Chapter 52: 4-2

The hospital wing was now freezing cold. I hugged Harry, who was looking down, gripping the remains of his Nimbus. Ron and Hermione, who had been recounting what happened after Harry fainted, considerately left the room to give us space. Only Madam Pomfrey in her office and the two of us were left in the hospital wing.

In the end, it seemed the students assumed Dumbledore had cast the stag Patronus. Fortunately, everyone was focused on the pitch and Harry falling. Though sharp students like Hermione looked puzzled, murmuring that it looked like it came running from the stands...

"Maria."

"What is it, Harry?"

I stroked his back and leaned in to listen.

"I can hear... Mum's voice."

"...Yeah."

"She said, 'Not the children'—she was begging for our lives, not her own."

"Yeah."

"I... I can't stand it."

Accepting the heavy weight pressing against my shoulder, I hugged him even tighter.

I have heard that voice firsthand.

Father shouting to run. Mother repeating it. —Not Harry... Please, not Harry...

If Albus hadn't been holding my hand at that moment—if Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hadn't been by my side, I wouldn't have been able to endure it.

Even an adult would be overwhelmed by those feelings. How terrifying must it be for a child like Harry?

How... frustrating it must be.

"Harry. —Should we rely on an adult?"

"Huh?"

I cupped Harry's red-rimmed cheeks and pressed my forehead against his.

"You heard, didn't you? On the Hogwarts Express, Professor Lupin produced the same light as Dumbledore."

"Oh... yeah. He did."

"Let's ask him if we can do it too. Let's face your fears."

Harry, who had been taken aback, eventually nodded firmly. —Our mother's eyes were so beautiful.

After recuperating for a full week, Harry attended Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Lupin canceled the essay Professor Snape had prematurely assigned on werewolves, which Hermione protested with disappointment, and we stared at the Hinkypunk in its glass box. It was another class filled with laughter today. The bell rang, and we voluntarily stayed behind in the classroom.

"Hello, Harry, Maria. Was today's lesson difficult to follow?"

"No, it was brilliant as always."

"It was easy to understand and a lot of fun, Professor Lupin."

"I'm glad to hear it. Well then—I assume this isn't a question about the lesson?"

Harry and I exchanged glances and nodded.

"We want you to teach us how to repel Dementors."

Professor Lupin suddenly stopped packing away his teaching materials.

"You're asking... me?"

Professor Lupin was looking right at me. ...As I thought, the teachers know. I might get called in by Professor McGonagall soon.

"We heard you fought off a Dementor on the train, Professor. ...Do you know about what happened at the Quidditch match the other day?"

"Yes... I was sorry to hear about your broom. It hit the Whomping Willow, I heard. That tree—"

Stopping his packing completely, Professor Lupin shifted into a storytelling stance. We listened closely, as if embarking on an extracurricular lesson.

"—Professor, I understand how terrifying Dementors are. And that Black, who managed to escape them, must be completely mad. ...But I have to learn how to fight them. If I just keep fainting—"

"But Harry, that's—that's highly advanced magic, certainly not something a third-year could—"

Then, Professor Lupin gasped and stared at me—at my eyes.

Perhaps he was remembering. Remembering his old best friends who had achieved the impossible at an impossible age.

The genius, the prodigy, and the hard worker who had become Animagi—for him. ...Seeing them in these eyes.

"...Very well. But it will have to wait until next term. I have a mountain of things to do before the holidays begin. Can you wait?"

Harry nodded, his eyes shining. Seeing him like that made me happy too, and I ruffled his hair.

"Maria."

As we were leaving, he called out to me, just like a replay of before. Harry turned around with a slightly furrowed brow and a pouting expression.

"Maria again? Are you leaving me out?"

"No, no, Harry. I don't mean to. I'm not going to take your little sister away from you. ...I just want to ask her one thing."

Professor Lupin narrowed his eyes sorrowfully and asked me.

"Who did you... hear that from?"

I closed my eyes. —Because you only exist in my memories.

"From a brave person who was easily frightened, who had a furry little problem—and who knew how to fight fear better than anyone. ...And, he loved chocolate."

"..."

Professor Lupin's eyes widened in bewilderment. Did he understand? —He definitely understood. This report would undoubtedly be passed on to Dumbledore.

