HP and the Krystylarian Sorceresses(old)

Chapter One
The Explosion


A teenage boy sat in his bedroom, lying awake in his bed at the break of dawn. He was staring into the red and orange tinted sky, working on his Transfiguration essay on Animagi and animal forms. It was very advanced and difficult, describing all aspects of the subject.
Harry Potter was not a normal boy, even though his Aunt and Uncle, who he lived with, pretended that he was. Harry was a wizard and a good one too, but not as good, as he believed, as one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, a supremely gifted witch from a muggle, or non-magic family.
Harry’s parents had been killed by the Dark wizard Voldemort, who's true name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Harry's parents had been magical, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were definitely not. They had a son, Dudley, who was a very large bully. Harry had spent eleven miserable years living with the Dursleys, but then his Hogwarts letter had come, with great trouble, brought to him at last by Rubeus Hagrid the half-giant, gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts, and a current close friend of Harry. Hogwarts was the best and only school for wizards and witches in England. It had been founded over one thousand years ago by the four greatest wizards and witches of the time - Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. The current headmaster was Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards and sorcerers. Harry and been sorted into Gryffindor House, along with his two best friends, Ron Wesley and Hermione Granger.
Once Harry had left for Hogwarts, everything changed. He was famous, because he was the only person to have survived Avada Kadavera, the killing curse, and because he had succeeded in destroying Voldemort’s powers in the height of his regime, the wizard whom everyone still feared to speak his name. Harry had also made two best friends, the first friends in his life, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The three of them had battled Dark Wizards and evil curses and spells for five years, with help from others, including the rest of Ron’s large family, Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, and Dumbledore himself.
Two years ago, near the end of the last term of school, Voldemort had once again returned, with the held of the traitor who sold Harry’s parents to Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail for his Animagus form. A secret society was put into motion once again, the Order of the Phoenix, headed by Dumbledore.
Most of Harry's summer was being spent on the lookout for trouble caused by Voldemort, and avoiding Dudley, otherwise he would be bothered. Dudley was worse than he had ever been since Harry had left for Hogwarts, and Harry had an idea why - the Dementors. Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk the earth. They suck away all of your happiness, and feed on your misery, forcing you to relive the worst moments of your life. They had come here to his aunt and uncles house, to Little Winging, last year, and had tried to kill both him and Harry. So far Dudley had either ignored him, or threatened him. Harry somewhat preferred it that way. Dudley was still to afraid of Harry to do anything to him, though. Thankfully.
Harry couldn’t concentrate on his homework. He read from Advanced Transfiguration:
“Animal form can be achieved by only the most advanced wizards and witches. This has nothing to do with age, only with magical power. At first, the animal form may change, especially if the Animagus is still an adolescent.”
Harry stared out the window, trying to remember his dream. It had been a terrible dream, but not yet a nightmare. Not like the terrifying nightmares about the night that Voldemort had returned. He put his head in his hands, desperately trying to remember. Suddenly, it came to him. He heard Cho Chang, a pretty Asian seventh-year, who had once been with Harry, crying, like always. Then he found himself in a spare classroom at Hogwarts, holding a sword encrusted with rubies, the same sword that he had pulled out of the sorting hat in his second year, crouching, waiting for something, but he could not tell what. That image faded, and he saw a pretty girl with cinnamon colored skin raven-black hair in a long plait surpassing her waist, and deep, bright, dark brown eyes standing next to him. He noticed the light purple crystal strung about her neck on a thin gold chain. He was occupied with studying it, and it took him a while to realize that she was staring at something in front of her. When he turned to meet her gaze, he saw that he was looking at the place where the Room of Requirement should be. The door suddenly appeared, and as he strode through it after the mysterious girl, he saw a large gathering of women and girls all wearing crystals around there necks in varying shapes and designs, just like the strange girl. The room was glowing with a strange and powerful light, and there was also a coat of arms that was very ornate and said K.S. . . .
Before he could recognize anything else, he felt himself being whisked away, worse than Floo Powder. He saw that he was in the Department of Mysteries, with Death Eaters closing in around him. Standing next to him was Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, and also the strange girl, Lavender Brown, Padama and Parvati Patil, Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, and a Slytherin girl that he did not know the name of, although he knew her from sight. He was jerked away form the scene once more and this time reappeared on an island. There were other islands around him.
