Chapter 1
━━━━━━━━ ✥ ━━━━━━━━

DUDLEY DURSLEY HAS NEVER BEEN TOLD NO IN HIS LIFE. He always got everything he wanted and more. Vernon and Petunia would bring the Queen herself to their small house in the suburbs if that was what he asked for. And then proceed to call her an egocentric bitch when she declines their invitation.

All that to say, what Dudley Dursley demands, he gets. So when he demanded a sleepover and a bonfire with his school friends in their backyard, Petunia and Vernon  Dursley didn't even think twice before agreeing with sweet smiles.

Harry always ended up getting the shorter end of the stick whenever the Dursleys invited people over. He was told to clean out his cousin's bedroom and prepare the bonfire before stupid ole Dudders' equally stupid friends arrived. He was only glad Adhara also showed up earlier that day. Harry thought his cousin would throw a fit, wanting the weird witch girl out of the house in case she ruined his party. But Dudley did what Dudley always did whenever Adhara came over: scamper the other way and proceed to ignore her as best as he could. Apparently, one look from the girl was enough to scare him.

'Good' was Adhara's response to that.

Petunia, however, was not pleased. She thought her visits were a thing of the past. That once school started back, they'd got rid of her. She certainly was not happy that Adhara was in her house the same time as other more respectable and proper children were present.

Adhara, with her short boyish hair, tan skin, dark eye bags and the new scar on her neck. Harry, with his unruly hair, dark skin, knobbly knees and the scar on his forehead. Neither of them fit Petunia's picture of proper children.

"No. Absolutely not. Not today, you won't! Leave-!"

"I can help with the clean-up," she declared.

Aunt Petunia shut up instantly.

And that was how Adhara and he ended up with the task of cleaning after four Smeltings boys.

"Who's that?"

"Harry's cousin," lied Dudley.

"So, she's your cousin too?"

"No, she's from his dad's side."

"Well, that explains it! Better keep her away from the fire, don't want her her to blow anything up, eh D?"

Harry watched Adhara roll her eyes.

But once the bonfire was set up, all Adhara did was stare. Dudley and his friends sat in chairs near the fire. Harry and Adhara stayed further away, hose and a bucket of water in hand.

When the boys finished and raced back inside the house, Harry got up from his spot to put out the fire, expecting Adhara to follow. But when he looked back, he saw that his god-sister hadn't moved at all.

Her eyes were fixated on the fire, and she stayed very, very still. Harry noted how her nails were harshly digging into her legs where she held them.

"Adhara?"

She didn't respond.

Harry walked back closer to her, kneeling in front of her. But she kept looking at the flames, her eyes glassy.

"Adhara? Are you okay?"

She nodded slowly.

Harry glanced back at the fire, then back to her. He repositioned himself in a way to hide the sight from the girl.

"Do you want me to put out the fire?"

Another nod.

"Ok. Just stay here, alright?"

Adhara, finally, averted her gaze from the flames, sparing a look at Harry before nodding one last time.

Harry took the hose from her hold and put the fire out.

━━━━

Matron Hallewell was a special woman. She hated children yet saw the financial benefit of an orphanage and decided to open one up herself. She used the money families left in exchange for taking their charge for her own selfish needs instead of spending it on the kids.

She also created a rule. One that would help her avoid looking after older children. Because once they become old enough, they become too perceptive, too curious, too smart for Matron and therefore too much of a nuisance. And so, Aleyne had a rule.

The kids have to leave at the age of fifteen. They had to leave Aleyne and find a way to fend for themselves in this world that wanted nothing to do with muggleborns and squibs.

On the brighter side, however, they wouldn't have to deal with Matron anymore. But on the other hand, these orphans had nowhere else to go.

Adhara couldn't decide whether turning fifteen was a blessing or a curse.

Yaritza was turning fifteen soon.

Yaritza and Adhara weren't friends. Adhara never asked, and Yaritza never confirmed. They both grew up under the same roof and understood each other perfectly, but they weren't friends. Not really. They looked out for each other at Aleyne without getting in each other's way

Though, they did share the same bedroom. Yaritza was the first person who bothered to actually hold a conversation with Adhara. She listened without expecting anything back. And when you grow up in an environment where the 'every kid for themselves' rule was the only way to go, that was an important aspect.

