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Chapter Text

The Owl and the Boy

Disclaimer: Ain't mine and never will be, sadly. Don't sue. If you recognize certain ideas or plots, it would be because I've been rather strongly influenced by some of the excellent Harry Potter fanfiction authors I've read. No plagiarism is intended.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 1, 1980, Lawrence Felton's Post Owl Aviary

In a warm, soft nest in a protected corner, a single egg, zealously guarded by its parents, wobbled and shook and finally shattered, spilling its inhabitant out into the nest. The new-hatched owlet slowly managed to put itself to rights, and peered about the aviary, dimly aware, even this new-born, of something ... missing. Food sated its hunger, water sated its thirst, but no amount of companionship from parents or trainers seemed to ease the sense of something missing.

November 1/2 (very late at night), 1981

Privet Drive

Dumbledore breathed a silent sigh of relief when McGonagall finally left Privet Drive. He could not do what he needed to do so long as she here to see. The boy must be contained, must be put upon the proper path, or all would be lost. In the still darkness, he lifted the Elder Wand and cast an Alohamora, stepping around the sleeping bundle on the stoop as though it were of no concern. Once inside, it took little enough time to find the Dursleys and to cast certain useful spells on them. That done, he slipped back out the door, being sure to lock it, and cast one more, far more powerful spell, putting Privet Drive and its inhabitants under a modified version of the same spell that had condemned James and Lily Potter to their deaths. Of course, this time, Dumbledore used himself as Secret Keeper. No witch or wizard would ever be able to come here without his leave now, though muggles would not be interfered with at all. That done, he turned on his heel and Apparated away. There was much yet to be done. At least Black had taken care of one of the problems Dumbledore faced without any prompting. Having him out of the way would make matters far easier.

Lawrence Felton's Post Owl Aviary

The owlet, now a nearly fully-grown adolescent, clacked its beak angrily. Over the last year, as it had grown, it had become more aware, more intelligent. It knew, now, what it needed. Or more precisely, who. It was aware its 'who' was very young, a nestling chick, and that to go now would mean nothing, so it had been waiting. Now, all of a sudden, the instinctual knowledge of where its 'who' was disappeared. It was aware 'who' had not died, but it had no sense of where 'who' might be, and this made it very angry.

November 2, 1981- June 23, 1991

Unfortunately for Dumbledore, despite the success of his initial actions, fate, destiny, and prophecy are not so easily denied. The owl escaped the aviary within a week of her wizard being hidden from her. It took her less than a month after that to discover that someone was receiving mail not addressed to them. She began to take action.

Dumbledore was baffled by the lack of mail, other than Gringott's account notices and the rare few owls bearing entirely malicious packages. Given the sentiment on the street, he'd fully expected for the room he'd set up for the purpose to be inundated with mail of all sorts. He was, and remained, completely unaware that a certain snowy owl had taken it upon herself to patrol the skies near Hogwarts, depriving every owl she could outfly, outbully, or out-think of their cargo and taking the letters and packages to another location. Only the Gringotts owls, huge and fierce and heavily protected by spells, and a handful of other owls, neither huge nor fierce but as heavily protected by spells as their Gringotts counterparts, managed to evade her wrath. Every letter and package she intercepted was deposited in a good-sized, dry cave a safe distance from Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and the Forbidden Forest. It was not the most secure location, but it was the best she could do.

When she wasn't waging a battle in the skies, the snowy owl spent her time narrowing her search for her wizard. It was not until nearly four years after he disappeared, when Harry began going beyond the reach of the Fidelius ward for part of every day, that she finally pinpointed his location, and very nearly killed the next half-dozen owls she deprived of their letters in her anger when she discovered she could not breach the wards and reach her wizard. She settled for watching him from nearby trees, guarding him as best she could. She wanted, badly, to approach him, but her inability to cross the wards made doing so exceedingly unwise. She would have to wait.

HPHPHP

Unaware of all of this, Harry Potter struggled through his life. For the first ten years of his life he was hated, reviled, neglected, frequently starved and sometimes beaten by his aunt and uncle. They called him 'boy' and 'freak' to the point that he'd mistaken them for his actual name until shortly before school started. He was kept at chores from dawn to dusk ... when they didn't lock him into the cupboard under the stairs, which served him as his room. His only clothes were Dudley's castoffs. The only thing bought just for him was his glasses, and those had been very begrudgingly purchased indeed. He'd not had a new pair since the first were bought a week after he started school. And school was no respite, either. Dudley ensured he was kept friendless, terrorizing anyone who thought to approach him. The Dursleys, all three of them, ensured the teachers despised him, telling lies about him. They even put tales about the neighborhood, to further isolate him from everyone.

