𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯: 𝘐 𝘙𝘰𝘣 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘍𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳

« 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚞𝚜 »

"Nina, you're the one who told me he was guilty!"

Most of the school was down at the Quidditch pitch (losers) to watch the game between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw (lame), but not my sister and I. We'd followed Nina to her secret room (apparently I was in on the secret now), where they'd told me Nina's crazy theory about Sirius Black. I was having a little trouble wrapping my head around it.

"No, I said people reckoned he wanted to finish the job," she corrected, looking up at the boards thoughtfully. Tilly had done up her hair some time before I'd gotten there, possibly by force, but it looked really pretty. That was one thing about my sister: if your hair went past your shoulders she had to do something fancy with it. No getting around it. That was why I kept my hair as short as possible, to keep the little weirdo away from me.

[Ah! She's hitting me for calling her a weirdo!]

Tilly had done her own hair too, but I'd never really thought of my sister as pretty before.

[Ouch! She's hitting me again! I don't understand why; I completely don't deserve this!]

"It's NINE-UH, by the way, not NEEN-UH," Nina corrected the way she always did.

"Okay, fine," I said. "But does any of this actually count as proof?"

Because I didn't think a bunch of scribbles and old newspaper clippings would hold up in a court that didn't even give the guy a fair trial to begin with. The cards were stacked against him, and the evidence that piled up didn't make him look very good either. If she wanted to prove her theory, then she would need something big. Definitive, hardcore, proof. A confession from the 'real' murderer or something. So far, it was just a hunch. And a real random hunch at that. All this started just because he didn't kill my sister straight away? I thought it was more likely Sirius Black was just feeling lazy that day.

"This paper is the one the Minister gave Sirius Black," Nina said without answering me. She pointed at the one with the Weasley family vacation. "It must be. The date adds up. See anything odd about it?"

I looked at Tilly, who shrugged. Then, back to Nina, "No."

"Me neither," she said. "But something set him off, I think. I believe the real person who killed those muggles and your father is in this picture. And what's more, I think they followed us to Hogwarts. That's why Sirius Black is here, not to get you or Potter but to get revenge on the murderer."

I stared at her. "You think one of the Weasleys killed our father..?"

"Don't be daft," Nina said. "Of course I don't. That'd be ludicrous."

"More ludicrous than your theory?"

"Nina," Tilly said, and from the tone of her voice I got the feeling she didn't really believe any of this either. "Um, if the... real killer isn't one of the Weasleys... how can they be in the picture? That's their family photo after all..."

"Someone in this photo doesn't belong. Someone isn't who they say they are..." I got the feeling Nina was talking more to herself than either of us. She sat in her swivel chair and got real close to the photograph, squinting like that might help her notice some microscopic discrepancy. We left her to it after that.

By the time we got away from Nina's criminal profiling, the Quidditch game was over (thankfully). I met up with Foggie who looked like it was Christmas all over again. He'd given me a very brief run down of the game (apparently lions are better than eagles). But as it turned out this match had a show at half time too.

"Malfoy and co. thought it would be funny to twick ── thick ── sorry, trick ── Potter into thinking there were dementors on the pitch again. But he did this wew ─ wew ─ wei...rd spell o-o-or some ── somethin. Siwvew li ── there was a silver light. I dunno. Scawd ── sorry, sc..ar...ed Mawlf-f... Mal...foy weal ── r-real good, though."

The longer he talked sometimes the harder it got for him to annunciate some words; that was especially true when he got excited. I'd learned to be patient and let him finish what he had to say at his own pace. It was usually worth the wait.

"He and the other idiots lost Swfewin ── Sly...th...er...in... fifty points, but they also got detention, which is hilarious," Foggie told me.

"To think I almost actually let you drag me to the game today," I complained. Because it really did sound hilarious.

"I tried, remember?" Foggie asked, his words becoming clearer now. He was smirking with a silent message: I told you, you should have come. "But it was 'noo, I have to follow my sister into this secret room! Meeh!'"

"Painfully accurate imitation of me..." I sighed. He laughed.

