~Astra~

I gripped the ferry railing, bracing myself against the cold. With everything that had happened in the six months since I'd seen my father, it seemed like years. It was also a bit surprising that Mr. Potter had been able to pull off a visit, honestly. He said he wasn't sure if he's able to do it again soon, so I was planning on making the most of the hour.

Once again, Mr. Potter made me wait with Mr. Macmillan while other aurors went to drive the dementors off. After about five minutes, he led me upstairs and unlocked the door to my father's cell.

I burst in, not even needing to think to get my Patronus to follow me. "Father!"

There he was, just as I remembered, matted hair and hallow cheeks, in a ragged prisoner's uniform. His face lit up at in the light of my patronus, though. He staggered to his feet and held his arms out. I didn't waste time in launching myself into them. "Little Star," he whispered, hugging me tightly.

After a minute, I pulled back, reaching for the bag looked over my shoulder. "Aunt Andromeda made you a jumper." I pulled it out. It was red, the brightest thing in the gray room.

"You'll have to thank her for me," he said, smiling at it.

"Oh, and Colette suggested I bring you some books." I took them out of my bag as he pulled the jumper over his head. "She picked out this one, a history book about spells. And this one I picked out, about quidditch, and Aunt Andromeda said to bring a Bible, too, because you can't really beat that."

"I appreciate it, darling," he said, gently setting the books on the floor.

"How have you been?"

"Slightly more sane," he said. "Writing you has helped."

Even the overwhelming heaviness of the dementors couldn't keep me from grinning. "I'm glad! And really, I'm sorry about June. Running off to the Ministry wasn't my best idea. It won't happen again."

He chuckled. "Good to hear."

"Oh! I do have good news, though! I was writing you about Wren, remember?" He nodded. "A few days after I wrote to you, she got summoned by her uncle, and he believed her!" The whole story poured out as we sat down side by side. My father listened, nodding, as I explained about Zaria and Stillens, even including the fact that Wren wasn't going to tell James. "Don't you think she should?"

"I think it's completely her choice," my father said.

"Oh, yes, I know," I said quickly. "I just... I think she's making the wrong one."

"And she'll handle the consequences if she is. But you don't know if she is or not. Like you've said, James Potter does tend to get angry quickly. You and he both have wound up in bad situations because of it."

I sighed. "I know. I just feel like I should do something."

"You shouldn't." My father put his hand on my shoulder, smiling. "I know you care a lot about your friends, and you just want what's best for them, but micromanaging their interactions with each other won't bring what's best. Just let them work through things on their own."

He had a point. Wren had been manipulated too many times for me to step in and try to add to it. And, strange as it was, she understood James a little better than I did. She had he benefit of not sharing his (and my) most dangerous quality: a lack of impulse control. Besides, she knew how to handle herself. I slowly nodded. "You're right. Thanks."

He smiled. "Now, tell me what else has been going on in your summer."

Not much had gone on in my summer, of course. I'd spent a few days with the Malfoys, and met with Colette every Saturday until she'd ran away. However, the running away part was actually quite a bit of explaining (and angrily venting about her dad, who was campaigning for prat of the year). Before I knew it, Mr. Macmillan was tapping on the door to alert us that we had about five minutes left.

I sighed. "Well, I'm sorry I didn't manage to get a trial last semester. Now that Parliament's basically run by Stillens, it might take a little longer."

My father shook his head as we both stood. "Don't worry about me, Astra. Once you've been here long enough, you get used to it."

That wasn't true. Unless he meant "you go crazy," which I doubted. You never got used to dementors, I was sure. But I smiled and acted like his words reassured me. "I just want you to be proud of me."

"Oh, darling," he said as I hugged him tightly, "you don't have to do anything to make me proud. I'm proud of you already."

It was probably just the dementors, but I suddenly needed to wipe tears from my eyes.

An hour isn't enough time, I thought as Mr. Macmillan closed the cell door behind me. I understood it was asking a lot to have so many people back dementors just for me to speak to my father, but an hour didn't feel like enough time. I had sixteen years of a relationship to make up for. As optimistic as I was, I knew that if Stillens' government wasn't taken down, these hours were all I would ever have. I wanted to make the most of them. There was just so much to say, and no time to say it.

