Bella and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Bella, wait!"

I ignore Hermione's cry and carry on running towards the castle. We had finally left Hagrid's after he had another breakdown, we had to tell him we had a curfew soon which he believed easily.  I knew Harry, Ron, and Hermione were rushing after me, probably wanting to talk, but I stand by what I said. Keeping them away from me and the murderer blood that runs through my veins. 

"Bella, seriously!"

A hand shot out and grabbed my arm causing me to stop running and face the person who had grabbed me. It was Harry. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide with fear - so it should be. I am to be feared. Ron and Hermione finally caught up, both of them breathing heavily as well. 

"Let go of me!" I hissed, struggling to break out of his grasp. 

"Only if you promise not to run,"

I shake my head. "I can't promise you that"

"Then I can't let you go," Harry states. 

I sigh and give up struggling. He doesn't let go of my arm but loosens his grip a little. 

"What do you want?" I ask, looking at them all. 

"To talk," Hermione answers. 

They each then went on and told me how they didn't care that Black was my father and that he murdered a lot of people because 'that doesn't define who I am'. I was still in denial until Harry looked me in the eyes - giving me that weird feeling in my stomach again - and told me that I was better than Black and he didn't care that my father killed his parents because I am nothing like him. In the end, we all made up and promised one another to never allow our past to define who we are. 

Though I had no means forgotten about Black (or forgiven him), I couldn't brood constantly on it if I wanted to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Me, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the library the next day and returned to the empty Common Room laden with books which might help prepare a defence for Buckbeak. The four of us sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when we ran across something relevant.

"Here's something...there was a case in 1722...but the Hippogriff was convicted - urgh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting-"

"This might help, look - a Manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Manticore off - oh - no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it..."

Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air. 

On Christmas morning, I was woken by Ron throwing his pillow at me. (We had all decided to sleep in the Common Room together)

"Oy! Presents!"

I sat up and rubbed my head, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of my sleeping bag, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents. 

"Another jumper from Mum...maroon again...see if you've got one"

I had. Mrs Weasley had sent me and Harry a scarlet jumper with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake and a box of nut brittle. Just as I was about to move all my presents to one side, I noticed a small, rectangular white box just sitting underneath all the wrapping paper. I gently picked it up, untied the little blue bow and opened it. Inside was a beautiful, golden, heart-shaped locket with a simple design. I gasped and gently touched it.