In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang had anything bad to say about Lupin.
‘Look at the state of his robes,’ Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Lupin passed. ‘He dresses like our old house elf… Oww!’
Of course, anytime Secret was passing and she heard, she always seemed to “accidently” stand on his foot. But no one else cared that Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy. water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.
Secret only wished she had as much fun in her other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly horrid mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny, which was no shock to anyone. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever – much to Secret’s displeasure.
Secret was also growing weary about the hours she spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, trying to ignore ominous things she kept seeing in the crystal balls, that would always happen, although admittedly she had yet to see Harry’s death crop up. She couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati and Lavender had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunch times, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't, which Secret snorted at whenever they told her. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed, which also irritated Secret if she was in the area.
Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures anymore, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.
‘Why would anyone bother looking after them?’ said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' throats, and Secret could only agree.
At the start of October, however, Secret had something else to occupy her, something rather enjoyable and made up for her rubbish classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.
‘This is our last chance - my last chance - to win the Quidditch Cup,’ he told them, striding up and down in front of them. Secret couldn’t quite meet his face; she was just reminded about catching him with Penelope. ‘I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it. Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world - injuries - then the tournament getting called off last year…’
Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat.
‘But we also know we've got the best-ruddy-team-in-the-school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. ‘We've got three superb Chasers…’ Wood pointed at Alicia Spinner, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.
‘We've got three unbeatable Beaters.’
‘Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us,’ said Fred and George together, pretending to blush, whilst elbowing Secret.
‘And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!’ Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride.
‘And me,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘We think you're very good too, Oliver,’ said George.
‘Spanking good Keeper,’ said Fred.
‘The point is,’ Wood went on, resuming his pacing, ‘the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry and Secret joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing....’
Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.
‘Oliver, this year's our year,’ said Fred.
‘We'll do it, Oliver!’ said Angelina.
‘Definitely,’ said Harry.
Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Secret's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup – Snape had often gone on about it when she was little, and it used to fill her dreams, gleaming and shining.
　　
Secret returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.
‘What's going on?’ She asked Lee Jordan, who was peering at a new notice on the board.　
‘First Hogsmeade weekend," said Lee, moving so she could see. ‘End of October. Halloween.’
‘Excellent,’ said Fred, who had appeared behind the girl, ‘I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets.’
‘I need to ask Uncle if he can sign my permission form, cause there ain’t a chance Snape will.’ Secret mulled.
‘Could go ask now.’ George added.
‘Might do…’
‘OY!’ The trio jumped and spun to see Ron fighting with Crookshanks, who was attacking his bag. ‘GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!’
Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing.
‘Ron, don't hurt him!’ squealed Hermione. The whole common room was watching now.
Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top -
‘CATCH THAT CAT!’ Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified Scabbers.
George made a lunge for Crookshanks but missed. Secret dove for the animal, but it slipped through and she merely landed on top of the male. Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a halt, crouched low on his bandy legs, and started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw.
Ron and Hermione hurried over; Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail.
‘Look at him!’ he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. ‘He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!’
‘Crookshanks doesn't understand…’ Secreet heard no more, as she had left, walking down the corridors and to Andy’s office.
‘He’s not in right now.’ Jinxx had answered. ‘Come on in, he should only be a moment.’
She slipped in, and smiled as she saw the guys lounging on couches.
‘Heya, Secret!’ Ashley cheered, holding his arms out. ‘Give us a hug, I haven’t had one in ages!’
Rolling her eyes, she walked over and sat next to him, allowing him to slip his arms round her and hug her tight.
‘So, what does our lil’ Secret requires that’s made her trek all the way from her common room, at this time in an evening, to our office?’ asked CC.
‘I need Uncle to sign my permission form for Hogsmead.’ Secret replied.
‘Must Andy sign it? Surly you could get on of us.’ Jake said.
‘None of you are my parent or legal guardian.’ Secret pointed out.
‘We’re wounded Secret! Well all think of you as our daughter.’ Groaned Ashley, being dramatic as normal.
‘Unfortunately, McGonagall doesn’t.’ Secret said.
‘Darn it.’
The door opened at this point, and Andy walked it.
‘Heya, Secret! What’s up?’ he grinned as he spotted the witch.
‘I need my Hogsmead form signing.’ She said, slipping off the sofa and over, holding the form.
Andy took it, pulled a quill from a draw, and dipped it in the ink before scrawling on the paper.
‘There we go. Should be enough for McGonagall.’ He grinned.
‘Cheer’s Uncle.’ She smiled, hugging him.
‘It’s ‘k. Off you go, unless you fancy staying for hot chocolate.’ Andy said, hugging back.
‘Hot Chocolate!’