Abused, friendless and alone, no one could have blamed him if he had become angry and vengeful, or had simply given up. But there was a courage and strength of heart and mind in Harry that Dumbledore did not suspect, and had not planned for. Harry was a most fortunate combination of the best attributes of his parents. He had intelligence to spare, cunning and discernment, loyalty and a generous, caring heart that could not be quashed. As he learned quickly, Harry seldom made the same error twice, outside of bursts of accidental magic, which he could not control. He learned to hide his intelligence and carefully husband his few resources in the constant battle with the Dursleys. And on the worst days, if he had the odd feeling that he wasn't as alone as he felt he was, if he spotted a flash of white feathers in a nearby tree, and if he fell asleep listening to music only he could hear, that eased his heart and mind, what did it really matter?

Today, though, was at least starting as a surprisingly good day. Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, and could not watch Harry while the Dursleys went to the zoo for Dudley's birthday, so there was a very good chance Harry would get to go, for the first time, since the Dursleys refused to let him alone in the house for fear he'd do something 'freakish' to the place. Of course, he first had to weather Dudley's tantrum over the number of presents received.

The day actually got better from there, Harry reflected. He got to see a lot of animals ... and had even spotted a white owl he'd glimpsed now and again over the years, since a few months after he started school when he was five. He'd eventually resorted to looking it up. It was evidently a Snowy Owl, and very much not indigenous to Great Britain. They liked colder climes than Britain had to offer. He supposed it had been part of a zoo, or someone's pet, and got loose. From the size, he suspected it was female, as they tended to be bigger than the males. Plus, it had black markings on it, which (evidently) males mostly didn't, though he wasn't going to pretend to be an expert on the matter.

Of course, things eventually had to go wrong. They walked into the serpent house, and almost immediately, Harry frowned, as he could swear he heard whispering, just on the edge of his awareness.

[[Disgusting meaty things. Always staring, always pointing. Would love to be able to teach them some manners!]]

[[I'm hungry. Would be nice to have something to eat.]]

[[Quit that! Ought to lock you up and smack the glass all day. See how you like it!]]

Harry blinked, wondering where the voices came from. It took less than a minute to figure it out, as the closer he got to the glass-fronted exhibits, the louder the voices became, though they still remained muted, quieter than a normal speaking voice (probably due to the glass separating them). Harry eventually approached one of the larger exhibits, in which lay a large Burmese python, that seemed to be asleep. Dudley and his friend Piers, of course, came over to try to get the snake to react, rapping hard on the glass, then stomping away in disgust when the snake refused to move.

[[Sorry about that. They're like that with everyone.]] Harry said, completely unaware he was not, actually, speaking English.

The python lifted its head. [[Well, well! Someone with manners at last! And who is willing to speak to us, no less! Your apology is accepted, youngling. We have become used to such treatment, but it is nice to know not everyone thinks treating us ill is a good idea.]]

[[So no one ever tries to talk to you?]]

[[Oh no, young speaker. It's quite the rare thing, I assure ... ]]

The conversation, unfortunately, got cut off as Dudley returned, body-checking Harry and sending him sprawling as he bellowed for Vernon, Petunia, and Piers to come and see the snake, now that it was moving. Half a second later, while Harry was still trying to pick himself up off the floor and clear the cobwebs out of his head, Dudley gave a great, high-pitched shriek, followed quickly by several others. It took a few seconds for Harry to realize why. Apparently, the glass front of the exhibit had disappeared, and the enormous python was slithering out calm as you please while everyone in the vicinity shrieked and ran.

[[We shall meet again, speaker. Until then, you have my thanks.]] This time, the voice was at a normal, conversational level.

[[Goodbye, then.]]

Unfortunately, Vernon and Petunia were ... rather put out ... by the whole thing, and Harry earned himself a week locked in his cupboard save for twice daily trips to the loo.

The python managed to evade capture, and escaped the zoo. It was met, just outside the zoo's environs, by a snowy owl, who herded the thing north, aware it sought Harry. It might be able to reach Harry in his house, but the chances of that happening without arousing the ire of his keepers was nil, so she redirected the thing to the one place she was sure it would be able to find him, in a few months time ... King's Cross and the access to the Hogwarts Express. Harry would be there, come September first ... and the owl fully intended to be with him.

July 14 - 31, 1991

A single owl arrived on the fourteenth, bearing Harry's Hogwarts letter. It was the first owl carrying a missive intended for Harry that actually went to its intended recipient, rather than ... someone else ... and as such, the first owl to not be harassed half to death in the execution of its duty, though the snowy owl was less than pleased to see another owl able to reach her wizard while she could not.

