At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door of Grimmauld Place swung open and Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when we all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron, and me half rising from our chairs, she gave a wan smile.

"He's going to be all right." She said, her voice weak with tiredness. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work." 

Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother, and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one.

"Breakfast!" Sirius said loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!"

But Kreacher did not answer the summons.

"Oh, forget it, then." Sirius muttered, counting the people in front of him. "So, it's breakfast for - let's see - seven... bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast -"

I hurried over to the stove to help. I didn't want to intrude on the Weasleys' happiness and I dreaded the moment when Mrs Weasley would ask me to recount my vision. However, I had barely taken plates from the dresser when Mrs Weasley lifted them out of my hands and pulled me into a hug.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Daisy." She said in a muffled voice. "They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis..." 

I could hardly bear her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released me to turn to Sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. Sirius said he was very pleased to have been able to help, and hoped we would all stay with him as long as Mr Weasley was in hospital.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful... they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas." 

"The more the merrier!" Sirius said, with such obvious sincerity that Mrs Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron, and began to help with breakfast.

"Sirius." I muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. "Can I have a quick word? Er - now?"

I walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble, I told my godfather every detail of the vision I had had, including the fact that I myself had been the snake who had attacked Mr Weasley.

When I paused for breath, Sirius said, "Did you tell Dumbledore this?"

"Obviously," I said impatiently, "but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything anymore." 

"I'm sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about." Sirius said steadily.

"But that's not all." I said, in a voice only a little above a whisper. "Sirius, I... I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took that Portkey back here... for a few seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one - my scar really fucking hurt when I was looking at the old guy - Sirius, I wanted to attack him!"

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all, sweetie." Sirius said. "You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and -"

"It wasn't that." I said, shaking my head. "It was like something rose up inside me. Sirius, I'm scared something's happening to me. I've had visions of Riddle before, just not like that." 

Sirius looked at me, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. 

"You're in shock, Daisy; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying about that. This vision, or whatever it was... it's not worth worrying about if you've just told me that you've had visions OF Voldemort." 

He was still looking at me expectantly. I hugged myself, shifting on my feet. 

"I - I've had Riddle come into my head while I was dreaming. He was standing right in front of me, and he told me that he - he had a backup plan or something. He said that 'children can be corrupted?'" 

Sirius looked suddenly frightened. "Daisy, sweetheart - I'm going to tell Dumbledore to keep more Order guards around the school and Hogsmeade. And - listen to me, darling - I know we both love rebellion, but you need to keep your impromptu Hogsmeade visits to a minimum, and absolutely do NOT leave Hogwarts or Hogsmeade without a member of the Order with you. OK?" 

"Um, er - sure - ?" 

He clapped me on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving me standing alone in the dark.

Everyone but me spent the rest of the morning sleeping. I went up to the bedroom the Insurgents had shared over the last few weeks of summer, but while Fred and George crawled into bed and were asleep within minutes, I sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of the bedstead, keeping myself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that I might become the serpent again in my sleep and wake to find that I had attacked Fred, or George, or else slithered through the house after one of the others... 

Why had Sirius acted as if the vision of Riddle I had had ages ago was worse than what had just happened? It wasn't as if I or Riddle had attacked anyone in that dream. This time I had actually been inside the head of a snake, had actually attacked someone in real life... was Riddle an Animagus like me? If he was it would make sense; his would be a snake. So was he using me to murder people? How and why? And why did Sirius think that wasn't as important as the vision of Riddle I had had?

I remembered how angry I got at Dumbledore in his office when McGonagall took me, Fred, and George to see him. He made me tell him everything, where I had witnessed the scene from, and had refused to look me in the eye the whole time. He had ordered the previous principals' portraits to run errands for him while we were speaking, sending them to alert Order members and get Mr Weasley out of wherever he was safely, sent McGonagall to retrieve Harry, Ron, and Ginny, my brother to hold my hand as I nearly passed out on my feet, and made us a Portkey to take us to Grimmauld Place, all the while I was staring him down, getting angrier and angrier, until when I took the Portkey, and the vicious anger leapt out of me. 