Yaritza was the one who taught her how to speak Arabic. She was the one who helped her sneak into Matron's office so that Adhara could look at her file. She was the one who taught her how to braid hair.

Adhara didn't like having her hair long. It got in the way of chores, so she tended to chop it short the second she felt her hair graze her shoulders. Yaritza, on the other hand, liked to keep it long—Adhara has never seen her bring scissors anywhere near her hair. She usually kept it in a bun or in braids.

Yaritza sat on the floor, in front of the other girl who took a seat on the bottom bunk of their bed. It was a small room, with only enough space for one bunk bed and barely enough for two teenagers. A small window was next to their bed, just the right size to allow them to sneak out when they pleased.

Adhara used the bottom of the comb to separate her roommate's hair strands. She was halfway through braiding when Yaritza first spoke.

"Haven't seen your shadow in a while. Where is she?"

She shrugged, belatedly realizing that the 14-year-old couldn't see her. "She hasn't talked to me all summer."

Yaritza repositioned her head when Adhara gently guided her. "Did anything happen at school?"

The question startled Adhara. Yaritza never pried in her affairs before. Only sticking to questions that grazed the surface without ever digging deeper.

"What?"

Yaritza was the one who shrugged her shoulders this time. "You show up with a gigantic scar on your neck and ear. The newspapers blabber nonsense about petrified students, and your shadow no longer follows you. I was just wondering."

Adhara let go of the braid. "Since when have you cared?"

"I've always cared."

"What?"

She watched the older girl twist around in her spot to face her.

"Adhara, we've shared a room for almost eight years now. I've taught you how to speak my language, and I get you out of trouble-"

"I don't get in trouble.

"-you can't possibly think I don't care about you."

Adhara stayed silent. This was all news to her.

When Yaritza noticed that Adhara was not, in fact, aware and that she was very serious about not knowing, she rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, I don't understand how The-Boy-with-the-Scar puts up with you."

That made Adhara scrunch her brows. "You have for eight years."

"I don't know how I did either."

"You won't have to for any longer. You're turning 15 in three months."

"About that..."

She arched a brow. "What?"

"I think I'll ask Matron for a job."

"Why?"

"She's not getting any younger. She'll need a housekeeper."

"She won't want to pay you."

"She'll let me live here and eat here."

"That's a stupid bargain."

"I have nowhere else to go, Adhara."

Adhara's nails found her palms. A curse, she decided. It didn't matter if they stayed at Aleyne or not. They were just exchanging one problem for another.

She wondered where the older kids who dreamt about leaving this place were now.

━━━━

"Mum. There's something I want to tell you."

Ron was worried.

No. 'Worried' wouldn't describe it.

Worry was what you felt when you were uncertain about something. When you hand in an essay, and you're worried whether or you'll pass or not. When the Falmouth Falcons lead the game by 15 points, and the Chudley Canon's seeker still hadn't located the snitch.

Worry is what Ron felt when Ginny was brought down to the Chamber of Secrets last year, and he wasn't sure whether or not his sister was still alive or not.

That's worrying. Because it's something you feel when you uncertain about something. It came with the feeling of not knowing.

And Ron wasn't unsure whether Harry was safe in his home or not. He knew he wasn't. He just did. His relatives were always awful when he saw them at King's Cross. There was no other way to see it.

Something was wrong with how the Dursleys treated his best friend, Ron was sure of it. Harry may not be very upfront about his relatives, but he did mention several times that they didn't like Harry, nor anything related to magic. And taking into account Harry's annoying habit of hiding things from him and Hermione, it wasn't difficult to imagine their treatment was far worst than what he let on.

Why else would Harry need to threaten his relatives with magic in order to get full meals? Or why else did Adhara spend almost the entire summer with him? And what was about the bars on his windows when the twins and he went to rescue him last summer? Not to mention all the nightmares he has.

There couldn't be any other reason to explain his too-thin body, his too anxious personality and too worn-out clothes. At least Ron's clothes actually fit him, with all the sewing his mother did to make sure it was the right size. Did nobody do that for Harry?