The snowy owl spent the next days laughing in amusement at the increasing confusion and mayhem as first dozens, then, finally, hundreds of letters were delivered. Most of the other post owls, while less intelligent than she, thought the whole thing great sport as well, and many of them stayed after delivering their burdens so as to watch the mayhem. But when the family decamped for parts unknown, only the snowy owl followed them every step of the way, soaring above the fast-moving vehicle as she watched over her wizard. Soon. Oh, soon. Very soon, it would finally be time. Finally be possible! She had been more than pleased that her wizard seemed to be aware of her already on an instinctive level. He seemed to 'hear' her, when she tried to comfort him as best she could when things went badly for him, despite them not having bonded. It was very encouraging.

She stayed only long enough to see them settle, and see the large, hairy man approaching the miserable little hut before she winged back to the Aviary. The trainers had planned to send a group of owls off to Diagon Alley today, and she meant to be part of the 'shipment'. Her Wizard would be there, and she would do whatever it took to be allowed, finally, to be by his side.

July 31, 1991

Hut-on-the-Rock

Harry had learned about traditions in school, and had, as a six year old, developed one of his own. He'd only found out when, exactly, his birthday was when he started school, and only then because it was on his school papers, and the principal read it out the first time he'd been summoned to his office for something Dudley had done, but blamed on Harry.

Every year since then, he stayed awake the night of the thirtieth, waiting for midnight and the beginning of the thirty-first. He always managed, by some means, to have a 'cake', normally a drawing, and this time an actual 'drawn in the dirt' type drawing. He always told himself happy birthday, knowing full well no one else would mark the day in a pleasant way (he'd often come in for extra abuse, though), make a wish and mime blowing out candles. It wasn't much, but it was something that no one could take from him.

Always before, when he did this, absolutely nothing happened. So this time, he could be forgiven for being very, very startled when something started smashing at the door the moment he 'blew' on the dirt candles. Nearly as alarmed as his relatives (Vernon appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a rifle, which Harry very much wanted to know where he got it!), he hid behind the edge of the bricks lining the fireplace. A second later, the door hit the floor and an enormous man squeezed himself into the room.

What followed was easily the most surreal half hour of Harry's life. His parents were not drunks. They were wizards. The hundred-and-one letters that had been everywhere for the last couple weeks were actually from a school. The school his parents went to to learn magic. It was a lot to process, to say the least.

Hagrid, the man who had come for him, was sweet and gentle and friendly ... with Harry. He'd also been right angry with the Dursleys over Harry's lack of knowledge of who he was and where he was from. Harry, long used to weighing people up to see if they were someone he could trust in any way (sadly the answer was usually no), quickly realized that whatever else was going on, Hagrid was innocent of it. His face was open and painfully easy to read, and he came across as slightly ... simple. Oh, not stupid, to be sure, but ... perhaps unsophisticated was the better word to use here. There was no artifice in Hagrid whatever. No ulterior motive, and certainly not a jot of malice. For the first time, Harry rather thought he'd found an adult he could trust, at least somewhat.

Diagon Alley, London

Being swarmed in the Leaky Cauldron was a new experience for Harry, and it had been all he could do to keep from hiding behind Hagrid. He'd been far less than impressed with Professor Quirrel, wondering how in the name of everything the man actually managed to teach anything, with that stutter.

Their emergence into Diagon Alley cured Harry of his distaste right quick. The alley was ... completely fascinating. There was so much to see and gawk at. But within moments, Harry was distracted, because he could swear he felt a ... tug ... pulling him someplace. Unfortunately, Hagrid was having none of his attempts to pinpoint the source of the tug, herding him towards Gringotts. There was some compensation for that, as the cart ride had been fantastic. The vault, though ... that made him angry. So much money, and yet ... He wondered, bitterly, if the Dursleys had access to the vault. It would certainly explain their tendency to buy the newest and best of any given thing for themselves and their son. Harry had no idea how much Vernon earned at Grunnings, but he'd long suspected the Dursleys of living above their actual means. Until now, he'd supposed that Vernon was stealing from Grunnings, but now he had to wonder if Vernon was stealing from him!

Finally, though, they were back out in the alley. Harry had paid scant attention to the second vault they'd stopped at, or its contents, since he was determined to find out where that tug was coming from. They stopped at the trunk store first, which only made sense to Harry, as they'd then be able to toss all their subsequent purchases into the trunk, rather than carrying a ton and a half of packages. The next stop proved to be the wizarding version of a clothes shop.

There, Harry met (well sort of) a most unpleasant blonde-haired boy. He was arrogant, snobbish, rude, and, Harry suspected, a bigot, given his comments about 'our sort' he'd been making. Once he'd gone, a relieved Harry had asked the proprietress for more than just the standard Hogwarts kit, investing in enough shirts, trousers, pants and socks that he'd not embarass himself walking around school. He even managed to convince Hagrid to visit the cobblers, and got himself a pair of boots to replace his nearly-worn-out trainers.