But Sirius had said that it wasn't anything to worry about, that the vision I had had of Riddle was much more worrying than this one, and that I had actually saved Fred and George's dad's life. 

When the twins woke up, I pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing nap too, as I had spent the entire night thinking. I realised that Sirius was right; I had saved Mr Weasley's life, and if it hadn't been for me, he might have been dead right now. It made me feel so much better - but still, the vision was now worrying me. Why was Sirius so worried about it...? The question kept circling round and round in my mind, but I pushed it out of the way as the twins and I chatted. Our trunks arrived from Hogwarts while we were eating lunch, so we could dress as Muggles for the trip to St. Mungo's. Everybody was riotously happy and talkative as we changed into jeans and sweatshirts. When Tonks and Mad-Eye turned up to escort us across London, we greeted them gleefully, laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully, that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the Underground.

Tonks was very interested in my vision of the attack on Mr Weasley. 

"There isn't any Seer blood in your family, is there?" She enquired curiously, as we sat side by side on a train rattling towards the heart of the city.

"I don't think so, is there, Harry?" I said, looking over at Harry, who had his arm around me. 

Harry shook his head, grinning. 

"No," said Tonks musingly, "no, I suppose it's not really prophecy you're doing, is it? I mean, you're not seeing the future, you're seeing the present... it's odd, isn't it? Useful, though..." 

"Maybe it's to do with you being an angel." Harry muttered into my ear. 

"You didn't have a vision, did you, Harry?" I whispered. Harry shook his head again. 

"No... I just had the dream of the black door again, but it ended abruptly." 

We got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train I was able to allow Fred and George to get beside me. Fred took my hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling softly at me, and George hurriedly took my other hand as Harry looked at Fred suspiciously. We all followed Tonks up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand. I thought I sensed the concealed eye staring hard at me. Harry asked Mad-Eye where St. Mungo's was hidden. 

"Not far from here." Moody grunted as we stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. He pushed my brother a little ahead of him and stumped along just behind him; I knew the eye was rolling in all directions under the tilted hat. "Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big enough and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry - wouldn't be healthy. In the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was, sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd." 

I swung my hand back and forth with Fred and George's. 

"Here we go." Moody said a moment later.

I turned to Fred and George as we stopped outside of an abandoned department store, and started playing tic-tac-toe with them as we waited. Tonks said something to a mannequin in the dusty window, and the dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned with its jointed finger, and Tonks seized Ginny and Mrs Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass, and vanished.

Fred and George grabbed my hands again and stepped after them. Together we stepped forward through what felt like a sheet of cool water, emerging quite warm and dry on the other side.

There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. We were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises: a sweaty-faced witch in the centre of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth; a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved and, with each clang, his head vibrated horribly so that he had to seize himself by the ears to hold it steady. 

"Oh my Godric." I sniggered as Fred pointed him out, grinning, and George burst out laughing, Mrs Weasley looking back at him in disapproval. 

"Over here!" She called above the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and we followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked 'Enquiries.' 

One of the portraits I had seen in Dumbledore's office was watching from a portrait behind the witch's desk. She was eyeing the Weasley party closely as though counting us; when I caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait, and vanished.

Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk.

"It's these - ouch - shoes my brother gave me - ow - they're eating my - OUCH - feet - look at them, there must be some kind of - AARGH - jinx on them and I can't - AAAAARGH - get them off." He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.

"The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?" The blonde witch said, irritably pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. "You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!" 

As the wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps.

A very old, stooped wizard with a hearing trumpet had shuffled to the front of the queue now. "I'm here to see Broderick Bode!" He wheezed.

"Ward forty-nine, but I'm afraid you're wasting your time." The witch said dismissively. "He's completely addled, you know - still thinks he's a teapot. Next!" 

A harassed-looking wizard was holding his small daughter tightly by the ankle while she flapped around his head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out through the back of her romper suit.