“This is the Isle of Drear.” The same strange girl said. This time, he realized that her eyes were an astonishingly violet color. Then he saw Voldemort’s face, laughing hysterically. It was coming closer, and closer, and closer. . .
Harry jerked his head up, shivering. What could this mean? He wondered. “And who is that girl?” he continued. He was surprised at himself, for remembering so much of his dream - they usually slipped away after his awakening like water held in his cupped hands.
“AH!” Harry yelled and rolled over, clutching his scar. How it burned just then! He slowly rolled up into a sitting position, still clutching his scar, which was now pulsing. Realizing how hungry he was, he fully stood up to go down stairs, hoping to avoid any member of the Dursley’s. Before he had reached the door though, he heard a persistent tapping at the window. Turning, he saw Hedwig, his snowy owl, circling to stay air, with three letters tied to her leg, and a dead rat clutched in her beak. He quickly walked over and opened the window. She came sailing in, and landed smoothly on his bed.
“Hi Hedwig.” Harry said, striding over to relieve her of her burden. Harry sat down again and stroking her, ripped open one of the letters. It was from Ron Weasley, his best friend.
Harry!
Dumbledore reckons you can come any day now. It’s empty here, without Sirius. Hermione isn’t here either. She’s in Spain. Guess what? Remember Fleur Delacour? She’s now a member. An outpost for France. Kreacher is being his old horrible self again, calling us ‘blood traitors’. I reckon you should whack off his head and stick it on a plaque, Harry, like his mum. Hey, that's his life long obsession, isn't it?
Just don't tell Hermione that I said that, she's still onto the spew thing.
Ron
The second one was from Lupin.
Harry,
Dumbledore will be sending someone to get you soon, hopefully in a couple of days, if this letter reaches you quickly. I can’t write much, but when you come, I want a private word. Practice your Occlumency. Best wishes from Moody, Tonks and the rest.
Lupin
Why would Lupin want a private word? Harry wondered. He opened the third letter. It was from Hermione.
Harry!
How are you? I’m in Spain right now, taking a vacation with my parents. Ron says that he is at headquarters. Listen. I went to see a Quidditch match and guess who was playing? Olivier Wood!!! He was really good, and his team won. While I was there, I met this girl, Viola Madrigal. Pansy Parkinson is here too, which is really horrible, she being the same cow that she always is. Viola used to live in America, and went to the Salem Witches Academy in Salem, Massachusetts, but this year she is transferring to Hogwarts to get her N.E.W.T.S. She is really nice, and she said that she is going to be in Gryffindor! I’m flying in soon, maybe today. Spain was really fun, but I'm home now.
Hope to see you really soon,
Hermione
Wow! Harry thought. Wood was playing Quidditch in Spain! And lucky Hermione, to be there. He thought about what she had said, about the new girl that would be at Hogwarts this year. If Hermione liked her, that would mean that she was smart and logical, and also kind. If she was a Gryffindor, then he probably would like her too.
Harry put the letters down on his bed and checked his watch.
“Perfect.” He said to himself happily. “Just in time to catch the news.” He listened for any sounds of movement. The fact that he heard loud snores coming from the adjoining rooms gave him visible, or rather, audible, proof that the Dursleys were still asleep. He went downstairs, helped himself to a piece of toast, and turned the telly on.
It had already started.
‘There’s bad traffic on 2-8A and there is a minor accident on 3-4B. The weather is still dry, and without a cloud in the sky, very unusual for these parts. If you look outside, your grass is most likely brown. Now on to the major news with Nadia.”
“Thank you, Hedda.” The reporter said smoothly. “Now onto Bronson with the update.”
“The convict escapee,” the reporter said, “Sirius Black has no chance of being seen again. That’s right folks; he’s out of the running.”
Harry became upset. He knew that Sirius was not . . . He couldn’t be. He just knew it.
“Oh my goodness!” The reporter suddenly exclaimed. Harry leaned forward in his seat. This couldn’t be good. “A plane has just exploded outside of England, killing everyone, except for one young woman.”
Harry gasped. Hermione! Worry fled through his mind. She said that she might be flying in today, and since her parents were muggles, she had to mean in a plane. He laid back against the couch at a loss for words. How could this be happening?
“Whaddaya watchin’?” barked Uncle Vernon as a way of saying good morning. Harry hesitated, knowing that they didn’t like him watching the news, but decided to tell them, since there had been a disaster.
“The news.” Harry said coolly.
