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Chapter Text

Ron had tried to kick her cat. Hermione could admit – to herself, and not out loud – that he'd had some cause, that he'd been trying to protect Scabbers, but he'd been like this from the very beginning. Crookshanks was a dear with the smaller cats in the dormitory, with the toads, with the owls that sometimes visited through the windows, and every time Crookshanks took a peaceful nap curled around Eloise's toad, Hermione was convinced that Crooks only needed a little more time to get to know Scabbers.

At certain moments — like right then, sitting at Christmas dinner in the Great Hall and absolutely stewing — she half convinced herself that Crooks only kept going after Scabbers because Ron was so beastly to him.

But of the reasons why she was stewing, that was the smaller one.

Harry had gotten a Firebolt for Christmas, and he and Ron thought nothing of it.

She wasn't sure she believed that they really hadn't thought anything of it. The dreadful suspicion was so frightfully obvious that it hardly seemed possible that they could've avoided it. After all, it had been perfectly clear all year that they weren't taking Sirius Black seriously. So, as soon as they were done chatting away and not saying a word to her, she should pull them aside and explain her suspicions to them.

Except, what then? Harry had refused to turn in the map or tell anyone about the Secret Passageway, merely because he wanted to visit a sweets shop. Or perhaps more than that. Not to go psychoanalyzing him, but Hermione guessed that he wanted to feel normal, to be included in what everyone else was doing. Only how could he feel normal and included doing it under an invisibility cloak, knowing that a deadly dangerous dark wizard known to be after his life might be hiding, lying in wait against the(apparently) unlikely eventuality that Harry Potter would go out for Hogsmeade weekend? Regardless, she was quite sure his desire to play Quidditch and not let the side down was greater than his desire to visit Hogsmeade.

So yes, Harry would refuse to tell anyone about the broom. She could see it all in her mind. She heard Ron's furious defence of base idiocy, saw Harry's closed off expression and that single, cutting remark that ended the conversation for good.

Perhaps it would be better to take the decision out of Harry's hands, as if not coming to him first were just an oversight. He and Ron might be upset initially, but she was sure that would blow over in a few days. The Professors would send the broom out to an expert to have it looked over, which she imagined as a speedy process, taking a week at the utmost and likely less. Whoever examined it would either discover nothing was wrong with the broom, in which case Harry would get it back, no harm done, and he would have to stop being angry even if he was still angry then. Or (and Hermione thought this much more likely) they would discover it had been dangerously jinxed. Harry would be grateful, Ron would be sheepish, and they would both start listening to her more.

Harry and Ron got up from the table, and Hermione saw the perfect chance to make her move.

"Coming?" said Harry.

"No, I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

Ron made some crack about how she probably wanted to take extra classes, but she was just glad he was producing an excuse for her. As soon as they were out the doors, she looked to Professor McGonagall, but before she could catch the woman's attention, she was pinned by a pair of bright blue eyes.

"I've been meaning to say, Miss Granger, what a relief it is that the three of you are so very close. It takes a great weight off my mind."

"Really sir?"

"Of course," said Professor Dumbledore. "The three of you have already accomplished extraordinary feats, and I believe you're aware that this year as much as any other, Harry is under extraordinary pressures. But at so young an age, such trust as I see between you three is rare and precious. It sets my heart at ease."

The great man smiled, eyes twinkling. "A fine antidote to the heartburn this lovely pie is like to give me," he said, taking another large piece.

Damn it all to hell.

Eyes prickling, Hermione got to her feet and followed slowly after Ron and Harry, convincing herself that they would listen after all.

They both liked solving mysteries. Trying to figure out what Fluffy was guarding had started off as a lark, a nice hobby for after class. The mystery of how Harry got a Firebolt ought to qualify as well. Have Professor McGonagall check it out might not appeal to them as a strategy, but they'd see sense eventually. Harry had to be tired of being attacked during Quidditch matches.

Hermione had nearly talked herself into believing they'd listen when she walked through the portraithole into the Gryffindor Dorms. She found them by the fire, again admiring the suspicious Firebolt. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Don't you think you'd better tell Professor McGonagall about that broom, Harry?"

"What're you on about?" said Ron.

"Well, don't you see? I think it's very likely the broom was sent by Sirius Black. I'm sure it's jinxed somehow."

The boy looked in disbelief from her to the broom and back.

Ron said, "With what money? And Black can't just waltz into Quality Quidditch Supplies, now can he?"

"Maybe he stole it. He's obviously resourceful. He broke out of Azkaban, and into Hogwarts."

"So he ought to try to do it again, not send Harry Christmas gifts. Besides, we've been handling it a lot and it hasn't done anything."

"Doesn't mean it won't. You haven't even ridden it yet."

"So now Harry can't ride his own broom?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" Nothing was coming out right. She'd had a coherent and cogent argument planned in her head, but it had fallen immediately into pieces and she was only looking at Harry beseechingly, Harry who had, as usual, just been listening, and had his deciding face on.

Harry said, "If Black could kill me through the post, I reckon he could manage something a lot more dangerous than a broom." His eyes were clear and sure, and his tone left no room for discussion.

Much sooner than she should've, Hermione played her trump card.

"If you won't tell Professor McGonagall, I will."

"Like hell," said Ron.

"You wouldn't," said Harry.

"Just watch me," said Hermione. "I've had more than enough watching you almost die in Quidditch matches. I'd rather you were angry at me than dead."

Hermione whipped around. Stomping out the portrait hole, she heard Ron say, "She won't really do it."

#
#

It was for Harry's benefit that Ron said she wouldn't. Privately, he was afraid she would, because after all, Hermione didn't get it, never had. She was always sure they could trust the Professors no matter how many times they proved they'd only make things worse.

And she didn't get Harry either. Not like Ron did. Maybe it was because they were both boys, or because they'd made friends with her later, but Hermione had no idea what it was like for Harry. Ron might not know exactly what went on at the Dursleys, but he knew it wasn't good, knew that Harry had no one to depend on but him and Hermione. If she actually went tattling to the Professors over Harry's business when Harry had just told her not to, it would be a betrayal of friendship so deep that Ron didn't think he or Harry could ever forgive her for it.

So he preferred to believe she would come to her senses before she found Professor McGonagall.

He was just thinking that it was taking too long and she was probably in a loo having a good cry when the portraithole opened, admitting Hermione and Professor McGonagall.

Harry's jaw fell open, and he put the broom behind his back. Ron clenched his fists, and his vision filled with red fog. This was the absolute worst. She'd asked, been told no, and had gone and snitched anyway.

"I'd better have a look at this Firebolt, Mr Potter."

Harry handed it over, saying nothing but glaring at daggers at Hermione, who looked primly out the window. Professor McGonagall hemmed and hawed but the upshot was she was going to take it away to examine it, and that might take days or even weeks.

Ron said, "Her cat's a menace."

"Pardon, Mr Weasley?" said Professor McGonagall.

"I haven't been saying anything about it, but her cat is vicious and has been attacking other people's pets, and she hasn't done a thing about it!" There. Turn about was fair play. See how she liked it.

"That's not true! Crooks is a perfect dear with all the other pets."

McGonagall said, "All the other? I need to hear the problem in a bit more detail, Mr Weasley."

Glaring victoriously at Hermione, Ron told McGonagall everything about it, from that very first day at the pet shop.

"If you could bring this Scabbers down, Mr Weasley."

Ron ran down the stairs with Scabbers clutched tightly in both hands, alert for any sign of Crookshanks. Scabbers wriggled a little on seeing Professor McGonagall, but calmed down when Ron whispered to him.

"No cage, Mr Weasley?"

"Scabbers hates cages. He goes mad if you try and put him in one."

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, tired but firm. "Mr Weasley, if you recall, the approved pets at this school are owls, cats, and toads."

Ron's blood ran cold.

"We may sometimes turn a blind eye to other pets, so long as they're not problematic, but you've just told me that you have a rat which is a source of significant conflict with an approved pet and can't be properly safeguarded. I'm afraid you leave me no choice." She reached for Scabbers.

Ron leapt back, clutching Scabbers to his chest. "What are you trying to do with him?"

"I'll floo him to your mother."

"You can't do that! Mum doesn't like him, she won't take care of him properly, and he might not survive the floo anyway. He's sick!"

Professor McGonagall said, "Not infectious, I hope."

"No, he's just old. He's over 10."

"If he's a magical rat, he'll do just fine with the floo."

"He's not magical," said Ron.

"He is if he's over 10."

Harry said, "Scabbers isn't ever any trouble."

"Right," said Hermione. "I can keep them separated more."

McGonagall's expression softened ever so fractionally as she said, "I'm afraid there is no choice in this matter. But I'll run a few diagnostics before I take him, if that will set your mind at ease." She drew her wand and spoke sharply until Ron proffered Scabbers.

Biting Ron's finger, Scabber leapt from his hands. But before the rat could even touch the ground, McGonagall had conjured a cage around him. Scabbers squeaked, running from one side to the other, biting at the bars, and Professor McGonagall began casting spells.

"Don't hurt him," cried Ron.

"These are just simple diagnostic spells, Mr Weasley. There's no call to worry." But the more she cast, the more she frowned. She pocketed her wand and said, "I find a cat's nose can often detect what even sensitive Charm use misses. Don't be alarmed."

And a tabby cat was standing just where McGonagall had been, and began to prowl about the bars, nostrils flaring.

For a mad moment, Ron began to pull back his leg to kick the cat away, but the better part of his mind knew this was Professor McGonagall, so he stopped.

After only a little time, McGonagall became herself again. Her mouth was half open in surprise, and her eyes didn't leave Scabbers for an instant. She waved her wand, and new bars were conjured into existence even as the cage grew larger, big enough that Ron would've fit inside.

McGonagall flicked her wand, and with a crack, Scabbers turned into a balding, rotund man.

"What did you go and do that for?" said Ron, face white. Turning a person into an animal was good fun, but transfiguring an animal into a person was serious dark magic and he couldn't believe he'd just seen it.

"Peter Pettigrew?" McGonagall whispered, white as milk.

#
#

Albus Dumbledore put it together almost the moment Minnie and Filius levitated Peter Pettigrew into his office.

He had begun to suspect Sirius Black might not have been a Death Eater after all. It was the obvious explanation for the reactions of Lucius Malfoy and his ilk, all so desperate to see Sirius kissed. Seeing Pettigrew, everything came together. Peter had been the real secret keeper, the real traitor, and had framed Sirius.

Perhaps. He couldn't be sure, not until Severus reached his office with the veritaserum, but Albus was already planning.

A part of him was tempted to bury it. Sirius Black, freed and exonerated, might want guardianship of Harry Potter, and that was unacceptable. But sending an innocent man to Azkaban was something Albus would consider seriously only in the greatest of need, and not only was he confident that he could manage the man, he was well aware that an exonerated Sirius Black, armed with wealth and political position, would be of great aid to him.

Severus arrived with the veritaserum, coming to a complete halt the moment he caught sight of Peter. But he shook himself and quickly administered the three drops.

When Peter's eyes had glazed over, Dumbledore said, "Did you help Black get in the castle?"

"No."

"Then what's your relationship to him now?"

"He wants to kill me," Pettigrew said, "He broke out of Azkaban to do it."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort."

Albus sighed. The following silence was thick and oppressive, and even then, no one else seemed to understand what this implied, except perhaps young Miss Granger. Severus even went so far as to propose that this was a trick put on by Sirius.

"A most impressive one, if so. I think it much more likely that we must now all reorganize our thoughts. Peter, how did you come to betray Lily and James Potter?"

And Peter explained everything, just as Dumbledore had guessed it. One day, Death Eaters had broken into Peter's home, pressed him against a wall, and given him an offer: pass on secrets about Dumbledore's vigilante group and get a hundred galleons, or refuse and watch his mother die. He'd pocketed the galleons, and soon, he'd been in deep.

When the news had come that Voldemort was after the Potters, he'd begun to nag Sirius about how he'd best be very careful on becoming their Secret Keeper, that everyone would be sure to guess it was him and it was very important for him to stay in his own hideout, no matter how many weeks or months things went in for. Eventually, Black had come to the obvious conclusion: he and Pettigrew would switch. Lily herself had transferred the Secret.

"Why did she think that was a good idea?" Severus asked unsteadily.

"Lily never liked Sirius. She thought he was a bad influence on James, but James and Sirius didn't trust Moony anymore, so of course it was me."

"Moony?" said Harry quickly. "Who's that?"

"Remus Lupin."

The boy blinked, which was a demonstrative action by his standards. Albus took it to mean that he wished his defence professor had told him that himself.

Under more questioning, Pettigrew explained his confrontation with Sirius, how he'd faked his death and murdered those muggles. How he'd been as afraid of the Death Eaters who'd stayed free as of the Ministry and had spent years in the form of a rat with the Weasleys, settling into comfortable ferality until he'd heard the news that Sirius had escaped.

"The cat was a problem too," Pettigrew said. "It knew what I was. It kept trying to make me transform in front of everyone."

"I believe that's enough for now. Minerva, please contact Madam Bones directly. Use my floo. The kiss on sight order against Black must be rescinded immediately. And I believe the three of you," said Albus, gesturing to Granger, Weasley and the boy, "have had quite enough excitement for one evening."

But even as they were ushered forcefully out, Harry had one last question for Peter.

"Did you ever care for my parents at all?"

"So very much," Peter answered with the calm glaze of veritaserum. "I begged the Dark Lord to spare them. He said he'd try."

Albus cast Severus a curious eye as the man collapsed against a wall.

#
#

For 12 years, tragedy had been the shield of Severus Snape. None of his idiotic students, most as cruel and thoughtless as those who had tormented him, and even none of his colleagues, understood what he had lost, the purity of his grief, the faithfulness of his love.

But Peter Pettigrew had turned spy to the side Snape had first chosen, taken the dark mark, and asked Voldemort to spare those he'd cared for. He was an incompetent dunderhead whose greatest intellectual gift was understanding just how to suck up to those more powerful than himself, but even that was like some twisted mirror of Severus.

It was the the first week after Christmas break, and Severus wandered the aisle of his third-year Slytherin and Gryffindor classes, feeling very far away even as he nodded at potions, telling students where they'd gone wrong and how to put it right, speaking mechanically without any sense of what he was saying until he reached Longbottom.

"You neglected to add the bicorn," he said, sniffing at Longbottom's slate grey potion.

"I-" Longbottom began, reaching for the bicorn.

"Don't add it now. It'll explode."

Longbottom stared at the floor and gulped repeatedly, clearly bracing for the tongue lashing to come, but holding out a desperate hope that Snape would just move on.

Snape tilted his head for a better look at him. The boy's parents had been tortured to insanity by the Lestranges, and Longbottom almost certainly knew that Severus was a Death Eater. That would be the source of much of his fear. That was hardly a new thought, and Severus had always held it against Longbottom that he would presume to compare him to those monsters. Every tremble of Longbottom's lips and wobble of his voice was a reminder to Severus of the worst mistake he'd ever made.

"Longbottom," Snape said in a near whisper, "I don't know what you've heard, but I wasn't there. Even if I had been, I did not do such things. Fear me, if you like, as a demanding, strict, and occasionally sarcastic teacher, but I'm not actually going to hurt you or your toad."

Longbottom risked a quick, startled peek at Snape, but he did not look less frightened. Snape turned away.

"Granger," he called out, "If you can salvage Longbottom's potion, and if he can explain what you did and why, you will each earn one point for Gryffindor. If only one of those requirements is met, no points will be earned by either of you."

The class was dead silent, every member of both houses staring at him, then at Granger as she put out the fire under her own simmering cauldron and hurried to Longbottom's side, and Severus turned back to his pacing of the aisles.

In that dead silence, Severus heard a splash, an oath, and a muffled giggle.

Severus turned his head in time to see one face white with anger, and an ill-disguised chortle on another.

"Malfoy, Potter is quite dangerous enough without your assistance. Any more of it and I will have no choice but to take points and give a detention."

He swept away from Malfoy's stunned face.

He would be better than Pettigrew, at least.

#
#

Whatever the exact opposite of being punched in the sternum was, that was what Sirius was feeling. Fudge had been so eager to get the embarrassment of the whole affair done with and out of the papers that it had been taken care of with blinding speed.

On December 24th, Sirius had been living as a mongrel dog, cold and hungry, hoping he managed to kill Pettigrew before the dementors kissed him.

On December 25th, Pettigrew had been caught.

On December 28th, Sirius had seen word of it in the papers.

On January 1st, he'd given himself up to the Aurors.

On January 6th, the Wizengamot had officially exonerated him, his freedom symbolized by the return of his wand.

On January 7th, he'd gone to Gringotts, taken possession of the Black family assets, and moved into his Uncle Alpharad's old house in Wales. It was in decent shape, and he had the money to pay for it to be fixed up, but Sirius had decided to do all the work himself.

On January 12th, he'd finally admitted to himself that his old wand wasn't working so well for him anymore and had gone to Ollivander's for a new one.

On January 25th, he'd given into Moony's nagging and made an appointment with a Counselor. After, he'd told Moony it was rubbish and he was never going back, but the truth was he'd gone back three times. This was less about him being impressed by the mindhealer than it was the idea that if he wanted to become Harry's guardian, he might need to be able to say he's done the minimum.

Now it was the night of the first of April, a loud clicking tick the only sound in the big house, and Harry was coming for easter break the very next day. They'd exchanged a few letters, but it would be their first time meeting. Sirius figured Harry was probably scared about it. He was probably only coming because Moony had talked him into it. And Sirius wasn't ready, not nearly. He'd thought he was until this very moment. But tomorrow he would have a boy to look after, and Sirius was a mess. Screws loose, anger unmanaged, screaming nightmares every night, and he was supposed to take care of Harry? Guide him and help him and give wise advice and pretend he had any of his own shit together? He'd be faking it every step of the way, and in the midst of thinking that, he'd gone to a shop for firewhiskey.