"Is that an angel?" George gasped, looking from her to me. 

Mrs Weasley shook her head. "Don't be silly. She's ate something strange. I remember that happening to one of my brothers at my birthday party once." 

"I wonder if you looked like that when you were her age, Softpaw." Fred sniggered to me. 

"Fourth floor." The witch said, in a bored voice, without asking, and the man disappeared through the double doors beside the desk, holding his daughter like an oddly shaped balloon. "Next!" 

Mrs Weasley moved forward to the desk.

"Hello," she said, "my husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us -?" 

"Arthur Weasley?" The witch said, running her finger down a long list in front of her. "Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn Ward." 

"Thank you." Mrs Weasley said. "Come on, you lot." 

We followed her through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. 

We climbed a flight of stairs and entered the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words: 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn Ward: Serious Bites.

"We'll wait outside, Molly." Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once... it ought to be just the family first." 

Mad-Eye growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions. Harry and I drew back, too, but Mrs Weasley reached out her hands and pushed us through the door, saying, "Don't be silly, Daisy, Arthur wants to thank you, and see Harry too." 

The ward was small and rather dingy, as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned: Urquhart Rackharrow, 1612-1697, Inventor of the Entrail-expelling Curse.

There were only three patients. Mr Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. I was pleased and relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling on to his bed. He looked up as we walked towards him and, seeing who it was, beamed.

"Hello!" He called, throwing the Prophet aside. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later." 

"How are you, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. "You're still looking a bit peaky." 

"I feel absolutely fine." Mr Weasley said brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. "If they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home." 

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" Fred asked.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try." Mr Weasley said cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that six extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat us all. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open. They're sure they'll find an antidote, though; they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there." He said, dropping his voice and nodding towards the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. "Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all." 

"A werewolf?" Mrs Weasley whispered, looking alarmed. "Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?" 

"It's two weeks till full moon." Mr Weasley reminded her quietly. "They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him - didn't mention names, of course - but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage." 

"What did he say?" George asked.

"Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up." Mr Weasley said sadly. "And that woman over there," he indicated the only other occupied bed, which was right beside the door, "won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings." 

"So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?" Fred asked, pulling his chair closer to the bed.

"Well, you already know, don't you?" Mr Weasley said, with a significant smile at me. "It's very simple - I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on and bitten." 

"Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?" Fred asked, indicating the newspaper Mr Weasley had cast aside.

"No, of course not." Mr Weasley said, with a slightly bitter smile. "The Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got -"

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley warned him.

"- Got - er - me." Mr Weasley said hastily, though I was quite sure that was not what he had meant to say.

"So where were you when it happened, Dad?" George asked.

"That's my business." Mr Weasley said, though with a small smile. He snatched up the Daily Prophet, shook it open again and said, "I was just reading about Willy Widdershins's arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets back in the summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in crap and -" 

"When you say you were 'on duty,'" Fred interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?" 

"You heard your father." Mrs Weasley whispered. "We are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur." 

"Well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off the toilet charge." Mr Weasley said grimly. "I can only suppose gold changed hands -" 

"You were guarding it, weren't you?" George said quietly. "The weapon? The thing You-Know-Poo's after?" 

"George, be quiet!" Mrs Weasley snapped.

"Anyway," said Mr Weasley, in a raised voice, "this time Willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles and I don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because, according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St. Mungo's for emergency bone re-growth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo's! I wonder which ward they're in?" 

And he looked eagerly around as though hoping to see a signpost.

"Didn't you say You-Know-Poo's got a snake, Softpaw?" Fred asked, looking at his father for a reaction. "A massive one?" 

"That's enough." Mrs Weasley said crossly. "Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside." She added to her children, Harry, and me. "You can come and say goodbye afterwards. Go on." 

We trooped back into the corridor. Mad-Eye and Tonks went in and closed the door of the ward behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows.

"Fine." He said coolly, rummaging in his pockets. "Be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Looking for these?" George said, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-coloured string.

"You read my mind." Fred said, grinning. "Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?" 