This time around, Ron was not waiting for a letter from Adhara to make a move. And he certainly wasn't going to wait until August to check on him.

"Nonsense, Ronald! I'm sure everything is just fine. You're worrying your head over nothing!"

"I'm not worried, mum! I know something is up! They don't feed him!"

"Ronald, I think—"

"You saw how thin he was when he came over last summer!"

Molly sighed. "Ronald. I filled up his plate fully and he could barely finish half of it. It's not his relatives' fault if he doesn't eat a lot."

"He doesn't eat a lot because he isn't used to it!" Ron brought a hand to his hair, looking up in exasperation. His mother was not getting it. "Last summer, when he was here, he started excitedly rambling about how happy he was to finally get a bedroom! I don't even know what that means, but it sure doesn't sound right!"

"Didn't you say he had a cousin? Maybe he meant that they weren't sharing a room anymore."

Ron stared, thinking it over. Sure, that was a possibility. But it still didn't eliminate the other signs.

"Y-yes. I suppose so. But I still don't—"

"No, Ronald. You're thinking about this way too much. I'm sure wherever Harry is, he is safe. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't put him somewhere where he wouldn't be."

"But mum-"

"No but's. His safety isn't your concern, Ronald," she smiled sweetly at her son, "let the adults handle this. You don't need to worry about it."

But you aren't handling it! Ron wanted to shout. He knew arguing about this with his mother any further wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed to take things into his own hand. Maybe he could fly to Surrey with one of the brooms, or at least to some bus or something. Did the Knight Bus reach Harry's neighbourhood?

"And don't even think about sneaking out to check on him. We don't need you bothering the poor family either."

Ron groaned out loud, feeling defeated. He crossed his arms and walked past his mother, bumping into her on his way.

He heard his mother breathe out heavily.

"How about this, your father brought home that fellytone of his-"

The mention of the device made Ron's eyes light up.

"-if you can manage to figure out how to work it, then-"

Ron didn't give his mother the chance to finish her sentence before engulfing her in a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I will! I'll see how it works!"

Molly smiled down at her son, who apparently now reached her shoulders. She brought a hand to his red locks, brushing it through.

"You're welcome. Now, go and get your sister. She's outside at that tire swing."

"Will do!"

She watched her son run out the door. Molly was sure Harry was alright. After all, what kind of mother would hate her own child?

━━━━

In all her years at Aleyne, Adhara has never witnessed an adoption that went through. The couple would either change their mind halfway, not find what they were looking for or even just fail to show up on pick-up day.

So the fact that these parents were actually going through with it was a shock for everyone.

A mass of children was huddled outside of Matron's door, a glass cup held against the wall and ears pressed against the cup to hear better.

Yaritza and she joined those who gathered outside, right under Matron's window. A mirror was strategically placed on the side, just at the right angle to show the audience what was happening inside the room. The window was ajar, letting them listen to the conversation.

"Perfect, Matron. He looks exactly how we wished."

Adhara saw the toddler only a few times. He arrived in late winter, so she hadn't met him until June when she came back from Hogwarts. And even then, she spent most days outside.

Thomas was tiny, way smaller than an average two-year-old. He also started showing signs of magic at a younger age than most muggleborns, probably a glimpse into his magical strength. His soft blond hair never seemed to lay flat on his head, his bright brown eyes making him look younger than he actually was. Yaritza informed her that the boy's parents were rumoured to be quite the high society type, making his exceptional abilities a bit too exceptional for their taste. Hence why he was here.

"Except for his eyes, Sirene," said the man. "His eyes were meant to be green."

Picky, thought Adhara. They wouldn't be the first ones, though.

Matron's smooth voice followed. "I'm sure it's nothing a simple wave of a wand cannot fix."

Adhara couldn't see her: the mirror only showed the couple. The man stood behind his wife who was holding Thomas in her arms.

"Of course," spoke the woman, Sirene. She gave one stern look at her husband, holding the baby tightly at her chest. "We'll take him."

"Dear-"

"No. Do not dear me. You wouldn't understand the heart of a mother. Oh, how it aches when she loses her own child," the woman wept.

Ah. So, she lost her baby. That certainly does explain things.

Sirene gave one tearful look at Matron, voice pleading. "You would understand, wouldn't you, Matron?"

