THIRTEEN
' the black dog '

☾⋆₊✧

MARCH
1994

CALISTA had herself a plan.

Well, not entirely. She hadn't completely worked out the details of how exactly she was going to track Sirius down, but she still had Harry's invisibility cloak, and she deduced the best time in the upcoming weeks to carry out her intentions. The Quidditch Cup would be taking place mid-April, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin—and there was no doubt in Callie's mind that the entire Hogwarts population would be there. As well as the fact that hopefully any security measures around the castle would be more lenient while everyone was at the pitch.

The safety measures imposed on the castle after Sirius' break-in had made nearly everything impossible during the waking hours. The front doors had been taught to recognize Sirius' picture, Filch had boarded up every nook and cranny, Sir Cadogan had been sacked from guarding the Gryffindor Tower, and the Fat Lady was back. A number of security trolls had been assigned to guard her portrait, always filling the hallways of the tower as they paced with their giant clubs. It was hard to go anywhere without the portraits or ghosts staring you down, and Peeves blowing in your ear for extra measure.

Callie was able to return to classes and to her dorm a few days after the run in with Harry, her dad, and Snape. She was, to her surprise, welcomed back by a large population of the Gryffindor House, who cheered and bombarded her with questions. Harry had stayed close by her side, and Ron told them all to leave and that she wasn't answering any questions. She felt like Celestina Warbeck for a moment—though for all the wrong reasons.

Hermione had also made up with Harry and Ron in her absence. One part was due to everything happening with Callie, but most of it was because of a letter Hermione had recently received from Hagrid. After the entire incident with Buckbeak on the first day of Care of Magical Creatures, Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, insisted that the Hippogriff be sentenced to death. Hagrid had tried his best, but the committee was more than likely under the influence of the elder Malfoy. Buckbeak was sentenced to death—and the execution date was coming sooner rather than later.

Callie had attempted to offer her condolences to him during lessons with the trio, since it was the only opportunity they had to visit him after curfew and not being allowed to leave even the campus. He seemed numb with shock from the verdict.

"'S all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em...'

"There's still the appeal!" Ron said fiercely. "Don't give up yet, we're working on it!"

Callie was nowhere near as close to Hagrid as her friends were. She barely knew him outside of class and what they had all shared with her. Nevertheless, she patted him on the arm, trying to offer a soothing smile. "Stay strong, Hagrid. Not all is lost."

Hagrid did look somewhat grateful, but she knew it wasn't enough.

"'S no good," Hagrid said sadly as they reached the castle steps. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that..."

Hagrid turned round and hurried back towards his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief. Callie could only listen to his broken sobs as he walked away, with both sadness and anger simmering beneath the surface for him and the situation.

As they stepped into the castle, a familiar, sneering voice cut through the air.

"Look at him blubber!" Draco drawled, lounging near the entrance with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. His pale face was alight with cruel amusement.

Callie froze, her fists clenching.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" Draco continued, his voice dripping with mockery. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Harry and Ron bristled, each taking a step forward, but Callie moved faster. Her legs propelled her across the stone floor before she even realized what she was doing.

SMACK!

The sound reverberated through the corridor as her palm collided with Draco's face. He staggered back, clutching his cheek in shock, his mouth hanging open.

For a moment, no one moved. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle all stared, wide-eyed and stunned.

"You shut your mouth, Draco," Callie hissed, her voice low and trembling with fury. Her hand stung, but she didn't care. "You don't get to talk about him like that."

"Calista?" Draco sputtered, his eyes narrowing. "What's gotten into you?!"

Callie took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "What's gotten into me? You, Draco. You and your constant need to tear people down just to feel bigger than you are."

"You can't just—" he started, but Callie cut him off, her voice rising.

"Yes, I can! You think you're so clever, so untouchable, but you're nothing but a coward. You don't even have the guts to say those things without Ding and Dong backing you up." She gestured sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, who exchanged bewildered glances.

Draco's face turned red, though whether from anger or embarrassment, Callie couldn't tell.

"You're out of line," he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual venom. "My father will hear about this."