We spent the rest of the night losing Slytherin a hundred more points (hey, we all knew Gryffindor was going to win the House Cup at the end of the year anyway, and besides the house points were just plain dumb after second year). At some point we were sliding down the stairs with the armoured statue's shield. I'd always wanted to do that. Once we'd spotted the Weasley twins sneaking in from... somewhere (one of those secret passages Nina had mentioned?) carrying a bunch of junk food. Suppose that meant the Gryffindors were having a party to celebrate their win. Good for them.

We only went back to our common room after Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, hissed at me for accidentally stepping on her tail. Then, we ran like hell, because Foggie was convinced Filch would commit muder for that cat. I was inclined to believe that theory. The man had a very strange relationship with his pet, not gonna lie.

It wasn't until we'd gotten all the way down to the dungeons that I started feeling funny. Cold, but not exactly like I did before the dementors showed up. This was less intense. Maybe cold was the wrong word. More like that prickling sensation people sometimes get when they can tell someone is behind them. Anxiety, I suppose. I don't know. But I was learning that whenever I got feelings like that something bad was about to happen.

I hesitated at the door to our dorm. Foggie looked back at me. "You comin' or what?"

"Um... be right back." I ran back to the common room before he could ask what was wrong with me.

The dungeons weren't much for comfort. Aesthetically, the place was kind of unsettling. I got the feeling Professor Snape must have let his daughter renovate it when he became the Head of House, because it spelled Nina all over the place. From the dim lighting to the ceramic skulls placed precariously all about the room. The faint, green hew from the lake outside the window didn't help either. If anything, it made the room look ten times spookier. I avoided spending time there as much as possible, except on Halloween when you were supposed to get spooked.

I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't even sure exactly what was wrong, and I was afraid telling anyone might make me look mad. What would I tell them anyway? "I have anxiety and my common room scares me! Eep!" Yeah, that wouldn't be very helpful.

I could have gone to see Professor Trelawney, since, if I was right about this being a divination thing (I suppose I was coming around to the idea my sister and I could see the future), this would have been her domain. But I didn't think I could make it all the way up to the North Tower without freaking out. I also got the feeling that I'd run into trouble the second I left the common room, and trouble was exactly what I wanted to avoid.

The last time I'd felt this bad, Sirius Black jumped my sister outside Gryffindor Tower. I hoped he wasn't back.

Fat lot of good that did. The next morning, we found out that Sirius Black had been spotted inside the school again ── this time he had gotten inside the Gryffindor boys' dorms thanks to that list of all the passwords that Neville Longbottom had written (who knew how he'd gotten his hands on it) and that crappy knight painting that had taken the Fat Lady's place.

He'd been carrying the same knife he had when Tilly had been with him, but he'd gotten the wrong bed. Instead of attacking Harry, he'd gotten Ron. Or so the story goes. The youngest brother of the Weasley clan was soaking in all the attention, adding a few extra details every time someone asked about the incident. But, again, no one had been physically hurt, which only served to fuel Nina's mad delusions.

"If he doesn't care about casualties, then why not just kill everyone in the room?" she'd say to me in passing.

Meanwhile, I was starting to feel better now that the terrible, awful future or whatever had come to pass... at least, until the Gryffindors started blaming me for letting him in their common room.

"It's not Neville's fault, Professor! Magnus Pettigrew stole his list," Harry was telling Professor McGonagall when she started in on Longbottom for leaving important information laying around.

"Yeah! We saw him with it during the holiday break!" Ron added.

"Wait. Seriously?" I complained. They looked alarmed. I don't think they realised I'd been passing through. "I was giving it back. Remember? Tilly threw it at the cat? Thanks for jumping to conclusions, though. I just love to be accused of things."

I walked off before anyone could say anything else.

I tried not to partake in the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry thing (it was super dumb, and the houses don't even have a proper reason to be fighting, just that we're all morons), but sometimes everyone pissed me off. I mean, maybe if I hadn't returned the list of passwords I could see where they were coming from. Maybe. But why would I help a serial murderer who was supposed to be after me and my sister get into the common room where my sister was? Idiots. Whatever.

