especially at the knowledge that this might be the last time I'd ever get to see him.

But I kept it all on the inside as Hagrid broke the hug and forcefully wiped away the tears that were flowing down his blotchy face. Fang gave a little whimper, as if he, too, knew what was about to happen.

I stood up, took a deep breath and walked toward the door. I gave Hagrid a thin smile, which made me realize that doing so to stop the tears from falling only made them want to come out even more.

"Goodbye, Hagrid," I whispered.

"Yea, goodbye," he said. He clutched a tear-stained handkerchief in his hand. "It's a goodbye fo sure . . . I'll see yeh again one day, 'course I will. Be strong, Polly. We'll all fight for yeh."

I nodded and waved at him one final time, too powerless to say anything else. Then I spun around and made my way limply toward the castle, my heart collapsing into a bottomless pit.

◈

again credit to -worldofwords for the cute Sibi aesthetic above ♥️ also new cover who dis? do y'all like it? it took me 3 hours so i'm super proud! oh n there's only one chapter left hhh i'm gonna cry.