"Go ahead!" Callie shot back, her voice shaking but steady. "Tell him. See if I care."

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly at a loss. With a muttered, "C'mon," he turned on his heel and stalked off, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him.

Callie exhaled sharply, her hands trembling at her sides.

"Whoa," Ron breathed, his eyes darting between Callie and the retreating trio. "That was... bloody brilliant."

Harry grinned despite himself. "You've got a wicked slap, Callie."

Hermione placed a hand on Callie's arm. "Are you okay?"

Callie nodded, though her heart was still pounding. "I just couldn't let him get away with it. Not this time."

"Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione added. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin win!"

The four of them stood in silence for a moment before heading up the stairs together. Callie's hand throbbed, but she felt strangely lighter, and not one ounce of regret for what she had done. They were late to Charms already, and had to hurry up the marble staircase to Flitwick's classroom.

"You're late, kids!" Professor Flitwick said reprovingly as Harry opened the door. "Come along, quickly, wands out—we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today. We've already divided into pairs! Except for Neville, Miss Lupin, he's up for grabs."

Harry and Ron dashed to a desk at the back, Callie following close behind. She slid into the seat next to Neville, rummaging for her wand.

As Ron settled in, he glanced behind him. "Where's Hermione?"

Callie froze mid-search and looked around. Hermione had been right beside her in the corridor just moments ago.

"She was right behind us," Callie said, frowning.

Harry scanned the room. "Maybe she went to the bathroom or something?"

But as the lesson continued, Hermione didn't show up. Callie couldn't shake her unease, though the effects of the Cheering Charm they practiced kept creeping in, making her feel oddly buoyant.

"She could've used a Cheering Charm herself," Ron said with a grin as they left the classroom for lunch.

Callie gave a distracted smile but kept glancing toward the hallways, half expecting Hermione to appear.

When Hermione still wasn't at lunch, Callie's worry began to outweigh the lingering effects of the charm. By the time they had finished their apple pie, all three of them were on edge.

"You don't think Sirius Black got to her?" Ron said anxiously as they hurried toward Gryffindor Tower.

"Don't even joke about that," Callie muttered, her mind racing.

They passed the security trolls, gave the Fat Lady the password ("Flibbertigibbet"), and scrambled into the common room.

"There she is," Callie said with relief, spotting Hermione at a table. But her relief turned to concern when she saw Hermione fast asleep, her head resting on an enormous Arithmancy book.

The three of them approached, and Harry gently prodded her awake.

"What? Wh-what?" Hermione stammered, blinking rapidly and looking wildly around. "Is it time to go? W-which lesson is next?"

"Divination," Harry said, "but it's not for another twenty minutes. Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms?"

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no! I forgot to go to Charms!"

"How could you forget?" Callie asked, leaning forward. "You were with us right outside the classroom!"

"I don't believe it!" Hermione wailed, sitting upright and clutching her head. "Was Professor Flitwick angry? Oh, it's Malfoy—I was thinking about him, and I lost track of everything!"

But with the presence of the Arithmancy book, it was clear that was not what she had been worried about. She must've forgotten to use the Time Turner to go back to Charms, the lack of sleep and exhaustion finally getting to her mentally.

Ron shook his head, glancing at the thick Arithmancy book Hermione had been using as a pillow. "You know what, Hermione? I reckon you're cracking up. You're doing too much."

"No, I'm not!" Hermione snapped, though her voice lacked conviction. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and frantically searched for her bag. "I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and apologize. I'll see you in Divination!"

She rushed off, leaving Callie, Harry, and Ron sitting in her wake. Callie exchanged a look with the boys, concern etched on her face. "She really is doing too much," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But try telling her that."

Hermione joined them at the foot of the ladder to Professor Trelawney's classroom twenty minutes later, looking extremely ashamed.

"I can't believe I missed Cheering Charms! And I bet they come up in our exams. Professor Flitwick hinted they might!"

"Want me to use one on you?" Callie suggested, half-serious. Hermione just groaned, putting her head on her shoulder for a brief second.