He and George disentangled the string and separated six Extendable Ears from each other. Fred and George handed them around. I hesitated to take one.

"Go on, Softpaw, take it! You saved Dad's life. If anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him, it's you." 

Grinning, I took the end of the string and inserted it into my ear as the twins had done.

"OK, go!" Fred whispered.

The flesh-coloured strings wriggled like long skinny worms and snaked under the door. At first, I could hear nothing, then I jumped as I heard Tonks whispering as clearly as though she were standing right beside me.

"... They searched the whole area but couldn't find the snake anywhere. It just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur... but You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?" 

"I reckon he sent it as a lookout," growled Moody, "'cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if Arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had a lot more time to look around. So, Potter says she saw it all happen?" 

"Yes." Mrs Weasley said. She sounded rather uneasy. "You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Daisy to see something like this." 

"Yeah, well," Moody said, "there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that." 

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Daisy when I spoke to him this morning." Mrs Weasley whispered.

"'Course he's worried." Moody growled. "The girl's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Potter doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing her -" 

I pulled the Extendable Ear out of my own, my heart hammering very fast and heat rushing up my face. I looked around at the others. They were all staring at me, the strings still trailing from their ears, looking suddenly fearful.

~~~ 

"Are you all right, Daisy, dear?" Mrs Weasley whispered, leaning across Ginny to speak to me as the train rattled along through its dark tunnel. "You don't look very well. Are you feeling sick?" 

They were all watching me. I shook my head violently and stared up at an advertisement for home insurance.

"Daisy, dear, are you sure you're all right?" Mrs Weasley said in a worried voice, as we walked around the unkempt patch of grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place. "You look ever so pale... are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now and you can have a couple of hours of sleep before dinner, all right?" 

I nodded; here was a ready-made excuse not to talk to any of the others, which was precisely what I wanted, so when she opened the front door I hurried straight past the troll-leg umbrella stand, up the stairs, and into mine and the twins' bedroom.

Me? Possessed? It's not possible. Surely Riddle couldn't have transported me out of my dorm and into London and back all in the space of five minutes. That's ridiculous. 

The twins burst into the room, Harry following close behind. Ron and Ginny fell back at the door, watching me anxiously. 

"Daisy, are you okay?" Harry asked worriedly. 

I looked up at him from where I had collapsed on my bed. "No, Harry. Mad-Eye literally just said that I was possessed by Riddle -" 

"Don't be ridiculous. Remember, you were possessed before." Harry interrupted. "Think. How did you feel when the diary possessed you?" 

Oh, yeah. Riddle had possessed me in second year to open the Chamber of Secrets and drain the life out of me. How could I forget? 

"Um... there were a load of blank periods, where I couldn't remember what I was doing. I would suddenly be somewhere and not remember how I got there." 

"And have you felt like that this year at all?" Harry pressed. 

I shook my head. "But how could I have been in London then, and -" 

"You didn't leave your bed, mate." Fred said. "I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up." 

I started pacing up and down the room again, thinking. What Harry and Fred were saying was not only comforting, it made sense... 

"So I wasn't possessed and in London attacking your dad?" I said. 

"No, Softpaw, you weren't." George said. 

I thought for a minute. Then I sat up. 

"Okay. Thanks, guys. I'm going to take a nap." I said cheerily, flopping back down onto my bed. 

"I'll join." Ginny grinned, clambering into bed with me, and the others filed out as I cuddled into the redhead and drifted off to sleep. 

Everybody spent the following morning putting up Christmas decorations. I could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas. I could hear his voice echoing up through the floor in the cold drawing room where I was sitting with Ginny, watching the sky bursting with snow. 

"I never really fully told you thank you for saving my dad, Daze." She said softly. 

I turned to her, drawing her closer in to my side with the arm that was slung around her. 

"Obviously I wouldn't let your dad die, Gin. What kind of monster would?" 

"But still." Ginny smirked slowly, leaning in. "Let me make it up to you..." 

Our lips connected. I moved mine with hers passionately, letting her tongue work its way into my mouth. Her hands were all over me, moving over my breasts, my hips, my stomach. I gasped as Ginny moved her hand down, reaching the end of my skirt, and went underneath it. 

"Oh Godric, Ginny, what are you -?" 

Ginny shut me up with a kiss, moving her hand up further. I let out a soft moan as she rubbed, slow at first, then gaining speed as our tongues battled in my mouth. I was soon letting out gasps and moans which echoed around the drawing room as Ginny climbed onto my lap, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. 

Mrs Weasley's soft voice called up the stairs for us to come down for food, and I jumped, leaning far away from Ginny. 

"Godric, Ginny, your mum's gonna -" 

"Shh, it's alright. We'll just go quicker. Just let it happen..." Ginny purred, slipping her fingers into me, and I gasped loudly, whining into her neck. The redhead giggled quietly, swiftly plunging her fingers into me over and over again, rubbing against that sweet spot that made me drench her hand and gasp her name. 

I collapsed against her, panting. Ginny slipped out of me, standing up before me, and offered her clean hand to me. I took it, my knees buckling as I stood. 

"When did you become a horny teenager, Gin?" I said weakly, straightening my skirt. 

Ginny smirked at me. "Ever since I heard about you and Kylie fucking. Made me want it. Plus, puberty's making my hormones go all wacky." 

"Fuck sake." I shook my head. "Why does everyone want to screw me lately?" 

"'Cuz you're hot." Ginny said simply as we made our way out of the drawing room and down the stairs. 

I shrugged. "True." 