“Whaddaya watchin’ the news for, eh? Any normal kid doesn't have a clue ‘bout what’s goin’ on, look at Dudley for example . . . besides, there’s nothin’ important. Not like your kind would get on the news.” He broke off into a trail of mumbling. Harry interrupted him.
“I’m watching for news on Vold,” He broke off, hearing someone walk down the steps. It was Aunt Petunia. She looked at both of them, clearly figuring out what they had been doing. She gave Harry a very hawkish look.
“What have you been doing now, boy?” She said in a sharp, forbidding tone.
“He’s been watchin’ the bloody news.”
“What for? We’ve told you to stop watching the news boy!”
“I was watching for news about Voldemort.”
Aunt Petunia gasped and Uncle Vernon’s face turned purple.
“What?! Isn't he that guy that sent those, er, dementoids after you?”
“Harry shook his head.
“Somebody else sent the Dementors after me. But Voldemort, when he was in power, liked to kill mug, well, people like you, non-magi, well, normal people, for fun. It was his idea of a sport. Since he’s back, I’ve figured that he would start doing it again. If it did, it would come on the news as some sort of unusual disaster or some kind of freak accident.”
“Nothing is going to happen.” Uncle Vernon interjected, trying to sound as though he was not at all nervous, worried, or concerned.
“Something just has. A plane’s exploded outside of England. I figure that it must be him.”
Uncle Vernon turned a sickly shade of green, and Aunt Petunia grabbed onto her husbands arm for support.
“A, a plane exploded? But, but, how?”
“Yeah boy, how?”
“I don’t know how he did it, just that he did. They said that everyone, except one girl, died. She was probably a witch, and he didn’t want to kill her. She would have to be a pureblood; otherwise it wouldn’t have mattered to him. Maybe she was the one who caused the plane to explode. Even though there is only one female Death Eater, she’s older, and they said that she was young. Maybe she was someone’s daughter, or sister, or cousin, or some sort of distant relation.” He said to himself
The news was back on. The reporter said:
“We have received new information concerning the crisis. These men,” he motioned behind him, “are the possible masterminds behind this terrible catastrophe.”
Some of the pictures were unfamiliar, but some of them were very, very familiar.
“That's Avery! And that’s Wormtail!!!”
“Wormtail?” He chuckled. “What kind of name is Wormtail?” Harry turned sharply around.
“It’s his nickname. His real name is Peter Pettigrew.”
“P-P-P-Peter P-P-Pettigrew? Isn't he . . . dead?” His aunt said.
“Everyone thought that he was. Sirius Black, my godfather, was supposed to have killed him. But he didn’t. Wormtail framed him. No he’s gone back to Voldemort, and he helped him come back.” Harry was surprised at what his aunt knew, but she was odd.
The news reporter said the same thing.
“Oh my.” Aunt Petunia whispered hoarsely. She suddenly walked into the kitchen, saying something about making breakfast.
Harry heard loud thumps resounding from the stairs. Dudley was obviously awake. Harry didn’t want to be bothered by him, so he made a move to leave. For once, Uncle Vernon was quicker. He grabbed Harry’s arm tightly.
“Not so fast, boy.” Uncle Vernon growled, his face back to its normal color.
“Let me go!” Harry said angrily, struggling futilely.
“Just you listen, boy.” Uncle Vernon continued, unperturbed by Harry’s unsuccessful attempts to break free. “I would have thrown you out by now, just as Marge says, straight to the orphanage, if it wasn't for, well . . .” He paused, apparently looking for the right word.
“For what?” Dudley said thickly. He had been watching their struggle, since Uncle Vernon getting Harry was still one of his favorite amusements.
“Not now Dudley, go to the kitchen.” Uncle Vernon said firmly.
“But,” Dudley protested.
“Dudley,” Uncle Vernon said warningly. “NOW!” Dudley stomped off to the kitchen, from which Harry could hear the sounds of a delicious breakfast being made.
This event amounted to the unusual happening’s this morning. Dudley was never sent away, and always got what he wanted. Harry, being very glad that Dudley was gone, since he was such a nuisance, turned back to Uncle Vernon, who went on.” Anyway, if any of your funny business, any of your, your, abnormality,” He said, stressing the word, “Harms any of us, I swear, I swear that I will throw you out!”
“That’s just an empty threat, I know that you can’t. And besides, I don’t have any control over it.” said Harry angrily, shrugging of Uncle Vernon's arm. Before he could say anything else, Harry stalked up the stairs.