Hagrid got chased out of the wand shop when they stopped there, though he didn't seem to mind overmuch. He muttered something about getting something, and took off, leaving Harry to contend with Ollivander ... and the news about his wand ... alone. He was actually rather grateful for that. The fewer people that knew his wand was 'brother' to Voldemort's, the better. Whatever being a brother wand meant.

He'd just turned to leave the shop when he spotted Hagrid just outside the window, holding an enormous cage, and a gorgeous snowy owl that was watching him with oddly intelligent gold eyes. The tugging sensation increased tenfold the moment he locked eyes with the owl. He hurried outside.

"Hagrid! You didn't have to ... " He started.

"Nonsense, Harry. Every kid needs a pet ta take ta Hogwarts." Hagrid objected. "An' owls are dead useful, they are. Carry mail, they do. This'n practically made a nest in me hair tryin' ta go with me, so I figgered she'd be a good pick for ya."

"She? A girl then?" Harry clarified.

"Yeh, least, accordin' to the shop owner, anyway." Hagrid said, then he checked his watch. "Gulpin' gargoyles. It's gettin' late, Harry. We'd best git some lunch and then git you back to yer aunt'n uncle."

Fortunately, they were tucked into a table in a corner, mostly hidden from the rest of the room. It was fortunate because about halfway through lunch, Harry couldn't resist the temptation to touch the owl anymore, and reached a finger through the cage bars to stroke her fluffy featheres. The moment he made contact, both owl and boy were surrounded by a sapphire-blue glow ... which Harry was wholly unaware of, because in that same moment, the bond, denied for a decade, snapped into place. Harry got inundated by a wash of pure joy, relief, love, protectiveness and comfort. Heedless of Hagrid's awed gape, he opened the cage door with his free hand, and, without them losing contact with each other, the owl stepped daintily onto his wrist, their eyes still locked.

/Oh, Harry-chick. It has been far, far too long. I am so glad we are finally together./

Harry gave a mental blink. The voice, gently maternal, seemed ... familiar, somehow. /I ... what ... how?/ He caught a sense of amusement from the owl.

/There is much to explain, my wizard./ She told him. /But I am your familiar. I have been since I was hatched, a day after you were. Familiars are rare, even for adult wizards. There are many benefits, that I will explain later. And yes, you've seen me before. I've been watching over you as best I can for many years now./

/You sang to me!/ Harry thought, finally making the connection. /That's why you sound so familiar!/

The owl looked pleased. /Yes, that was me. Now, as much as I am enjoying this, you'd best pay attention to your surroundings again. Hagrid is watching/

It took an effort of will to blink himself back to the 'real' world. Harry gazed up at Hagrid, wide-eyed. "Whoah. That was ... different."

Hagrid, for his part, was as wide-eyed as Harry was. "Yer familiar. She's yer familiar, Harry. That's rare, that is! Most wizards don't ever have one, and them that do don't usually find 'em til they're a bit more grown-up like."

Harry eyed the owl. "Wow. Guess I'm going to have to learn a bit about that sort of thing so I know what I'm in for."

"Might be best." Hagrid agreed. "Y'kin ask when ya git ta school, I wager."

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea."

Hagrid escorted him back to the Dursleys. Harry, seized of an idea, had sat on the same side of Hagrid as he'd seen the man stash the key to Harry's vault. Fortunately, he was able to fish the thing out of Hagrid's coat without Hagrid noticing. Oddly enough, he got no sense of disapproval from his owl. And really, they were going to have to discuss a name, soon! Before they actually got to the Dursleys, Harry had another thought and opened the cage that the owl'd had to sit in while they travelled. He did not want her hurt or anything if the Dursleys gave him grief.

Chapter Text

First Steps

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 1, 1991, Privet Drive

They had stepped onto the sidewalk of #4 when Harry felt his owl, currently perched on his shoulder, shiver.

/Harry-chick, hold on a moment. I want to test something./

The owl walked carefully down his arm and launched herself, flying back across the street, wheeling sharply, then flying back to him. When she landed on his arm (surprisingly softly, Harry thought), she gave a fierce chattering shriek and Harry was nearly overwhelmed with a wave of vindictive triumph.

/Finally! I have tried to pass through those wards for years! And now finally, I can! Oh, this is wonderful!/ She gently nibbled at his hair, then walked down his arm again and flew up towards the windows on the second floor. /I'll meet you inside, Harry-chick./

Petunia, pinch-faced and horrified, met them at the door and Harry had the strong suspicion that the only thing that kept her from grabbing him and throwing him inside in her fury was Hagrid's presence. Harry was just grateful that whatever window the owl had found open, no one had been in the room, or things would have gotten interesting really fast.

Petunia just hustled him up to Dudley's second room (now his). She shrieked in terror when the owl buzzed her head, coming in from the direction of Vernon and Petunia's room. Harry got rather roughly shoved into the room and locked in.