‘So, where are we going first?’ Secret looked up at the twins as they made their way down the courtyard, following the rest of the crowd.
‘Zonko’s, surely.’ She replied in disbelief to Fred’s comment.
‘The Troublemaker-In-Training knows well.’ George added.
As they passed the gates, Secret felt a shiver fly down as she saw the Dementors, and moved to Fred, grasping his hand. Fred noticed, and gave it a reassuring squeeze, not letting go until they had reached the beginning of the village.
‘So, to Zonko’s!’ George suddenly grabbed her other hand, dragging her off.

When they got back, pink faced and cold, the trio had great fun trying to sneak all their Zonko’s produce past Filch, who seemed very suspicious of the three.
‘I have no idea where he gets these wild accusations from.’ Secret muttered as they entered the common room, having received and earful from the caretaker about if he caught one wiff of a dungbomb, then they would all be in trouble.
‘Can’t imagine.’ Said Fred cheerfully.
‘Come on, feast will be starting soon.’ George reminded.
They went to their rooms to deposit their stuff, before heading down, discussing about Zonko’s and how they could alter some things for their own jokes.
The Great Hall had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes. The food was delicious; even Secret, Fred and George, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything.
The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.
It had been such a pleasant evening that Secret's good mood couldn't even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall at Harry, ‘The dementors send their love, Potter!’ – she merely made a mental note to hex him later.
The trio followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.
‘Why isn't anyone going in?" said Secret; she couldn’t see anything, due to be one of the shorter students.
Fred peered over the heads in front of him. ‘The portrait seems to be closed. Dunno what’s going on…’
‘Let me through, please,’ came Percy's voice, and he came pushing through the crowd. ‘What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password… excuse me, I'm Head Boy…’
A silence suddenly fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. Then, they heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, ‘Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick.’
‘I can’t see anything.’ Frowned George.
‘You think I can?’ Secret scowled.
A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait and the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through.
‘Hang on… Up you get!’ Fred’s hands were suddenly lifting Secret, so as he could sit her on his shoulders. ‘What can you see?’
Secret peered, and then gasped, hands over her mouth. ‘Holy Flying Saucers…’
The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.
Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him. Snape, seeing the portrait, immediately spun to look round the students. His eyes rested on Secret, before he breathed out, and turned back to Dumbledore.
‘We need to find her,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady…’
‘You'll be lucky!’ said a cackling voice.
It was Peeves, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.
‘What do you mean, Peeves?’ said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore.
Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle. ‘Ashamed, Your Headship, sit. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful,’ he said happily.
‘Poor thing,’ he added unconvincingly.
‘Did she say who did it?’ said Dumbledore quietly.
‘Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves. ‘He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see.’ Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs.
‘Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black.’

Secret couldn’t sleep. Either side of her, Fred and George were both snoring, but she couldn’t sleep. She just sat there, huddled up in her sleeping bag, watching the slumbering students, and Percy strolling amongst them, occasionally telling some off for chattering.
She looked down. What is he was still in the castle? He may be her father, but what if he hurt someone? What if he was on his way to the Hall, and he was going to burst in, and take her? Take away from her friends, her family, everyone…
‘Secret?’ she was jerked from her thoughts to see Percy peering at her, concerned. ‘You should be asleep.’
‘I can’t sleep Percy. I’m frightened.’ She whispered.
Percy looked at her with pity and surprise – never before at Secret openly admitted being scared.
‘You gotta try. You need your energy for tomorrow.’ He sighed, crouching to her level.
‘What about you?’ she asked.
‘I’m on patrol until Dumbledore returns. Then, I can go to sleep.’ He said.
‘Will… W-Will you come over here, and stay with me?’ she timidly asked.
He nodded. ‘I will.’
Standing up, he went back to paroling.
Five minutes later, the doors opened and Dumbledore came in, followed by McGonagall and Jinxx.
‘No sign. He’s gone. I am perfectly happy to send the students back to their dorms tomorrow.’ Said Dumbledore as Percy approached him. ‘I would think it best you get some sleep – a young lady is waiting for you.’
Secret gasped softly as his blue eyes flashed in her direction – was there anything this man didn’t know?
Percy nodded, before fetching his sleeping bag and dragging it over to the girl. He placed it down, before getting her to lie down and climbing in his own next to her.
‘Don’t worry Secret, he can’t hurt you anymore.’ Percy soothed softly.
Secret bit her lip, and looked straight into his eyes.
‘You promise?' she whispered, surprised at how timid and scared her voice had gone.
Percy nodded, reaching out to grasp on of her hands in his own. ‘I won’t let him.’