"Of course," she said. There was not one ounce of remorse in her voice.

The husband gave in, releasing a breath. "Very well. We can fix the eyes, I suppose." He addressed Matron when he spoke next, "When can we take him?"

"There is no better time than the present."

"And the other charge?"

Charge?

"Already taken cared of."

"Excellent. That should complete the transaction."

"It's an honour to do business with you, Lord Rosier."

There was a pause, and then the man disappeared from the mirror's view. Only Sirene remained, eyes fixed on the child as she cooed him nonstop.

They heard shuffling from the other side of the room. And then the husband came back.

"Thank you for your humble donation to the orphanage," said Matron. The statement made Yaritza and Adhara exchange a knowing glance. "The children will appreciate your generosity."

He bowed his head slightly.

Sirene Rosier turned her back to the mirror, walking away with her now-son in her arms. "Come along now, Phineas. Let's get you home."

━━

Later that day, Matron made Adhara and Yaritza clean out a crib in the baby room for a new arrival. When Adhara went to retrieve the new member, she was met with a small baby boy. Tiny, way too tiny for his age, pale blond locks covering his head and big green eyes that stared right back at her.

His name was also Thomas.

Ah. The charge.

━━━━

Sirius Black stood out in her father's letters, something Adhara just recently realized. Ever since Malfoy pointed out that she was most likely named after him, she couldn't help but always notice her uncle in the letters.

She's reread the letters countless times at this point, even having some of them memorized. However, at the beginning of this summer, when she started to read them again, she noticed all the passive comments Regulus made about his brother.

It was so brief, and it was done so in such a casual way that Adhara barely even paid attention to them the first few times around. Now, however, it was all she noticed.

Sirius and those friends of his: Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew...

Sirius got angry when I caught the snitch before his House team could.

Mother was never satisfied with Sirius...

Adhara always tried her best not to think about the few relatives she had left. The few cousins that might exist. But it was a difficult thing to do when all Matron did was remind her how horrible her family was and how she'll end up being the same.

End up being the same as her father. Or worst, like her uncle.

Sirius Black was the last person Adhara ever thought about. A murderer, a betrayer, a hypocrite. An absolute lunatic, and Adhara hated that this man was her uncle, was her godfather. She hated that the man who was responsible for the death of Harry's parents was related to her.

None of Regulus' letters implied that his brother would one day betray his best friend. In fact, whenever James Potter was mentioned in the letters, it was always about how he and Sirius Black were basically glued to the hip.

Obviously, her father didn't know everything. He didn't know what was happening in her uncle's mind. Because not long after the death of her own father, Sirius Black betrayed James and Lily Potter.

He was a hypocrite. A hypocrite that Adhara tried her best not to think about. A hypocrite that Matron took every opportunity to compare to her. A hypocrite that was her last living relative and was locked up in a high-security prison for turning her godbrother into an orphan.

Until last night.

ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN

Adhara stared at the news article Matron threw at her feet, her uncle's manic face staring right back at her, shouting at her.

He looked absolutely insane.

"See that? That's who you will be in the future."

She dug her nails into her palms.

━━━━

Sirius Black was Harry's godfather. He was his godfather and his father's best friend, and he betrayed him.

And now he was freely roaming around muggle streets on his lookout, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill him.

Harry shoved his trowel deeper around the weed.

He didn't like Sirius Black at all. The man was the reason why his parents were dead, he was the reason why Harry was currently living with his aunt. He was his father's best friend, and he betrayed him.

He betrayed them.

Harry nudged the leaves, deciding to grab the stubborn plant with both his hands instead.

He betrayed them.

He betrayed them.

And now he wanted to kill him.

Harry pulled with both hands, but the weed didn't budge.

Unless he killed him first.

Mittened hands joined Harry's, grasping the plant just as tightly to help pull it out.

"On three," said a voice.

Harry nodded, going along with the voice.

"One, two-"

He pulled, leaning back to add force until the roots snapped, making him land on his back. Harry stayed on the ground, still feeling a bit dizzy.

And then Adhara came into view. She reached over him to grab the trowel Harry discarded. He didn't even remember letting go of the thing. He was holding the weed they just pulled out. The plant they just killed. Like how Sirius killed his parents.