There were some added security measures ── Professor Flitwork was teaching the doors to recognize pictures of Sirius Black, and Filch was boarding up even the tiniest of mouse holes, which kind of seemed like overkill to me ── but I didn't think it was anywhere near as bad as when the teachers had to escort students from class to class the way they did last year when the Basilisk got loose.

"So, he's gone after your pathetic sister, now Potter, does that mean you're next, Pettigrew?" The Rich Twit asked as Foggie and I sat down in the Great Hall. "Maybe the rest of us will get lucky and he'll actually succeed this time."

It was two days after the second break in. He thought he was being real smart, trying to scare me and all. Maybe it was because I was still ticked off at the Gryffindors, or maybe Nina's sense of humor was seriously rubbing off on me, but I said, "Yeah. Can't wait. Maybe the rest of us will get lucky and you'll get caught in the collateral damage."

The Rich Twit and his friends looked shocked by this. Somehow, they always forgot they couldn't mess with my sister and me.

Foggie snorted at their expressions. "He thought that was real funny, 'til he remembered we share a dorm, huh?"

"Forget it," I said. "He's an idiot."

"Yeah..." Foggie paused, looking nervous. "What if he does show up, though?"

I shrugged. Just like the first time he broke in and with the dementors, as soon as the danger was over I was completely back to normal, if not a little more tired than usual. I doubted Sirius Black would risk showing up again, but I wasn't sure how to tell Foggie that. So, resorting to sarcasm it was. "Throw a pillow at him?"

"Sure, that'll stop him," Foggie rolled his eyes.

"You asked."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of a Howler (basically an angry wizard voice mail) going off in the entrance hall outside (it was from Neville's grandmother). The Rich Twit and his idiot friends started cackling with laughter until Nina shut them up by setting half the table on fire.

"It was an accident, I swear!" she told her father when confronted about it. It was hard to tell if that was the truth, though, because she had a tendency to set things on fire 'by accident' a lot.

"Mm. The ninth accident in a row," Professor Snape muttered. I couldn't tell if he found the situation amusing or exasperating.

"She never gets in trouble for anything just because her father is the Head of House," Pansy Parkinson complained in a whisper to one of her friends (though to be honest I was shocked that someone with a personality as repulsive as hers could even make friends). I suppose she was just sore, because Nina refused her friendship way back in first year (Parkinson had thought she could get a leg up on everyone else if she became besties with the Head of House's daughter, but I suppose Nina seen through her).

Maybe that was why Malfoy and Parkinson got on so well. Neither of them knew how to handle rejection very well.

Fast forward to the next Hogsmeade trip. I didn't go. Obviously. Tilly was staying in the Gryffindor Tower. Something about a story she was writing. Plus, she wanted to keep Longbottom company; she felt bad that his Hogsmeade privileges had been revoked. Potter disappeared somewhere, so that just left me to make some mischief of my own.

I spent the afternoon messing with the school's ghosts, namely the four House Mascots with a little help from Peeves the Poltergeist. We sent Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, a letter from The Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's ghost, saying how lame she thought nearly headless people were. Then, we sent her after the Bloody Baron, Slytherin's ghost, by telling her he was looking to haunt some of the Ravenclaw students. And finally we pitted the Bloody Baron against the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff's ghost, by insinuating the latter thought the former was some kind of creep (we tried to get the Friar to go against Nick too, but he was too forgiving to play along).

Eventually, they must have caught on, because around midday the Bloody Baron came floating up with Professor Snape trailing behind. I waved and tried to look as innocent as possible. It didn't work. Professor Snape narrowed his eyes on me. "What are you doing?" I got the feeling the Bloody Baron had already told him what I'd been up to.

"Not starting a war between the house ghosts, that's for sure," I said in a way that was not at all conspicuous.

"Hehe, liar!" Peeves giggled.

I gasped. "Betrayal!" He sniggered, did a backflip in mid-air, singing, "Chicks with dicks are so be-ah-u-ta-full to me-e-e! Everyone ought to love chicks with di-i-i-cks!!" Then, he flew through the ceiling, off to make trouble elsewhere probably. The Bloody Baron floated off, too, grumbling violent things under his breath.