Harry knew what he had to do. He had to send Hedwig to every magical person that he knew, so that he could notify them, if they didn’t already know and to get more information about the explosion. He scribbled the letters quickly, One to Hermione, Ron, and Lupin and Sirius.
“Be quick, alright Hedwig?” Harry told his pet owl, stroking her gently. “Don’t let anyone open the letters.” With one final affectionate nip on the finger, Hedwig took off.
Harry sat down on his bed and ran his hands through his uncombed hair. What should I do now? He thought. Then, he remembered: Mrs. Figg.
It didn’t surprise Harry that he hadn’t thought of her before. After all, he had just found out that she was a squib, or someone form a wizarding family without and magic talents, last year, when she had vouched for him at his trial for the underage use of magic.
He quickly put on his trainers and flew down the steps. “I’m going out. He told the empty parlor. He hurriedly pulled the door open, and walked as quickly as he could over to Mrs. Figg’s home, which was just a few houses away, on Wisteria Walk.
A he waited, he wondered what he expected to hear form her. She kept in contact with Dumbledore, and was knowledgeable about the existence of the Order of the Phoenix. As he thought, Mrs. Figg took him by surprise by sharply opening the door. Before he could speak, she commanded
“Come in, Harry.” Her voice was quick and thin. Harry stepped inside and she shut the door as quickly as she had opened it.
“Sit down.” She said. Harry cut her off.
“Have you heard about the explosion?” He asked quickly.
“Of course. That’s why you’re here, I presume.” Mrs. Figg said comfortably as she set about making tea.
Harry started to get angry. How could she be so calm? How could she be making tea and biscuits when this, this disaster had happened?
“Now now, Harry, there is no reason to be getting upset. Mrs. Figg said, calmer than ever.
“I’m not upset.” She gave him a piercing look. “Well, maybe a little bit. How could you tell?” She carried the tea tray over to the table.
“Harry, sit down and make yourself comfortable.” Harry resistingly sat down.
“How could you tell that I was, um, upset?” Harry repeated.
“I could sense it. Mrs. Figg said. “It is a sort of ancient wisdom old wizarding folk get, the power to sense things. She sat down and picked up her cup.
“Aren’t you a squib?” Harry asked curiously. “I thought that squibs couldn’t do magic.
“Oh, they can’t, not with a wand. But I've still got wizard blood in my veins, don’t I?” She said mysteriously.
Harry sat there. “Well, drink your tea!” He did and felt a surprising warmth run through him. “Your fathers name is your middle one, is it not?”
“What? Oh, yes.”
“Good, good.” She said, mysteriously, nodding.
“Who was the last survivor?”
“A young girl, about your age. Her name is Pansy Parkinson.” Harry was surprised. He knew her!
“Well, it was nice talking to you.” He said.
“Oh, good-bye.” Mrs. Figg said. Harry walked out the door.
He stood for a moment, outside the door, with his hands in his pockets. He turned his gaze upwards. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, as it always was this summer. It was so strange, as it was always raining here, that there was never any rain anymore. All of the usually well kept lawns were brown and dead.
Harry walked towards the park. His eyes were on the ground, not focusing on anything. A rare breeze swept through his hair. He realized that the only thing he had learned from his visit to Mrs. Figg was that Voldemort was behind it, and that Pansy Parkinson was the survivor. Had she done it? It was highly possible. She was in Slytherin, and she was with Malfoy. They had probably asked her to do it, and from what he knew from Hermione, she wasn't very bright, so of course she would have accepted.
Now Harry faced the bleak outlook of another day of doing . . . nothing. He would much rather be with . . . at the Order.
“Absolutely nothing. “ He murmured angrily to himself. Now the Dursleys would always be watching him with a wary eye, as though he might explode at any second. He walked down Wisteria Lane with his arms wrapped around his waist. He wondered when he would be able to go back to Grimmauld Place. He suddenly realized that he didn’t want to go back, without Sirius there.
Harry looked up and realized that he had reached the playground. It was as empty as his heart. He sat down on a bench and slowly rocked back and forth. He was a little mad that he was still stuck here, but he couldn’t let himself get angry at his friends again, like last year. It wasn't their fault that he was cooped up at Privet Drive again this year, at least Ron and Hermione weren’t together without him, unless Hermione had already come back.
“It’s not right!” Harry called furiously, and kicked the post. “It’s not… not…” he struggled for the right word.