Together they climbed the ladder into the dim, stifling tower room. Glowing on every little table was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. Calista, Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat down together at the same rickety table.

Callie sat slouched in her chair, arms crossed, and eyes darting between the oversized crystal ball in front of her and the dark corners of the Divination classroom. The heavy scent of incense was already making her head ache, and she could tell from the faint snickering beside her that Ron wasn't taking any of this seriously either.

"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered under his breath, casting a wary glance around, no doubt checking for Professor Trelawney lurking in the shadows.

"Don't complain," Harry whispered back. "At least we've finished palmistry. I was getting tired of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."

Callie stifled a laugh. The image of Professor Trelawney recoiling dramatically at Harry's lifeline was the only thing that had kept her awake through those lessons.

"Good day to you!" came the ethereal voice of Professor Trelawney as she floated into view, her many shawls trailing behind her. Parvati and Lavender immediately perked up, their eyes wide and sparkling as they leaned forward toward their crystal balls like eager puppies.

"I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than planned," Trelawney announced, sinking gracefully into a chair with her back to the fire. The flickering flames made her glasses gleam like enormous, bug-like eyes. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

Hermione let out a very audible snort from her corner of the room.

"Well, honestly," she said, rolling her eyes. "'The fates have informed her'? She sets the exams! What an incredible prediction." She didn't bother to keep her voice low, and Callie bit her lip to hide a smirk.

Professor Trelawney didn't react, though it was hard to tell if she'd heard; her face was half-hidden in shadow. Instead, she continued as though Hermione's comment had drifted away with the incense smoke.

"Crystal-gazing is a particularly refined art," she began, her voice lilting dreamily. "I do not expect any of you to See upon your first attempt to peer into the Orb's infinite depths."

Callie fought the urge to roll her eyes as Trelawney gestured toward the crystal balls with a flourish.

"We shall start by practising relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes," Trelawney continued, her voice becoming even more hushed and melodramatic.

Ron let out a loud snicker beside Callie, quickly shoving his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing outright. She elbowed him, shooting him a look, though her own lips twitched with amusement.

Trelawney ignored him entirely, pressing on with her lecture. "This will allow us to clear the Inner Eye and reach the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will See before the end of the class."

Callie sighed and slumped further in her seat, resting her chin on her hand. "See what?" she muttered under her breath.

If anyone was going to See anything today, she figured it would just be another glimpse of how absurd this class was.

They began nonetheless, but it was hard to retain focus. Callie began drawing endless loops in her notebook; Hermione and Ron just stared at the ball expectantly, and Ron had fallen asleep.

Callie felt as if she were about to enter the realm of slumber, but the sudden sound of jingling of bangles announced Professor Trelawney's arrival. She glided past like a ghost, her shawls trailing behind her. All four students snapped to attention

"Now what do we have here, hmm? Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" she murmured, her voice dripping with mystery.

"I don't need help," Ron whispered, leaning toward the other three. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight."

Callie pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her laugh, but Harry and Hermione weren't as discreet. Both burst out laughing, their laughter drawing the attention of the entire class.

"Now, really!" Professor Trelawney exclaimed, spinning toward them. Parvati and Lavender shot them scandalized looks, clutching their own crystal balls protectively. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!"

Callie raised an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, Professor Trelawney swooped toward their table, her enormous glasses glinting ominously in the firelight.

"There is something here!" she whispered, lowering her face dramatically toward the crystal ball in front of Harry. The mist inside swirled in a way that, Callie had to admit, looked a little eerie. "Something moving... but what is it?"

Callie exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked resigned. She could practically hear his thoughts: Here we go again.

"My dear..." Professor Trelawney continued, her voice dropping to a hushed breath as she gazed at Harry. "It is here, plainer than ever before... my dear, stalking towards you, growing ever closer... the Gr–"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Hermione snapped, cutting her off. "Not that ridiculous Grim again!"

Callie bit her lip, half-expecting Professor Trelawney to keel over in shock from Hermione's interruption. Instead, the Divination professor straightened, looking deeply affronted.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires," Trelawny stated. "Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

The word hung in the air, and Callie could practically feel Hermione's patience snapping.

