[Book 1]
❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. ❞
Serena grew up well sheltered in a Muggle suburb with her mother. Little did she know what horrible past lies behind her well-known last name. Her life, which was as...
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• Serena Black •
"The surest way to keep a secret is to make people believe they already know the answer."
Hermione had meant it well, Serena knew that, and yet she was angry with her. For a few hours she had owned the best broom in the world and now, just because she had interfered, she might never see it again.
She was sure by now that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt, for how could her father buy a broom or anything else? After all, he was wanted by wizards and muggles all over the country and everyone feared him.
What worried Serena more at that moment was the thought of what the broom might look like once it had been thoroughly examined for all sorts of evil spells.
Harry and Ron were also furious with Hermione. If it were up to the youngest Weasley son, dismantling a brand new Firebolt was nothing short of criminal damage to property. Hermione, however, remained firmly convinced that she had acted only for their own good, and appeared less and less frequently in the common room. They suspected that she had sought refuge in the library and did not even try to retrieve her.
It was the penultimate evening of the Christmas holidays before classes started again. Serena sat alone in the common room by the fireplace, enjoying the quiet before the students would return the next day and the common room would be noisy and crowded again.
Next to her was the book on Quidditch she had received from Harry for Christmas. She had opened the first page but couldn't concentrate on what was written. Her head was buzzing with too many thoughts and the warmth of the crackling flames, which cast large shadows on the walls, made her feel drowsy.
Serena felt bad that she hadn't told Harry about the memories with his parents or about the pictures. But she was sure it would only make the black-haired boy angrier. She would tell him about it as soon as things had calmed down a bit. If that ever happened.
The Gryffindor stretched out on the sofa and yawned heartily. Maybe she should start going to sleep, after all it must be long past midnight, she thought. Just as she was about to get up, however, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Curious, Serena turned to the source of the sound and spotted Harry cautiously sneaking into the common room. His gaze was fixed intently on the marauder's map before he straightened up and looked directly at her.
The fading shock in his green eyes showed that he hadn't expected to run into anyone, "Serena, what are you still doing here?"
"Couldn't sleep and you?" she asked in a brittle voice that confirmed she was indeed tired. Nevertheless, she brought herself to rise from the comfortable armchair. Harry's gaze, meanwhile, wandered back to the map he held in his hands. For a moment he seemed to be struggling with himself, but finally he spoke up, "Do you remember Peter Pettigrew?"
