HARPER HAD LAUGHED ABOUT COLIN Creevey's obsession with Harry wasn't it that Colin had taken in interest in her as well after Harry told him she was his sister. Thanks a lot, Harry.

Friday evening finally came and Harper was laying on her bed, relieved that she did not have to avoid Colin any more.

She, Harry, Ron and Hermione had also agreed to go and visit Hagrid on Saturday and Harper was glad she had decided to take the evening off from any homework so she could go to bed early.

However, an irritating noise came from the window, making it impossible for her to fall asleep. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, glancing up at the window. Her eyes widened when she a dark owl trying to get in and she jumped up, opening the window.

The owl landed on her nightstand and held out his paw, showing her the envelope he had been carrying. As Harper untangled the envelope, she eyes his feathers. He must have travelled far.

"Here you go, buddy," she said, offering the owl some water before opening the envelope. Her eyes darted down to the bottom and when she saw who had sent it, her eyes immediately flashed to the other people in the room. Hermione's eyes were glued to the book she was reading while Lavender and Parvati were busy gossiping. Harper climbed back into her bed and closed the curtains around her before opening the letter again.

Dear Harper,

I can't believe you wrote me. How are you? How is Harry? How's Hogwarts? Thank you for the picture, it was good to see James and Remus again.

First of all, I want to apologize for my bad handwriting. I haven't written anything in about twelve years so I hope it's readable.

31 October 1981 was the worst day of my life. I lost my two best friends that night.

James and Lily had to go into hiding and needed a secret keeper. James asked me to do it but I convinced him to change it to Peter last minute. I thought that Voldemort wouldn't expect that since I was James' best friend. I just wanted to keep them safe.

It was Peter who betrayed your parents, who betrayed all of us. He's the reason they're dead. He's the reason you and Harry grew up parentless.

I'll never forgive him for that.

I hope you can forgive me because although I did not betray them, it feels like it's my fault for trusting Peter.

With love,

Sirius

Harper stared at the letter, not knowing how to feel. Was he telling her the truth? Or was he only trying to get on her good side?

Folding the letter, she put it in her trunk, deciding she wasn't going to tell Harry until she figured out whether Sirius Black was telling the truth or not.

• ✧ •

HARPER'S PLAN HAD BEEN TO SLEEP UNTIL ten, but that didn't work as she was roughly woke up by Angelina the next morning.

"'S matter?" Harper grumbled, turning around to get back to sleep.

"Wood asked me to wake you up," she said, "we have Quidditch practice."

"Now?" Harper said, sitting up, rubbing her eyes and glancing at the clock on her bedside table. "Does he have any idea how early it is?"

Angelina shrugged and yawned. "I don't know, but if I were you, I'd get up and get dressed."

Harper groaned, but rolled out of bed. She quickly changed into her Quidditch robes before taking her Nimbus Two Thousand and following Angelina down to the common room. 

"Oliver," Harper croaked, seeing the sixth-year's eyes gleaming with enthusiasm, "it's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," he said. "It's part of our new training programme. Let's go, none of the other teams have started training yet, we're going to be first off the mark this year . . ."

"Isn't Harry suppose to be here too?" Harper questioned him, having looked around and seeing no sign of her brother.

"I woke him, he'll be down with us in a second," Oliver replied. "The rest of us can go ahead and meet him at the pitch."

As they neared the changing rooms, all of them, except for Oliver, sat down. Harper leaned against Fred, who was leaning against George. Both Angelina and Katie were yawning, obviously doing their best to stay awake.

Harper had almost been back asleep, when Harry came in.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" Oliver said briskly. "Now, I want a quick talk with you all before we get actually onto the pitch, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training programme, which I really think will make all the difference . . ."

Oliver was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch pitch, on which were drawn many lines, arrows and crosses in different-colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Oliver launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred's head drooped right into George's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harper snuggled into Fred's shoulder as Oliver droned on and on.

"So," Oliver said, at long last, jerking everyone awake, "is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," George said, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Oliver wasn't pleased and Harper to suppress the urge to grin.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he started, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately, owing to circumstances beyond our control . . ."

Harry and Harper shuffled guiltily, knowing very well that they had been two players short; they had suffered their greatest loss in three hundred years.

Oliver took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.

"So, this year, we train harder than ever before . . . OK, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Oliver shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the changing rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, the rest of the team followed.

They had been in the changing rooms so long that the sun was up properly now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium.

As Harper walked onto the pitch, she saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" Ron called incredulously.

"Haven't even started," Harry shouted back. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

Harper mounted her broom and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. She raced Angelina and Katie back and forth, the three of them gossiping about everything that had happened in the last week.

"What's going on?" Harper heard Oliver ask, glaring at Colin Creevey who had managed to find them. "Why's that first-year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training programme."

"He's in Gryffindor," Harry quickly said.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," George said.

"What makes you say that?" Oliver said testily.

"Because they're here in person," George replied, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the pitch, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe this!" Oliver hissed in outrage. "I booked the pitch for today! We'll see about this!"

Oliver shot towards the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. The rest of the team followed.

"Flint!" Oliver bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look off trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

"But I booked the pitch!" Oliver said, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," Flint said, "but I've got a special signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker'."

"You've got a new Seeker?" Oliver said, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face.

It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asked, looking him up and down.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint said, as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under our noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," Flint said carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps," he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweeps Fives, "sweeps the board with them."

None of them could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh look," Flint said. "A pitch invasion."

Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's going on?" Ron said and he caught sight of Malfoy. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new Seeker of the Slytherin team, Weasley," Malfoy said smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" Malfoy said smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

Auwtch, Harper thought.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione said sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

Harper smirked as the smug on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harper gasped and Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him.