~~~ 

After lunch I dawdled upstairs, my mind on the vision of Tom Riddle. Why had Sirius reacted so... horrified? when I told him about it? Like it was way worse than me literally seeing someone get violently attacked? 

'Gabe...' I thought, looking up at the bathroom ceiling. 'Come here, please. I need reassurance.' 

Almost immediately, Gabriel and Castiel appeared right beside me. I jumped. 

"Godric fucking Gryffindor, guys, don't do that! What if I was on the toilet or something? Seriously, you should warn me that you're actually listening to me first!" I said indignantly. 

Gabriel smirked. "Well, you're not on the loo, are you?" 

I sulked, glaring at him. 

"What was it that you wanted reassurance on, Daisiel?" Castiel said seriously. 

I sighed, relaxing my shoulders. "I think I want to visit my dad. I need to talk about a vision I had a while ago. But I don't want a load of time to go past while I'm visiting him." 

"Don't worry about that, we'll make it happen." Gabe said. "We'll take you to him." 

And with a touch on the shoulder, we were in my dad's fiery den yet again. 

I looked around as my brothers/uncles walked me through the cavern. It was still as intriguing as last time; the humanoid figures slipping between the cracks in the walls, the agonised screaming thundering through the rocks... 

"C'mon." Gabe took my arm and lead me through the dark passage into my dad's throne room. 

"Daisiel, sweetheart!" Dad said in delight, swooping down to meet us. His huge black feathery wings stirred up a dust cloud from the rocks around us, and I sneezed. 

"Bless you." Cas said. Dad gave him a dirty look. 

"Dad, I need to talk to you about... about something that happened a few months ago." I said, hugging myself with my arms. 

"Alright, pumpkin. Why don't you let your wings out and relax, and tell your dad what's troubling you." Dad said soothingly, rubbing my back. 

"Let my -?" I let out a yelp of surprise as I felt a sudden tickling sensation on my back. A flurry of white feathers burst out of me, stretching out and shuddering. Instantly, I relaxed, letting out a breath I didn't realise I had been holding. I felt so much better, so much calmer. 

"How -?" 

"It's nice, isn't it?" Dad smirked at me. "Angels were never meant to keep their wings cooped up." 

"It's necessary to conceal ourselves from humans on Earth." Cas pointed out. 

"Eh, whatever." Dad rolled his eyes. "Daisiel, what's up?" 

I watched Lucifer relax back on his wings, as the great black things flapped slowly. I tried to follow suit, leaning on my wings as I flapped them, hovering in mid-air. 