I realized Mr. Macmillan has stopped behind me, and turned to ask him what was wrong. He was stopped outside a cell door, his wand held against it. It wasn't Rodolphus Lestrange's cell, so I didn't know who it was. Everyone on this level was a convicted Death Eater, though, as far as I knew, and had been here for years, so I had no idea what he was doing. I slowly walked back to him. "Mr. Macmillan?"

He held up a hand to silence me, so I moved to where I could see through the window. Then I gasped.

It was Carrow. She didn't notice us, and I wasn't sure if she could. She was huddled against the wall, staring into space, still in the robes she'd been wearing the day of the attack, when we'd last seen her.

"What is she—"

Mr. Macmillan clapped his free hand over my mouth and shook his head quickly. After a moment, he pulled us both down the hall. Neither of us spoke until we'd reached the stairs, then he turned to me. "They bugged the room," he whispered.

"Carrow's?"

He nodded. "She shouldn't be on this hall. That's why I stopped. I suppose they expected us to notice her and speak to her. Maybe they thought visiting your father was just a cover for us to pass information to her?" He shook his head. "I'm just glad they didn't bug your father's cell. I'm glad I bothered to check."

"Who did it?" I asked, already guessing at the answer. Pollux Russey, the new minister, was a puppet for Stillens. He was probably behind it.

"Russey? Maybe another one of Stillens' spies? I'm not sure. One of them, though."

On the ferry, I was basically left to myself as Mr. Macmillan and Mr. Potter had a private conference about the discovery. I hadn't even thought to check if they'd bugged the cell. Had they actually used a Muggle microphone? Were there spells that could do that? I told Colette about it later that night, and she was as intrigued as I was.

"What on earth did they think you were going to tell her?" she asked as we climbed into our beds.

"I don't know. Wouldn't have done much good if she's in Azkaban."

Colette gasped. "What if they think she's the one who's been leading the DA, and Neville was just a scapegoat? That would make sense."

"That would be really good," I said, trying to keep my voice down. Charis was asleep already in the next room, and last time we'd woken her up from a late night conversation, Toire had been really mad. "But surely Wren's had to tell them who's in charge, right?"

"I guess," Colette said, not seeming to care much about that. "What spell did Macmillan use to check the cell? It sounds really useful."

"I'm not sure. He did it nonverbally. Ask Mr. Potter."

She sighed. "And you didn't bother to ask, of course."

"I was a little distracted," I pointed out. "I was kind of surprised to see Carrow. I mean, I knew she'd been put in Azkaban, of course, but... It was different to actually see."

Colette frowned at me in confusion, obviously not understanding, and I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Guess you had to be there."

"Yeah, sure. Anyway, how was your father?"

"Good!" I winced, my voice coming out louder than I'd meant it to. "I mean, not good, but not like, worse, or anything?"

She nodded. "All right, I get it."

"He said writing me has helped keep him a little sane," I continued, trying not to betray how absolutely ecstatic I was about that. Even if I couldn't get him a trial, I was actually helping somehow.

Colette smiled, seeming amused. "Did he? That's great, Astra. His cell wasn't bugged, was it? Not sure we want Russey knowing you write to him."

I shook my head. "Mr. Macmillan said he checked. I never would have thought to, even if I'd known how. Besides, I said a lot stuff that would've raised red flags beyond that. I hadn't had a chance to write about Wren yet, you know."

"And you didn't even think to check if it was bugged." Colette shook her head, though I had a feeling she was just teasing. She had a point, though.

"You don't think we'll have to worry about that at Hogwarts this year, do you?"

She sat straight up, all trace of amusement gone and replaced by concern. "Hadn't thought about till now. I... I don't know."

"Kimmel doesn't work for Stillens," I pointed out.

"But she works for Russey, now. We don't know what she thinks about Carrow's arrest or anything that's happened this summer. If she supports it, she'll be happy to do whatever Russey requests, no questions asked."

"Mr. Potter will make sure it's all right, right?" I asked.

Colette shrugged. "Not sure how much he'll be able to do. I'm going to find out what spell that was, though, and we'll know once we get there. There's nothing we can do about it now, at least."

"There's nothing we can do about anything," I muttered. This whole summer had been one day after another of watching things fall apart and being absolutely helpless. From Colette's family situation to Wren's stress to everything with Parliament, I'd stressed about more things that I couldn't change than I ever had before. It was all very frustrating.

"If anything, they can't bug the Room of Requirement," Colette said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Not if you specifically ask for a room where no one can hear you, at least."

Someone rapped on the bedroom door just then. That was followed by Teddy whispering "Shut up and go to bed, all right?"