Which was stupid, idiotic. He'd got pissed any number of times since his exoneration, but usually in company. Sirius had grown up with too lage and unhappy of an extended family to fail to understand that if he started getting drunk on his own in the evenings, it would soon be every evening, and then every afternoon. Before long, he'd having beer for breakfast, and then he'd be a sopping drunkard, fit for nothing. Of all the nights he could get drunk on his own, this night would be the worst so far.

Yet he was going to do it anyway.

Sirius reached for the bottle of firewhiskey, but another hand beat him to it.

"Just one shot?" said Remus, and Sirius let out a sigh of relief. Dumbledore had loosened the restrictions on Remus's floo, and the man had been here almost every night.

They ended up taking two shots each, and Remus took the bottle with him back through the floo, leaving Sirius with a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

Chapter Text

Ch 2

For Harry, life was moving at once too quickly and too slowly. First, one of his best friends had betrayed him so thoroughly that he didn't see how he'd ever be able to forgive her, nevermind trust her again, and she wasn't the least bit repentant about it. Then it had turned out that the dark wizard who had betrayed his parents and was trying to kill him was actually not a dark wizard or trying to kill him and was after the real dark wizard who had actually betrayed his parents, and somehow Harry couldn't help pitying said traitor.

And now it was Easter break, and he was on a train bound for King's Cross along with his defence teacher, who was one of his dead father's best friends, in order to spend the break with the non-dark wizard who was, among other things, his godfather, though his mother hadn't much liked him. It wouldn't be a long visit — just eight days, from the Saturday of one week to the Sunday of the next, but he was nervous nonetheless.

They were spending the ride working on the Patronus Charm, which was a great deal easier when he wasn't being confronted by a boggart dementor. He was studying the Charm, not because there were still any dementors around Hogwarts, but because Professor Lupin had said he was still willing to give Harry the lessons if he liked, and Harry, wanting to get to know his dad's friend, had eagerly agreed.

Thrown into it all was the nicely hallucinatory detail that the dark wizard who had actually betrayed his parents had been in hiding as his other best friend's pet rat all along.

The Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, steam billowing out the top. Lupin cast a featherlight charm on Harry's trunk, and they walked out together. Not even a third of the school got on the train for Easter Break, and Harry had never seen the platform so empty.

A dark-haired man was lounging against the wall by the barrier, not so gaunt as he'd been in pictures in the Daily Prophet, but still thinner and paler than the man laughing in his parents' wedding photos. He wore trainers, dark jeans, and a leather jacket, looking every bit as comfortable in muggle dress as Mr Weasley wasn't.

They shook hands. "Nice firm grip there, Harry. You were holding onto my index finger last time we shook."

"Yeah?" Harry had planned things to say, but none of them seemed a good follow up to that.

Sirius scratched his head. "How's classes? McGonagall's still teaching, isn't she? Merlin, but James and I had a lot of detentions with her."

"What for?"

So on the way to the Leaky Cauldron, they chatted about what Harry thought of certain classes and what his parents had thought of the same classes. Small talk, but Harry was enthralled. He could've listened to it for hours. The only fly in the ointment was Sirius's growling about 'Snivellus Snape' being a Professor.

The first use of the name surprised a laugh out of him, but after repetitions of it, Harry had to reluctantly report that Snape had been half-decent lately. And more than that — though he hadn't said this outloud — it felt off to hear a childish insult coming repeatedly out of Sirius' mouth.

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius said, "You're alright with floo travel, aren't you, Harry?"

"Sure." He'd done it only twice before, going to and from Diagon Alley with the Weasleys.

"It's Lle Gorffwys Huelog. Repeat that."

Harry tried it.

"Make your mouth a little squarer on the Hue. It's Welsh."

Harry tried until Sirius was satisfied. Sirius threw floo powder into the fireplace, stepped inside, and said, "Lle Gorffwys Huelog," and vanished.

Lupin motioned for Harry to go next. Remembering how his first go at floo travel had gone, Harry took in a few deep lungfuls of air and held his breath so he wouldn't have to inhale while he was in the fire.

"Lle Gorffwys Heulog," he said. Once again he found himself spinning, but it wasn't so bad as before, perhaps because this time he knew what to expect. He'd heard there was a trick to it, staying balanced without fighting the floo, and Harry tried, but he still shot out the fireplace on the other side spinning and stumbling.

Sirius caught him, and a moment later Lupin came through with Harry's trunk, striding as easily as if he'd just walked through an empty arch.

Sirius pointed to an open doorway and they walked out onto a lawn.

Harry had imagined the old country house would be much like the Burrow, and he wasn't wrong. There was a pond, a small Quidditch pitch, and a whole lot of trees. But the floo had let out of a small outbuilding that might exist just for that purpose. There was also a cottage draped in honeysuckle, and a large house, half-again as large as the burrow, made of bluish-gray stone. Vines crawled up it, and it was set with many wide windows like foggy mirrors.

"It's a three acre lot originally," said Sirius, "but my Uncle Alpharad had it expanded to twenty-one. Most of it's woodland, and there's a wall at the property line. The neighbors aren't close, so you can fly safely enough so long as you stay below the treeline. Alpharad had the place warded up heavy during the war, and I've had it reinforced since I was freed — even ponied up for a ghoul, so you ought to be able to have the run of the place safely enough."

Harry nodded as if that meant something to him. "Where are we anyway?"

"Wales, near Snowdonia. We might walk through it, if you've a mind to. Want to see your room?"

Harry sucked in a breath and reminded himself that by 'his room,' Sirius just meant the guest room where he'd be spending a week.

"This is yours," said Sirius, handing him a large brass key. "Keep it on you but don't lose it. It's not enough to get in with by itself, but I'll introduce you to the wards later." Sirius led them in. Natural light poured in through the windows, which, from the inside, were perfectly clear. Harry caught a glimpse of flower beds out back even wilder than the ones up front.

They went up the stairs and reached a white door on which the word Harry's had been stenciled.

"Go on," said Sirius.

It was at least three times the size of his bedroom at the Dursleys. The bed was wider than the ones at Hogwarts, and there were drawers underneath it. There was a dresser with a Wizarding Wirless on its top, a wardrobe, and a wide desk against one of the large windows, looking out at a greenhouse, a smaller pond next to it, more vegetable beds gone wild, and the woods.

That was the bed section sorted. At the end of the room was an attached loo, and in between was a sitting area with a sofa, a stuffed leather armchair, a small table that had a brass kaleidoscope, with stand, on it, and two bookcases already half-filled with books, most of them old and well-used.

"Most of those were James' or Lily's," said Sirius, gesturing to the books.

Harry collapsed into the armchair, head in his hands, and his mind was full of the fact that the door to the room had his name on it.

#
#

When Harry sat down at the kitchen table, the Wireless was on low, and a deep voice was going on about the ICW's efforts to ensure that Kodak Cameras were no threat to the Statute of Secrecy. It was quiet enough to talk over easily, and Sirius said, "Like your room?"

"It's brilliant." He was holding onto James and the Giant Peach and had used a bit of tissue to mark his place in it.

"Yeah? I thought tomorrow we could pick out colours for the walls."

"You don't have to."

"It's your room," said Sirius. "When I was your age, I did mine up in red and gold just to make sure everyone knew I was a Gryffindor, but whatever you like."

"How 'bout my dad's?"

"Oh hell, bit yellowish wasn't it, Moony?"

"Think so."

Sirius said, "Here, try a scone, I got them this morning."

Harry took one, and it was quite good, with lots of currants mixed in. He drank tea to wash it down and said, "What are my chores?"

"Chores?" said Sirius. He looked to Lupin as if Lupin might know, but the other man shrugged. "Er," said Sirius, "Keep your room reasonably clean? Do your homework, I suppose. We'll help with that."

Lupin said, "He should clean up after himself."

"Right," said Sirius, snapping his fingers. "If you make a mess in the kitchen, clean it."

"I can take food from the pantry?" said Harry.

"Course you can. But no leaving the property without us. Like I said, no flying higher than the tree line, and if you're doing any diving or tricky manuevers, you'd better have one of us out there with us. No swimming in the big pond, since it's got grindylows. No firewhiskey till you're older. If you play with fire, be careful. Am I missing anything?"

Lupin said, "He could have a bedtime."

"Right. Go to sleep eventually. Can you think of anything else, Harry?"

"How about noise?" said Harry.

Sirius nodded. "If you're going to be loud, try to do it before midnight. And if you're an early riser, no getting loud until after 10 AM or you see we're up."

Harry felt adrift. Even at the Weasleys, he'd had plenty of chores. "I could make breakfast. I'm good at that."

"If you like," said Sirius. "We've got pans and a stove. But I can do it a lot more quickly with a few charms. But if you're finished with your tea, I imagine you'd like a tour of the house and the grounds."

Harry nabbed a second scone. The ground floor consisted of front and back parlors, a formal dining room, a large kitchen with an informal eating area inside it, a library, a solarium, and one loo. Stairs led into a cellar that served as a disused potions lab. Upstairs were the five large bedrooms, each with a loo attached, a workroom, and a study.

After the tour, Harry read a little more, and then they had dinner. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Sirius said, "So Harry, I've been thinking. You know I'm your godfather?"

Harry nodded.

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle. But, think about it. This house is yours as often as you want it."

Some sort of explosion took place in the pit of Harry's stomach.

Lupin said, "Sirius, you know what Dumbledore said. This is only a visit."

"I'm just asking," said Sirius. "I can do that, can't I? It's still Harry's decision."

"You mean, live with you?" said Harry.

Sirius shrugged and took a drink. "I understand if you don't want to, but think about it, if you like, until the end of the week-"

"Are you insane?" said Harry. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys. And I'm already moved in here, but if you want me in a smaller room instead, that's fine."

"Really?" said Sirius.

"Yes."

"But your aunt and uncle…"

"We don't get on."

"That so?" said Sirius, looking at him keenly.

Harry shrugged.

He crept down late the next morning and stood in the hall. Sirius was reading a thick book over a plate of eggs and hash, and Harry wondered if any food had been made up for him, or if he'd missed by oversleeping and wouldn't have any until breakfast, or whether he was supposed to make his own, but in that case, was it really true that he would have free run of the pantry?

Sirius ran his hand through his hair. "Oi, Moony, what do you make of this?"

Lupin bent over the book, cup of tea in hand. He nodded as he read the passage Sirius was pointing at. "Good question. Because it sounds here as if she's saying Intent Wards don't operate off intent, but she says here clear as day they do." He re-read a particularly difficult sentence aloud. "The signified, which creates the signifier, is in turn sustained by the signifier in a never ending act, as the snake devours its own tail. Does she mean that something else is used as a proxy for intent?"

"If that's what she means, why doesn't she come out and say so? But if they are using intent for the wards, how the bloody hell do the wards figure out what people's intents are? It's not life history."

Moving to the mouth of the hall, Harry said, "Do wards, er, read people's minds then?"

"Harry!" said Sirius. "There you are. Grub's staying warm on the stove. Serve yourself up." He jerked a thumb at a blue plate on the counter. "And no, wards don't read people's minds. Think of it more like magic's known you all your life, so of course it figure what side you're on."

"You just said it's not life history," Lupin said mildly.

"And so? How detailed an accounting could I give of your life history? Or you of yours? We've both forgotten most of the details haven't we, but that doesn't mean we don't know each other." He frowned. "But if that method works that well for intent wards, you'd think they'd get used for sorting people out more."

Harry grabbed loaded eggs, hashbrowns and grilled mushrooms and squash onto his plate, listening to the conversation keenly though he understood little of it.

"All they do is detect if you'll violate their restrictions, and the restrictions are do nots, not dos, so if it's temporarily restrained…"

Harry stuck a fork in his eggs, and the yolk gushed out on his hashbrowns. Whoever had cooked could do eggs just fine, that was for sure. He added a little salt and pepper from the shakers on the table, and sniffed at a dish of chopped orangey bits which he decided must be some type of ginger.

"Then how the devil do people sneak past that them sometimes? No, that's it, isn't it? I've got why she said it that way, though I swear she could've been clearer. The signifier is established intent, and the signified is next moment intent. And if that's true, intent wards should be vulnerable to people who have recently changed their minds."

Lupin hmmed. "That would explain why they're so vulnerable to people under the Imperius."

"Well," said Sirius, setting the book aside, "Let's not rely much on intent-based wards then. Sleep alright, Harry?"

"Just fine."

Lupin had a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked under his arm, and the crossword, half-filled out, was on the table, a quil set on top of it, dripping ink. Harry gave a few vague but apparently satisfactory replies, tucking into his breakfast with gusto, as Sirius and Lupin had wide-ranging conversation about politics, world events, crossword clues, and magical advancements. After breakfast, Harry did his homework while Lupin lesson-planned and Sirius did the Indian Club exercises the healers at Saint Mungo's had shown him. Harry went for a fly before lunch, did homework more or less until dinner, half an ear turned to the wizarding wireless, his goal being to get all the homework done at the beginning of the break, Lupin and Sirius helping him now and then. He went up to bed not long after dessert and read his parents' novels.

The whole thing was almost grossly wholesome. Hermione would be thrilled, and the next two days followed the same pattern. Conversation Huelog was as different from Privet Drive as could be imagined, and yet somehow very different from that at the Great Hall or the Weasleys. Sirius and Lupin tried to include him, but he mostly listened, quite pleased when he managed to develop any sense of what they were saying. He finished James and the Giant Peach the second day, and on the evening of the third he was reading Merlin's Apprentice, one of his dad's books. It was about a boy, just about to start Hogwarts, who had an accident with a Time Turner, sending him hundreds of years into the past to the age of Merlin.

"Are Time Turners real?" he asked, coming down into the parlor.

Sirius, who was still going over serious books on ward and protective charms, bent to look at the cover. "Oh, I remember those. Dead popular series when I was a kid. Maybe they still are. And Time Turners are perfectly real, but they can't get you more than a few hours into the past no matter what you do. Still dangerous though. We had a hell of a time during the war stopping Death Eaters from getting a hold of them."

"What're Death Eaters?" Harry said, and when Sirius stared at him in astonishment, he felt as if he'd made some embarrassing and grievous mistake.

Sirius said, "Voldemort's followers. They dressed in masks and black robes and did whatever he said. Mostly killing people, but plenty of rape, robbery and torture too."

"Oh."

"You don't know much about the war, do you?"

Harry shrugged. He'd known Voldemort had had followers, but he hadn't realized it was enough to call it a war until Sirius had called it one just now.

So Sirius began to explain it to him, how it had started slow, with the sort of mugglebaiting and attacks on muggleborn homes and businesses that lots of people considered harmless hooliganism that reflected a youthful overabundance of pride in glorious wizarding heritage. But it had gradually turned more and more deadly, and by the time Sirius had been Harry's age, it had become a full on civil war, the Ministry fighting against an awful insurgency.

Hogwarts had felt like a warzone too, the students divided between those who supported Voldemort, those who opposed him, and those who wanted to be left out of it, a status that got harder and harder to obtain as time passed. When Sirius, Lupin, and Harry's parents had graduated, they'd joined a militia straight away. Sirius was cagey on the details.

"Did my parents kill people?" Harry asked.

"Not many," Sirius was quick to say. "We always tried to capture, if possible, especially since we knew some of them were probably just Imperiused. But it was still a war, and your parents fought in it."

"Imperiused?"

Sirius explained that too, and Harry said, "If my parents were fighting him already, why'd they go into hiding?"

Sirius said, "Lily didn't actually go into combat for very long. She was just alright as a duelist, but she was the closest thing we had to a potions master, and she was brilliant at casting wards and protective charms, so she was more valuable back at base. So long as she was restricted to that, she decided to have a kid so there'd be a Potter heir in case James died."

At Harry's expression, Sirius said, "Magical culture, Pronglet. Lily thought it was weird too at first. But it wasn't just the Death Eaters hiding their identities. We hid ours too. So when we got word that Voldemort was after James and Lily in particular, of course we hid them. James talked about fighting straight through it, but Dumbledore was firm."

"Dumbledore was part of the milita?"

Sirius winced. "Shouldn't have told you that. But yes, he led it. Anyway, Lily kept on brewing potions and charming protective clothing all through it. One of us who knew the Secret would swing by their house once a week to take it all to Headquarters."

"What about my dad?"

"When he wasn't taking care of you or helping Lily with her work? He was studying for his Transfiguration Mastery. His dissertation was going to be on the lycanthropic transformation."

"Werewolves?"

"Werewolves get a terrible shake from the Ministry. A few were on our side, and most were sitting the war out, but another lot were working for Voldemort. Least he promised them something, you see. James had always been dead keen on werewolf rights, so he figured if he could make some progress, it would give more of them an out. He thought there might be some connection between lycanthropy and the animagus transformation.

"It wasn't a new idea," Sirius hastened to add. "Last I knew, James was still digesting all the research that had already been done on it, nevermind making any breakthroughs of his own. But that's what he was working on."

Harry leaned back. So his parents hadn't just been in hiding. They'd still been helping. And the way they'd been helping… "They were brilliant, weren't they? I knew they were Head Boy and Head Girl, but…"

"Two of the cleverest and most curious people I've ever met," said Sirius, eyes watering. He turned away from Harry, and when he turned back, his eyes were drier. He sucked in a breath. "Not that I want to tell you what to do, Harry, but I reckon you more than anyone need to know about the war. What do you say we go down to Diagon Alley tomorrow and get you a book on it?" Looking Harry up and down, he said, "Maybe some new trainers too, because those are falling apart."

"Sure."

Face pointed up at the ceiling, as if he didn't want Harry to see his eyes, Sirius said, "I'll be in the bath."

#
#

That night, Harry woke to the sound of screaming. It was dark in the room, and he could see the moon through his window. Harry fumbled for his spectacles, then his wand. He padded quickly through the hall, stopping at Sirius' door.

"Sirius?" he called out anxiously, and there was another scream.