"Fine!" Hermione said suddenly, standing so abruptly that her chair screeched across the floor. She grabbed Unfogging the Future and shoved it into her bag with unnecessary force. "Fine!" she repeated, swinging the bag onto her shoulder so wildly that Ron had to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face.

Before anyone could react, Hermione strode to the trapdoor, kicked it open with a loud thud, and climbed down the ladder without a backward glance.

The class was stunned into silence, save for the faint creak of the ladder as Hermione descended. Callie stared at the now-swinging trapdoor, feeling a rush of admiration— and then exasperation.

Professor Trelawney, for her part, seemed to forget all about the Grim as she turned back toward Harry and Ron's table, breathing heavily and clutching her shawl like it might help her regain her composure.

"Ooooo!" Lavender suddenly squealed, making Callie jump. "Oooooo, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? 'Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!' You said it ages ago, Professor!"

Professor Trelawney gave her a dewy-eyed smile, basking in Lavender's fawning attention. "Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the Signs... the Inner Eye can be a burden, you know..."

Callie couldn't take another second of this. Pushing her chair back, she stood and grabbed her bag. "Well, you're about to lose one more," she said loudly, throwing Professor Trelawney a pointed look before climbing down the trapdoor herself.

The murmurs of the class faded as Callie descended, each step on the ladder feeling like a release from the oppressive, perfumed air of the Divination classroom. She didn't stop once she reached the corridor, her feet carrying her toward Gryffindor Tower at a determined pace.

Hermione might've stormed off in frustration, but Callie wanted to make sure she was okay. She deserves better than that nonsense, Callie thought grimly, quickening her steps.

She found Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, hunched over a table buried in books. A half-eaten apple sat forgotten beside her parchment, which was filled with frantic scribbles. Hermione's hair looked frazzled, and her shoulders were tense as she worked furiously on what Callie could only assume was a week's worth of assignments.

"Hermione," Callie said gently as she approached, dropping her bag onto the couch. "Rough day, yea?"

Hermione looked up, startled, and then groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Rough doesn't even begin to cover it."

Callie sat across from her, resting her chin in her hand. "I think you need a break."

"I can't take a break," Hermione protested immediately, her quill scratching furiously across the parchment again. "If I don't finish this essay tonight, then I'll fall behind on my Arithmancy notes. And if I fall behind on those—"

"Hermione." Callie's voice was calm but firm, cutting through Hermione's spiraling. "You've been going nonstop, and I know you've had a lot on your plate with, well, everything. But we just survived one of the most exhausting weeks ever. I think we both deserve a nap."

Hermione blinked at her, her quill freezing mid-word. "A nap? Callie, we're not first-years. We can't just take naps whenever we feel like it."

"Says who?" Callie leaned back, folding her arms. "Hermione, you're running on fumes. I'm running on fumes. And if you try to push through it, you'll just end up even more exhausted tomorrow. Let's just take, like, an hour. Recharge a bit. Then we can tackle all this again."

Hermione frowned, glancing between her notes and Callie. "An hour?"

"An hour." Callie smiled. "Come on, you'll thank me later."

Hermione sighed heavily, as though agreeing was some Herculean effort. "Fine. One hour. But if I fall behind, I'm holding you responsible."

"Deal." Callie grinned and helped Hermione gather her things, then they made their way up to the dormitory.

The sky was pitch black when Callie stirred awake. She blinked groggily, realizing the hour-long nap had turned into something much longer. Hermione was gone, but her bed was unmade so Callie hoped she at least overslept.

She stretched, her muscles protesting from the long rest, and stood to look out the dormitory window. The grounds were bathed in moonlight, the Forbidden Forest's dark silhouette stretching endlessly in the distance.

Her eyes caught movement near the edge of the castle. Squinting, she saw two figures—Crookshanks in all his ginger glory, and a sleek black dog—walking side by side, heading toward the forest.

Crookshanks... and the dog. Callie's heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly who that dog had to be.

Now, tracking Sirius Black might be a bit more manageable.