"Harry. Harry!"

Adhara was waving her hand in front of his face. When did she get so close?

"What?"

She sighed. "Stop that?"

"What?"

"That. That thing you do when you stop paying attention to your surroundings."

Harry didn't bother to give her an answer. He watched her crawl back to her spot, where she was using an old rusted fork to remove weeds. Her knees and shirt were covered in dirt, much like himself. Her mittens had turned a deep shade of brown, Harry was sure she would need to buy a new pair.

He didn't know when exactly Adhara started to help him with his chores. He supposed it was another one of her methods to make sure the Dursleys still tolerated her presence. The threats of a 13-year-old could do only so much when said threats were never actually applied.

Usually, Aunt Petunia would stand behind them, arms crossed and foot tapping, making sure they were really working and not slacking off. Today, though, she opted to sit in her chair far away from them. She sipped on her tea and craned her long neck to watch them.

The Dursleys still looked for any excuses to punish the boy. Adhara's appearance hadn't changed their treatment towards him, it only made them more careful about where they left bruises.

They still yelled, the cupboard was still big enough to fit him, Petunia still went silent, and Harry still fought back. This interaction was never going to change.

"Is she ever going to leave us alone?"

Harry blinked. He didn't realize he was looking at Adhara the entire time, eyes unfocused. He blinked a few more times.

"What? Why? Did you want to tell me something?"

Adhara kept her eyes on her work, not bothering to look up.

"Maybe something about those bruises on your arms?" innocently inquired Harry.

"There's nothing to say."

"We decided on no more secrets."

"I already told you that Sirius Black escaped."

"That's not really a secret." He noticed how she changed topics, but opted to say nothing. "I would've found out anyway." Harry flicked the leaves of another weed with his trowel.

"They wouldn't tell that he's most likely after you, though. So you should be more careful. "

"He's your uncle. Maybe he'll be after you."

"You're the one who defeated his master. Not me."

Harry shoved his trowel deeper around the weed.

━━━━

The Dursleys figured out that the wanted man on the news was Adhara's criminal uncle. The next time she showed up to Privet Drive, they slammed the door at her face, and Harry waved goodbye from his window. He was going to spend his birthday alone for the first time in two years.

And then Aunt Marge showed up with her hellhounds.

━━━━

The ferry ride to France was dreadfully long. Hermione got tired of waiting after only the first 20 minutes of the trip. Her parents announced their holiday plans the minute she got off the Hogwarts Express, that was how long Hermione had to wait to reach the French coast.

As organized and well prepared as she was, Hermione already had the entire trip planned. From the hotel they were staying in to every restaurant they were going to visit for dinner.

She honestly could not bear to wait any longer. And when Hermione got impatient, or nervous for that matter, she talked. And talked and talked. Her parents have been listening to her blabber on about her friends for what felt like ages. And Hermione showed no sign of stopping.

"They all sound lovely, Hermione," commented her mother from the driver's seat. There was no need for her to pay attention to the road. They were on a ferry, after all. "Which one of them are you closest to?"

"Honestly, mum. I like them all equally, of course! It's a shame Adhara and Millie are in a different house, we'd have so much fun if we were in the same dorms!"

"Well, you can always sneak in."

"Dad!"

"Harold, dear. You shouldn't be encouraging rule-breaking."

"I'm just saying." He turned in his seat to take a better look at his daughter. "You're there all year round, it wouldn't be too bad if you broke a few small rules," he said, winking at the end.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, thank you."

"You could always invite them over for the holidays if you want to spend more time with them," suggested Jean.

Hermione's eyes lit up at the prospect, but then she remembered her friend's home situation. She didn't think they could. She knew how Millie's dad felt about muggles. And Adhara.....

She didn't know anything for sure about Adhara's home life. She knew she visited Harry since both of them kept mentioning things they did over last summer. Though, the sight of Adhara's gloves and the glimpse of battered skin she saw in their first year flickered through her mind. Hermione knew something was up. Millie thought so too.

And then there was the situation with Harry. And how Ron suspected something was wrong too.

"Is something the matter, Hermione?" asked her dad.