"How dare you!" Harper shrieked, ready to fight Malfoy right then and there. But Ron got to him first. He plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron!" Hermione squealed. "Are you all right?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth into his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging on to his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was in all fours, banging the ground with his fist.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's the nearest," Harry suggested to Hermione and Harper.

Harry and Hermione pulled Ron up by the arms as Harper pushed a way through the crowd.

"Nearly there, Ron," she could hear Hermione say, as Hagrid's cabin came into view. "You'll be all right in a minute . . . almost there . . ."

They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, dragging Ron behind a nearly bush. Hermione and Harper followed pursuit.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book—I'm surprised you haven't already got one. I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!" And he strode away toward the castle.

They waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled Ron out of the bush and up to Hagrid's front door, knocking urgently.

Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me—come in, come in—thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again."

Harry and Harper supported Ron over the threshold, into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in another. Hagrid didn't seem perturbed by Ron's slug problem, which Harry hastily explained as Harper lowered Ron into a chair.

"Better out than in," he said cheerfully, plonking a large copper basin in front of him. "Get 'em all up, Ron."

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," Hermione said anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand . . ."

Hagrid was bustling around, making us tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry which made me smile.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies our of a well," Hagrid growled, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some Banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

It was most unliked Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts teacher and Harry and Harper looked at him in surprise. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job . . ."

"He was the on'y man for the job," Hagrid said, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin. "An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," Hagrid said, jerking his head at Ron, "who was he tryin' ter curse?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something," Harry began. "It must have been really bad, because everyone went mad."

"It was bad," Harper replied. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood'."

Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn't!" he growled, looking at Hermione.

"He did," she replied. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course . . ."

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," Harper told her. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who was Muggleborn—you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards—like Malfoy's family—who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pureblood. I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville—he's a pureblood and he, well, he is clumsy."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can't do," Hagrid said proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," Ron spoke up from over his basin. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's mad. Most wizards these days are halfblood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."

He retched and ducked out of sight again.

"Well, I don' blame yeh for tryin' ter curse him, Ron," Hagrid said loudly over the thirds of more slugs hitting the basin. "Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come March in' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

Harper sighed as she patted Ron's back.

"Harry," Hagrid said suddenly, as though stuck by a sudden thought, "gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

Furious, Harry wrenched his test apart and Harper had a hard time to contain her laugh. It was obviously Hagrid was joking. Harry, however, didn't notice that.

"I have not been giving out signed photos," he said hotly. "If Lockhart's still putting that around . . ."

He stopped abruptly when he saw them laughing.

"I'm on'y jokin'," Hagrid said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him, face first, into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. You're more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," Harper spoke up.

"Don' think he did," Hagrid said, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go. Treacle toffee, Ron?" he asked, as Ron reappeared.

"No thanks," Ron said weakly. "Better not risk it."

"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," Hagrid said, as Harry, Hermione and Harper finished the last of their tea.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harper had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" Hagrid said happily. "Fer the Hallowe'en feast . . . should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" Harry asked.

"Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that we were alone.

"Well, I've bin givin' them—you know—a bit o' help."

Harper noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the wall of the cabin. Harry told her of his reasons to believe that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had told her of his strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but they had never find out why—any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clean his throat and become mysteriously dead until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" Hermione said, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sister said," Hagrid said, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus' yesterday."

Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus' lookin' around the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winked at Harry. "If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed—"

"Oh, shut up," Harry said. Ron snorted with laughter and the ground was sprayed with slugs.

"Watch it!" Hagrid roared, pulling Ron away from his precious pumpkins.

It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry and Harper only had one bit of treacle toffee since dawn, the both of them were keen to go back to school to eat. They said goodbye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing occasionally, but only bringing up two, very small slugs.

The four of them had barely set foot in the cool Entrance Hall when a voice rang out. "There you are Potters, Weasley."

Professor McGonagall was walking towards them, looking stern. "You will all do your detentions this evening."

"What are we doing, Professor?" Ron asked, nervously suppressing a burp.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr Filch," Professor McGonagall said. "And no magic, Weasley—elbow grease."

Ron gulped and Harper immediately pitied him. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.

"And you, Mr Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail while your sister will be cleaning cauldrons with Professor Snape."

Harper sighed. Out of all teachers . . .

"Oh no—can't Harper and I go and do the trophy room, too?" Harry asked desperately.

"Certainly not," Professor McGonagall said, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly, while Professor Snape picked Harper since he could tolerate her better than he could tolerate the two of you," she added, looking at Harry and Ron. "Eight o'clock sharp, the three of you."

Harry, Ron and Harper slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression.

"Filch'll have me there all night," Ron said heavily. "No magic! There must be about hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap any time," Harry replied hollowly. "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail . . . he'll be a nightmare . . ."

"I will have to be in the same room with Snape in my free time," Harper spoke up. "Alone if I may add."

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight and Harper was making her way down towards the dungeons. She stopped at the Potions classroom and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Snape's cold voice said and she entered the room. His dark eyes snapped up as she entered and he gestured towards the cauldrons that stood on the table on the other side of the classroom.

"You know what to do and no magic."

Harper sighed and started cleaning them. Snape didn't talk and neither did she. I wouldn't even know what to say anyway.

After four exhausting hours, Harper was finally done. She made her way back to the common room and greeted Harry and Ron, who seemed to have just finished their detention as well.

"I see you are all alive and well," Harper joked, but frowned when she saw Harry's face. "What's the matter, Harry?"

Harry told her quietly what he had heard and she frowned.

"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" Harper asked. "D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it—even someone invisible would've had to open the door."

"That's precisely what I said!" Ron exclaimed.

"I know," Harry said. "I don't get it, either."

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June 1st 2022
I hope you enjoy it & tell me what you think of it! :)