☾⋆₊✧

As April arrived, the Quidditch Cup soon followed. The week earlier had been the Easter holiday, but the third-years had never had more homework than they did that weekend. In between bites at dinner with her dad, Callie would sneak in homework answers and resume eating again. Remus didn't like this, but she had no other choice.

This was what Hermione must've felt like all year, she thought.

"You're not drawing a map to Sirius, are you?" Remus had joked, mouth full of turkey.

Callie looked up, not amused. "No, I told you, this is History of Magic work. Why would I be focusing on that?"

"You've just been oddly quiet about him and the situation lately," Remus pointed out.

"What's there to talk about? You said it yourself- we're to be quiet and wait it out."

"Okay," he raised his hands in defence. "Just take a break from that, your plate is almost done."

The morning of the championship game, the common room was flooded with Gryffindor students as they got ready for the match. Harry and the rest of the team had already gone, but nearly everyone else was gathered, painting faces with red and gold and getting into the spirit. Even Hermione, with bags under her eyes as big as Remus' was in high spirits and ready to watch the game.

Hundreds of them walked down to the Quidditch pitch, and three quarters of the crowd were adorned by scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandished banners in favour of their house. No one really liked the Slytherins but themselves, so the remaining quarter of the crowd wore green and had their own banners with a silver serpent glittering on them.

As the crowd funnelled toward the stands, Callie hesitated at the base of the ladder leading to the seating area. Her foot tapped nervously against the ground, her expression uneasy.

Hermione, already a few steps ahead, paused and looked back. "What's the matter?"

Callie shifted uncomfortably, lowering her voice. "My cannula's clogged. I need to go clean it."

Hermione frowned, glancing toward the pitch where the players were already beginning to take their positions. "The game's about to start! Can't you use a spell on it?"

Callie shook her head. "No, it's Muggle-made. It's got a pretty intricate process. I'll be quick—twenty minutes, tops."

Hermione hesitated, concern flickering across her face, but eventually nodded. "Alright, but hurry. Harry wouldn't want you to miss this."

"Thanks," Callie said, giving her a small smile before jogging back toward the castle, guilt already curling in her stomach.

Her dad's theories swirled in her mind as she climbed the steps back into Gryffindor Tower. What if he was wrong? What if Peter Pettigrew wasn't the traitor? Or worse, what if Sirius was still dangerous, and she was walking straight into a trap? But despite the risks, the pull to uncover the truth—and meet the uncle she'd never known—was too strong to ignore.

Entering the empty common room, Callie immediately spotted Crookshanks curled up in a patch of sunlight on a chair, his orange fur glowing warmly. She let out a small sigh of relief before hurrying up to her dorm.

In a matter of minutes, she'd retrieved the essentials: a picture of Sirius from her dad's old photo album and Harry's Invisibility Cloak. The guilt twinged again as she held the silvery fabric in her hands. She still hadn't returned it to Harry, but she promised herself she would—just as soon as she was done.

Back in the common room, Callie quietly made her way over to Crookshanks, who was sprawled on a chair, his tail twitching lazily. She sat down beside him, reaching out to gently scratch the top of his head. He stirred awake at her touch, squinting up at her with a soft, almost knowing expression.

"Hi, sweetie," Callie greeted, her voice low and affectionate. "I need a favour from you. Think you can help me?"

Crookshanks tilted his head, his amber eyes narrowing as though weighing her request. Callie pulled a photo out of her pocket—one of her mum and Sirius from her dad's old album. She held it up, pressing her thumb against the younger Sirius's face.

"Your friend," she said, angling the photo towards the cat. "Do you know where he is?"

Crookshanks let out a low, throaty sound—a mix between a meow and a growl. Callie took it as a yes.

"It's really important that I go see him," she continued, leaning in closer and lowering her voice. "We have to have a talk about" —she hesitated for a moment before finishing in a whisper—"Scabbers."

At the mention of the rat's name, Crookshanks's ears flattened, and he hissed softly, his fur bristling.

"Yeah, I feel the same way," Callie muttered, grimacing. "So what do you say? Can you help me?"