Professor Snape did not look amused. "Look, manipulation is kind of, basically, one of the Slytherin house traits, right? Isn't that what cunning means?" I reasoned. "So, if you think about it, instead of being thrown in detention or something, I should really be rewarded, like, a gazillion points, right? Right?"

That was not right. Professor Snape dragged me off to his office, which I, of course, had not been to several times in the past two years, because I am, of course, a very good boy.

"Did you get new slimy things?" I asked, poking at one of the jars on the shelves.

"Sit... down...." Sometimes, he did this thing where he talked real slow like so you know you were about to get an ear full. This was one of those times.

I sat down.

For a moment, he just stared at me, like he was trying to burn a hole through my skull with his mind. I sat still, doing my best to look unpunishable. It was no secret that Professor Snape favoured his own house, but again I, for whatever reason, had always been his least favourite Slytherin. I got the feeling he was trying to figure out how best to abuse his authority without having to make Slytherin look bad (look worse, I mean) by taking off points or throwing me in detention. That was always the hard part about punishing me.

"You will not see Nina anymore," he said finally.

"Is that because we started dating? Because if it is you might be slightly over doing the over protective dad bit..."

That wasn't a good thing to say. I would have been dead in three seconds flat, if not for the fact that the Rich Twit came running in a second later, spewing some nonsense about Harry's head being in Hogsmeade. I couldn't help myself, I said, "Wait. You're seeing his face when he's not around? Oh my god, Drarry confirmed!"

From their expressions, I could tell they both wanted to kill me now. I grinned back innocently.

"I will take care of the matter," Professor Snape told the Rich Twit and sent him back to the common room. He left with a super smug look, like 'haha I'm getting Potter in trouble. How incredibly witty of me. I hope he snogs me now.'

The Professor started for the door too but stopped mid way there, turning back to me, like he was wondering what to do with me. "Shall I just wait here, then?" I asked.

"I think not."

"I won't steal anything."

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. I gaped back at him. "The lack of trust! Professor, I could be your son-in-law someday!" That didn't make him any happier. "Besides, I already cased your office. You don't have anything worth stealing. Wait, shit. Why'd I tell you that?"

I'd just given him a ton of ammunition, but he must have been more keen on embarrassing Harry, because he let it slide. He left me with a stern, "Don't... touch...anything." and left the room.

I did not move an inch while he was gone. And I most certainly didn't attempt to juggle the jars on the shelves. That would be foolish and childish.

He came back a few minutes later with Harry trailing behind him, just looking like he'd been up to something recently. "You're not gonna believe this," I said. The jar I had most recently dropped shattered on the floor at our feet, the contents splattering everywhere. "But while you were gone this herd of wild banshees showed up and totally wrecked your office."

"You're right." His voice was low, murderous, and I knew I would already be dead if it wasn't for the fact that he was more interested in punishing Harry for whatever he had done this time. So, naturally I had to keep pressing my luck. "I don't believe it. Sit down, I will deal with you later."

He waved his wand to clear up the mess I'd made and summoned an extra chair for Harry, but he kept standing, even after we both sat down. The professor kept his eyes narrowed in Harry's direction."Mr. Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head."

He shot me a devilish look when I laughed. "Sorry," I muttered.

"How do you think that could have happened?" Professor Snape asked, turning back to Harry.

"I don't know, Professor." It was kind of obvious that he was lying. Professor Snape glared down at him from where he stood; Harry kept his gaze fixed on the teacher, not saying a word. Had to hand it to him, at least he was cool under pressure.

"Are you guys having a staring contest?" I asked. Probably not the smartest thing I'd ever done, but it was getting pretty awkward. "Can I be the judge?"

"Silence, Pettigrew!" Professor Snape said. Then, back to Harry, "Mr. Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?"

"No."

"It was your head, Potter. Floating in mid air."

There was a long silence. It took everything I had to keep myself from shouting, "Busted!" But I didn't fancy, you know, being murdered. Professor Snape already wanted my head on a plate for dating his daughter, trashing his office, bullying the ghosts, and being an all around pain in the neck. I'd probably pushed his buttons enough for one day.

"Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey," said Harry. Okay, maybe I tested my luck one more time by laughing at that, but come on. It was funny. "If he's seeing things like ─"

"What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" Professor Snape interrupted. He spoke with a bit more force than what was necessary. Much harsher than the way he'd been talking to me, which was already pretty harsh. I wasn't sure if it was because Harry was Gryffindor or if he just hated him that much more than me, but it was kind of spooky. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade."

"I know that," said Harry. "It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin ─"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations," the professor snarled. He bent down, a hand on each arm of Harry's chair. Their faces were so close, I thought for a second we wouldn't have to worry about Sirius Black much longer. Professor Snape was going to murder Harry and then me just so there wouldn't be any witnesses. I was sure of it. "If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I've been up in Gryffindor Tower," said Harry. "Like you told─"

"Can anyone confirm that?"

Harry didn't say anything.

Professor Snape's mouth curled in what might have been a smile on someone less mean. It seemed like Harry was in even more trouble than I was.

"So," Professor Snape said, straightening up again. "Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences."

Harry stayed quiet, apparently realising he was being goated into saying something stupid. I followed his example, just in case the professor decided to have a go at me next. Maybe he'd forget I was there if I shrank into the shadows the way his daughter did.

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter," Professor Snape said.

His eyes were doing this freaky glinting thing, and I was sure he was just trying to be mean now. For starters, it was an odd thing to bring up unprovoked, but I didn't dare point that out just then.

"He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us, too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers..."

He glanced at me here for some reason, as if somehow I was meant to be lumped into that group. Or maybe the comment was about my father as well. Professor Lupin had mentioned being friends with both mine and Harry's fathers, so it made sense they'd have known each other, too. But what was my father supposed to be here? A friend or admirer?

"Such as your father, Pettigrew. The good for nothing coward that he was, he elected to hide behind others' success if it could benefit himself."

He looked between the two of us, maybe trying to guess which would snap first. Smart money was on Harry. He was looking angrier by the second. I wasn't nearly as offended. It was hard to defend someone you've never known. For all I knew he was exactly right about both our fathers; they could have been total tools.

"The resemblance between you is uncanny." I wasn't sure if that comment was meant for Harry, me, or both of us, but I wasn't about to ask. I was just waiting out the storm at that point; the situation had passed too far long ago.

Harry thought differently. He glared back at the professor, and for a second I thought he was trying to blow him up the way he had done his aunt earlier that summer. "My dad didn't strut. And neither do I."

"Your father didn't set much store by rules either." Professor Snape kept going, maybe hoping he'd get blown up just so he had another reason to act like a jerk. I was really starting to wish for a way out of that room. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen ─"

"SHUT UP!"

I stared at him. That had been a really dumb thing to say.

Professor Snape stopped mid-taunt. He looked back at Harry, his dark eyes somehow getting even darker. I half expected him to pull his wand out and start casting some really nasty curses at anything that moved. When he spoke again, it was in that quiet, slow way he had, so I knew we were both dead even though I hadn't said anything for a full twenty minutes now.

"What did you say to me, Potter?"

"I told you to shut up about my dad!" Harry yelled. No regret. This kid was going to get me killed. I would die just for being in the same room as him. I mean, sure, I was a snarky son of a bitch, but at least I knew when to shut my mouth. "I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for my dad!"

I had no clue what he was on about, but apparently Professor Snape did. And it wasn't a very clever or witty thing to bring up at the moment, from the look on his face. "And did the headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life? Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?"

I sat as still as I could while they went on. Part of me wondered if I could make a break for it, maybe slip out the door before Professor Snape could yell at me to sit back down or throw anything at me.

"I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," Professor Snape sneered. It seemed like he had forgotten all about me anyway. But I didn't fancy what might happen if I didn't make it to the door in time; so I stayed put.

"Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you ── your saintly father and his friends, one of which was your coward of a father, Pettigrew, played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father, Potter, hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

I wasn't inclined to agree with people who got enjoyment from bullying children, but I had to admit that sounded pretty bad. Harry looked like he felt differently, though. He was glaring at the professor, apparently still offended on behalf of his dead father whom he had never met. Strange, how we could be in such a similar situation but have totally different viewpoints on the matter. You might think it would have brought the orphan squad closer together, but no. My sister and I were much too different from Harry.