But that was fine. ...It was much better than never being able to thank him.

This time, I left the room with Harry.

Harry didn't ask anything. If it were me, I would have thrown a tantrum asking why they wouldn't tell me. —Did I make this little boy this way?

"Hey, Harry."

Our pace had naturally slowed.

"Are you... scared of Sirius Black?"

The rational part of my brain glared at me, telling me to shut up right now. But it was pushed to the back of my mind, completely powerless to stop my heated thoughts.

"Scared... I don't really know if I'm scared. I mean, I've never even met him."

"But you called him mad."

"...I won't say it anymore."

Harry stopped walking. Holding his hand, I inevitably stopped too.

"If it hurts you, I won't say it again."

His eyes when he makes a decision—they really are beautiful.

"...Am I hurt?"

"That's how it looks to me."

"If that's how it looks to you, Harry, then I suppose I am."

We started walking again. His footsteps, as he walked faithfully right beside me, were exactly the same as mine. —We were the same.

"I don't know anymore."

What on earth do I want to do?

Before the Christmas holidays, the second Hogsmeade weekend arrived. Harry had completely given up and was reading Which Broomstick. Ron and Hermione looked sorry for him. Seeing our two young best friends trying to fuss over Harry, I sensed it wasn't good for him right now, so I grabbed them by the shoulders and quickly ushered them out of the common room.

"Maria, what should I say to Harry?"

"You don't need to say anything, Hermione. Just leave him be for now."

"But I feel so bad for him. Not that he should sneak out of the castle—but it's Sirius Black who's the bad one, not Harry. Yet he looks like he's the one being punished."

"Oh, our dear Hermione, don't you get it? Maria is saying you're being a busybody. Rather than pitying him, he'd be a hundred times happier if you talked to him with one of your trademark schemes, like, 'Here's how you can sneak out.'"

"Thank you for the spot-on advice, dear Ron Weasley. In return, I'll give you some advice too. That Hermione Granger will definitely smell like Polyjuice Potion."

Since a lovers' quarrel had started with me caught in the middle, I quietly slipped away, leaving them among the students heading for Hogsmeade. Keep bickering happily, you two.

Now then, I wondered how Harry's mood was as I turned on my heel—only to be caught by some very familiar-feeling arms.

"Don't you think our little brother says smart things sometimes?"

It was the second generation of Marauders, giving off intense twin synchronicity. I was dragged away, completely off the ground like a captured alien.

"Maria, recognizing you as the next generation of Marauders, we, the second-generation Marauders, would like to present you with a certain item."

"A sliiightly early Christmas present."

"Please don't recognize me..."

A piece of parchment, deeply familiar yet unseen for a long time, was pulled from either Fred or George's robes.

"Watch, this is how you use it."

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

Four names appeared. Moony—Wormtail—Padfoot—Prongs.

The names that were proof of their friendship. I traced one with my finger. —Prongs. The one whose footsteps would never appear again.

Taking my silence as being speechless with surprise, the mischievous twins gleefully explained how they got it and how to use it.

"So now you won't be left behind."

"Have a wonderful Christmas, Maria."

"This is a Christmas present for Harry too, right?"

"Bloody right it is!"

After exchanging high-fives and watching the two of them head to Hogsmeade through the secret passage behind the one-eyed witch statue that the map was showing right now, I headed straight for Gryffindor Tower. Then, just as the portrait of the Fat Lady came into view, I suddenly stopped.

—If I give this to Harry, what will happen?

Harry would surely hear about Sirius's terrible false accusation. —He would hate him fiercely. Just like I did.

There are definitely differences in personality between me and Harry—Harry is much, much gentler—but our roots are the same. How much raging hatred would he end up harboring in his heart?

...Wouldn't it be fine if that child never knew?

I looked at the folded map.

Because, that's right. If I give it to Professor Lupin, have him find the living Wormtail, and make him certain of the truth about Sirius—

"...No."

The map crumpled in my hand.

No, that's ego. I can't be selfish. I have to narrow down to a single goal—and cut away everything unnecessary for the sake of that one thing.

Remember, Maria Potter. The tragedy of last year. Draco, looking like a corpse. Who the trigger was.

"You are not a hero."

I took a deep breath.

I hid the trembling in my voice behind the shout of the password.