Crookshanks responded by brushing his head against her hand in a quick, firm gesture before hopping off the chair. He strutted purposefully toward the back of the Fat Lady's portrait, his tail held high.

Callie wasted no time. She flung the cloak over herself, praying that no one was left in the common room or Peeves hadn't snuck in, and began to follow the cat.

With every step she took, Callie's nerves worsened, her stomach twisting into tighter knots. She prayed Dad was at the game, too distracted to notice her absence, and that the Marauder's Map was safely out of his reach. If he found out what she was doing, she didn't want to imagine the consequences.

Crookshanks led her to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, his orange fur glowing faintly in the fading light. Callie hesitated, stopping just short of the tree line. Surely the cat wouldn't go any further—but Crookshanks didn't stop. He padded forward without hesitation, his tail swishing confidently behind him.

"Crookshanks, come back!" Callie hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. But the cat didn't even glance back. He disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone at the forest's edge.

Callie's grip on the Invisibility Cloak tightened. Was Sirius really out there? Or could Crookshanks be leading her into something worse? Ron's warnings about the cat's alleged sinister nature replayed in her mind.

She stood frozen, second-guessing her decision, when she heard it—a faint rustling in the leaves and a low, guttural growl. Her breath caught as she pressed herself against the nearest tree, heart thundering in her chest.

Moments later, Crookshanks emerged from the darkness, brushing up against her legs despite her being hidden under the cloak. She let out a shaky breath, reaching down to touch his soft fur.

Then, something else stepped into the dim light filtering through the trees.

A large, shabby black dog.

Its movements were cautious, its piercing eyes scanning the area as though searching for something—or someone. Callie's heart skipped a beat.

It was the same dog Harry had described seeing, the one he thought was the Grim. The same shadowy figure she'd spotted in the sky during the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match. But now, standing here, staring into those intelligent, haunted eyes, she knew the truth. This wasn't the Grim; this was Sirius.

The dog stayed on guard, despite not being able to see Calista, but his eyes were unmistakably soft. A pale colour, wide and gleaming. Near identical to the man's eyes from the picture, that didn't quite match her and her mother's but were familiar all the same.

Then, the dog began to trot away, its movements fluid and purposeful, as if it had somewhere to be.

"Where are you going?" Callie called out, her voice sharp with frustration. She threw caution to the wind and darted after it, the Invisibility Cloak flapping awkwardly around her ankles.

The dog didn't slow, its strides lengthening as it headed straight for the Whomping Willow. Callie's breath hitched as she realized where it was leading her. Her footsteps faltered. Did it expect her to follow?

The massive tree loomed ahead, its gnarled branches twisting menacingly, ready to lash out at anything that ventured too close. But the dog moved with startling precision, darting beneath the swinging limbs. It pawed at a small knot at the base of the trunk, and the Whomping Willow froze instantly, its branches falling still.

Callie hesitated only a moment before following. She ducked beneath the still branches, her heart hammering in her chest. The dog was already disappearing into a dark opening at the base of the tree. She crouched and crawled after it, her nerves on edge as the earthy scent of the passage filled her nose.

The narrow tunnel stretched out ahead of her, damp and dimly lit, but the dog didn't hesitate. It padded steadily forward, its movements confident. Callie followed, the Invisibility Cloak now bunched awkwardly in her arms.

Finally, the passage opened into a dilapidated room with creaking floorboards and peeling wallpaper. The Shrieking Shack.

Even though she felt like she could pass out for the third time this year, she steadied herself and spoke, her voice wavering only slightly.

"I know it's you, Sirius Black," she said, the words coming out in a rush. "And I think you know I know that." The dog remained unblinking. Callie shifted awkwardly on her feet, unused to confronting someone so directly. "But—I think I know the truth."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then the dog turned abruptly, disappearing around a corner. A strange, whooshing noise filled the air, and Callie instinctively stepped back, wand in hand but not yet raised into the air. When the noise faded, a hoarse, croaky voice echoed from the shadows.

"And who might this clever girl be who has managed to find me out?"