“Fair?” A calm, familiar female voice from behind him said. Harry stood and turned sharply around.
“Hermione!!!” Harry exclaimed happily. There stood one of his very best friends. She had on jeans and trainers and was wearing a happy smile as she gazed at him. He seriously noticed her now even teeth, but what struck him most was her hair. It was quite a deal longer, with her bangs almost all the way grown out. It had gold highlights - perhaps form the sun in Spain, for she was also tan - and it seemed less bushy and much wavier in appearance. She actually had it styled somewhat, with some of it pulled back out of her face. He leapt towards her and hugged her.
“Harry it’s so good to see you again!” They smiled.
“It’s really good to see you too.” He said happily. There was a pause, and then Harry said “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing you back, of course, what else would I be doing? Tonks and I were sent to get you, since we have good experience around Muggles.”
“Brilliant,” Harry nodded, contemplating the effects of Mad-Eye Moody strolling down Privet Drive.
“Well, we better go back to your house. Tonks is getting your things, since she knows where your bedroom is, from last year.” They walked back together.
“How did you get here?” Harry asked, suddenly wondering how exactly she had reached Privet Drive.
“With Floo Powder. Since the Ministry is now in cooperation with us, they agreed to extend the network to your house for today.” She said knowingly.
“Like what they did when Mr. Weasley came to get me for the Quidditch World Cup.” Harry said.
“Yes.” Hermione nodded. “Of course, we all forgot that your family might have blocked up the fireplace again.” Harry caught a little smile playing along her lips. “It’s a bit risky though, because anyone might come through the fireplace.” She said worriedly. Harry looked at her, worried as well.
“By accident?” He asked.
“Or on purpose.” She said severely. “But the Ministry is watching the line, so it should be fine.” She finished in an unconvincingly reassuring tone.
They had reached Privet Drive. Harry opened the door to Number Four, and let her in. He was just quietly closing the door when Hermione jumped. He turned around. Uncle Vernon had jumped in front of her, preventing her, with his astonishing size, from walking any further into the house.
“Who’re you?” Uncle Vernon said furiously, his beefy hands balled up into fists, his face red from fury.
“Well I, er, I’m Harry’s friend.” She said tentatively.
“From that ruddy school, no doubt!” Uncle Vernon shouted furiously.
“Well-” She began.
“I’ve had enough of these, these, these you-know-what's, in, my, HOUSE!” He screamed. Hermione seemed to be quite taken aback.
“Yes, well, I was just, er, taking Harry, away, for, the rest of the summer.” She said. “If you would please just step aside, Mr. Dursley, I'll just take Harry away through the fire place.”
Uncle Vernon seemed to be contemplating deeply. He slowly stepped aside. At that same moment, Tonks came down the steps, her hair a shocking color of the brightest purple, and carrying his heavy trunk. Upon seeing him she did her best to wave a cheery hello and not drop his trunk at the same time. He smiled and waved back. He heard the rush of flames behind him, and quickly turned around. He saw Hermione standing in front of the fire, her not so bushy hair in her face.
“You first, Harry.” she said, standing up and fixing her hair. Giving her a small smile, he stepped forward and said “Grimmauld Place, number twelve.” He felt the rush of green flames ripping about him and clamping his hands on his glasses to stop them form flying off, waited for the terrible journey to end.
He suddenly fell out of the fireplace with a loud thud and a crunch that meant that he had once again broken his glasses. He slowly stood up and stepped aside, and he was just in time for Hermione stumbled out of the fire, and if Harry had still been lying there, she would have fallen on top of him.
“You broke your glasses again?” She said reproachfully, rubbing soot out of her eyes. “Oh well, some one can fix them. Everyone seems to be downstairs. C’mon,” she beaconed, and started to walk in the other direction.
Holding the broken pieces of his glasses up to his eyes, he realized that he was in one of the bedrooms. It was very different. The walls, floor, and ceiling were clean, and the beds looked new and the bedclothes warm and inviting. He was still wondering where he was when he saw the apparently blank painting of Phineus Negiellus.
A flood of feelings suddenly enveloped him. Most of them he could not name, but that aching loneliness, a feeling that a part of him was missing, and anger were the ones most strong. He stood in the center of the room, being washed away on a powerful wave of feelings when he heard Hermione’s questioning voice penetrate his bubble.