Harry pushed the door open and had taken a single step inside. The only light was that which streamed in from the hall, and Harry was straining to see in the dimness when there was a shout of "Confringo!"

Harry instinctively dodged to the side. There was an enormous bang, and the air around him was full of sharp, flying things. He covered his face, calling out again, "Sirius?!"

"Fuck. Shite." At once, all the lights came on. Sirius was the only other person in the room, and he had his wand out. "What the hell are you doing in here?!"

"I heard screaming."

"And you ran toward it?"

"Seems like."

Sirius got up, picking up shards of what had once been a wooden dresser. "Never come in here without permission again. I could've killed you. You heard me all the way from your room?"

"Er, yeah. Very, er, audibly. And I'm fine."

"I must be louder than I thought. Bloody Moony probably made himself a martyr and soundproofed his room instead of mentioning it to me like a normal person, and — shite, you're bleeding."

Harry craned his neck to look in Sirius' mirror.

"On your neck," said Sirius. "Here, Episkey. Damn it, Albus was right. I'm not fit to take care of a dog, nevermind a boy.

"You had a nightmare," said Harry. "I have nightmares too."

"Yeah, sure, about failing exams and things."

"About dementors," said Harry. "And basilisks biting me, and the time my Voldemort-possessed defence professor tried to kill me."

"What, what? Back up, a basilisk?" Sirius' own horror at the spell he'd nearly hit Harry with was now forgot and cast aside.

Harry pulled aside his night shirt to show Sirius the scar. "This is where it bit me. Phoenix tears fixed it though."

Sirius cast a spell at it. "Fuck," he said. "That is some serious dark magic. Albus told me you'd had some tough scrapes, but a basilisk? How did this happen?"

Harry had never told an adult other than Dumbledore about any of it before, but that was only because Dumbledore was the only adult who'd asked. But now he ended up going over the whole story of it, second year and first.

When he'd finished, Sirius looked as if he'd spent another year in Azkaban. "And you're not taking the piss," he said flatly.

"No!"

Sirius groaned, lying back on the bed that they'd both ended up sitting on at some point. "Fucking child of prophecy shite," he muttered. "'Been through some tough scrapes' my arse."

"Prophecy?" said Harry.

"It's nothing. We'll add Mungo's to that shopping trip tomorrow, get that arm checked out."

"I'm fine though."

"For now. Pomfrey might be Britain's greatest expert on treating schoolyard hexes, but basilisk venom is something else. I take it she's the only one who's looked at it?"

"Er, no, she hasn't."

"Then who has?"

"No one."

Sirius slapped a hand to his forehead. "Great. Perfect. Fawkes cried on it and that was the end of it. We're going to Mungo's. Get you a full work up, probably, because you've been through the wringer. And I nearly put you through it again, fuck me."

#

On Wednesday, the three of them flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, where they met a witch with lavender hair.

"Harry, this is my cousin, Nymphadora-"

"Tonks," she interrupted. "Just Tonks. Wotcher, Harry."

"Tonks is an Auror trainee. Figured we oughta have another wand."

"What for?" said Harry.

"You know. To keep you safe."

"But Pettigrew's caught."

"There are other problems besides Pettigrew."

"You mean Voldemort? You don't think he-"

"No," said Sirius. "But, there are people besides him, people who agreed with him, who'd happily curse you if they thought they could get away with it, and maybe even if they didn't. It's a drag, but there it is. I imagine you're used to precautions by now."

Harry stared at Sirius in consternation. "I lived in the Leaky Cauldron for weeks this summer by myself, and all anyone ever said was to stay out of Knockturn Alley. And I came here with the Weasleys last year, and they didn't do anything special. When Hagrid took me here before first year, he didn't even stick with me the whole time."

They three adults exchanged glances. Sirius said, "We'll be a bit more paranoid, if you don't mind. But really, living here in Diagon Alley for weeks this summer?"

Harry said a bit more about it on the way to Flourish and Blotts. Tonks found him what she said was a good book on the war, and then Harry went into the Charms section and found a book on the Patronus Charm. He went to Creatures, picked up a book on dementors, and squatted down to look at a low shelf. Lupin noticed what he was looking at.

"Werewolves?" said the Professor.

"Sirius said my dad was dead keen on werewolf rights."

"That he was. Let's see here…" He squatted beside Harry and pointed to books one by one as he read off the titles. "This one's rubbish. This one's bigotry in book form. This one's a single step from proposing that everyone should just become a werewolf, which is madness in the other direction — I'm surprised the store carries it. But this one's not bad. Not that I agree with everything, but the it's well-researched and written in good faith."

"You're interested in werewolf stuff too, then?"

"You might say I began James' interest in it."

When Harry took his selections to the front, Sirius had his hand in his purse before the saleswitch had even given the price.

"I can get it," said Harry.

"And I can get a few books for my godson," Sirius replied, dropping galleons on the counter.

Next was Twilfits' clothes. It was divided into two halves, one that was all robes and wizarding gear, and one that was muggle. Harry had bought a few things for himself that summer — mostly just bits to keep him warm in the Scottish winter, and new underwear so he didn't have to wear Dudleys — but he was eager for the new trainers. After he selected a pair, Sirius pressed two pairs of boots on him — one for snow and one for summer. Then he was led into clothing areas, where he only needed to agree something looked alright before it was shoved at him. After not two hours, he toddled to the front under the load of a whole new wardrobe, shirts and shorts, trousers and jumpers. As the saleswitch rang it up, Sirius threw another pack of socks on the pile.

"I've seen the holes in the ones you've got now," said Sirius, when Harry tried to object, and again he insisted on paying.

For lunch, they went to an Indian restaurant in muggle London, not two blocks from the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had occasionally been allowed to lick out finished cartons of Indian take-out at the Dursleys, and once he'd even been allowed to finish Dudley's rice, but it was his first real meal of Indian food. He stuffed himself until he thought he might explode, and he kept dishing himself more of the spicy red curry even though his own face turned bright red with each bite. Sirius didn't fare much better, the food in Azkaban not being well-flavoured, and he laughed at himself as much as at Harry.

Sirius said to Harry, "You'd better stop now, or you'll have indigestion while the Healer is looking at you. I was thinking we'd better get you an eye exam too, so we'd better leave soon."

Harry just nodded. The whole day seemed mad, and he couldn't believe how much Sirius was spending on him. But he knew it was normal to have eye-exams and check-ups — Dudley got one each year, and even got to go to the dentists'. Harry acted as if he weren't overwhelmed.

The optometrist's was a low building attached to Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Malady, as if it couldn't decide whether it were part of the hospital or not. An elderly wizard who introduced himself as an oculist shone light in Harry eyes and had him adjust the length of a spy glass until the sculptures at the end of the hall were perfectly clear.

"Hmm," said the wizard. "Not just typical nearsightedness. You have a slight astigmatism as well. I can fix that right up if you like."

"I had a friend with that," said Sirius, voice low. "He said the only ways to fix it were either dangerous or dark."

"Ah, that was true some years ago, but there have been developments. A new procedure out of the colonies."

"Yeah?" said Sirius.

"From what I've read in the paper, Mr Black, I take it you're not the sort of wizard to be offput by the knowledge that it was assisted in part by muggle science. Not the healing itself, of course, but an enhanced knowledge of how the eye works on a mechanical level."

Harry said, "I'm fine with spectacles."

"Maybe later," said Sirius.

Harry nonetheless took a potion which the oculist, lowering his voice, said would improve the health of the receptors in his retina. Blinking, Harry found the world was no less fuzzy, but somehow a tad more vibrant and colourful.

He selected a new pair of spectacles. Sirius pushed him to choose a pair with diamond lenses rather than glass — they were round, and had no frame whatsoever. Harry was more intrigued by the Permanent Imperturbable Charm on them which meant that they'd never need cleaning, as well as an array of other charms to avoid eyestrain and assist reading speed.

Harry had never questioned whether the cheap old spectacles Aunt Petunia had so reluctantly got him years ago were still any good. He was good at spotting the snitch, after all.

But blinking in the sunlight when they left, there could be no doubt that the brickwork on the other side of the street was clearer than before.

They went into Saint Mungo's proper next. With its gray stone, white walls and creamy linen drapes, it reminded him of pictures he'd seen of WWII infirmaries.

"Think we should've taken him here first?" said Tonks.

"Hell if I know," said Sirius. "Let's get this over with."

It seemed they had an appointment, and Tonks waited in the hall while Harry went into a room with Lupin and Sirius.

The nurse took his vitals, and a healer joined them after. He hemmed and hawed, and frowned at the parchment his spells produced. The healer excused himself and returned shortly after with an older healer who introduced herself as Senior Healer Sable

That witch cast many of the same spells and looked at the parchment with equal consternation.

"This really is from a basilisk," she said, pointing to the scar on his shoulder.

"Er, yeah."

"Fresh phoenix tears?"

"Right. From Dumbledore's phoenix."

"Did you receive any medical treatment after?"

Harry shook his head. Madam Pomfrey hadn't done anything. Harry had gone straight from Dumbledore's office to the feast.

"You have capillary and nerve damage. It's mild, but we'll give you some potions and a salve, though they won't help as much as if you'd been treated right after like you should've."

"How bad is it?" said Sirius. "Does it hurt? Will he be alright? Is-"

"It's not terrible. I expect he hardly notices it now."

Harry nodded. "It never hurts."

"Not yet. But when you're older, you might lose feeling in your left arm. It could become stiff, difficult to move. That's without treatment. With it, I expect you won't have any problems."

Sirius let out a large sigh of relief.

"Dinesh, take your rounds. I'll finish up here."

The younger healer left, and Healer Sable said, "The scar on your forehead is interesting for more than just history. Dark magic sticks – the inability to heal a scar is part of what makes us classify a curse as dark – but yours is oddly present. What've you been told about it at past exams?"

Harry shrugged. No one had ever examined it before.

"Any symptoms or unusual pains?"

He had told Sirius about all of it, but he decided not to get into the whole business with Voldemort and Quirrell with a stranger, healer or no, so he shook his head.

"That's a relief. Still, I would strongly recommend having a specialist look at your scar. But that's not the biggest problem. Mr Potter, would you mind if I exercised my discretion regarding patient-healer confidentiality?"

"What?"

"I mean there's some very private things we need to discuss, things which Mr Black, considering he is not technically your guardian yet, shouldn't get to hear, but based on my understanding of the situation I think it would be much better if he did."

"They can both stay."

"Good. Mr Black, Mr Lupin, you may want to be sitting for this."

Rolling his eyes at Lupin, Sirius sat.

Speaking to Harry, the healer said, "I've cast every diagnostic spell I know, which I daresay is every last one in the Latinate corpus, and a few outside it, and you're going to need some potions. It's very normal for those raised in muggle environments to have higher levels of certain pollutants built up in their bodies, but yours are somewhat higher than normal."

Harry thought of the cupboard under the stairs, with its flaking paint, and the cleaner and rat poison Aunt Petunia had sometimes stored there along with him.

"It's nothing severe, but I'm prescribing a purge. Tomorrow won't be fun, but you'll be the better for it. You also had three simple fractures before 11, and though the bones of magical children do not facture easily, it's not unusual for an active, rambunctious boy to have a few minor breaks. I'm more concerned about your diet."

Harry's insides froze.

"I'm seeing a lot of malnutrition. Some children combine poor appetites with a dislike of food high in nutrients, and you couldpass for an extreme case of that if it weren't interspersed with weeks-long periods of near starvation. One of them, perhaps the worst of them, was only about two years ago. Even with modern charmwork, it's hard to pin these things down precisely, but considering how much your diet has improved over the last three years, I'd presume it happened not at Hogwarts, but over the summer before last.

"I can't believe I'm saying this to Harry Potter of all people, but normally, seeing these signs, I would make some excuse to get your parents or guardians to leave the room and I would interview you for further signs of abuse."

And Sirius was up, shouting about Dumbledore and filthy muggles, while Lupin was holding onto his arm and shouting about staying calm. Harry kept insisting that he wasn't abused because the Dursleys didn't beat him, but only the healer was listening.

Lupin hit Sirius with a Calming Charm. "Shouting won't help Harry any, and neither will ending up in Azkaban again because you've lost your head. Now get a hold of yourself!" He shoved Sirius back into a chair

Sirius gulped, pale and drawn, reminding Harry for a moment of the pictures of him from the newspaper, when he'd still been in Azkaban. He squeezed his hands tightly together.

"You were saying?" Healer Sable said to Harry.

A buzzing filled Harry's head, and the room felt half real, but he thought he sounded calm as he said, "They don't beat me."

"But some hitting?"

Harry didn't feel that he could lie without being caught out. "Not much. Mostly my Aunt or my cousin, not my Uncle. But they've stopped since I got my letter."

"And food?" said Healer Sable, as Sirius growled in the background.

He blushed. "Sure. Sometimes when they were mad, they didn't feed me so much. It's not a big deal. Ron and the twins found out when they broke me out one summer, and they told their Mum, but all she did was feed me extra."

Sirius muttered about killing Molly Weasley.

"Did you ever approach anyone about them?"

"A couple teachers in primary, but I just got in trouble." Harry was perfectly calm, but for some reason his voice was ragged and thin, and it took effort to get any sound at all out his throat.

"And once you got to Hogwarts?"

Harry thought of how his first Hogwarts letter had been addressed. Between that and how Hagrid had said that Dumbledore had warned him about the Dursleys, Harry had always assumed that Dumbledore knew about it already. But he only shrugged.

"Aside from Ron's mom, you didn't approach anyone in the magical world about it?"

After swallowing twice, he was able to speak. "I've never made any secret that I want to leave the Dursleys, but I can't expect other people to go around fixing my problems." Another breath. "That's not fair either." And another gasping breath. His chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vice. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm going to live with Sirius from now on."

The healer told him to clasp his arms behind his head, and when his breathing had evened out, she handed him a lollipop. He stared at it, wondering if she'd confused him for a toddler, but also knowing that he still liked lollipops.

"I'm going to write you a few other prescriptions."

"I'm fine," said Harry.

"Fine, perhaps, but not as well as you ought to be." And she handed the note to Sirius.

Harry was barely aware of Sirius's arm on his shoulder, ushering him out. He became aware that Tonks had rejoined them only in the apothecary downstairs as Sirius picked up his potions for him.

They flooed back to Lle Gorffwys Heulog and Harry went straight to his room, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself on the bed and imagined Sirius, Lupin and Tonks all laughing about poor little Harry Potter and how pathetic it was that he hadn't been able to take care of himself in the face of three mean muggles. He tried to cheer himself by putting his books in the bookshelves and his clothing in the dresser and the wardrobe, but that only brought to the fore a deeper fear — that Sirius would realize that he wasn't worth taking in, and he'd be sent back to the Dursleys, and all these things would be thrown out.

He moved the clothing and books into his trunk instead, so he'd still have them no matter what. They hadn't looked as if it would even fit, but they did so easily.

Eventually, Sirius knocked on the door. "Harry, dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"Then we'll wait."

"I don't want to eat tonight."

Sirius's sigh cut straight through the door. "Fine. If you want to lock yourself in your room, do it. I did it plenty. There's nothing we can't take care of tomorrow, and if you're hungry, grab yourself whatever you like from the pantry. But if you ever want to talk about your Aunt and Uncle's-"

"I don't."

"When you're ready then."

After a few minutes of silence, he decided that Sirius had left.

#
#

When Harry crept downstairs at 11 on Thursday morning, the house had two strangers in it. They were both trim and middle-aged, though the man's very bones seemed inclined to depth and width. The woman's white scarf reached almost to the ground, and something in her sharp face put him in mind of a hawk, an impression that was only strengthened when she shook his hand.

"I'm Andromeda Tonks, and this is my husband Ted."

Over his coffee and eggs, Sirius said, "Moony and I have somewhere to go today, so I asked my cousin here-" he pointed to Andromeda, "To look after you while we're gone."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Course you don't, but even as good as the wards here are getting, I'm still not leaving you alone. I'll only be gone a few hours though."

They ate awkwardly — Sirius seemed to have been waiting on breakfast, and halfway through, Sirius said, "Like the food?"

Harry shrugged.

"Bacon and eggs seems to be your favorite, so that's why."

Harry nodded curtly.

"You know, we never got around to choosing colours for your walls.

Harry shrugged.

"We'll do it tomorrow. No, the day after tomorrow."

Harry shrugged again. "White's fine."

"White and what else?"

Harry didn't answer.

Sirius set his cup with a clatter. "I'd better be off." In moments, he was out the front door, leaving his eggs half-eaten.

Andromeda took a careful sip of her own tea and smiled at Harry.

"I understand you've had a few encounters with dementors," she said.

He shrugged.

"Terrible creatures, dementors. And Sirius was in Azkaban for 12 years. Over the past several weeks, I've had the pleasure of reacquainting myself with my cousin, and he's weathered Azkaban better than anyone could be expected to. But he's still wounded. Still fragile. Still far from well. If you keep on pushing him, he'll explode. Into shouting, most likely, which isn't so bad in the grand scheme of things, but he'll hate himself for it. So please don't make him hate himself. He does it enough already."

Harry froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. He hadn't thought of any of that, hadn't considered that Sirius's 12 years in Azkaban weren't just a bad time that was over — those years were still with him.

"I'm not telling you to be afraid of him," Andromeda continued. "Never that. I'm telling you to be as kind and gentle as you can, and I know that's not easy when you're angry and hurting too. But it's not actually impossible, so do your best. He's doing his."

Harry felt like a damn fool. Taking someone to get checked out was what you were supposed to do, and he'd spit in Sirius's face over it, practically. It wasn't Sirius's fault the Dursleys were awful. He was just trying to help.

"The Healer gave Sirius some potions for me. Do you know where they were?"

"On the mantle," said Ted. They came with instructions, and while Ted, who knew more than most about medical potions, insisted on reading the instructions too, they were clear enough that Ted let him take the Purging Potion.