Callie swallowed hard, summoning the courage to respond. "Calista Lupin," she said, her voice steadying. "I'm Remus Lupin and Celene Black's daughter."

The words hung in the air like a spell. Slowly, deliberately, Sirius emerged from the shadows, now in human form. Callie's breath caught as she took him in. He was so different from the picture she had studied, the one of him laughing with her mother—thinner, older, and worn down by years of internment and suffering. His ragged clothes hung off his gaunt frame, and his sunken eyes burned with intensity as he stepped forward, his movements sharp and deliberate.

He stopped just a few feet from her, his presence almost overwhelming. Callie felt her stomach twist with fear, but she held her ground, refusing to flinch. Their eyes locked, the tension thick enough to cut.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Sirius's lips twitched into a grin, sharp and wolfish.

"Calista," he said.

"Uncle," she replied firmly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her.

But in that moment, as he said her name, something clicked. Everything her dad had theorized about Sirius, about the truth, felt undeniably right. It wasn't just the fact that Sirius hadn't slashed her throat or lunged at her; it was the way he spoke her name.

When other adults or figures of authority said her name, there was always a certain weight to it—a formality or distance that reminded her she was something of an anomaly in their lives, a secret or a problem to navigate. But the way Sirius said it felt entirely different. It was natural, effortless, as though it had always belonged to him.

It was the same way her dad said her name—soft, familiar, and full of unspoken love. The same way she imagined her mother might have said it, had she still been here. For the first time, Callie felt the connection to her uncle as something real, something alive—something that almost made her feel at peace.

Sirius took a tentative step closer, his eyes studying her face as if trying to memorize every detail. There was something vulnerable beneath the sharpness of his features now, the menace slowly fading from his expression. His wild, watchful eyes softened the longer he looked at her, like he was trying to match this teenage girl in front of him with the infant he'd once known.

Callie didn't move at first, caught somewhere between caution and curiosity. She looked him over just as intently—this broken, gaunt man who had been the centre of so much fear and mystery, and yet now stood before her like a shadow of who he once was. But there was something unmistakably kind in his face now, something that made her believe.

Slowly, Sirius crouched in front of her, his movements hesitant but gentle. He didn't reach for her right away. Instead, he let his hand rest lightly on her arm, like he wasn't sure if she'd allow more. Callie didn't flinch. In fact, she smiled—a small, uncertain smile, but a real one.

"My darling niece," he said, voice low and reverent. "I've waited so long to see you again."

"Again?" she asked softly.

"Well, you were just a babe when I first met you," Sirius said, his thumb brushing faintly across the fabric of her sleeve. "You think I'd let you go into hiding and not get a glimpse of my red-haired niece?"

Callie gave a faint laugh, caught somewhere between disbelief and wonder. "I'm sorry I'm a bit delayed. The evidence against you was... strong."

"I know," Sirius replied, gesturing vaguely to himself—his tattered robes, his hollow cheeks, the lines worn into his face from twelve years of torment.

"And, um... I didn't really know you were my uncle," Callie admitted, her voice faltering slightly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his tone lighter despite the gravity of their conversation. "Excuse me, Sprite?"

"To be brief—my dad kept the truth hidden from me my whole life," she explained, her words spilling out faster now. "I only found out recently who my mum was, about my... curse, and about you."

Sirius muttered something under his breath, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable.

"Speaking of that mangy old wolf, how is he?" he asked, a sharp edge to his words.

"He's hanging on by a thread," she answered honestly.

"Sounds about right." Sirius scoffed, but there was something else in his expression—a flicker of something like regret. "Does he know about me, as well?"

She nodded. "He figured it out first. My friend and I—Harry," she said, her voice softening as she saw Sirius's expression shift at the name. His hardened features melted for a moment, his eyes brightening with a mix of pain and hope that made her hesitate. "We found the map. Your map. We were out past curfew one night when we saw Pettigrew's name."

Sirius's face darkened instantly, his jaw tightening and hands clenching into fists at his sides. He didn't interrupt, but the tension in the room thickened, charged with his barely contained fury.