We both rolled our eyes, but I clicked off the lamp anyway. And if Colette had wanted to continue our conversation, she was out of luck. It was getting late, and I'd had a bit of a draining day, in all honesty. Dementors really sucked the energy out of a person. Without meaning to, I fell asleep.

I was at Hogwarts, outside. I glanced around, and at first it seemed like there wasn't anyone nearby. Then I noticed a blonde girl in Gryffindor robes trudging towards the castle. It looked like she was coming from Hagrid's. Another quick look around confirmed that she was the only person I could see, so I hurried over to follow her.

As I drew closer, I started to get an eerie feeling. This girl seemed familiar in a way I couldn't place. That shade of blonde, the slightly unkempt look of her tie, the way she was staring at the ground, obviously deep in thought. She looked up, and I suddenly saw it. It was me. I was watching myself. What the heck?

Dream Me had stopped walking when she'd looked up. I frowned. There hadn't been any weird noises, and I couldn't see anything out of place around the castle. Why had she stopped?

For a few seconds, Dream Me just stood there. I slowly circled around so I could look her in the face. What was she doing? Staring into space. Okay? Weird?

And suddenly, Dream Me grabbed her arm. Twisted it. I heard a sickening crack, and saw the arm hanging at a really unnatural angle, and started freaking out so much that the entire dream swirled to dust.

I sat straight up in bed. "What the heck?"

Across the room, Colette jumped. It took me a second to process everything, but it looked like she'd been reading, with the tip of her wand lit very dimly. Now, though, she hesitantly started towards me. "Astra?"

"I just... What the..."

"What is it?" I felt the bed dip a bit as she sat down on the edge. "A dream?"

"A... a nightmare, I think," I said, blinking.

Colette held her wand up between us, and I could see a very concerned expression on her face. "Okay, what happened?" she asked.

"It was so weird," I said, shaking my head. "Like, it was just like one of my dreams, but... I was outside, at Hogwarts, and I saw this girl walking up. Only it was me who was walking up. I was watching myself. And... And then I saw myself stop, and she—Dream Me—just... Just reached up and... And broke her own arm?" I shuddered. "Then I woke up. It was the most eerie feeling."

Colette looked disturbed. "That's... That's not normal."

I shook my head. "So it can't have been one of my dreams, of course, even though it felt like one. That's never happened."

She shook her head slowly. "No, it hasn't."

"Just a really realistic nightmare, right?"

"I... I suppose so..." She was thinking now, I could tell. I stayed quiet, letting her think. Really, this was nothing to worry about, of course. I'd had nightmares before that seemed very real in the moment. Upon waking up, they always seemed to fall a little flat. Was this one falling flat? I thought back to it. No, it wasn't. But it would, of course. Right now it was just too recent, of course.

"Maybe you just feel like you're not in control of anything," Colette suggested slowly, "and you're afraid you can't even stop yourself from getting hurt. I researched a lot of the psychology of dreams when I was trying to figure out what yours meant, and a lot of the time, nightmares are just physical representations of our subconscious fears."

"Yeah... That makes sense..." I sighed. "Thanks. Glad to know I'm not just going mad."

Colette smiled and stood up. "Just try and think about everything you do have control over before you fall asleep again, and then you probably won't have another nightmare."

I tried to take her advice, but the list of things I could control seeming to be growing smaller every day. I couldn't control whether my friends were safe, for one thing, when Wren was off playing spy every other week. I had no say over whether my father would ever have a trial, because that all depended on Parliament and however the war turned out. I could choose which classes I was taking this year at Hogwarts, and that was about it. I latched onto that one thing with a fierceness, though, and focused on the classes I'd chosen. I fell asleep thinking about Care of Magical Creatures, and dreamed about Pygmy Puffs for the rest of the night.

~~~~

I just had an idea for later on that honestly might be the worst thing I've ever written. So... Um... This book might wreck all of us? Just be prepared, my friends.

I was actually looking through the note I have where I jot down ideas for future chapters or books, and looking back at ones I'd had for the earlier books versus now. I hadn't realized how much heavier this series had gotten till just now. It's only going down from here, guys.

Question of the Day: If you taught at Hogwarts, which subject would you teach?

Answer: I would teach History of Magic because I'm clumsy enough to mess up anything else by dropping my wand or something. Also I like history. And magic. So what's better than the history of magic?

Vote and comment!

~Ellie