"Well, at least I've got my stuff." Harry said out loud, then glanced over at the owl. "First thing's first ... do you have a name?"

/No, my Harry. That choice is yours./ She said. /It can wait a bit, I think. First, we need to cover some things. I don't know everything, but I'll explain what I can. The first order of business is familiars./

"Right. The way you say it, and what Hagrid says, makes me think it's kind of a big deal." Harry said.

/It is, my Harry. Familiars are animals ... always a magical one ... who bond with a wizard or witch. We are unique among our species. A familiar has the same intelligence as a human, and once bonded, they live as long as their Bonded does. We are able to find our Bondeds no matter where they might be, no matter what magic may be hiding them./

"Magical? But you're an owl?" Harry asked.

/Post owls are not ordinary owls, Harry. Our ancestors were imbued with magic, both to increase their intelligence and to allow them to find the recipient of the letters they carried under most conditions, though there are some wards that can defy us./

"Ah, ok. So, you're smarter, and we can talk to each other, and you can find me no matter what. Anything else?" Harry wanted to know.

/In time, when we've gotten used to each other and the bond, you will be able to perceive the world through my senses, no matter where I might be, if the need arises. If you seek to become an Animagus, you will become something with wings. I have no idea if the Bond affects what you become, or if what you become affects what sort of animal you Bond, but the few familiars I've spoken to have never heard of a Bonded wizard animagus that had a form at odds with that of his Familiar./

"Ok, what's an animagus?" Harry wanted to know.

/An animagus is a witch or wizard that uses magic to shapeshift into an animal form./ The owl told him. /From what I have heard, it is a bit of an involved process./

"Right. Ok, that's covered. Anything else?" Harry wanted to know.

/A great deal, I am afraid./ She then proceeded to tell him about the letters and packages she'd ... purloined. /They are all meant for you, my wizard, but someone has been diverting them. I couldn't stop them all ... some owls are very heavily protected ... but I got most of them. You might want to return to Diagon Alley and Gringotts, though. They were the main ones I could never get a hold of, as the owls they use are even larger than I am, and heavily protected./

"Right, I'd kind of planned on that already anyway. I've got a bad feeling the Dursleys have been using my money to live in the lap of luxury while they crammed me in a closet." Harry grumbled.

Of course, it couldn't be quite that easy. Vernon, returned from work (how they'd gotten off the Rock and Vernon to work was a mystery Harry didn't care to contemplate anytime soon), had to try to have his say, storming into Harry's small room, face purple with rage and all set to have at him. Of course, at that point, Harry found out one of the many benefits of having a familiar. The owl, despite not having a lot of wing-room, went straight for Vernon's face, chattering in rage. Vernon bellowed in fear, took a wild, defensive swing at the white-winged demon and then nearly fell over backwards in his haste to escape her, the door slamming behind him.

/Take that, you overgrown, bloated bully! Next time you hurt Harry I'll rip your eyes out through your nose, see if I won't!/ the owl raged, having wheeled aside just in time to avoid getting clipped by Vernon's fist. It hadn't been the most elegant landing, but at least she'd both given the fat bastard what-for and escaped injury herself in the relatively tight quarters.

Harry was torn between horrified concern for his owl ... he really needed to think of a name! ... gratitude for her enraged protectiveness, and highly amused at seeing Vernon so thoroughly routed by something one tenth his size. "You really shouldn't do that, girl. He could have hurt you, and then where would I be?"

The owl huffed and fluffed her feathers before agreeing somewhat reluctantly. /I'll be more careful in future. I just ... I've seen much of what he's done to you, Harry, and I won't stand for it!/

Harry reached over and stroked her. "I appreciate that, I really do." He told her.

It wasn't until late that night that Harry stumbled across a name he rather liked in one of his new books. "Hey, girl? What do you think of the name Hedwig?" He asked.

She regarded him for a moment, clearly mulling it over. /I rather like it. Yes, that will do nicely for a name./

Harry grinned. "Hedwig it is, then." He frowned. "Hey, I just remembered something. Why did you fly across the street, when we got here? You said something about wards?"

Hedwig clicked her beak angrily. /Oh, yes, those blasted things. They've been here as long as you have, I think. I'm fairly sure I know who set them, but I don't know why. Before today, I couldn't get through them, and believe me, I tried!/

Harry contemplated that one. "Well, Hagrid said something about that dark wizard ... maybe whoever set the wards was afraid someone would try to hurt me?"

/It's possible, Harry/ Hedwig admitted. /I just don't like it./

Harry grinned, and forebore to mention that she probably didn't like it because she couldn't get through it.