"I'll spare you the details," Callie continued carefully, keeping her voice steady, "but Dad took the map. After a good lecturing, he pieced together that my friend Ron's rat is actually, you know..." She trailed off, unwilling to repeat the name as Sirius's anger simmered. "And how you've been getting in and out of the castle, and all that."

She paused, glancing at him nervously. "He... well, he's been sick. Really busy too. That's why he didn't—he couldn't—come looking for you himself." The words tumbled out quickly, an attempt to shield her father from Sirius's inevitable judgment.

Sirius squinted at her in curiosity. "Calista, does he know you're here right now?"

She shook her head. "No. It's the Quidditch Cup final."

Sirius gave a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "You're reckless. Brave, but reckless." He smiled again, though there was a touch of pride behind it. "You're definitely my niece."

He hesitated, his expression tightening, as if afraid of the answer to his next question. "Is... Harry playing right now?"

"Yeah," Callie replied. "The Firebolt is your doing, then?"

Sirius nodded, his face lighting up, though it still carried the weight of years spent in darkness. "How does he like it?"

"He loves it," Callie said, her voice warming. "He's really happy up there."

Sirius exhaled, relief flooding his features as a faint smile crossed his lips. But Callie could see the glisten in his eyes, the way his shoulders trembled slightly, and she knew he needed the conversation to shift before the weight of it all became too much.

"So," he said, clearing his throat and meeting her gaze with a steadier expression, "why have you come all this way?"

Callie straightened, meeting his question with quiet determination. "Because you're innocent. You're my family."

Sirius froze at her words, his grin fading into something raw and unreadable.

"And," she continued firmly, "we need to figure out how to expose Pettigrew once and for all."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with shared resolve and an unspoken understanding.

Time was running out.

When Callie got back to the Quidditch pitch, she was near right on time. Harry and Draco were fighting in the air for what she presumed was the snitch. Draco was good, but Harry was better; and did have the best broom in the world. He threw himself forwards, taking both hands off his broom. He knocked Draco's arm out of the way and—

"YES!"

The stadium erupted as Harry pulled out of his dive, soaring high above the crowd. His hand shot out in a tight fist, and there was no question: he had caught the snitch. The roar of the crowd reached a deafening peak.

The Gryffindor team swarmed around Harry, Oliver Wood lifting him off the ground in a bear hug. As soon as their feet touched down, the stands erupted in waves of crimson, a sea of celebration flooding the stadium. Callie stayed back, her heart swelling with pride for Harry. She was tempted to join the throng of students rushing to congratulate him, but something held her back, a hesitation she couldn't shake.

Hermione spotted her from the crowd and made her way over. "Why didn't you come back up?" she asked, crossing her arms, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Callie hesitated for a moment, the excitement and weight of the moment mixing in her chest. "The view from the ground looked better," she said, offering a small smile.

Hermione didn't seem convinced, as if she knew by now how to tell if Callie was lying, but if she thought so this time, she didn't press any further. Instead, she grabbed Callie's arm, urging her toward the crowd. Ron was already fighting his way through the throng, his towering frame making it easier for him to push past the students. Soon, they reached Harry, breathless and beaming with pride. Words failed them all. They simply smiled at him, their faces lighting up with shared joy, before Ron threw them all into a group hug.

Callie felt a rush of happiness as she laughed, grinning widely, but underneath it all, a knot of unease twisted in her stomach. She couldn't ignore the weight of what was to come. She knew what she and Sirius had to do, and though the future felt uncertain, she was determined to see it through. But deep down, she couldn't help but wonder: Would she lose everything she had gained since September in the process?

biiig chapter plot wise!!! our first family reunion, sirius and callie are the best uncle/niece duo ever yall its going to be so fun to delve deeper into their relationship the rest of this act and to ootp. im not commenting on that any further.

i decided to have callie take over hermione's BOOK scene of her punching malfoy because girlie is getting really unhinged, i liked it too and thought it would be a good swap. FEAR NOT, hermione still gets her punching scene because its too iconic not to include. and i just love seeing him get his ass beat 😌

happy monday, enjoy!