𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗦

𝐈𝐈𝐈

When Hermione's Daily Prophet arrived, she smoothed it out, gazed for a moment at the front page gave a yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her.
"What?" said Harry and Ron together.
For answer she spread the newspaper on the table in front of them and pointed at ten black–and–white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards' faces and the tenth, a witch's.
Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.
Augustus Rookwood, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of the picture, looking bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named. 
He looked up at the picture of the familiar woman, Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom. 
Hermione nudged Harry and pointed at a caption that made Harry choke on his own breath.

Ray Avery, convicted of the brutal murders of the entire McKinnon family, with the assistance of the late Jennifer Potter.
R

on and Hermione gaped at him, they never expected his Aunt to be a Death Eater or a murderer at all costs. "She must've died in Azkaban..." Hermione said, but Harry hardly registered her words, his own blood, his Father's sister, had been a Death Eater. 
He recalled Phineas' words, "A pride of Slytherin" and "Shame she wasn't a Black." It all made sense now, and he was really, really delighted at the fact she was no longer alive. He owed an apology to both Remus and Sirius.
He glanced up at the staff table. It was a different story there: Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave.
Professor Sprout had the Prophet propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg yolk from her stationary spoon.
Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once her pouchy toad's eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall for misbehaving students.
Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Snape was furiously eating his cereal, the Daily Prophet crumpled almost into a ball beside him, he scowled every once in a while and was angrily muttering to himself. 

"One – two – three – Legilimens!"
A hundred Dementors were swooping towards Harry across the lake in the grounds ... he screwed up his face in concentration ... they were coming closer ... he could see the dark holes beneath the hoods ... yet he could also see Snape standing in front of him, his eyes fixed to Harry's face, muttering under his breath ... and somehow, Snape was growing clearer, and the Dementors were growing fainter ...
Harry raised his own wand.
"Protego!"
Snape staggered — his wand flew upwards, away from Harry — and suddenly Harry's mind was teeming with memories that were not his— a greasy–haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom... a hooked nosed man shouting at a cowering woman... two boys and a girl, in Slytherin robes, laughed and played in the snow...
"ENOUGH!"
Harry felt though he had been pushed hard in the chest; he staggered several steps backwards, hit some of the steps covering Snape's walls and heard something crack. Snape was shaking slightly, and was very white in the face.

"I saw her.", Harry said breathlessly, back in the Common Room, to Ron and Hermione. 
"Who?"
"I invaded Snape's memories by accident, and she was there."

Godric’s Hollow is located in the West Country of southwestern England, putting it in the heart of perhaps the most wizarding-friendly region in Britain. Ottery St Catchpole is in this area, as are Cornwall, Devon, several Quidditch teams, and a number of known Quidditch stadiums built on the abundant local moors.   
Godric's Hollow is one of the places where magical families have come to live alongside Muggles. Over the centuries, it has been home to many wizards and witches of note, including Godric Gryffindor, who was born there, and Bowman Wright who forged the first Golden Snitch there in the Middle Ages.