She looked up and saw that both her parents were looking at her with worry. Hermione released her thumb from her mouth and shook her head.

"Everything is fine."

"Hermione."

"No, it's just-" she sighed. She didn't want to tell her friends' secrets to anyone, especially since she wasn't sure about it herself. She really did wish they could just tell her. But she supposed it was rather a difficult subject to speak about.

"I don't think they can visit during the summer, mum. Plans and all, you see?" she laughed nervously.

Jean exchanged a look with her husband (Hermione really wasn't the best of liars). One that Hermione missed since she seemed too preoccupied with her hands.

"Well, how about Christmas? We don't have anything planned so far."

Hermione thought it over. They weren't going to come over during the summer, that Hermione was certain of. But perhaps the Christmas holidays would be a better option? After all, they don't seem to go back home during those weeks.

Hermione smiled. Sure, why not? She could invite her friends over to her house. Never in her life did she think she could ever do that. Christmas break sounded fun already.

━━━━

The cold of the night nipped his nape. Harry's hands gripped around the handle of his trunk as he trailed it over the wet cement of Privet Drive. Hedwig's empty cage rattled at his side, the metallic bars clinking and clanging louder the faster the boy walked.

Aunt Marge showed up a week ago. It's been a week since he's had to bear with her snide comments; since he's had to run from her dogs; since his uncle started passingly mentioning his criminal godfather. It's been a week since he hasn't been able to contact any of his friends, Adhara including. She's been banned from Number Four ever since the news of Sirius Black reached the Dursleys' news channel.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon liked to keep Marge pleased. And the cruel woman would stay happy as long as Harry was being punished.

It's been a horrible week, and tonight was the last drop that made the barrel overflow.

I'm not going back there. I'm never going back there.

Harry really did try to keep his mouth shut, to keep his anger in control. But really, the woman shouldn't have insulted his mother.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy turned out, Vernon. It isn't your fault if there's something wrong on the inside."

Harry cleared his throat, trying to relieve the burn.

"If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup—"

And then the wine glass in her hand shattered.

Harry walked faster into the dark and quiet night. The wheels of his trunk jolted with all the dents and edges of the street. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do from this point on. All he knew was that he was not returning to Number Four.

Never.

Harry walked until he reached the corner of Magnolia Crescent, collapsing onto the pavement finally to take a breath.

He needed a plan. A place to go. And only one name could cross his mind in this situation.

━━

Unbeknown to Harry, a large yet skinny black dog followed from behind, making sure to stay at least a street away. Its grey bead-like eyes tracked each of the boy's movements, contemplating.

━━━

The Knight Bus dropped him at the head of the alley. Stan gave him a doubtful look when he looked into the dark lane. Harry didn't give him any time to question him, hurriedly waving him off. The station master didn't bother to mask his judgement as he took off his hat and bowed him away, giving a forceful bang to the back of the bus to alert the driver.

There was a sign on the first building, indicating the entryway of Anne-De-Lisse Alley. Harry slowly blew onto his hands to warm them up, rubbing them together. He watched his warm breath turn white because of the cold.

The alleyway was a lot more cooler than the Dursley's neighbourhood, he realized. More dark, more silent. Privet Drive was always quiet. The cars glided through the streets, the kids stayed within control and not even the sound of a pebble reverberated against the pavement.

This street was also quiet. But not in the same way. Whereas Privet Drive tried to distort the truth with sunshine and repetitive garden flowers, Anne-De-Lisse Alley didn't bother to hide the ugliness of its neighbourhood.

The first thing Harry noted, other than the freezing temperature, was the stench. A nauseating smell of rotting water emerged from the sewers, forcing Harry to bring a hand to cover his nose. He had to blink his eyes to remove the tears.

Harry swallowed down hard, bracing himself as he took a few steps forward. He dragged his trunk behind until he stumbled to a halt when he felt his luggage collide with something.

He looked down and saw a rat, crushed with the impact of the heavy load. Harry felt the inside of his stomach churn at the sight of red and brown guts. It made him want to turn around.

But Harry was no coward. He wasn't the type to give up so easily. Rat guts be damned. Nobody liked rats anyway, right?

The twelve-year-old boy squared his shoulders, gripped his trunk tighter and walked with resolute steps towards the seemingly endless alley that was Anne-De-Liss Alley.