“Harry?” He heard her worried voice. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah.” he said, shaking himself and trying to sound cheerful. He quickly thumped down the steps. Hermione was waiting, leaning against the banister. Her hair definitely looked less bushy. He decided to ask.
“Hermione,” He started fumblingly.
“Hmm?” She said turning.
“Your hair definitely looks less, er,” He didn’t know quite how to word it. “ Um, bushy. How. . .” He trailed off. She smiled broadly.
“I’ve been using this enchanted brush That Viola made. I think I told you about her, didn’t I? She’s coming here next year.” She looked up into his face. Upon seeing that he had nodded, she continued. “Anyway, it changes the style of your hair. I decided that my hair was way too ugly to keep it that way, so I've been using that, and it works really well.” He shook his head.
“I never thought that it looked ugly.” He said truthfully. Her face broke into a happy, yet unbelieving expression.
“C’mon. Let’s go down. I wonder what’s taking Tonks so long.” Her question was answered by a series of resounding thumps from the room above. Tonks came out, brushing her disheveled, short violet hair out her face.
“Whew. They sure gave my trouble.” She said with a slight touch of annoyance in her voice.
“Why am I not surprised.” Harry said under his breath. Hermione laughed quietly.
They walked downstairs together. As they approached the entrance hall, Harry stopped short in surprise.
They walls were painted bright white, and all remnants of the Dark artifacts had disappeared. Well, almost. The painting of Sirius’s mother was still hung, and the Black family tree was still there. There was something different about her too, but he couldn’t remember. Then he realized that even though all of her uninvited guests were in the same room as her, she wasn’t screaming. Instead she was sitting as still as a piece of marble and looked like one as well.
“She’s been like that ever since she heard about Sirius. I think she didn’t hate him as much as we all believed.” Hermione whispered quietly into his ear as they passed. Harry nodded and pulled away.
He didn’t want to hear about Sirius.
She seemed to have sensed how he was feeling because she didn’t say anything else.
He could see light through the crack in the door, and he heard voices.
Hermione pushed open the door. A wave of light flooded into his eyes as he stepped in. As his eyes slowly focused, he saw the eyes of the Weasleys and other members of the Order on him and Hermione.
“Harry, you’re here!” Ginny exclaimed brightly. Her flame colored hair was longer and wavier, and she seemed to have matured greatly since he had last seen her. Mrs. Weasley strode forward, blocking his view of Ginny.
“Oh Harry.” She beamed, enveloping him in a large embrace.
“Hey, mate!” Ron, Fred, and George were all reclining on the table next to Ginny.
When Harry spotted a familiar silvery blonde head of hair coming towards him, he immediately stepped behind Hermione.
“We meet again, ‘Arry Potter.” The heavy French accent of Fleur Delacour pervaded his senses.
“It’s good to see you, too.” He said thickly.
He felt the touch of a hand on his back, and coming back to his senses, turned to see the expectant face of Lupin gazing down at him, looking poorer and more tired than ever.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked worriedly.
“I’m fine.” His voice sounded strained. “Have you been practicing your Occlumency?”
“I’ve been trying.”
“Listen.” Lupin pulled him closer. “There’s going to be danger for you at Hogwarts this year. Violet Singolet -“
“She was the one who survived the explosion!”
“Yes. She’s under a lot of suspicion. Be careful around her. She’s in Slytherin. And be wary of her beauty. She is extremely beautiful. Even though she has vela blood in her, her hair is black. You must protect your mind, Harry. For if she is evil she could pry into it.”
“Alright. I will.” He sincerely hoped that he could keep his promise. Lupin strode away, and he went to join Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
“Hi Harry!” Ginny greeted his excitedly.
“Hey Ginny.” Harry replied, and for once, she did not blush.
“What did Lupin want” Ron asked. Harry leaned closer.
“He told me about this girl, Violet Singolet.”
“I’ve met her.” Hermione interrupted. “I didn’t like her at all.” Harry nodded.
“He said to watch out for her. She’s the one that survived the plane crash, and she’s under a lot of suspicion. He also told me to practice my Occlumency, because if she is with the other side, she could attack my mind. They gasped.
“How could she do that?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Hey Ron, am I sleeping in the same room this time?” Harry cut her off.
"Yeah. You want to put your stuff up there?”
“Sure.” Harry said, ignoring an affronted Hermione. As the two of them walked up the stairs, Hermione muttered something to Ginny, which Harry was definitely certain was not at all positive.