August 1, 1991, Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts

Dumbledore had given a secretly pleased smile as he sent Hagrid off to collect Harry Potter. From all the reports sent him by Arabella, Harry was, to put it rather crudely, ripe for the picking. The spells on the Durselys had worked as they ought, and Harry was, by all reports, a cowed, downtrodden, lonely little boy. Malleable. Trusting. With any luck ...

Of course, that luck went sour very quickly. Why Hagrid seemed to think he had to buy the boy a pet of any sort ... much less a post owl! ... was beyond him. The boy did not need that sort of attachment, nor did he need such open access to a method of communication not under Dumbledore's immediate control. Worse, according to Hagrid, the blasted owl was a familiar! A familiar! Bonded at the age of eleven! Dumbledore had only heard of that happening perhaps two or three times in the past. He shot Fawkes a grumpy look. It had long been a sore point that he, Dumbledore, Leader of the Light, Head Mugwump etc etc, was yet one of the unwashed masses in this regard. He, like most wizards, did not have a familiar.

Fawkes, despite what Dumbledore had led everyone to believe, was neither his pet nor his familiar. By means that Dumbledore had not been able to discover, the Founders had bound the phoenix to Hogwarts itself, and the phoenix served as a helper of sorts to the Headmasters and mistresses. Well, some of them. Fortune had smiled on Dumbledore in that Fawkes had not seen fit to make himself known to either Dippet or his immediate predecessor, ensuring that no one now alive remembered that the phoenix had been about the school in the past. And even that much, Dumbledore had only been able to discover by means of closely questioning the many portraits in the office.

The familiar would complicate things immensely. They were fiercely loyal to and protective of their bonded wizards, were immensely intelligent and, according to written accounts, not above acting independently in defense of their wizard. He would have to tread carefully, or he would risk finding himself under attack, literally and physically, by the bloody creature.

And to top it all off, Hagrid had mislaid Harry's trust vault key! Of course, it could yet be in a pocket, as Dumbledore was aware that Hagrid kept a good bit of junk in his pockets, and the key was small. It might have gotten buried under the drek. Still, he wrote to Gringotts. If the key had been mislaid, they would be able to summon it to them and then return it to him. Dumbledore needed that key, needed to retain control of the boy's funds. The boy had to be dependent on him and on the people he was arranging (all unwittingly) for Harry to meet. The Weasleys were a strong Light family, and if all went well, the youngest boy would attach himself to Harry.

Since the Weasleys sincerely believed that he, Dumbledore, could do no wrong, they would, of course, sing his praises, further impressing the boy with Dumbledore's credentials. That Ron was hot-headed, prone to jealousy, heavily biased against Slytherins and wholly intolerant of scholastic effort only helped matters. Harry, anxious to have and keep a friend, would hopefully tailor himself to Ron's requirements, making it that much easier to control the boy.

Little did he know that any and all chance of controlling Harry Potter had already been lost.

HPHPHP

Harry woke well before dawn the next day. He gently encouraged a sleepy Hedwig onto his shoulder, grabbed his trunk, and then headed outside and walked for several blocks. Once he was well clear of Privet Drive, he glanced at Hedwig.

"You said there's a way to get to Diagon Alley?"

/Yes. It's called the Knight Bus. Just stick your wand in the air, and it will come. You still have some money left, right?/

"Yeah."

/Good, as it costs money to use. I don't know how much. Just make sure you hang on tight when you get on. I've seen that thing around, and the driver's far less than careful./

Harry grinned at Hedwig. "Yes, mum." He teased her.

Hedwig gently nipped his ear. /None of your cheek now!/ She scolded light-heartedly. /And don't give them your proper name, if you can help it./

"Right. Here goes nothing." Harry stuck his wand in the air ... and promptly got bowled over as an enormous bus rocketed into existence and screeched to a halt all of about an inch from where he'd been standing.

Hedwig chattered her ire as she backwinged to keep from falling to the ground. /Of all the ... how dare they!/

/Easy, Hedwig./ Harry thought, resorting to thinking to her since he was trying to go 'incognito' and supplying her name wouldn't help.

She calmed down and flew to a tree. /I'll meet you there. I'm not riding that contraption!/ And she took off.

Harry lied to the attendant, paid the fare, and then, taking Hedwig's advice seriously, hung on tight. He was glad for it, as the bus was evidently trying its level best to knock him silly. Fairly quickly, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry scuttled through, keeping his head down in order to keep from being recognized, and hustled through to Diagon Alley. The moment he got through the arch, Hedwig circled down to join him.

/Gringott's first, Harry, and then we'll go from there./ She decreed.

"Right." Harry agreed, and marched towards Gringotts.

Fortunately for him, no one seemed to recognize him, or be on the lookout for him. He sighed in relief as he stepped into Gringotts, and headed for the nearest teller. The goblin eyed him, and Hedwig, for a long moment. Harry had no idea what the expression on the goblin's face actually meant, but if he'd seen that look on a human, he'dve classed it as predatory anticipation.