I told the three angels about my vision as I tried to clumsily relax in the air with my wings. At several points the angels would glance at each other with severe expressions. None of them interrupted me, however, and let me finish. 

"Right, before you look at me, none of this has to do with me." Dad said firmly. Gabe shrugged as Cas glared at him. "That demon that's possessing Felix Malfoy has been out of my control for quite a while." 

"And this Tom Riddle person... he's... he's planning..." Gabe couldn't finish. He buried his face in his hands. 

"Huh?" I gaped at him. 

Cas took my arm solemnly. "Tom Riddle is planning to conceive a child." 

"Okay? With who? And what's that got to do with me?" 

The three angels glanced at each other again. 

"Er - give us a minute, would you, Daisiel?" Gabe said, and without waiting for a response, grabbed Dad and Cas, and flew to the top of the cavern with them. I watched the black, gold, and white wings fluttering together, and flapped my wings, trying to get closer to hear them. 

"She's just a child, still." I heard Dad hiss angrily to Gabe. 

"She's several thousand years old -" 

"Not right now, she isn't! I'm sick of this always happening to her. She deserves a happy life for once." 

"She deserves to know. So she can at least protect herself." 

"She doesn't need to protect herself. I will -" 

"Dad said that we can't interfere anymore! She needs to do this herself or he'll banish us -" 

"I don't care what he says -" 

"Do you want to be separated from her for another century, Lucifer?" 

There was an angry silence. I pretended to be studying Dad's throne as the three angels drifted back down beside me. 

"Daisiel, it's nothing to worry about, sweetheart." Dad said, his face paler than it usually was, which to be fair, was quite pale in the first place. "You just need to promise me that you'll stay with your friends and brother at all times. Please, pumpkin." 

I nodded. "Yeah, Dad, I will. I promise." 

My dad drew me into a huge hug with his wings. I hugged him back with mine, the unfamiliar feeling from when I first hugged him rising up in my chest again. I squeezed him tight to me. 

Dad petted my hair fondly, then drew away from me. "Safe trip back, sweetheart. Visit again soon, alright? Your old dad gets lonely in Hell." 

I raised a hand in farewell, smiling, and with another touch to the shoulder, I was back in Grimmauld Place. 

Of course, upon return, I had went straight to Fred, George, and Harry, and had told them everything. We theorised about what Riddle having a child could possibly mean, with me eventually remembering that he said he already has a child, and panicking that this child could have a severe beef with me; or maybe I'M his child? It would make so much sense; I can see through him, I'm connected to him, I have so many traits of his... 

Around six o'clock in the evening the doorbell rang and Mrs Black started screaming again. Assuming that Mundungus or some other Order member had come to call, I merely settled myself more comfortably against the wall of Buckbeak's room where I was hiding, trying to ignore how miserable I felt as I fed dead rats to the hippogriff. It came as a slight shock when somebody hammered hard on the door a few minutes later.

"I know you're in there." Terry's voice said. "Will you please come out? I want to talk to you." 

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, pulling open the door as Buckbeak resumed his scratching at the straw-strewn floor for any fragments of rat he may have dropped. "I thought you were with your mum and dad?" 

"Well, to tell the truth, hanging with all my extremely old relatives isn't really my thing." Terry said. "And I realised my true home is with my noble clan mates. So, I've come here for Christmas." There was snow in his hair and his face was pink with cold. "Dumbledore told me, Draco, Kylie, and Hermione what had happened first thing this morning, but we had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Draco ditched his parents last minute, it was pretty funny, actually, and Hermione came too; they're both here. Kylie said that she'll come pick you up the day before the wedding. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr Weasley was in St. Mungo's and he'd given you all permission to visit. So..." 

Terry looked at me with his arms folded as I craned my neck to look over his shoulder. Where were Draco and Hermione? It was awesome that Draco was spending Christmas with us, I had always wanted him to spend the holidays with the rest of us. 

"Softpaw... you know you're not You-Know-Poo's kid, right?" 