Harry's hand moved, apparently subconsciously, to his pocket. Professor Snape noticed too. "Turn out your pockets, Potter!"

Harry didn't move. "Why me?" he complained and pointed at me. "He's the thief!"

"Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!"

I stayed quiet and watched as Harry slowly pulled out the bag of Zonko's tricks and this really old looking piece of paper that might have just crumbled to dust the second you picked it up. Odd, but it was pretty incriminating.

Snape picked up the Zonko's bag, apparently thinking the same thing.

"Ron gave them to me. He brought them back from Hogsmeade last time ─"

It was the worst lie ever. I almost felt bad for him.

"Indeed? And you've been carrying them around ever since? How very touching... and what is this?" Professor Snape put down the bag, trading it out for the old paper. I was surprised when it stayed in tact.

"Spare bit of parchment."

Harry tried to shrug it off, but he was much too squirrely when he said it. Something told me it was much more than just a 'spare bit of parchment.'

Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harry. "Surely you don't need such a very old piece of parchment? Why don't I just throw this away?" His hand moved toward the flames in the fireplace behind him.

"No!" Harry jumped in his seat, which basically proved there was something on that old paper that he didn't want anyone else to see, something he desperately didn't want to lose.

"So!" Snape was looking and sounding meaner by the second. I was genuinely worried for our safety. "Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Or is it something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the dementors?"

Professor Snape's eyes had that evil gleam in them again. It was scary, mostly because I was sure I'd seen it in Nina's eyes before, too: when she was working at her boards in her secret room or when she was info dumping about serial killers, namely.

"Let me see, let me see..." Professor Snape took out his wand and smoothed the paper on his desk.

"Reveal your secret!" He was touching the wand to the parchment. Nothing happened. I wasn't sure if he'd been expecting it to.

"Show yourself!" Snape tapped the map sharply. It stayed blank.

I would have thought it was just a normal piece of parchment meant to make Professor Snape look stupid if not for the fact that Harry was acting extremely nervous next to me. It was definitely something he didn't want someone like Professor Snape to figure out, which made me all the more curious. I was sort of hoping he would figure it out, just so I could see what it did.

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" He hit the map with his wand. I thought the whole thing was super dramatic, and I might have laughed if I weren't busy watching the paper.

One second, the thing was totally blank; the next, words appeared on the front. It took me a minute to read, because, you know, dyslexia; plus, it was upside down and written in cursive.

ℳ𝓇. ℳℴℴ𝓃𝓎 𝓅𝓇ℯ𝓈ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸ℴ𝓂𝓅𝓁𝒾𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓉ℴ 𝒫𝓇ℴ𝒻ℯ𝓈𝓈ℴ𝓇 𝒮𝓃𝒶𝓅ℯ, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷ℯℊ𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓉ℴ 𝓀ℯℯ𝓅 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝓃ℴ𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓇ℊℯ 𝓃ℴ𝓈ℯ ℴ𝓊𝓉 ℴ𝒻 ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝓅ℯℴ𝓅𝓁ℯ'𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝒾𝓈𝓃ℯ𝓈𝓈.

I couldn't help letting out a loud, "Ha!" I covered my mouth quickly. Lucky for me, the professor seemed too stunned by the message to scold me at all. Harry was staring with a dumb look on his face.

There was more. Different hand writing this time.

𝑀𝑟. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑀𝑟. 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑑𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑟 𝑆𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑔𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑡.

There was this look in Professor Snape's eyes, almost like recognition, the same sort of loathing he had just been looking at Harry with. I had a theory he was born without a sense of humor. But I guess it didn't help that the parchment kept going, still (and maybe it was a little uncalled for to insult people's appearances, but I digress).

The handwriting changed again, which wasn't making reading it any easier for me, since this one was very messy and in all caps, as if the writer was very excited and wanted to make it seem as though he were screaming at all times.

ᗰᖇ. ᑭᗩᗪᖴOOT ᗯOᑌᒪᗪ ᒪIKᗴ TO ᖇᗴᘜIՏTᗴᖇ ᕼIՏ ᗩՏTOᑎIՏᕼᗰᗴᑎT TᕼᗩT ᗩᑎ IᗪIOT ᒪIKᗴ TᕼᗩT ᗴᐯᗴᖇ ᗷᗴᑕᗩᗰᗴ ᗩ ᑭᖇOᖴᗴՏՏOᖇ.