"My name is Harry Potter. I'd like to speak to someone about my vault, please." Harry said.

The goblin eyed him for another long moment before finally speaking. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Griphook will bring you to the goblin in charge of the Potter account."

Harry smiled. "I remember him! He brought me to my vault yesterday." He greeted the goblin that approached. "Hello again, Griphook."

Griphook seemed slightly surprised to be greeted in such a friendly manner, but quickly recovered. "Follow me, please." He said, and headed off down a side corridor that had doors every few feet or so down both sides.

Griphook stopped at the seventh door on the right, which bore a nameplate with 'Zartank' on it. Griphook knocked once, then pushed the door open. The office was surprisingly small and plain, with only a desk and two chairs, and numerous floating candles that kept the room well-lit. The only other thing in the room was a bald, wrinkled, shriveled-up goblin seated behind the desk.

"Greetings, Mr. Potter." The old goblin's (Zartank, Harry was presuming) voice was surprisingly strong and deep, given what looked like his advanced age. "I have been anticipating this visit for some time. Sit. We have much to discuss."

Harry took a seat and Griphook backed out, closing the door behind him.

"We have a great deal to go over, Mr. Potter. Your family estate is quite large and complex."

Harry frowned. "Wait, the family estate?" He asked.

Zartank gave him a sharp look. "Of course, Mr. Potter. That is why you came in today, is it not? As the sole Heir and Head of House, you are expected to begin taking charge of things as of your eleventh birthday."

Harry boggled. "I ... have no idea what you're talking about. I only found out my parents weren't drunk wastes of space yesterday."

Zartank got a look on his face that evidently was a universal expression for being pissed as hell. "I see. Then we have even more to cover, and it is well that your parents were no one's fools." He growled. "In brief, the name Potter is an old and honored one, classed as one of the Ancient and Noble Houses, which means that your ancestors were both involved in creating the British wizarding government, and hold honors in the Muggle world as well. You have a seat on the Wizengamot, and one in the House of Lords."

Harry, by this point, was rather a bit bug-eyed. "I ... what? How?"

Zartank bared his teeth in what passed for a goblin's grin. "The Potters have held the title of Duke of Mercia for over a millennia, in secret. To the Muggle world at large, the Mercia Dukage died out over a millennia ago, but the Royal family is aware that the dukage is still held. The Potters were also instrumental in building the wizarding world's government, which is how they got their Muggle-world peerage, and as such, carry a title that's just short of being royalty in the magical world, and that is held by very few others. In fact, only one other family from those days survives, the House of Black. The current Head of that House was a schoolmate and best friend of your father's."

This was a lot to take in. Harry scowled. "And ... I was never told any of this. I wonder why?"

Zartank scowled. "I can hazard a guess, Mr. Potter, but it would only be a guess."

Hedwig grumbled. /I'll bet every galleon in the bank it's that hairy old goat Dumbledore/ She snarked.

/Why do you say that?/ Harry wanted to know.

/All the letters and packages I intercepted were headed for the Headmaster's office, Harry./

Well hell. Harry would worry about that later.

The next three or four hours were dizzying, as Zartank laid things out. Harry was a millionaire several times over, and had a myriad of properties, some of which had been bequeathed 'the boy who lives' by witches and wizards with no other heirs to inherit their worldly goods. He had three vaults ... the trust vault, intended for his school fees and the costs of his childhood years, should he end up with someone other than Sirius Black or Frank and Alice Longbottom, the main Potter vault, filled to the rafters with galleons, a handful of sickles and a handful of knuts, and a third vault that contained a plethora of ... stuff. Books by the gross, jewelry, semi-precious and precious stones by the ton, over a hundred wands, relics of Potters past, a half dozen magical staffs (the precursors to wands), and quite a few magical items of varying descriptions.

Among the most precious items were his parents' will ... and a pensieve, which Zartank explained was used to view peoples' memories. With the pensieve was a single vial with a silvery liquid within, evidently a memory. Harry, hands shaking more than a bit, managed to get the thing out into the pensieve, and then, following Zartank's directions, stuck his head in.

He tumbled to the floor in a comfortable looking living room, at the feet of a man who looked ... a great deal like what Harry rather thought he'd look like when he grew up, and a woman with vibrant green eyes and red hair. It took him a minute to realize that these were his parents, but when it finally hit him, he had to fight to keep from crying, not wanting to miss anything they said or did because his vision was blurry and he was making too much noise.

"Hello, sweetheart." Said Lily. "I hate that we're having to create this memory for you to view, but both your dad and I are ... suspicious ... and paranoid. And if you're watching this, then the worst has happened."