I started. "Who told you?" 

"Red and Bushy, who else?" He said. "Listen, Daisy... your angel brothers told you that James Potter is your real dad, right? Why would they lie to you?" 

"They were acting a bit funny earlier." I muttered. 

"Plus, you and Harry are identical. You look so much like every picture of your dad I've seen. And, I know it's cheesy and overused as fuck by now, but you have your mum's eyes. There's no doubt that you're their kid." 

I frowned, shifting on my feet. Terry unfolded his arms and took my hands, squeezing them. 

"You're not related to that asshole, Daze. You're a Potter. And you're my best friend. Nothing can ever change that." 

I smiled, against my will. My heart swelled with happiness and relief, and I felt like joining in as Sirius tramped past the landing, singing 'God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs' at the top of his voice. 

"And... I think it's time I tell my best friend." Terry cleared his throat, looking at me anxiously. "Softpaw, I'm... I'm gay." 

"As in... you're not bisexual? You're homosexual?" I said. 

Terry nodded. "I didn't realise it before when we were together, I was too young to see that I wasn't actually attracted to you - you were just my incredibly beautiful best friend. I guess I realised when Draco kissed me for the first time - what it really felt like." 

"Aw." I said, punching him lightly in the arm. "That's cute. I'm proud of you, Hopper." 

Terry beamed at me. 

Sirius's delight at having the house full again, and especially at having me back, was infectious. He was no longer our sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy ourselves as much, if not more than we would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with our help, so that by the time we all went to bed on Christmas Eve the house was barely recognisable. Draco eagerly participated in the decorating, to mine and Terry's delight. The tarnished chandeliers were no longer hung with cobwebs but with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow glittered in heaps over the threadbare carpets; a great Christmas tree, obtained by Mundungus and decorated with live fairies, blocked Sirius's family tree from view, and even the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards.

I awoke on Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the foot of my bed and Terry already halfway through opening his own pile. 

"Good haul this year." Terry informed me through a cloud of paper. "Thanks for the Broom Compass, it's excellent; beats Hermione's - she got me a homework planner -" 

I sorted through my many presents and found one with Hermione's handwriting on it. She had given me, too, a book that resembled a diary except that every time I opened a page it said aloud things like: "Do it today or later you'll pay!" 

Mrs Weasley had given me the usual hand-knitted jumper and some mince pies, and Dobby a truly dreadful painting that I suspected had been done by the elf himself. I had just turned it upside-down to see whether it looked better that way when, with a loud crack, Fred and George Apparated at the foot of my bed.

"Merry Christmas." George said. "Don't go downstairs for a bit." 

"Wondered where you guys were." I said. "Why, what's up?" 

"Mum's crying again." Fred said heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper." 

"Without a note." George added. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything." 

"We tried to comfort her." Fred said, moving around the bed to look at my portrait. "Told her Percy's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings." 

"Didn't work." George said, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon." 

"What's that supposed to be, anyway?" Fred asked, squinting at Dobby's painting. "Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes." 

"It's Softpaw!" George said, pointing at the back of the picture. "Says so on the back!" 

"Good likeness." Fred said, grinning. I threw my new homework diary at him; it hit the wall opposite and fell to the floor where it said happily: "If you've dotted the 'i's and crossed the 't's then you may do whatever you please!" 

We got up and dressed. We could hear the various inhabitants of the house calling "Merry Christmas" to one another. 

Mrs Weasley was the only person in the basement when we arrived there. She was standing at the stove and sounded as though she had a bad head cold as she wished us "Merry Christmas," and we all averted our eyes.

"So, is this Kreacher's bedroom?" Ron said, strolling over to a dingy door in the corner opposite the pantry. I had never seen it open. I watched, amused, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione left a present in there. 

"Bit weird, mate." I said to Harry, and he flipped me off. 

"Come to think of it," said Sirius, emerging from the pantry carrying a large turkey as they closed the cupboard door, "has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?" 

"I haven't seen him since the night we came back here." Harry said. "You were ordering him out of the kitchen." 