The next few hours were miserable. He'd read that the side effects would include hours of flu-like symptoms, but he still hadn't expected the vomiting, or the time spent on the toilet, or the weakness and shaking of his limbs as Ted offered him salted water.

He managed to nap eventually, not on his bed, but on the sofa downstairs. He woke up once in order to vomit again, and fell back asleep as Andromeda put a cool towel to his head.

When he woke up again, he felt not all the way well, but better. He ate crackers, drank two liters of water, and watched the clock, wondering when Sirius would be back. Because he needed to say something to him. 'I took the first potion. And I figure I want warm colours for the room.'

But when Sirius did come through the floo, Harry took one look at him and the words died in his throat.

Sirius charged up to Harry, took his hands in his, and said, "You're never going back there. No matter what."

"What?"

"I've just been talking with those pathetic excuses for muggles that you're related to."

"So it's bad?" said Andromeda.

"Worse than we thought," Sirius growled. "Worse than your parents. Worse than mine, maybe, though Harry's telling the truth that they didn't beat him. Too scared of triggering his magic. No, they were more creative than that. Buy their own son 30 Christmas presents, make Harry watch him open every single one, then give Harry a single Christmas present, try to make him excited for it, raise his hopes, and it's a pair of old socks, unwashed. Heaps of sadistic shite like that."

Harry said, "You, the Dursleys, they-"

He nodded. "The Confundus Charm plus a tongue loosener. As good as veritaserum on muggles. They told us everything. Not every little thing that happened, no, but the four hour summary of it. I know you feel terrible right now, but just remember that you're never going back there, and I don't care what Dumbledore says. I didn't get to leave my parents until I was 17, but you, thank Merlin, left at 13, and you're never going back."

Harry wanted to disappear into the floor, to slam the door to his room and never come out, and yet a part of him thrilled at the cast-iron promise.

Andromeda said, "Harry, the important thing is that you know that none of this was your fault."

"Figured that out myself, thanks." He was thinking of Sirius. Of how he had said that the Dursleys might be worse than his own parents, how Sirius had as much as said that he'd had his own terrible childhood. It was the only thing keeping Harry in the room.

"I trust you didn't take any revenge on them," said Ted.

"He bloody well wanted to," said Tonks, and Harry noticed for the first time that she and Lupin had followed Sirius in through the front door. "But we stopped him alright."

"Just for now," said Sirius, cracking his knuckles. "Just until the ink is dry on the papers that give me Harry's guardianship. Then I'll start on thinking on what counts as justice for the likes of them."

"Perhaps," said Ted, "instead of making your own justice, you might turn the attention of muggle justice on them."

Sirius first snorted, then looked contemplative. "Regardless, I'll talk to Dumbledore tomorrow to get the ball rolling. Harry, I'll have your guardianship by the end of the week."

Andromeda said, "You know that though I've preferred Dumbledore to the political alternatives, I've never been especially fond of his leadership."

"And we need to have this argument again now, why?"

"Because whatever else Dumbledore might be, he is a politician, and The-Boy-Who-Lived is one of the most consequential political quaffles in Britain. Dumbledore can't be unaware of the benefits that the management of Harry has given him. And to admit that he has been negligent in the extreme, that he has allowed him to be abused — he won't like that."

Sirius opened his mouth, but Andromeda raised a hand to forestall his reply. "And there are other political players with an interest in this. Keeping Harry with his muggle relatives keeps him more or less off the board. It's a compromise of sorts, a stalemate, and they wouldn't like it to be broken by Sirius Black. I know your getting guardianship should be a clear and simple matter of law, but in the real world, it could still get messy."

"So what are you suggesting?" said Sirius, rubbing his forehead.

"We have time until summer — use it. Harry's Aunt and Uncle are unacceptable, so document it. Be able to prove it at a moment's notice in a meeting. You've said that Harry's safety is a concern, and I know there's even more that can be done to increase this place's security. And again, don't just do it — document it. And more than that, re-establish your own influence. Be seen. Make donations. Take full control of the family's business interests — they've been languishing, haven't they? Find out who in the Ministry is running social services, and buy them some nice bottles of wine. Get their nieces and nephews jobs. So that when you do talk to Dumbledore, when you do submit your claim for Harry's guardianship, it's a fait accompli, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it."

"You sound like my mother," Sirius growled.

"She was never this rational. But I'm advising you to turn the Black family into the thing she hated above all else — a rich and powerful family of half-breeds and bloodtraitors."

Sirius's stare turned into a chuckle, a chortle, and at last an absolute cackle as Tonks grinned and Lupin gaped.

"Now there's the Slytherin I married," said Ted Tonks, putting his hand on Andromeda's.

After a long look at Andromeda, Harry said, "I don't want other people knowing about the Dursleys."

"We'll have to tell at least Dumbledore," said Sirius. "He deserves to know he messed up. We'll try to keep it to just him, but Andromeda's right — it's a card we might have to play. We'd keep it to as few people as possible though. The last thing we want is to see it splashed all over the Daily Prophet. But worth it to leave the Dursleys, isn't it?"

Harry's head pounded at the thought of more people knowing, but he nodded, since they all clearly wanted him to.

Harry made it through dinner. He'd thought he'd be too queasy to eat anything, but now that the effect of the Purging Potion had worn off, he was ravenously hungry, and he stuffed himself. Sirius walked with him to his room for the night, and once they were alone, Harry was able to ask the question that he hadn't been able to ask in front of everyone else.

"Did you talk with the Dursleys about my rooming situation?"

"You mean the cupboard?" Sirius said.

Harry swallowed, trying to slow the panicked racing of his heart.

"I was thinking, when you come back for the summer, what if your room had a balcony?"

#
#

The next morning, Harry took the Rematuration Concoction. Sirius flicked on the wireless, and Harry spent almost the entire day in the kitchen, eating. He packed down more than Ron usually did in a week, and he had no idea where it was all going.

But in the evening, Harry said, "You know how we got those trainers a bit big so I'd have room to grow?"

"Yes."

"They don't have room to grow anymore."

Sirius extended them with a tap of his wand.

Harry woke panicked the next morning. It was Saturday, which meant he'd be back on the Hogwarts Express at 11 the next morning. The whole trip had been ruined by his nonsense with the Dursleys, and now it was practically over. But he let Sirius, Lupin and Tonks take him back to Saint Mungo's, where Healer Sable agreed that the potions had worked as intended, and she lectured him on using the salve on his arm every night for a full lunar cycle and the benefits of letting the moonlight hit the arm when possible.

Sirius insisted that Harry pick something for lunch, and eventually he caved and chose pizza. He thought after that they would just go back to Lle Gorffwys Huelog and spend the afternoon flying, but instead, over the last slice of pizza, Sirius said, "How do you feel about dogs?"

Harry's first thought was of Ripper, but he thought of Fang and a number of nice dogs at the park and focused on them instead.

"Never had one."

"No objections?"

"No."

"Good. I bloody love dogs. How'd you like to come to the kennels with me and pick one out?"

A short floo trip later, they were at the kennels.

Approaching the witch at the front desk, Sirius said, "We're looking for magical dogs, ones friendly and loyal, but able to do a bit of guard-dog work in a pinch. Nothing small, though if you have a proper sniffer, that'd be great."

They were shown a great selection of fat puppies, all fuzzy and clean, rolling with each other and nibbling at each other's ears. Sirius became enraptured with barking at them and seeing which ones barked back rather than quailing.

Harry stepped around to the back, an outdoor area full of small stone cells, each fronted with a wrought iron gate. The place smelled of urine, despite the fact that it was clearly cleaned regularly, and the dogs had only a thin matt to sleep on. None were puppies, and half of them were barking. It made Harry's palms sweat, but he didn't leave.

His eyes caught on a large dog that wasn't barking. Its fur was curly and generally cream coloured, though it had a large dirty splotch on one side. As Harry approached, it faced him calmly, its dark brown eyes calm and intelligent.

"Hello there," said Harry. "I don't much like dogs, to tell the truth."

It whined softly.

"But you don't look like you want to be here either, do you?"

It huffed, as if to agree, and Harry wondered just how smart magical dogs could be.

"This is the first time I've been able to get away from my new minders when we're out and about. They all got distracted by the puppies. I'd almost prefer if no one were taking care of me at all. Still a damn lot better than a cage though, isn't it?"

The dog sighed, and carefully, Harry stuck the tips of his fingers through the bars. The dog sniffed, then licked. He stuck his hand and all the way through and scratched the dog behind the ears.

That was how Sirius found him.

"There you are, Harry. Please don't wander off. You like this dog?"

One of the employees had come along with Sirius, and she said, "This is Beawoof Russel. Her owner died — old age more than anything, though the whiskey didn't help — and none of the relatives wanted a dog, so she ended up here. Hard to find placement for adult dogs."

"Ridiculous name," said Sirius. "What breed?"

"Half English Krup, half French poodle — standard size. We think. There weren't any provenance papers. She's been here going on two years now."

"What'll happen to her?" said Harry.

"If she isn't adopted? We used to put down the ones who'd been here too long, but now we have a little more funding, so we keep them through the end, though they don't tend to live as long as they should. Less happy, you know."

"So she'll just stay in here until she gets old and dies?" said Harry.

"We take them out to the backlot twice a day."

Harry thought that was almost the most miserable life he could imagine.

"How old is she anyway?" said Sirius.
"Nine," said the witch. "But Krups are long-lived, so she ought to pass 20, easy. But she's very sweet. No biting or behavior problems, just a perfect dear, and she's been spayed and had all her shots. She's housebroken and floo-trained too."

"Let's get to know her better, then." said Sirius.

The attendant conjured a leash and opened the cell. The dog — Beawoof, Harry reminded himself, wondering if the dog would be very confused by a name change — pumped her head straight into him. Harry patted her, not sure if he was doing it right, and her tail — which was forked at the end — began to wag.

They took her out to the backlot. It was empty just then, and Sirius said to the attendant, "Could we have some privacy? It's only there's a bit of family magic I want to make sure she won't object overmuch to."

"I understand." The witch checked her watch. "I'll be back in 15 minutes."

Sirius walked Beawoof to the end of the lot and stopped in the lee of a tree. "Alright now," said Sirius. "Don't be startled." And without any more warning, Sirius turned into an enormous black dog. The very dog that Harry had seen outside his Aunt and Uncle's house, and at the Quidditch match he'd fallen. It hadn't been a grim at all, but only Sirius.

Sirius sniffed butts with Beawoof, and the two dogs began to play. Cautiously at first, but then with greater abandon, chasing each other across the grass.

Sirius came back behind the tree and transformed back into himself, panting happily.

"You're an animagus," said Harry.

"Unregistered, so don't go telling anyone. It's how I escaped Azkaban, and how I avoided the dementors finding me."

"Padfoot?"

Sirius gaped. "How'd you know that name? No, you must've heard Moony calling me that."

"And Pettigrew would've been Wormtail, I guess."

Sirius blinked. "Right."

"Which makes my dad Prongs. Was he an animagus too?"

"He could turn into a bloody big stag."

"And Moony?"

"Er, he's not an animagus. How'd you know all these names? Did Remus tell you?"

Harry shrugged. "Where are Tonks and Lupin anyway?"

"Still cooing at puppies last I saw." He whistled, and Beawoof trotted up to them.

Sirius cast a number of spells at the dog, who patiently took it, though there weren't any results Harry could see except that Sirius nodded in satisfaction and said, "This one's not an animagus. Let's get her."

"But didn't you want another dog?"

"This one's nice."

"But you were looking at the puppies earlier, and you mentioned a 'sniffer,' whatever that is, and-"

"Harry, I'm not going to get just one dog. I want a whole pack. Beawoof is just the first."

"Oh."

Sirius said, "Yeah, oh. Unless you're not okay with it."

"Sounds brilliant." So long as none of them were like Ripper.

Tonks and Lupin were embarrassed they'd lost track of Harry, and he rolled his eyes at them. Beawoof proved not to be as comfortable with floos as the witch had made her sound, but Sirius got her through anyway.

Beawoof ran all around the grounds, sniffing everything. With quick wandwork, Sirius put a dog flap into the back door and transfigured her a spacious dog house just outside it. He threw some old blankets in it, and made the dog a meal of rice and chicken, which she promptly dove into.

Glancing at the lowering sun, Sirius said, "What do you say we go pick out the colours for your room?"

"Now?"

"Of course."

"It's a bit late."

"Not that late. Unless, you don't want to? I thought we'd get you settled all in, so it'll all be perfect when you come back this summer. Because you are coming back, right?"

Harry blinked. Something cool and firm settled into his belly, and he remembered Andromeda telling him Sirius was fragile, that Sirius had problems.

"Course I am," said Harry. "And everything's been great, perfect — but I can pick out the colours when I come back. Maybe think about it a bit in the meantime. For now, could we just play chess and talk a bit? Since it's the last night, and I think we haven't talked much, you know, since Mungo's."

Harry hadn't known how full of nervous energy Sirius had been until it all drained away. "Right," he said thickly. "Talk. I'm sure there's a chess set somewhere here. I'll dig it up."

"I have one," said Harry. "I'll fetch it."

When he got back downstairs with it, Tonks and Lupin had left, and Sirius had started dinner in the pot. Harry set up the board. When Sirius sat down for chess he said, "Damn. I haven't played in… well, it's been a while."

"You think I'll have a chance then?" said Harry, but the joke felt hollow when Harry won the first game after a couple of bad blunders from Sirius, who cracked his knuckles and said he was, "Shaking the rust off."

The second game ended in a draw, with all the pawns off the board and neither of them knowing how to checkmate with bishop and knight. Sirius announced that dinner was ready.

Beawoof lay under the table, and around peas and ham, Harry said, "I saw you, in your dog form, outside Privet Drive."

"I wanted to check on how you were."

"How'd you know where they lived?"

"I remembered their names, and I know about phone books."

"Right." He wondered how Dobby had found out. Apparently it wasn't hard, so why Sirius was making such a fuss about his safety, Harry didn't know. "And I saw you at the Quidditch match too. The one with the dementors."

"That was nasty. I saw your poor broom fly right into the Womping Willow. But you are enjoying your Christmas present, aren't you?"

Time stopped as Harry absorbed the implications of that. "Wait, you're the one who got me the Firebolt?"

"McGonagall didn't tell you?"

"No. She just gave it back a couple weeks later and said it was fine."

He snorted. "Old bint. She's got this strange idea that telling students what they ought to know counts as favouritism. How'd she get hold of your broom anyway?"

"Oh… My friend Hermione thought you might have sent it and had cursed it somehow to kill me when I flew it. That's how we found out about Pettigrew, actually. When McGonagall came to collect the broom."

"Clever. I might've done, if I had been after hurting you. I reckon my being your godfather punched straight through your owl wards, though intent may have mattered too."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did, Pronglet."

"I mean, a serious question."

"I'm always Sirius. No, go ahead."

"It's just, when Hermione told McGonagall about my broom, I'd already asked her not to. But she did it anyway, and we're still not talking." And Sirius looked serious indeed as Harry told him every detail of the affair.

"That's tough," said Sirius, when Harry had finished. He scratched absently at Beawoof's ears. "To start with, you should've agreed to show it to McGonagall. Not that I didn't make worse decisions at the same age. Or older ages. Or, er, recently come to think, but it always makes more sense when it's your bad decision, doesn't it?

"If we'd thought some dark wizard was after James at that age, and he'd got sent an amazing broom from nowhere, I wouldn't have wanted to take it to the Professors. Granted, I wouldn't have just ignored it either — I would've thought we should run our own tests. I would've thought it was good fun.

"But if James hadn't wanted to do that, if he'd just shrugged and told me to drop it — I probably would've done. I never would've gone to a Professor about it."

Harry grinned, feeling vindicated.

"But if you happen to get another mysterious, suspicious present while a dark wizard is believed to be after your life – which is always, unfortunately – and you refuse to take it to McGonagall yourself, damn right I'll tell her. I'll floo call Dumbledore first thing."

"What!? Why?"

"Because I want you to be safe, Harry. And no, I shouldn't stifle you with it — everyone I know has already had that talk with me— but basic precautions aren't stifling, they're basic. And if you're angry at me, you're angry at me. Because not be too maudlin, but if you really care about someone, it's not enough for them to be pleased with you. You want them to be happy. You want them to thrive. And they can't do that if they're dead. Make sense?"

"Sure," said Harry, looking down at his bowl to hide the fact that in addition to being angry, he was also pleased. And he didn't even know why, because Sirius didn't really care about him. Not much anyway. He was just trying to be a responsible godfather.

But the smile faded faster than the anger, and he said, "So you agree with what Hermione did?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know that I agree with it, but I'm not sad to hear at least one of your friends is as strung up about your safety as I am. Brooms are wicked fun, and some of them go faster than others, but they're just brooms in the end. And it's not like you even need gifts — if there's something you want that badly, you can just buy it."

Harry didn't think of anything except how he couldn't buy things at Hogwarts when he wasn't even allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Though granted, that wasn't a problem anymore. A Hogsmeade permission slip was one of the first things Lupin had passed on to him from Sirius.

Harry said, "How'd you buy a broom for me anyway?"

"Cat I met. Damned smart thing, though not quite as smart as Beawolf here." He tossed a scrap of ham to the dog, who regarded him lovingly as she snatched it up. "Part-kneazle. I sent him in with the money and a note. Shopkeeps are used to people using familiars to order things, so it wasn't a problem. Don't suppose I'll ever meet the cat again. But have there been any other times your friend was more protective than you'd like?"

He thought of telling Sirius about the map, but discarded the idea, afraid Sirius would take the same attitude as Hermione and insist he turn it in. So he told him about the passage to Honeydukes instead, leaving out the map, but leaving in that Hermione had kept insisting he should tell someone about it.

"They still didn't know about that passage?" said Sirius. "Even after I broke in the first time?"

"Right."