━━━━

It was Adhara's turn to look after the nursery. Unexpectedly, Thomas took on a liking to her and Yaritza, refusing to be held by anyone besides them two. Some might find the attachment cute, but Adhara found it dreadful. Not because she didn't like the child—she's been forced to tend to the younger ones for years now—but she knew just how problematic it was for a baby to get attached at Aleyne. Matron didn't like the sound of crying toddlers, and her methods to subdue one involved a thick door and a key.

It made looking after Thomas more difficult, and it meant Yaritza's job would triple (especially since Matron accepted her offer) when Adhara has to leave once September comes forth.

Adhara rocked the baby back and forth to put it to sleep when, out of nowhere, Roisin came bustling through the door.

"Adhara! Adhara!"

The girl violently brought a finger to her lips, shushing the younger one. Roisin muttered out a quiet apology before continuing a bit more quietly.

"There's someone at the door!" she whisper-yelled.

Adhara looked confused. She had to admit she was shocked that Roisin showed up. The girl hadn't spoken a single word to her ever since she informed her of Hermione's petrification. Only stealing a few not-so-discreet glances on the train.

"Who?" she replied, deciding to ask the relevant question.

"There's no time to explain! You have to come with me, put the baby down!"

"Don't you think I would if I could?"

"Adhara!"

"Whoever it is, I'm sure it isn't a show I wouldn't mind missing-"

"It's The-Boy-with-the-Scar!"

Adhara almost dropped Thomas.

"What?" she asked slowly, the colour draining from her face. Harry never visited her. Especially not when it was nearing midnight. Did something happen? With a mass murderer on the loose-

"Yes! I told him to wait inside the old brasserie near the east entrance."

She didn't need to be told twice. Adhara handed Thomas to Roisin, who started to cry the minute he left her arms.

"Subdue him. I'll send Yaritza to you, she'll help you with Thomas."

"But Adhara, if Matron catches you both, she'll put you in the Furna-"

"I'll be fine."

━━━

Adhara inhaled a long breath.  "You. Did. What?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Harry countered back for the second time that night. He sniffed his nose, trying to ignore the smell of alcohol.

"You never do."

"She deserved it."

"I don't doubt she did." Adhara released her breath slowly, trying to get her thoughts in order.

Her fingers made their way to the bridge of her nose, where they rubbed along it trying to relieve her incoming headache. She had half a mind to pinch her nostrils shut because of the stench, but she fought against it. Unlike Harry, Adhara knew that wasn't the normal smell of alcohol. It was the smell of spoiled beer that covered the walls and floor of the building. Only Merlin knew how long it had to be there for alcohol to go bad.

"Let me- let me just- let me get this straight. You blew up your aunt-"

"Yes."

"-ran away from Privet Drive-"

"Yes."

"-at night-"

"Hmm."

"-fully aware that there's a murderer after you-"

"Well, I mean, we aren't completely sure about that one."

"-took the Knight Bus-"

"That one wasn't planned, actually."

"None of this was planned!"

"Coming to see you was."

"That's the part that concerns me. In what world did you think showing up at Aleyne in all places would be a good idea?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

Adhara brought a hand to her forehead. "Harry, I'm going to kick you."

"Not if I kick you first."

━━

"Now, what do we do?"

"Where are the Weasley's?"

"Egypt."

"Still?"

"Yeah."

"The Grangers are in France."

"So, what do we do?"

She sighed. "I'll go get my trunk."

Harry looked surprised. "You're coming with me?"

"Obviously. Why did you come here if you didn't think I was?"

"I wasn't really thinking."

Adhara took in another breath. "It's fine. I don't trust you on your own anyway."

"So, where are we going?"

"The Leaky Cauldron."

Harry contemplated, "That's where Stan suggested I go."

"Stan?"

"The Knight Bus' station master."

Adhara nodded. "I'll go get my trunk. Stay hidden."

━━━━━━━━ ✥ ━━━━━━━━

A/N I just want to say that I am well aware that Morocco and Egypt have their own dialects. However, since Adhara learned Arabic from Yaritza, she's more familiar with the egyptian dialect than the morrocan one.