"I'll look for him later, I expect I'll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother's old bloomers or something. Of course, he might have crawled into the airing cupboard and died... but I mustn't get my hopes up." Sirius said. 

Fred, George, Terry, Ron, and I laughed; Hermione, however, looked reproachful.

Once we had eaten our Christmas lunch, the Weasleys, Hermione, Terry, Draco, Harry, and I were planning to pay Mr Weasley another visit, escorted by Mad-Eye, Lupin, and Emily. Mundungus turned up in time for Christmas pudding and trifle, having managed to 'borrow' a car for the occasion, as the Underground did not run on Christmas Day. The car, which I doubted very much had been taken with the consent of its owner, had been enlarged with a spell like the Weasleys' old Ford Anglia had once been. Although normally proportioned outside, ten people with Mundungus driving were able to fit into it quite comfortably. Mrs Weasley hesitated before getting inside - I knew her disapproval of Mundungus was battling with her dislike of travelling without magic - but, finally, the cold outside and her children's pleading triumphed, and she settled herself into the back seat between Fred and Bill with good grace.

The journey to St Mungo's was quite quick as there was very little traffic on the roads. A small trickle of witches and wizards was creeping furtively up the otherwise deserted street to visit the hospital. Me and the others got out of the car, and Mundungus drove off around the corner to wait for us. We strolled casually towards the window where the dummy in green nylon stood, then, one by one, stepped through the glass.

The reception area looked pleasantly festive: the crystal orbs that illuminated St. Mungo's had been coloured red and gold to become gigantic, glowing Christmas baubles; holly hung around every doorway; and shining white Christmas trees covered in magical snow and icicles glittered in every corner, each one topped with a gleaming gold star. It was less crowded than the last time we had been there, although halfway across the room I was passed by a witch with a satsuma jammed up her left nostril.

"Family argument, eh?" The blonde witch behind the desk smirked. "You're the third I've seen today... Spell Damage, fourth floor."

We found Mr Weasley propped up in bed with a rather sheepish expression on his face.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked, after we had all greeted Mr Weasley and handed over our presents.

"Fine, fine." Mr Weasley said, a little too heartily. "You - er - haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?" 

"No." Mrs Weasley said suspiciously. "Why?" 

"Nothing, nothing." Mr Weasley said airily, starting to unwrap his pile of gifts. "Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Daisy, Harry - this is absolutely wonderful!" For he had just opened mine and Harry's gift of fuse-wire and screwdrivers.

Mrs Weasley did not seem entirely satisfied with Mr Weasley's answer. As her husband leaned over to shake Harry's hand, she peered at the bandaging under his nightshirt.

"Arthur," She said, with a snap in her voice like a mousetrap, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow." 

"What?" Mr Weasley said, looking rather frightened and pulling the bed covers higher up his chest. "No, no - it's nothing - it's - I -" 

He seemed to deflate under Mrs Weasley's piercing gaze.

"Well - now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea... he's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in... um... complementary medicine... I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies... well, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on - on Muggle wounds -" 

Mrs Weasley let out an ominous noise somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. Lupin strolled away from the bed and over to the werewolf, who had no visitors and was looking rather wistfully at the crowd around Mr Weasley; Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of tea and Fred, George, Terry, and I leapt up to accompany him, grinning.

"Do you mean to tell me," said Mrs Weasley, her voice growing louder with every word and apparently unaware that her fellow visitors were scurrying for cover, "that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?" 

"Not messing about, Molly, dear," said Mr Weasley imploringly, "it was just - just something Pye and I thought we'd try - only, most unfortunately - well, with these particular kinds of wounds - it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped -" 

"Meaning?" 

"Well... well, I don't know whether you know what - what stitches are?" 

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," said Mrs Weasley with a snort of mirthless laughter, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid -" 

As the door swung closed behind us, we heard Mrs Weasley shriek, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?" 

"Typical Dad." Bill said, shaking his head as we set off up the corridor. "Stitches... I ask you..."