"I wonder why Moony didn't tell Dumbledore about it."

"He must've known you couldn't get in that way."

"It is how I got in. I'll be asking him about this one." Sirius's eyes went far away, but he shook his head and changed the subject. "End of year exams coming up not too far around the corner. Hopes? Ambitions? Dreads?"

Harry groaned. "I hope Trewalney comes down with a persistent head cold and class is cancelled for a month."

"You don't much care for Divination?"

"It's useless, and she spends half the lessons predicting my death. She's an old fraud."

"Drop it then."

"I can do that?"

"Course you can. Though you'd have to replace it with something else."

Harry imagined joning something difficult like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes with the year almost over. The Professor would ask him a question, and he wouldn't understand a word of it.

Sirius said, "Think about it. If you still hate it after the exams, take something else next year."

"And be a year behind?"

"That, or independent study over the summer and join your yearmates. I could get you a tutor. Hell, for Arithmancy or Runes I could tutor you myself. It'd be dead easy with just one class for the whole summer. But what about Care for Magical Creatures? Moony tells me Hagrid's doing about as well as I'd have been afraid he would."

"Hagrid's been brilliant," said Harry, the words flat and automatic.

"He has?" Sirius cheered. "What've you been learning?"

"Loads of things. Hippogriffs. Salamanders. And, er…" Harry let out a groan. "Mostly flobberworms. Most days, it's flobberworms."

"An in-depth dive into flobberworms? For most of the year?"

"Er, not so much in depth. We just watch them eat things. They're the only worm that can safely compost magical plants. That's about how much I learned the first day with them, and that's about how much I know now. Hermione's started bringing a book. But it's not Hagrid's fault. He started out brilliant. He's just lost his confidence is all." And Harry dove into the story of Buckbeak and Malfoy.

"And the three of you have been working on Hagrid's legal case?"

"Right. But it's not going well."

"Leave it be then. I think I see a chance to tweak Lucius Malfoy's nose." Sirius grinned. "I'll hire Hagrid a barrister. A bloody good one too."

The words were a light in the darkness. Harry imagined Malfoy being called to the witness stand and being forced to admit he'd ignored their Professor and then whined about the result.

"That'll save you some time," said Sirius, a queer gleam coming into his eyes. "You're busy, aren't you, between Quidditch and lessons?"

Harry told him about Wood's maniacal Quidditch schedule, and the queer gleam grew. When Sirius sent him up to bed, it hadn't dimmed at all.

Chapter Text

Ch 3

Harry woke to a hoot. Something cool and wet pressed against Harry's face. He opened his eyes to see a lolling red tongue between enormous teeth. Beawoof bumped him again, and reared up, dropping her front paws on his side. Hedwig hooted at her again, and the dog responded with a soft rooing.

The pale light streaming through the window told him it was early, but after rubbing Beawoof's side for a minute, Harry got out of bed. It was his last morning with Sirus, and he intended to make the best of it.

But when Harry padded downstairs, he found Lupin sipping tea over the breakfast table.

"Where's Sirius?" said Harry.

"Out. He wanted to be at Gringotts bright and early, though he wouldn't tell me what for."

"Oh." Harry opened the pantry.

"Are you packed yet?"
"Er, no."

"Do that, then. I'll handle breakfast."

Packing was harder than normal. He brought most of his new clothes, minus a few heavy winter things which he left in the wardrobe or in the dresser, heart fluttering. Books were harder to sort.

He packed the books on the war, on werewolves, on dementors, and on the Patronus Charm, but it hurt to choose between his parents' books. In the end he packed one Nancy Drew and the third and final volume in the Merlin's Apprentice series. He skimmed through a book on Potions that must have been James' before he went to Hogwarts. It was very thin, and while Harry already knew 90% of what it said, it said it more simply and with better pictures than any of his assigned textbooks. After realizing he'd been through half of it just standing there, he dropped it into the trunk with the rest.

He dragged the trunk downstairs, Beawoof helping the whole way.

"Sirius isn't back yet?" It was only half past 8, but the plan was to leave for King's Cross at 10, which felt very near.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon. Scrambled eggs, Harry?"

But when they'd eaten and Lupin had the dishes cleaning themselves, Sirius still wasn't back.

"Anything else you should do to get ready, Harry?"
He shrugged. "I could do homework."
"I thought you'd finished it all."

"Er, no. We got side-tracked by the whole Dursley thing. I've got most of it done though. I can finish the rest of it on the train."

"How about now, and we can practice the Patronus on the train."

Harry was making up entries for his dream journal when Sirus finally got back, whistling.

"Have I got something to show you. Take a look too, Moony — it'll bring some memories back." He set two hand mirrors on the table.

"These," announced Sirius, "Were made by me and James."

Lupin cleared his throat.

"Moony helped too, but mostly me an' James," Sirius amended. "They're linked. Grab this one and go the other side of the room."

Harry did, and Sirius said, "James," into his mirror.

Harry's reflection in his mirror, wavered, shifted, and turned into Sirius. "You hear me alright?" said Sirius, and there was a strange echo — he heard Sirius's actual voice a second before the same sound came out of the mirror.

"Yeah. It's like a telephone."

"Better than a telephone. We've got vision as well as hearing. I know you don't want me breathing down your neck while you're at school, but how about a weekly mirror call? Say, Friday after dinner?"

Harry turned away and blinked rapidly. Luckily, his eyes were quick to stop prickling. "Sounds good."

"Perfect. Moony, the next part is a Black family secret."
"You mean…"
"If you wouldn't mind."

"I'll just take a quick walk of the grounds, shall I?" said Lupin. Beawoof went out with him.

Sirius said, "While I was at Gringotts, I officially adopted you as the heir to House Black."

Harry didn't quite understand what that meant, but his jaw dropped anyway. "Shouldn't that be Tonks, if it's anyone?"

"I'm head of house, so it's my decision. I'm making some changes about them too, don't you worry, but you're fit to be the heir. Your grandmother was a Black, after all."

"We're related?" said Harry, stunned.

"Not closely, though looking at our respective family trees, the sad fact is that with the war and all I'm one of your closest living relatives. And I'm just your second cousin twice removed or some shite like that, which barely counts normally. But that's not what I wanted to tell you. Take a look at this." From his pocket he drew a pocketwatch of tarnished silver.

"Doesn't look like much, does it? But it's one of the few Black heirlooms that isn't damned dark. You were mentioning time, and it got me thinking about this old thing. It's not a Time Turner but a Time Dilater. Limited use, because it works on old-fashioned enchanted sleep paradigms. Like Snow White. You have to be asleep and alone for it to work. Wind it up, and once you fall asleep, time expands. Depending on how much you wind it, one hour of being asleep turns into three hours, or two into six, or three into nine — that's the max. My little brother used it before exams. Everyone thought he was staying up half the night revising, but he was still getting ten hours of sleep."

Harry said, "So he'd be awake for 20 hours and sleep for 10 all in the same day?"

"Exactly. Normally best not to do that though. Adding two hours to your night is just fine, especially if you're consistent about it. Your body's happy with a 26 hour day, from what I understand, but the 28 hour day is a stretch, and the 30 hours day will drive you bat-shite insane after a few weeks.

"This dial here tells your age and projected 'birthdate.' Because you do get older quicker using it. If you do a little math, you'll find it's not as fast as you might assume, but that's still part of it why they became less popular, and part of why the Ministry started restricting them so heavily, though the old ones got grandfathered in. I assume Dumbledore's been using one to handle how overworked he is — why he looks so old."

"But isn't he really old?" said Harry.

"115 or so, but he doesn't look a day under 140, does he, especially not for a wizard that strong. Though it could just be the stress."

"So I should only use it when I really need it?" said Harry, taking the pocket watch. It was surprisingly heavy for something so small.

"Eh. You know you're one of the youngest in your year?"
"I guess." He'd certainly noticed that Hermione was usually a year older than him, and Ron's birthday was March first. "But we're all in the same year."

"Six months isn't a small difference at that age — being the youngest in your year is a real disadvantage. That's why a lot of families adjust their kids' ages. James and Lily had talked about it, though whether they would've sped you up or slowed you down to put you in the year below, I dunno. But this really wouldn't age you fast. Go ahead, work it out."

Harry moved back to his homework and started scratching figures into the margins, but stopped abruptly, feeling silly. Two hours was a one-tweflth of a day, so if he added two hours for a whole year, that would be one-twelfth of a year — one month. Four hours a day would be two months in a year, and six hours a day, three. It was April 10th, so if he used it every night through the end of the school year, that would add up to what, five days? But he reckoned if he got in another hour of being awake and another hour of being asleep each day, life would be a lot easier.

"But you can't tell anyone outside the family," said Sirius. "Just me, Andromeda, Ted and Tonks, and you don't need to tell them if you don't like. Not that I'm much for that stuff — most of my ancestors were absolute wankers, and if I ever find the Black family honour, I'll set it on fire — but in this case it really is something we should keep to ourselves. Even from your friends."

Harry imagined if he did tell them. Ron would wish he had one of his own, and Hermione would think it was terribly unfair that he got it when no one else did.

He put the pocket watch in his trunk along with his unfinished homework, and they floed to the Leaky Cauldron. Tonks met them there, since Sirius remained convinced that Harry couldn't safely go anywhere without bodyguards, something Harry had resolved to tolerate for a while. They took a bus to King's Cross.

"Were there any friends you wanted to sit with, Harry?" said Lupin.

Harry shrugged. "They're all at the school." Now that he wasn't nervous about meeting Sirius, the platform seemed even emptier. "We can share a compartment."

Lupin levitated his trunk into the nearest compartment.

Sirius opened his arms as if to give Harry a hug but squeezed his shoulder instead. Sirius stamped his feet awkwardly, looking around as if casting about for something to say, and found nothing better than "See you later, Pronglet."

Harry stepped inside but turned at the doors. Maybe he'd wanted someone to take care of him, wanted a parent. And clear enough, Sirius was trying to do that, but just as clearly, he needed taking care of too. "And Sirius. Thanks. For everything. Even the parts I didn't like. I might miss your house a little while I'm at Hogwarts."

"You oughta," said Sirius. "It's your home."

Harry rushed inside before anyone could get a look at his face and busied himself in the loo until the train was underway.

With Lupin sitting across from him, going over his own lesson-planning. Harry finished making up his Divination homework and started on potions, which he'd saved for last. But after the lunch cart came by, he stared blankly out the window, lost in thought.

"Professor Lupin-"

"I told you to call me Remus when we're not at Hogwarts."

"We're on the train."

"Which is not Hogwarts."

"Right. Er. I was wondering, if you don't mind. What memory do you use for the Patronus Charm?"

"There are a few I may make use of. But mainly I recollect a time when I was very scared of my friends finding out something I found difficult to admit, and I discovered that they'd known for weeks and didn't mind at all."

"But, if it was your friends, wouldn't Wormtail have been there?"

"So he was."

"And my da' too."

"Indeed."

"So wouldn't it be a sad memory?"

"In some ways. But I focus not on what happened later, but on the fact it happened at all."

Harry was silent. The memory he had tried most often was of the first time he'd flown, and that didn't do.

He contemplated it all the way to Hogwarts.

Harry met Ron in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"So?" said Ron.

"I'll live with Sirius from now on."

"Better than those nasty muggles then?"

"No comparison."

He went straight up the dorm, where his trunk had already been delivered and started tossing clothes from his small Hogwarts dresser into the dustbin. He'd brought his best clothes to Huelog, leaving the rubbish suited only for grubbing around in. But now Dudley's best hand-me-downs were the rubbish suited only for grubbing around in, and the bad stuff was just trash. Every sock and holey underwear thrown out felt like a shackle undone.

When he opened his trunk and started loading the new stuff, Ron turned pink, which Harry had worried about — Ron had always been like that about things that cost money. But that reaction passed after just a moment, and Ron said, "No more wandering around the common room like a homeless waif?"

"Exactly. Hey, do you know where Hermione is?"

"The library, probably. She's practically been living there."

"Don't you think it's time we made up with her?"

"Past time. But she still won't apologize, and she's still not sorry."

"But I think I am," Harry muttered.

"What was that?"

"Listen, I'll catch you up in a bit."

He stuffed the Maruader's Map in his pocket, and a little later he found her exactly where it had said she was — alone at a table at the back of the library. She had four thick books open in front of her and was so fixated on her homework that she didn't even notice him sit across from her.

He watched her write until she glanced up. She squeaked, so startled a quill flew from her hand. He caught it.

"Harry, I didn't expect — are those new spectacles? They look great. The clothes too."

"Sirius bought them."

"And I swear you're two inches taller."

"Well, we haven't seen a lot of each other much lately, have we?"

"...I suppose we haven't."

Their eyes met. Hermione glanced down and smiled nervously.

Pointing to her homework, Harry said, "Is that for arithmancy? It looks terrible."

"No, it's my favorite. It's making ever so much sense of our other classes. And to start with, at least, we're not doing complicated equations. It's learning the different properties of different numbers. I really think it ought to be required."

"Think I should've taken it instead of Divination?"

"If I'd known what that would be like, I would've tried badgering you out of it."

Harry unloaded his own book bag. He'd never quite finished the potions homework. But it was hard to focus on with the way Hermione kept glancing up at him, nevermind the ideas bubbling around in his gut.

Harry said, "Sirius did send it, actually. The broom."

"Really?" Her eyes lit. "See, I was right."

"Mostly. And on Halloween, he got in through the secret passage leading from Honeydukes."

"Hmmph."

"Quiet, you two," said Madam Pince.

Hermione shut her mouth, waving apologetically, and Harry whispered, "Wanna go out to Black Lake?" Talking wasn't normally a problem in the library, but if you were having a loud conversation that wasn't clearly about the books, Madam Pince would kick you out, and Harry didn't want to worry about it.

Hermione packed her things and they went out the main doors into the spring day.

"You had a good time with Sirius then?" she said.

"I'm going to live with him from now on."

"What!?"

"Yeah."

"But what about your Aunt and Uncle? I know you don't get on very well with them, but they're still your family. You've only known Sirius Black a week."

"That was plenty."

"But…" She was practically vibrating with everything she was struggling not to say, and she wouldn't be able to hold it in long.

"I thought you liked the new spectacles," said Harry. "And the new clothes."

"Just because he's rich doesn't mean he's a good guardian."

"It's not like the Dursleys are poor."

"They're not?"

"No."

"...then why…?"

They stared at each other. Harry had no idea what she was thinking.

Hermione said, "When you'd make comments about your family, you were exaggerating for comic effect, weren't you?"

Harry was flummoxed, but his voice came out sharp. "No. I tried to make it sound funny, but I wasn't ever exaggerating."

"But you've said perfectly ridiculous things, like them giving you a hanger for Christmas, and nothing else."

"Because they did," said Harry sharply. "The Dursleys are perfectly ridiculous people. But it doesn't matter. I'm going to live with Sirius from now on," he said.

"Oh," she said again, and Harry changed the subject to classes and Sirius's promise to hire Hagrid a barrister, and Hermione's smile was so wide on receiving that news that her head looked in danger of splitting open.

But when they finished the circuit of Black Lake and Hogwarts loomed ahead of him, she paused and said, "What about Ron?"

"What about him?"
"Well, you and I are friends again, right?"

"I didn't think we ever weren't. I was just angry."

"But if Ron's still angry-"

"I'll handle Ron. It was my broom, so if I'm over it, he oughta be too."

"So you aren't angry anymore?"

"No."

They took a circuitous route back to Gryffindor Tower, chatting more about Easter homework and Harry's stay with Sirius. They found Ron hastily doing homework. Harry pulled him aside, over by the fire.

"So you and Hermione…"

"We've made up."

"Yeah?" said Ron, asking with his eyes whether she was sorry for it. After all, before Harry had left for Easter Break, he and Ron had been united on the idea that she needed to be. Harry shrugged and said, "The broom really was sent by Sirius. He reckons it would've been a clever way to try to kill me, if that had been what he was after."

"But he wasn't."

"No. But I get more why she did it now, so it's fine."

Ron didn't seem convinced.

"It was my broom, alright?" said Harry, and Ron nodded.

He was polite to her at dinner, and just when Harry was resigning himself to the idea that politeness might continue a while, Ron made a joke and Hermione laughed.

At that moment, Harry knew things would be alright.

Harry went to bed with the Time Dilater in one hand, and after pulling all the curtains shut around his bed, he wound it to add 2 hours to his night. It didn't start ticking right then — wouldn't until he fell asleep — and by the light of his wand he read a little about werewolves and a little about Nancy Drew's latest mystery.

When he closed the book, he found sleep elusive, kept at bay by the very excitement of the Time Dilater.

When he last saw his watch, it was past two.

When he woke at quarter past seven the next morning, he was not so as tired as he should've been.

#
#

The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match was that coming Saturday, and Wood's training schedule became truly maniacal. The other members of the team seemed squeezed through a tube, dashing off homework as quickly as possible and desperately looking forward to the match less because they were excited than because they wanted the stress to be over.

But Harry did alright.

The Time Dilator was an unfair advantage, and whatever Sirius might say about being the youngest in his year being an unfair disadvantage, it didn't feel right. He kept his use to two hours a night and planned to mostly stop once Quidditch was done for the year.

But even at just two hours, it helped.

Teenagers, as a rule, didn't sleep as much as they ought, and Hogwarts students were no exception. Even with the Time Dilater, Harry was still sleeping less than a healer might recommend. But he was yawning less than anyone else on the team, and that was even with getting in some reading each night before bed.

Finishing the third and final volume of Merlin's Apprentice had been his first priority, but as the books were thin and written in large font, it hadn't lasted past his second night back. It still left him thoughtful though, when the Time Turner was brought up again near the end and it was revealed that the young wizard who'd Time Travelled to the past had been the real, historical Merlin all along.