It was getting worse by the second. I mean, it was true, but he still shouldn't say it (whoever "Mr. Padfoot" was supposed to be). There was one final line that appeared, again with a different type of handwriting from the others; this one tiny and nearly impossible to make out, as if the writer were a very timid person.

ᴍʀ. ᴡᴏʀᴍᴛᴀɪʟ ʙɪᴅs, ᴘʀᴏғᴇssᴏʀ sɴᴀᴘᴇ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴇs ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀsʜ ʜɪs ʜᴀɪʀ, ᴛʜᴇ sʟɪᴍᴇʙᴀʟʟ.

Harry and I stayed very quiet. I was expecting there to be shouting, screaming, detentions flying left and right. Instead, Professor Snape stood still for a beat, and when he did speak his voice was soft but deadly. "So. We'll see about this."

In three seconds flat he had crossed the room to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder (floo powder) from a jar on the fireplace's mantle, and threw it into the flames.

"Lupin!" Snape called into the fire. "I want a word!"

Lupin? Why was he calling him? I would have expected him to call the Headmaster, maybe, but not the Defense teacher. I didn't even think they got along after the whole Queen Severa thing.

A large shape appeared in the fire, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. "You called, Severus?" He sounded bored and tired, maybe slightly irritated, like he'd been in the middle of something before being summoned; but he still sounded polite, nonetheless.

"I certainly did." Professor Snape stormed back to his desk. His face was screwed up with fury, but now it was less scary and more like we were watching an over sized child. I couldn't help but to feel like he was blaming Professor Lupin for what had been written on the parchment. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

Professor Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were now fading away.

"Well?" Professor Snape stared at his co-worker impatiently.

There was this look on Professor Lupin's face that was hard to read. I thought he knew exactly what this parchment was.

"Well?" Professor Snape said again, and when Professor Lupin still hadn't answered fast enough, he added, "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

Professor Lupin regarded Professor Snape; he glanced at Harry and me, silently warning the both of us not to interrupt if we wanted to get out unscathed. We stayed quiet.

"Full of Dark Magic? Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop ─"

"Indeed?" said Professor Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?"

"You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" Professor Lupin asked. Oh yeah. They both definitely knew what this thing was. Or at least, they each had a general idea about it. Which made me feel sort of left out. I was the only one who had no clue why this paper was causing such a fuss or who these stupidly named individuals were.

"Harry, Magnus, do either of you know any of these men?"

"No," said Harry quickly. I shook my head. Who would want to call themself "wormtail" anyway? What sort of name was that? Who came up with these names?

"You see, Severus?" said Lupin, turning back to Snape as if our responses solved everything. "It looks like a Zonko product to me."

It was at that second, Ron came bursting into the office. He was out of breath, like he'd run all the way there and stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching a stitch in his chest and trying to speak.

"I ─ gave ─ Harry ─ that ─ stuff. Bought ─ it... in Zonko's ... ages ─ ago..."

I wondered how they had time to collaborate on a cover story, but it seemed to work well enough for them.

"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?"

He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes before the other teacher could protest. I made a note of which pocket he put it in.

"Harry, Magnus, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay ─ excuse us, Severus ─"

I didn't look back as we left, but I knew Professor Snape was just seething with rage. I wondered if he still wanted me to stay away from Nina. Probably now more than ever, actually.

We walked all the way to the entrance hall without anyone speaking. When Professor Lupin stopped in front of me, I stumbled so I bumped into him; while he was busy trying to steady me, I swiped the parchment from his pocket.

"Sorry, Sir. I didn't think we were stopping..." I spun around him, shoving the parchment in my own pocket before anyone could notice I had it.

"It's alright," he said so nicely I kind of felt bad about stealing from him even if it was just a piece of paper. But not enough to give it back. I was dying to know what else this thing did.

"Is it alright if I go back to my common room now?" I asked. He nodded for me to go, and I took off before he could notice I'd nicked the parchment from him.