He returned to the Werewolf book, but that sent him on another dizzying spiral of thoughts. When the time came for his scheduled Friday evening mirror call with Sirius, he did it just inside the secret passageway to Honeydukes. It was the most private place he could think of, and he kept the map open in front of him so he'd see if Fred and George were coming.

Just as Harry was about to call Sirius's name, his mirror whispered. "Psst, Harry. You there?"

"I'm here, Sirius."

His godfather's face swam into view.

"How's the first week back?"

"Me an' Hermione made up."

"Good. Good. That Divination Professor still giving you a hard time?"

Harry made a face. "It's easier to ignore when I know I won't be in her class next year."

"So you've decided to switch."

Harry nodded. He'd gone into Divination still thinking it over, but by the time Trewalney had finished yet another dramatic prediction of his death, he'd been thinking that not switching would be madness, even if it did mean he'd have to study over the summer.

"And Snivellus?"

"Still a git," said Harry, shrugging. But not so bad as normal. It was strange, but ever since Christmas, Snape had been almost decent. "But, I wanted to ask you something. Only it's a little sensitive. I went somewhere private, but if you're around anyone else..."

"No, just me and Beawoof here. Go ahead."

"Er, right. Is Professor Lupin a werewolf?"

Sirius blanched. "Why would you say that?" he said, his voice suddenly high and tinny.

"He misses class every full moon," said Harry.

"Funny that."

"And he looks older than he is, and he drinks a potion that looks just like the Wolfsbane Potion and makes him sick just like it does, and I'm pretty sure his bogart is the full moon." And that wasn't even all the reasons.

Sirius laughed uncertainly. "That seems like a question you should ask him."

Which was the same as yes, because otherwise Sirius would be denying it.

"Though you, er, shouldn't mention this to anyone else," Sirius continued. "Anyone at all, not even your friends. True or not, if a rumor like that got out-"

"I think Hermione guessed it weeks ago."

"Clever girl. I mean, not clever necessarily, she might be wrong, but er… She won't tell anyone, will she?"

"She hasn't yet, and she's good at keeping secrets." When she wanted to.

"Good. Good." Sirius laughed again. "So, ready for the big match tomorrow?"

He answered that he was, deciding not to bring up the werewolf question with Professor Lupin. It wouldn't make him feel any better to know that some people had started to figure it out, and he might be angry that Harry had.

Chapter Text

April rolled into May, and May into June. Exam season was frantic, and Harry reluctantly went back to using the Time Dilater each night. He wished he could share it with Ron, though he was increasingly sure Hermione had no need for it.

The Friday before the start of exams was Buckbeak's appeal.

Sirius's barrister had had to work like mad to get a proper one, and Malfoy was pulled out of class to testify. Harry, Ron and Hermione all gathered around the mirror to hear the news direct from Sirius.

Sirius was grinning like a shark when he appeared.

"So what happened?" said Hermione, unable to restrain herself.

"My lawyer happened. Susie Connel. Bloody brilliant. Expert testimony, medical records, cross-examination. Made Lucius and his little copy look like proper fools. Absolutely knocked them off their brooms. Lucius had to call for a recess just so he could hand out more bribes."

"Bribes?" gasped Hermione.

"Way of the world. Not that I paid a single one – just the barrister's fees for me. Malfoy must've spent a hundred times on the affair what I did, at least, and the threats and blackmail are expensive too, in their own way. You shoulda seen the way he stalked out."

They grinned. "Can't wait to see Malfoy's expression at dinner," said Ron, and Harry and Sirius laughed.

"Shame about the hippogriff though," Sirius added absently.

Their laughter cut off abruptly.

"But Buckbeak get off, didn't he?" said Harry.

Sirius snorted. "With the money and threats Malfoy spent? Not likely. They'll execute him next week."

"Then why are you happy?" said Harry.

Sirius blinked. "Because Lucius Malfoy spent thousands of galleons to make Dumbledore look bad for hiring an incompetent Professor-"

"Hagrid's brilliant!" Harry said hotly.

"Sure, of course he is. That's just what Malfoy was after, true or not. But what he got for his money is the chance to look like a thin-skinned idiot with a whinging shite-stain for a son. Plus one dead animal."

"But Buckbeak-"

"Is a cow with a bad attitude. It's a damn shame, but you eat beef every week."

Hermione said, "Hippogriffs are an ancient crossbreed of horses, lions, and eagles."

"Cows, horses," said Sirius, waving his hands as if the difference were immaterial. "Shame we didn't get Susie on it for the initial hearing, but for Lucius Malfoy this is just the first dose of poison before the main course…"

Harry knew what Sirius meant. After months of delays, Pettigrew was about to finally have his own inquest into his history as a death eater, and Sirius was convinced that he'd implicate at least a few former death eaters who'd dodged Azkaban. It was most of what Sirius talked about on mirror calls lately.

"I don't expect we'll get Lucius himself over it," Sirius said, the gleam in his eyes making perfectly clear that he dearly hoped that would happen, realistic or not, "But damage his influence, make him spend a fortune and still get a couple of his lackeys jailed at the end of it? That's very plausible."

Before Sirius could really start ranting, Harry said, "We can't just let Buckbeak die. Couldn't there be another appeal. New evidence, or-"

"Harry, I've already done everything I can. I'll see you the day after exams for the meeting with Dumbledore." Where Sirius, Harry knew, planned to press Dumbledore for the guardianship.

They ended the mirror call, and Harry stared at his friends.

"We should go see Hagrid," Ron said.

"He may not be back yet," said Hermione. "We'll visit after dinner."

But no one answered when they knocked on the door to Hagrid's house that evening.

The next morning, they found Hagrid flat on his back on the floor, a crying drunk with bottles scattered around him.

Just as before, Hermione led him out back to dunk his head in the well. It sobered him up enough to explain, at least.

"Yeh heard about Beaky, then?" he said, blowing his nose in a handkerchief the size of a dishcloth.

"Sirius told us," said Harry.

""e did everything he could. Great man, Sirius Black. I thought we 'ad it when Malfoy called for that break. But in the end-" Hagrid hiccupped. "In the end it wasn't enough. They were scared of Lucius Malfoy, and now they'll come kill Beaky."

"When?"

"Right after me last exams," said Hagrid. "That evening, so as not interfere with lessons, they said."

Harry lowered his voice and spoke quickly. "What if Buckbeak was gone when they came? Maybe the centaurs could look after him."

But Hagrid was already shaking his head. "I'd lose me job, or go back to Azkaban, even. I can't go back there."

And there seemed little else to say beyond that. They comforted him as best they could, pretending to eat the rock cakes he pressed upon them, then went out with him to feed beef haunches to Buckbeak, who was anxious with being tied down all the time.

When the three of them left, Harry said, "We have to do something. If Hagrid can't free Buckbeak, we could."

Ron said, "They'd be sure to pin it on him."

"Not if Hagrid had an alibi. What if he was on the other side of the castle when it happened?"

"They'd still say he did it."

"Not if there were witnesses to Buckbeak getting away."

"Ron's right," said Hermione, sounding immensely pained. "Just think of the trouble we'd be in if we were caught. This isn't just being out in the corridors after hours. It would be a real crime."

"So we'd need alibis too," said Harry. "Even if we were spotted, we could claim it was polyjuice if other people saw us on the other side of the castle when it happened."

"We can't be in two places at once," said Ron.

"I rather think we can," said Harry, looking hard at Hermione.

Following Harry's gaze, Ron looked at Hermione too, and his expression lit with suspicion.

Hermione squirmed.

"Something that could turn turn time, maybe," Harry said.

"How did you know?" Hermione burst out.

"Figured it out."

"When?"

"Weeks ago. Though I wasn't sure until just now."

"I promised Professor McGonagall I'd only use it for class."

"We'd be saving Buckbeak. You heard Sirius – Malfoy only won because of bribes and threats."

She bit her lip. "We'd have to be very careful. And I don't think it can take three safely. I asked Professor McGonagall if it could take two, in case I had to get you away from Black, and she implied that was the limit, so I was never sure what I would do if we were all three there when Black got to you."

"Then it's just us two. We'll use my invisibility cloak, so I'm coming."

Ron said, "It? What's it, Harry? Use what? What are you two talking about?"

"Hermione has a Time Turner."

Ron's face was blank.

Hermione reached under her robes and pulled out a gold necklace with an hourglass on the end. "This lets me go back in Time."

Ron's eyes widened. "Messing with time is bloody dangerous."

"It can be dangerous," Hermione allowed. " If you're not careful, you really can create a paradox and more or less kill yourself with it. It's safer than Quidditch though. Time Turners don't try to mess with time exactly. They just double it up while no one's looking. You can send yourself up to five hours back in the past, but unless you're trying to violate causality, it'll usually turn out that what you're doing was already done by the future you while you were the past you, so rather than time travel the effect is more like being in two places at once for a bit."

Ron said, "So that's how you've been getting to class."

"Exactly. I wanted to tell the two of you, of course I did, but Professor McGonagall would only loan it to me if I promised to keep it a secret from absolutely everyone, and I wasn't going to make myself a liar. But since Harry figured it out, that's different.

They walked back to the castle in a tight knot, discussing what they could do.

#
#

Harry reminded himself that this was the last time he'd ever set foot in the divination classroom and focused on making things up about his crystal ball. But there wasn't one class he cared less about, and he sighed in relief when Professor Trewalney released him

Harry picked up his bag and turned to go, but a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him

"IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT."

Harry wheeled around. Professor Trewalney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging.

"S-sorry?" said Harry.

But Professor Trewalney didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. She looked as though she was about to have a seizure. Harry hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing – and then Professor Trewalney spoke again, in the same harsh voice quite unlike her own.

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE 12 YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE THE COCK CROWS… THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AJD MORE TERRIBLE THAN HE EVER WAS. TONIGHT… BEFORE THE COCK CROWS… THE SERVANT… WILL SET OUT…TO REJOIN…HIS MASTER…"

Professor Trewalney's head fell forward onto her chest, and she grunted. Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped up again.

"I'm so sorry, dear boy," she said dreamily. "The heat of the day… you know… I drifted off for a moment."

Harry stared at her.

Is there anything wrong, my dear?"

"You – you just told me that the – the Dark Lord's going to rise again… that his servant's going to go back to him…"

Professor Trewalney was thoroughly startled.

"The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? My dear boy, that's hardly something to joke about. Rise again, indeed-"

"But you just said it. You said the Dark Lord-"

"I think you must have dozed off too dear! I would certainly not presume to predict anything as farfetched as that!"

Harry climbed back down the ladder and spiral staircase wondering… Had he just heard Professor Trewalney make a real prediction? Or had that been her idea of an impressive end to the test?

He rushed back to the Gryffindor dormitory. Ron had finished Divination ages ago (she had saved Harry's divination exam for last, as if it were a treat) and Hermione had just arrived back from Arithmancy.

He told them what had happened.

"You sure she wasn't having you on?" said Ron, worried.

"No. But it seemed different. She was different."

"She's a fraud, Harry," said Hermione. "She obviously just said it to seem impressive."
Ron said, "But what if she wasn't fooling this time? Divination is real, even if it's 'wooly.'"

Hermione rolled her eyes but said, "Then Harry had better contact Sirius, shouldn't he? We certainly can't do anything about it from here."

Though he felt silly about it, Harry went upstairs and grabbed the mirror. "Sirius. Sirius. Sirius," he called, but there was no reply. Harry supposed the mirror was probably left on the desk in the office, where Sirius wasn't.

He thought of sending Hedwig off with a note, but Hedwig wouldn't reach Wales for at least a day, probably longer, and Sirius would've reached and left Hogwarts by then. Anyway, the idea that there had been anything to Trewalney's words seemed more farfetched every moment.

He rejoined his friends and the three of them hurried to Hagrid's, wanting to make sure they were in time. Ron carried Harry's Firebolt and had Harry's invisibility cloak wadded up in his pocket.

Hagrid showed them where he was keeping Beaky, out back by the pumpkins. They fed him rats, and when Hagrid tearfully invited them inside for tea, Ron cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "I'll just play with Buckbeak a bit. And then I have to go up to the castle. Promised Ginny I'd play a game with her later."

Hagrid slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet. "You're a good brother, Ron. Gotta look after yer family. Beaky now," Hagrid sniffled, "e's been like family too. I…"

Harry and Hermione followed Hagrid inside while Ron remained without, becoming better and better friends with Buckbeak.

They endured a great deal of tearful recollections as they waited for Fudge to arrive.

And waited.

And waited.

"I've got stew in the pot," said Hagrid, pointing to a large cauldron full of bubbling brown liquid and unidentifiable chunks. It smelled alright, but they'd all had too much experience with his rock cakes to take him up on it.

It was nearly sunset when Harry felt an unexpected bite of cold in the air. He looked through the one window they'd left uncovered and saw three men. Fudge, in his lime green bowler hat, Dumbledore, and two men he didn't know, one large and carrying an axe, the other old and fussy.

But Harry's attention was drawn inexorably to the two dementors on either side of the group. They were inactive, reigning in their unquenchable hunger and generally not giving terrible feelings to the Minister of Magic, but he cursed anyway.

He tapped Hermione's shoulder and pointed out the windows.

She hissed. "What did he bring them for?"

"Likes having them around," said Harry. "That's what Sirius says. Makes him feel powerful. Plus, they don't need paying with money."

Lowering her voice, Hermione said, "Can you cast the spell? If you can't, we might need to back out."

"Yeah," said Harry, though the truth was he'd only managed it twice, and never while facing the Boggart dementor.

A knock on the door, and Hagrid escorted the four men in, the dementors remaining outside.

Fudge goggled at Harry.

"Just wanted to be here for Hagrid," Harry said. "And for Buckbeak."

"It's a vicious beast," said Fudge. "Known to the Ministry of Magic to have a taste for wizarding blood."

"Taste for rat, anyway," said Harry, meeting the Minister's eyes. "I've fed him enough to know. Even flew him once. Because unlike Malfoy, I followed Hagrid's instructions."

"Fed him?" said Fudge. "Very lucky you haven't been attacked, then. Yes, very lucky. But you had better take off now."

"We're staying," said Hermione quickly.

"I hardly think that's appropriate."

"We're witnesses for the school newspaper," said Hermione.

I wasn't aware Hogwarts had a school newspaper," said Fudge.

"It's a new initiative," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling. "They're hoping to make quite the splash, as the trial of Buckbeak has enraptured the whole student body. Though I will, if you prefer, ask our student representatives to face away while the deed is done."

"Very well," said Fudge, looking distinctly unhappy. "But no pictures."

Dumbledore made several remarks, and Hermione asked a number of annoying legal questions that slowed it all down. They were just signing papers when they all heard a large, outraged squawk.

Harry was first to the door, and he blocked the exit for a moment. Even in the sunlight, he thought he'd seen a suggestion of a silvery light, as from a Patronus, and he wanted to give himself extra time to escape.

McNair pushed him through the threshhold.

The dementors were gone, and Buckbeak's rope had no Buckbeak attached.

"Where is it?" said the reedy voice of the old man. "Where is the beast?"

"It was tied here!" said the executioner furiously. "I saw it! Just here!"

"How extraordinary," said Dumbledore, with a hint of amusement to his voice.

Hagrid began to sob. "Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!"

"But the dementors…" said Fudge.

"I suspect they spooked the hippogriff," said Dumbledore.

"They know better than that," said Fudge.

"Do they indeed? I trust you remember, minister, the frequent complaints from both myself and various parents of how unruly they have been. But it may be, in this case, not entirely their fault. After the earlier incidents, a number of our NEWT students took to practicing the Patronus Charm. Suppose that one of them, seeing two dementors skulking at the edge of Forbidden Forest, saw an opportunity to attempt what they'd practiced. They drove off the dementors, and that dark and billowing stampede is what panicked our wayward hippogriff."

Fudge sputtered. "If someone attacked our dementors, we need to find out who."

"I shall endeavor to discover it," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps the dementors, when they return, will be able to offer us some clue." Dumbledore's voice hardened. "But I will not be lining up my students to be examined by dementors."

"Of course not," said Fudge, wilting.

The executioner said, "We should search the skies, the forest —

"McNair, do you really think a panicked Hippogriff will have run away? Search the skies, if you will… Hagrid, I could do with a cup of a tea. Or a large brandy."

"O' — o' course, Professor," said Hagrid, who sounded weak with happiness. "Come in."

"Er," said Harry. "We'd better go."

"Right," said Hermione. "That article won't write itself."

They hurried back to the castle before anyone could decide they were suspicious and think to question them.

They came into Hogwarts through the side door, as it were, and ate a quick dinner in the Great Hall. Hermione wrapped sausages and buns in wax paper for Ron, and they hurried out of sight up to the dorms.

Ron's job hadn't seemed like such a big deal before – he and Ron had done much worse together – but they weren't together, and Harry kept thinking of all the ways it could go wrong.

Hoping to take his mind off it, he proposed a game of chess. Hermione agreed, which was rare even with Ron nagging her about it, but being worried about Ron, Harry played terribly. He kept seeing his mistake right after he'd made the move.

But Hermione missed every mistake he made. She outright blundered first her knight, and then her queen, at which point she resigned.

She smiled when he suggested reading by the fire, and while Harry kept glancing out the window, Hermione kept her eyes on it and only occasionally glanced down at the book open on her lap.

"It's taking too long," said Hermione.

"Ron'll be fine. He's a good flier and Buckbeak likes him."

"There's acromantulas in the forest-"

"Deep in the forest, Ron knows to stay away from them, and they wouldn't catch him on a Firebolt anyway."

"And it just occurred to me that tonight's a full moon, and you've heard those rumors about how some werewolves spend the nights there."

"To be away from anyone they might bite," said Harry. "They'll stay on the other end from the school. And it's not like Ron's going in far. He's staying at the edge, in the air, and that's safe enough."

"He's trying to stay at the edge," said Hermione. "Buckbeak might have other plans." She pressed her fingers into her cheeks and stared out the window.

He said, "You're more nervous about Ron than you were about exams."

"Well of course I am. I get this way about you too, you know, just not when you're there to see it."

He wondered when. When he'd gone to face Quirrell? Quidditch matches he'd been attacked at? There were three of those, come to think. Had she always been waiting with this sort of vibrating, anxious terror?

For the first time, Harry felt guilty over how he'd reacted to the Firebolt mess.

He tapped her arm. "I might take arithmancy next year."

Hermione looked as if she'd been hit by a castle.

"I hated divination, so Sirius and I agreed I'll drop it. We'll start me self-studying third year Arithmancy and Runes over the summer. After a week or two, I'll pick which one I like more and focus on it. I oughta join you in one of them next year. Same level as you."

She didn't smile quite so brightly as he imagined she would for Ron's return, but she enveloped him in a fierce hug and said, "Oh Harry, that's wonderful."

She proceeded to absolutely talk his ears off about both classes, but at least the minutes weren't crawling by at a snail's pace anymore.

More than an hour passed that way, with both of them taking frequent glances out the window.

The Common Room was largely empty when Harry heard a rap on the window.

Hermione ran over and let Ron in. "You're hurt!"

"Just a branch. It's stopped bleeding already. See?"

The cut stretched across the length of Ron's forearm but was very shallow. Hermione nonetheless insisted that he wash it with soap immediately. Once Ron had done so, and, rolling his eyes, promised to see Madam Pomfrey in the morning, they went out the portrait hole and into the corridor.

"Any problems?" said Harry, lowering his voice despite the supposed privacy.

"Had a devil of a time getting that dye Hermione brewed on his feathers, but he's back with the other Hippogriffs now and none too recognizable."

"And it's not uneven? Malfoy won't say to himself, 'That hippogriff has been dyed badly,' if he goes out and looks?"

"Doubt it."

"How about the dementors?" asked Harry.

"Some great silver Patronus chased them off right at the start and I haven't seen them since. Good job there."

"I haven't done it yet."

Ron grinned. "Bloody hell that's weird." He handed Harry the cloak.

Hermione put the hourglass necklace around Harry's neck as well as hers.

After confirming that Harry was ready, she said, "See you in a moment Ron," and spun the hourglass four times.

#

#

Harry and Hermione hid among trees, looking down at the distant dementors from the top of a slope. Fudge and the rest had just gone inside Hagrid's house. Hermione took a deep breath, and from farther than she'd practiced it, used the Knot-Untying Charm she'd learned over the weekend for exactly this purpose.

The rope fell off Buckbeak's neck.

Harry poked the tip of his wand out from under the inivisbility cloak and thought of his room at Sirius's house, of never having to go back to the Dursleys again.

"Expecto Patronum," said Harry, and a spurt of silvery light shot from the tip of his wand, and faded.

"Expecto Patronum," Harry tried again, but he did no better, and the dementors were turning, becoming aware of them. The invisibility cloak felt like a constricting weight rather than a comfort, but he didn't dare take it off and risk being seen.

"Just relax," said Hermione, giving him a squeeze. "We know you did it. Ron said so."

"Not helping," said Harry. He tried again, to worse results than before. The next time was even worse. The dementors were moving toward him now, and he was starting to feel the cold, starting to hear distant screams.

Hermione grabbed his hand. "You can do it, Harry," and she was just as worried for him as she had been for Ron.

And suddenly, Harry realized why he'd only managed his Patronus twice. Leaving the Dursleys had never been what worked. The part of the memory that had sometimes caught, that had sometimes been just enough spark to start the flame, was the way Sirius had promised he didn't have to go back, had seemed to care.

Harry thought of that, and of the lunch at the Indian restaurant with Sirius, Lupin and Tonks all laughing. He spared a moment for Andromeda and Ted acting like taking care of him was something worth plotting for. But mostly, he thought of Ron and Hermione. Laughing together, sitting by the fire together. Going back to the dorms together on that first Halloween.

"Expecto Patronum," said Harry.

The silver stag that rushed out was as bright as the sun.

The dementors were pushed into the forest like flotsam on a wave. Buckbeak shrieked and took off. Harry heard a muffled whoop and knew that Ron, on Harry's broom and wrapped in his cloak, was chasing after the Hippogriff, which was peeling right in the flight above the forest, away from the dementors.

And that was odd to think about, that thanks to Time Travel, he and Ron both had the cloak just then, though that was why they'd done it this way. He and Hermione backed away. Moments later, the door to Hagrid's house burst open, and a Harry who was a few hours younger looked out.

They hurried away, careful not to trip on the cloak.

"We have hours before Ron's back," said Hermione. "We ought to go somewhere isolated to wait."

"I know a place," said Harry, and he led her to the whomping willow.

A Charm stopped its movements, and they ran into the tunnel beneath it.

"Another secret passageway?" said Hermione, pulling off the invisibility cloak and casting the Wand Lighting Charm, illuminating the earthen walls.

"Sirius told me about it. Come'on."

I took longer than he'd expected, but eventually they emerged into a disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

Harry said, "Sirius made it sound homier."

"Harry," she hissed. "I think we're in-"

"The shrieking shack," said Harry. "There aren't any ghosts. I reckon Sirius knows how that story got around, but he won't say. He stayed here a lot though, after he escaped Azkaban. Said I should use it too if I ever need a bolthole. He even came back on the sly and fixed it up a little."

"You're sure he wasn't taking the mickey? This is supposed to be the most haunted place in Britain!"

For answer, Harry led her through the halls and to a staircase. Beneath all the dust, artfully replaced, he could see the joists where Sirius had fixed up the once crumbling staircase.

They entered a room as clean as the rest of the house was abandoned. A magnificent four-poster bed was at the center of it. Harry lit a lamp and took a seat on the edge.

"Sirius says this part is safe. I can make noise and lights and all that and no one outside the house will have any idea I'm here, and even if they do, it's just the ghosts, right?"

Hermione took a seat next to him, grumbling about how apparently no one had even bothered to try entering the place before printing the story about the ghosts. "It's absolutely shocking," she said. "It's practically lying to be this sloppy with the facts."

Harry shrugged. He would just as soon everyone else kept on believing the lie.

Hermione said, "Any other big secrets from those mirror calls with Sirius that you've been keeping to yourself?"

"Not really." He lay back on the bed. "We could've gone other places, but I wanted to see here."

"Ron'll want to see it too." She lay back on the bed next to him.

"Reckon so." She was very close, and her eyes were dark in the lamplight. It occurred to Harry that this was about the most private conversation they'd ever had. At Hogwarts, there were always other people around, or at least Ron.

Harry said, "Remember when you asked if I was still angry about the broom, and I said I wasn't?"

She licked her lips nervously. "What about it?"

"I'm still angry, but at me for being so bloody stupid. I always understood you'd done it to keep me safe, but I didn't think you had a right to. But I get it now. I put you in a bad spot. I made you choose between acting like a friend and acting like… like family really, and I held it against you when you made the second choice, and the worst thing is you knew I would. So sorry. And thanks."

Abruptly, she started crying. Harry patted her shoulder, unsure what else to do.

Hermione conjured a handkerchief, dried her tears, blew her nose three times, and said "I'm sorry too. I should've tried harder to convince you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because it hadn't made any difference with the map and the passageway, so I was angry too. But I didn't think you and Ron would be angry at me for so long, and I was kicking myself for not approaching you and Ron separately."

"What difference would that make?"

"Well… it's just that I find that you and Ron are both more sensible separately than together. Please don't be mad."

"I'm not. You're right. This year…" He shook his head. "I don't know what it was." Or maybe he knew exactly what it was. Marge and the Dursleys, half the school turning on him over their Heir of Slytherin rubbish the year before, the Professors never giving a damn who was trying to kill him, so it seemed like he might as well do whatever he liked and wait to find out whether or not he'd survive what came. "I've been such a child this year. I had better priorities at 11." He clasped her hand and looked deep into her eyes, knowing he was saying this not just to her, but to Sirius too, and to himself. "I promise I'll be more responsible from now on."

Her eyes watered. "I'll hold you to that."

Chapter Text

The meeting with Sirius about Harry's custody was scheduled for half-past eight in the morning, and Albus's first sign that something had gone wrong was when Minnie and Severus came into his office along with Harry.

"You're quite free to go," said Albus. "This may be private."

Minnie said, "Sirius asked me to be here for the meeting, as Mr Potter's Head of House."

Severus said nothing, but the hardening of his gaze at the mention of Sirius told Albus why he had come.

Before Albus could protest, the floo lit, and Sirius came through, followed by Andromeda, Ted, and Nymphadora Tonks. Then by Remus Lupin, despite the fact that the man must've flooed to the Black home from Hogwarts before flooing back to Hogwarts from it, then by Susan Connel, whom Sirius had engaged as a solicitor for Buckbeak's appeal, and Edward Seltzer, a private investigator well-known for both his skill and his discretion.

The solicitor and the private detective were both holding folders. Sirius glared daggers at Severus and said, "What is he doing here?"

"As you have brought an entourage, I'm asking him to stay. Sirius, I expected only you."

Sirius shrugged, visibly banishing Severus from his mind, and with a wave of his wand, conjured several seats. Simple wooden things, not a patch on the overstuffed armchairs Albus habitually conjured, but the casting was still, by ordinary standards, an impressively casual display of magic.

"Plenty of room for all of us." He pulled Harry into the chair next to him. "Figured I had to bring the whole family though. After all, the other Blacks will be living with me. Officially reinstated them into the family yesterday, with Ted married in. Lot of nonsense in my opinion, but Andy was keen on it."

"I was not aware that anyone else would be sharing your house," said Albus.

"Oh, they won't be in my house — we've moved theirs right next to it. All on the same grounds. Nymphadora'll take the cottage. So that'll be five grown witches and wizards all living behind the same set of wards — one of them's an Auror, and another's your own Defence Professor, so if that's not safe as safe can be, I don't know what is."

"The both of you are walking hazards," said Severus, indicating Remus and Sirius. "I doubt if Potter would survive even one lunar cycle."

Albus sighed. "Severus, Sirius is Harry's godfather. He has every right to seek his guardianship, and while I may have certain concerns about the extent of Sirius's recovery from his unjust captivity in Azkaban, I have every confidence in his ability to care adequately for Harry. But Harry already has a home."

"I want to live with Sirius instead," said Harry, quite firmly and distinctly.

"The matter of safety…" Albus began, but he was interrupted by Sirius dropping a folder on his desk.

"We've got a damn high wall with every appropriate ward. The perimeter is thick with devil's snare, whompers, and wiggin trees housing trained bowtruckles. We've got five magical dogs, and quite a few traps of my own imagining."

Albus skimmed the folder. "The is both impressive and expensive, and no one could deny that your own traps bear a nasty creativity. I'm particuarly intrigued by your treatment of floo travel, but it fails to adequately address the greatest vulnerability to any warded residence — people coming and going, which your cousin and her family will do frequently."

Andromeda said, "I'll be going part-time at the unicorn farm, and we're all brushing up on our defence, including resistance to mind magic. Sirius is pursuing masteries in wards and defence with great resolve. And further…"

She took a silver phial on a necklace from beneath her robes.

"A phial of Varda," Albus said, impressed despite himself. They moderately increased resistance to various compulsions, including the Imperius Curse, and were both rare and expensive. They did not play nicely with certain other magics, and most people considered them a lot of galleons for a small, double-edged benefit, but Albus would be quite pleased to have two or three at his disposal.

Ted Tonks — or Ted Black, rather, and wouldn't that goose his career — drew one out as well.

"I can see that you're quite serious about this, and Harry will be able to visit regularly, but none of it is a match for the protection which Harry renews yearly at the home of his Aunt and Uncle." He hardly wished to speak of the blood wards in front of so many people, some not in his circle, but in this circumstance, he had little choice. He explained the matter in vague but accurate terms, emphasizing how the protection given to Harry by his mother's sacrifice was key to his safety.

When he had finished, Sirius took the folder from Edward Seltzer and gave it to Albus.

When he opened it, Albus did not have to fake the blood draining from his face.

Albus had always known that Harry was being abused, but as the abuse had seemed unlikely to prove fatal, he'd sighed heavily and got on with his plans. Finding out the details was as upsetting as he'd always assumed it would be, but hardly surprising.

However, he could hardly admit that. Nor could he, with the reputation for honest documentation that Seltzer had garnered in 40 years of working, wave this away. Nor could he insist that Harry had to go back to his Aunt and Uncle anyway.

And that was a disaster, because Lily's protective charm was the greatest weapon Albus had against Voldemort, and he was unsure how being separated from his Aunt and Uncle would damage it.

The need was so great that, if Sirius and Edward had come alone, Albus might have put the Elder Wand to use. As distasteful as it was, compulsions and alterations of memory cast with it had a staying power and undetectability wholly impossible with lesser wands. But to do that to 10 people? Even for Albus, this convocation before him would be difficult to subdue without leaving signs or making a ruckus. Nor would he like to test the mind-altering powers of the Elder Wand against an occlumens as adept as Severus. And then there was whoever else might know, whatever parchments might be left behind. The risk was simply too great.

He had been remiss in allowing Harry to visit for Easter. He had placed too much confidence in the prototypical secrecy of an abused child. And above all, he had underestimated Sirius Black.

But if he couldn't stop it, he had to move with it. Lily's Charm was destined to die or fade in a few years regardless, when Harry turned 17.

He took Harry's hands, blinking back tears. "My dear boy, I wish I had known. I should've known. But I was remiss and neglectful, so convinced that you would be better off away from the attention of the wizarding world that I did not keep a close enough eye on where you actually were. I should've taken a more active hand."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I reckon I should've told you."

Albus shook his head. "I should've checked. Sirius, I'll do whatever I can to make amends. Starting with signing away Harry's guardianship to you."

Susan Connel produced the needed form, and Dumbledore added in a codicil granting himself certain rights.

"Oversight?" said Sirius, mouth twisting.

"I do not intend to repeat my error of absentia. Harry's safety is still a matter of prime importance, and there are those in the Wizengamot who might object to his placement with you, making spurious claims of instability and unsuitability. This will give them no leg to stand on."

Sirius seemed relieved rather than aggrieved. "Glad to have you on the team," he said. "To be honest," he laughed uncomfortably, "I really don't have a frog's ass of an idea of how to raise a boy."

Susan pulled Sirius aside for a hurried conference in the corner, centered on the idea that he should never admit to such a thing again, but Sirius returned not the least discouraged, and Sirius and Albus both signed.

Sirius pulled Harry into a tight hug. The boy stiffened at first, then relaxed. Albus was touched by the display. At the very least, Harry's life should improve, and that silver lining was nothing to sneeze at.

"About what you could do to help," said Sirius gruffly, when the hig was done. "I reckon I ought to teach Harry a bit extra about how to defend himself, so if you could sign a writ making my home an area of supplemental instruction… I've already paid the fees and all that." Susan Connel handed over another form.

Albus said "It wouldn't do for his professors to have their toes stepped on, or for him to move out of step with his yearmates."

"I'm not gonna try and stuff a year of schooling into one summer. I couldn't even if I tried. Just a few extras that might come in handy if someone comes after him."

Albus considered it convenient for Harry to be an unremarkable student, but he did not worry that Harry becoming yet one more of the many students who received private tuition over the summer would turn him into the sort of magical prodigy he'd shown little sign of becoming.

"Keep me informed of his progress," said Albus, signing that too, and after much shaking of hands, Sirius and his entourage left through the floo. Harry walked out of the office as if he were on a cloud, leaving Albus alone with his two most trusted Professors, who had been curiously silent throughout the affair.

When the door shut behind Harry, Minerva said, her voice full of acid, "I told you they were the worst sort of muggles!"

Albus moaned as if he had taken a blow, sagging in his chair. "I take it you read the report over my shoulder?"

"What I could of it, and that was more than enough! Harry Potter living in a cupboard, confined to it for weeks at a time as punishment for accidental magic?! A diet that occasionally verged on starvation?! Constant emotional and verbal abuse!? Encouraging their son to beat him black and blue?! It's a travesty."

Severus said, "Certain behaviors are cast in a different light. Not a result of being spoiled, but of the opposite."

"So they are," said Albus. "We must all re-evaluate our opinions of Harry. I placed far too much trust in an Aunt's love for her nephew."

"Placing too much trust in family," said Severus, his voice tight, "seems to be a failing of yours."

"So it would seem," said Albus. "But now we must endeavor to see that Harry gains what help he needs to succeed." And other such platitudes until his two Lieutenants left, though from Severus's glare Albus knew this wouldn't be the last he heard of it.

He had just made tea and put a lemon drop in his mouth when his floo lit again and Cornelius Fudge rushed through. The Minister of Magic was pale, short of breath, and sweat beaded down his face. His bowler hat hung askew.

#
#

There was a tightness in Sirius's chest, a nausea in his stomach. It had all sounded great in theory, but damnit — he was now responsible for the safety and happiness of a thoroughly traumatized 13-year-old.

He turned into Padfoot and raced barking out into the grounds, surrounded by his dogs. Beawoof, who he'd never got around to renaming and never would, Chukster, Assrash, Finegold and Bellygamut. Sirius was the unquestioned leader of the pack, though Assrash would be even bigger when the rest of him caught up to his paws.

They rolled as one furry mass into the woods, diving into and out of the brook and devouring wild apples that would do their stomachs no good. They sniffed at the edge of the whompers, and they pissed at the borders of the devil's snare, Sirius making sure yet again that the pack knew where to go and where not to.

They played their way back to the Quidditch Pitch, which was clover rather than grass, since that didn't wilt from dog piss so easily, and they tumbled and bit, rolled and yelped, played the chaotic mess of chaser and chasee that was the canine version of tag.

When Sirius finally left Padfoot behind and went back to the house, he felt the most human he had in days. He opened the pantry, since being a dog always left him hungry, and flicked the wireless on while he downed a brick of brie.

He froze midchew.

Wormtail was gone.

#
#

Exams were done, but Hermione was humming as she wrote. After she'd said it to the Minister of Magic, she'd realized it wouldn't be hard to make a news sheet. They could write a few pieces and use the Duplication Charm to make hundreds of copies. They would only last a few weeks, but that was more than long enough.

Dean Thomas had been flattered at her request that he make a masthead illustration for the Hogwarts Post, and he was currently working on his final version of an ink drawing of a phoenix reading a newspaper. After she'd explained her and Harry's deception of Fudge, Ron had started on a Quidditch piece with only token grumbling. First a recap of the season, then his analysis of how the House-teams stood entering the summer. He was growing more enthusiastic with every line.

Hermione's first task had been a short article about Buckbeak's escape, but she was spending a great deal more time on an article about Hogwarts' electives. She was complimentary of Babbling, Vector, and Burbage, and said as many nice things about Hagrid as she could justify while acknowledging the 'learning process of any new teacher.' She was as scathing of Professor Trewalney as she felt she could get away with. She hoped that the article would help second year students make judicious changes to their course plans.

Once Harry came back from wherever he'd gone, she'd badger him into writing a piece on Professor Lupin's successful first year as Defence Professor, which would hopefully help him keep his job once the truth about his condition inevitably got out.

But when Harry stumbled to the table where they worked, one look at his face drove all thoughts of a school newspaper from her head.

"What is it?" said Ron.

"Pettigrew's missing."

"What?" said Hermione, rising out of her seat.

"I was just on a mirror call with Sirius. He says Pettigrew was in a holding cell at the Ministry, waiting for his trial. When they went to give him breakfast this morning, his cell was broken into and he was gone. Sirius doesn't reckon they were trying to help him, though. He figures the people who don't want Pettigrew testifying had him killed. But…"

Harry stopped, looking meaningfully at Dean Thomas, who had been listening intently.

Dean rolled his eyes, packed up his things, and left.

Harry sat down and lowered his voice. "But what if he escaped? What if it's just like Trewalney predicted?"

Hermione laughed. Harry looked wounded but her laughter was of horror. Pettigrew's potential disappearance was a disaster in its own right, but worse was how it added a certain credence to Trewalney's prediction. Wouldn't it be just terrible if the only time she made a real prediction was about You-Know-Who coming back?

Ron said, "He didn't come back when he had Quirrel working for him, and he was better placed and more powerful than Pettigrew, wasn't he?

"Exactly," said Hermione. "But have you told Sirus about it? Maybe you should, just in case."

"Of course. And he's going to tell Dumbledore, but not right now because he's at the Ministry. And Sirius reckons the Aurors are going to want to talk to him."

"They can't think he's responsible."

Harry said, "He didn't seem worried about that, just annoyed they're wasting time on him when they could be searching elsewhere."

Ron said "Pettigrew wasn't all that hot on You-Know-Who to start with. He won't go running to him when he can just go back to hiding out as a rat somewhere."

Hermione echoed the reassurance, but when Harry thunked his head on the table, she and Ron shared a look.

Tell me the madness isn't starting again.

#
#

Severus Snape visited Malfoy Manor at the earliest justifiable moment.

He was made to cool his heels in the parlor for most of an hour, likely a way of reminding him of his station, before Lucius finally entered.

"Ah, Severus. I had wanted to speak with you. Draco tells me that of late, your efforts to advance Slytherin House have been less… fierce."

"I continue," said Snape softly, "to promote our House and our goals. But coming changes to the political situation require changes to my own comportment."

He didn't have to expand. While Lucius had lost his seat on the Hogwarts' board of governors as part of the fall-out from the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco, he'd managed to get himself replaced with Nott, so it had made little real difference. But Narcissa had been occupying the hereditary Black seat on both the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors for years, and on January first of the coming year, Sirius Black would take over both of those positions, making him, infuriatingly, a politically powerful man with some degree of oversight over Severus.

Severus wasn't blind to the fact that he and Black were, odious as it was, essentially on the same side. If it were anyone other than Black inheriting that power, he could be pleased about it. Best of all if it were Severus himself. But alas, the Prince family was not so powerful, and there were extant lines of it who had little interest in acknowledging him as kin, let alone making him head of the family.

His voice turning ironic, Severus said, "Pettigrew's disappearance is such a shame. His testimony could've resolved so much."

But instead of gloating as Severus had expected, Lucius looked immensely frustrated, lips thin.

"I had anticipated the Pettigrew situation being taken care of for good, putting certain unfounded accusations permanently to bed. His escape is a great disappointment."

Severus did not hide his surprise or his worry. "You think he had outside help?"

Lucius said, "Based on what the Minister has told me, I would guess that an intruder attempted to enter his cell using a purloined key. The key, however, did not work, and this apparent accomplice chose to breach the cell forcefully. In the process, the wards that had prevented Pettigrew from transforming were broken, and he escaped. Only a supposition, of course. If you hear any rumors regarding his location, I would appreciate your coming to me with them so I can decide whether they merit being elevated to the Minister's ears."

A little later, Severus hurried through the halls of Hogwarts to the Headmaster's office, hoping that Albus was back from the Ministry. Displeased as he still was over the Potter debacle, this news couldn't wait.

Lucius had sent someone to kill Pettigrew, likely intending to make it look like suicide, but the assassination had gone tits up, and the rat was on the loose.

Chapter Text

It was the first time Harry had ever been excited about going home for the summer. The very word was intoxicating. He was nervous thinking it, let alone saying it out loud.

His worries over Pettigrew were pushed firmly to the back of his mind, helped there by Ron and Hermione furious argument over Hermione's idea for a student paper.

"People were laughing about it," said Ron.

"Well of course they were. It was the first time, and you misspelled 'slackarly' and I didn't catch it because I don't know obscure Quidditch terms. We'll get better at it, and they'll get used to it."

"I'm not 'getting better at it,' I'm not doing it. I write more than enough for school already."

"You enjoyed writing about Quidditch."

"Once, to pull the wool over Fudge's eyes, and no homework or lessons to worry about."

"But think of all the horrible rumours we could set straight."

"We'd probably just spread more of them. If Harry'd written that thing about Lupin like you wanted, there'd be even more people talking about him now."

Harry had escaped writing anything. After the Pettigrew news, Hermione had asked and hadn't brought it up again when he'd said he didn't feel like it.

Hermione said "What do you mean, 'even more people?'"

Ron shrugged. "Seamus was telling me this daft rumour that Lupin's a werewolf. Supposedly some of the upper years are saying it." Ron snorted contemptously at the ridiculousness of it.

Hermione leaned back in the seat, eyes wide and lips pressed tightly together.

Keeping his voice carefully neutral, Harry said, "Would it matter if he was?"

"A werewolf?" said Ron. "Course it would. Imagine if he bit a student, and he'd try to, wouldn't he?"
"Most werewolves never bite anyone," said Harry. "A small number of werewolves are criminals, just like a small number of wizards are, and they're the ones responsible for nearly all infections."

"Yeah?" said Ron. "Where'd you hear that?"

"A book."

"You read it?" said Ron, with a tone that sounded peculiarly familiar to Harry though he couldn't quite think why. It was as if Ron were incredulous over the idea that anything Harry had read could be right if it contradicted what Ron knew just by being a Weasley.

"Sirius says my dad was dead keen on werewolf rights."

"Eh, really?" said Ron. "I guess they're not all bad. Still, you can't exactly trust them can you?"

"Not on the night of the full moon," said Hermione. "But otherwise, what's the problem? Werewolves aren't evil, they're injured, and this prejudice against them is completely reprehensible."

"What are you in such a snit about? It's not as if Lupin's really a werewolf." Ron hesitated. "Is he?"

Hermione said. "Didn't you notice his boggart is the full moon? And he always missed class right around the full moon. I suppose that's what most other people are going off of. Plus the terribly suspicious way Professor Snape acted when he was substituting."

Harry said, "And I'm pretty sure that potion Snape was giving him is wolfsbane. Werewolves take it to help them keep their minds when they change, but it makes them ill."

"Seriously?" said Ron, eyes bugging out.

"Speaking of which," asked Hermione. "Harry, did Sirius tell you?"

He shook his head. "I guessed on my own from a book. Sirius wouldn't confirm when I asked him, but he didn't try denying it either."

"But Lupin can't be a werewolf," said Ron. "He's bloody brilliant."

"Yes," Hermione gritted out. "That's the point."

Ron shook his head.

Hermione said, "Harry, what book did you read? Could I borrow it?"

"Er, sure." He dug in his trunk. "The Cursed Children of Mani. Professor Lupin recommended it."

Hermione took it happily. "If it's children of Mani, does that mean the author subscribes to the Germanic origin hypothesis?"

"She comes at it from Germanic history, anyway."

"That'll be fascinating. I'd love to learn more about traditional Germanic magic. We hardly use it outside of Runes. By the way, I have some great introductory books on Runes and Arithmancy, if you'd like to borrow them."

"No, I reckon Sirius has it covered."

"What's this now?" said Ron, emerging from his consternation.

"Er. I guess I haven't told you. I'm dropping Divination next year and taking Runes or Arithmancy. Sirius'll tutor me so I can be in our year for it." He should've told Ron, had known he should've told Ron, but he hadn't for fear of the exact expression of betrayal Ron was making. "You could switch too."

"No, I've seen Hermione's homework." Ron shuddered extravagantly. "But mate, is it, is it because she keeps predicting your death?"

"Pretty much."

Ron rubbed his face. "Great. Now what am I supposed to do?

"You could partner with Neville," Hermione suggested.

"And have him break his teacups all over my lap?"

"Or you could switch to Muggle Studies," said Hermione. "Professor Burbage is rather good."

Ron sighed. "What's with all the secrets lately? Werewolves, Time Turners, changing classes. There isn't anything else, is there?"

Hermione hurried to reassure Ron that she was out of secrets and had only kept those because they hadn't been hers to tell.

"Yeah?" he said mullishly. "You're not secretly 16, are you? I was thinking about that Time Turner, and you could be an old lady now for all I know."

Do I look like an old lady?" Hermione screeched.

"No," said Harry. "It doesn't add up to all that much. She was only really taking two extra classes. Say that added up to six hours a week for what, 40 weeks? 240 hours might sound like a lot, but it's only 10 days."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Though I did use it a little more when I was researching for Buckbeak. But second year, I didn't age any while I was petrified for most of a month. I've kept careful track, and after doing all the sums, it turns out I'm younger, relative to you two, than I was to start. My birthday is September 19th, but now I'm only as old as I would be if my birthday were September 30th, so it's almost as if Harry and I share a birthday now."

"How's that?" said Harry.

"Because we both turn a year older on the last day of the 7th month, in a manner of speaking."

Ron blinked. "Hermione, September is the 9th month."

"Only ever since July and August got added in. It used to be that September was the 7th month, and October, as in octagon, was the 8th, November was the ninth, and December, as in decimal, was the 10th. That's why in arithmancy, you can treat September as being both the seventh of ten AND the ninth of twelve. Some people try to resolve it as twenty-ninth of forty, but that's nonsense really. It's not a combination, it's both distinctly, at the same time. So you see, Harry and I do sort of share a birthday."

"She's lost it, that one," Ron said, shaking his head. "You're really going to try learning that rubbish?"

"I'll give it a go," said Harry, feeling strongly that he would end up choosing Runes.

Ron said, "And you're really going to send your whole summer studying?"

"I don't know about my whole summer," said Harry. "But there's something I haven't told you yet. Sirius has it arranged so I'll be able to practice magic at his house over the summer. So he'll be teaching me some extra defence in case Voldemort comes after me again. Though I guess Sirius is more worried about angry supporters."

"Wicked," breathed Ron. "Curses and things?"

"I guess."

"But that's so unfair," said Hermione.

"Come off it, Hermione. Harry needs to be able to protect himself."

"Well of course he does." Hermione looked intensely pained. "It's only…"

Harry said, "Sirius says it's pretty common."

"But that just makes it worse," Hermione wailed. "Are prigs like Draco Malfoy getting to do magic over the summer?"

"Maybe."

She stalked around the train car while Ron chortled.

"I need to work so much harder from now on," Hermione said.

Ron said, "Now you've really lost it. You're top of the year already."

"For now. But our OWLs are coming up, and lots of people will have tutors then. Can you do magic over the summer?"

"I wish. I think Fred and George have used potions and things."

She wrinkled her nose. "I doubt my parents would approve of that. I just wish there were some place I could go to cast over the summer, even just once a week. Like a work room at a library."

Harry said, "Hermione, Malfoy could have five private tutors and just as many Time Turners and he still wouldn't score as high as you. But I'm pretty sure doing magic isn't just for me. My," he stumbled over the phrase, "my house is magic legal for anyone who's there. So if you came over…"

Ron perked up, and Hermione leaned forward eagerly. "I wouldn't be intruding?"

"No. I'd like having friends over. I'll ask Sirius if I can."

She gave him the hug then, extremely pleased, and said, "I'll be going on a trip with my parents at the start of summer. Italy this time. Rome, Venice, Milan. But I should be back by your birthday. Maybe I could come over then."

"Right," said Ron. "See you on your birthday. And the Quidditch World Cup is this summer too. I'll talk to my dad about it."

Dudley had had friends over. On those days, the 'Harry Hunting,' had followed him home. Though not really home. The Dursleys had never been that. Just a place he had to live. But now…"

"Hey," said Harry, "what colour do you reckon I should paint my room?"

When they reached platform nine and three quarters, Harry headed toward the barrier, craning his neck for any sign of Sirius. But he didn't see him. He wondered if he should go through the barrier. Would Sirius decide to wait on the other side?

His heart thudded. Sirius wouldn't have forgotten, would he? Or worse, hadn't changed his mind? Wouldn't be thinking he didn't want a kid to take care of after all?

"There you are Pronglet."

Far from the formal robes of the meeting with Dumbledore, Sirius was wearing a black t-shirt with some muggle band on it. Lupin, who'd ridden down on the Express, was next to him in his ratty old robes. Ron gave him a startled look.

"And your friends. Nice to see you two in person." Sirius shook Ron and Hermione's hands. "Ready to go? I've been practicing my side-alonging, so we'll apparate."

Harry had seen apparition mentioned in a wizarding novel. He said quick good-byes to Ron and Hermione.

Sirius said, "Remus, you have his trunk?"

"Got it," said Professor Lupin.

"Good. Harry, it's a bit like flooing. Stay relaxed, but not quite limp. Let your magic move with it, not against it. Now hold on tight."

Sirius spun on his heel. Harry's vision went dark. Tight bands wrapped around him, and he felt as if he were being squeezed through a narrow rubber tube.

He tried to think of what it meant to keep his magic relaxed, and the next moment, green turf was tumbling at his feet.

He caught his balance and drew a deep, gasping breath, fighting not keep his lunch down. An iron fence was around them, overgrown with a hedge of thorns and flowers. A wrought iron gate was just ahead.

"You alright?" said Sirius.

"Sure," he choked out.

Sirius slapped him on the back. "Before you know it, that'll be easy as jumping."

Lupin popped into existence next to them, holding Harry's trunk and an empty cage.

"Where's Hedwig?" said Harry.

"It's best not to apparate with an owl, so I told her to come here herself."

Harry frowned, wondering how many days that would take her. "Where are we?"

Sirius said, "Apparition is hell on ward schemes. You can set it so your wards will let some people through and others out, and that's dead common because it's dead convenient, but it isn't very secure. Better is to create an apparition point. It's a small space, so you can ward it up to hell and back and put it just outside your main ward scheme. A front porch, for instance. Trouble is, a dedicated entrance is the exact place an enemy would stake out.

"So Dumbledore helped us make this. You need a key to enter, plus the right presence, and it exists only when you apparate into it, at a largely random location along the property, so it can't be staked out. Real top shelf stuff."

Sirius opened the gate with a touch of one hand.

A path unrolled from the gate, and a nest of devil's snare rolled aside.

"I wanted mandrake hybrids," said Sirius conversationally. "But Dumbledore said that would be more hazard than security, and after a long talk with Pomona Sprout I decided he was right. We'll do the grand tour later to make sure you don't bump into anything dangerous."

They came out onto the clover field Quidditch pitch, and five barking dogs ran up.

Harry tensed, but Sirius knelt on the ground and was immediately bowled over by four of the dogs, licking his face and wagging their tails so hard their butts shook.

The fifth was Beawoof, and she circled Harry, panting happily and accepting his pats.

In due time, the rest came over to sniff Harry and collect pats from Professor Lupin.

Pointing, Sirius said, "Assrash, Bellygamut, Finegold and Chukster."

Sirius threw a ball, and the dogs raced off.

Sirius pointed to a one story house flanked by two magnolia trees with large pink flowers like cups. "That's Ted and Andy's. Ted's at work, and so's Nym-Nym."

"Tonks?"

"Gets bloody confusing call her that with her da' living here too, and she hates Dora. Says it makes her sound like a female entryway. So Nym-Nym it is."

"Sirius…" said Lupin.

"And Remus'll be in the house with us, if you'd forgot. Three single wizards living together, so I've been given strict instructions at making sure things gets cleaned at least a couple times a year."

But just as over Easter, it was clean enough, though perhaps a tad more cluttered than before. Books were strewn about, and most of a large telly was disassembled and laid out on newspaper in the parlor.

Sirius said, "I've been trying to Charm the blasted thing to show English premier league and those daft American chaps who redesign autos, but so far it won't show anything but Italian face cream adverts."

Harry took his trunk upstairs. The room looked just as he'd left it, except for the additions of a clothes hamper, a large hat rack with at least 30 walnut knobs, and a balcony.

Harry went onto it. It had two chairs, a telescope, and a fine view of the grounds. An ivy with purple flowers was spreading across the rail. Harry sniffed the flowers, smiled, and went back in, leaving a window open for Hedwig as he unpacked his trunk.

He was home.