James took over for a bit. "If you're watching this, kiddo, it means that the Fidelius charm we were hiding under was broken, and the wrong man probably got blamed for it. You see, Sirius Black is one of my best friends, practically my brother. We've been all but attached at the hip since we were eleven. When we went into hiding, we used something called a Fidelius Charm, but the catch was that we had to use what's called a Secret Keeper. Everyone knows how close I am to Sirius." James made a face. "We decided to use that to our advantage, and let Sirius act as a decoy. The real Secret Keeper is ... was ... Peter Pettigrew. And if you're watching this, he betrayed us, and Sirius is either dead, Kissed or imprisoned. If he's imprisoned, use this memory, and the documents included in our will, as evidence to get him released."

Lily spoke up then. "Whatever Sirius' status, there's someone else out there that can help you. Due to existing laws, he wasn't, and won't, be able to be your guardian, but he's a good man. His name is Remus Lupin."

"Remus is a good guy, Harry. He also happens to be a werewolf, which is why he can't have custody of you. He's never been irresponsible about it, but laws are laws, and there's not much we can do about it." James said. "I'm sorry we can't be there, kiddo, that we won't get to watch you grow up, but know that we both love you."

Lily smiled. "There's just one last thing, Harry ... and it's something your dad and I don't quite agree on." She gave James, who was looking a bit sour, an affectionate, exasperated look. "I have no idea if he'll still be alive, or where he'll be, but try to find Severus Snape. He was a good friend of mine as a child, even if he didn't get along with your dad at all. Tell him Lily sends her love." She kissed her fingers and reached out, as if to pat someone. "We love you, Harry. Don't join us anytime soon, you hear me?"

It was a shaken and tearful Harry that pulled away from the Pensieve. It took him a good fifteen or twenty minutes to get himself under control, even with Hedwig preening his hair and sending him waves of comfort. Eventually, he was able to get to his feet and gather the memory back up, as well as the will documents.

"Zartank, I need to bring these to ... well, whatever the wizarding world calls their police."

Chapter Text

Plans and Prophecies

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

Zartank gave Harry a feral grin. "I thought you might say that, Mr. Potter, but you don't know everything yet."

/He's right, Harry. As bad as that was, there seems to be more/ Hedwig pointed out. /Maybe you should find out everything before you jump into action./

Harry sighed /Point, Hedwig./ He agreed, then glanced at Zartank. "Tell me everything."

Zartank looked ... incredibly pleased by that comment, for reasons Harry couldn't quite figure out. "Come with me, Mr. Potter."

They returned to Zartank's office with the memory and the will and other papers that had been with the will. There were a couple letters in the bundle, Harry noticed, though he didn't take a closer look to see who they were for just yet.

"So far." Zartank said. "I have told you about your inheritance, both from the Potters and from various bequests left to you by witches and wizards with no other family to inherit. We have not actually gone over the transactions that have occurred since you were ... placed." From Zartank's expression, he didn't think much of where Harry's been sent. Harry rather thought Zartank didn't know the half of it. "Forgive me for saying this, Mr. Potter, but it is clear to me your guardians did not concern themselves with your welfare."

Harry grimaced. "No, no they didn't." Then he glowered. "I take it they were getting money to take care of me?"

"Yes, quite a generous amount, given the exchange rates. The amount varied slightly, of course, but it never dropped below approximately three thousand pounds per month, or forty Galleons a month."

The exchange rate stunned Harry nearly as much as the amount the Dursleys had gotten. Three thousand pounds a month? Harry would be stunned if more than five of it was actually spent on him (outside of school-required expenses, that is). "Zartank ... I'm fairly sure they've spent all of half of one month's allotment on me in the last ten years."

Zartank glowered. "I see. Once you've had a chance to sort through everything, if you wish to pursue them for fraud, we would be only too pleased to do so. There are a few other matters that we will need to deal with first, however. I was instructed by your father to ask you to read through the papers you have there."

Harry glanced down, and sorted the letters off to one side, noticing that there was one for Remus and one for Sirius in one handwriting, and one for Severus in another (He suspected the two were his dad's, and the one his mom's). He unfolded the other papers and started to read.

Harry

I will just say again that I am sorry we have not lived to see you grow up. Unfortunately, the odds were rather stacked against us ... a fact we did not discover until after we'd gone into hiding.

First, we should explain a few things. When we were in school, Voldemort was essentially in control, running roughshod over everyone. He and his followers kill and torture at will. There didn't seem to be any way to stop him, though a great many people gave their lives in the attempt.

Sirius comes from a family that, until the most recent generations, agreed wholeheartedly with Voldemort's plans for the wizarding world. Even at that, the 'rebels' of the Black family were few ... only four in total, Alphard(Killed by Voldemort's followers early in the war), Dorea (your grandmother), Andromeda (Married a Muggleborn) and Sirius. The rest of the family still held to their extremist pureblood beliefs. Sirius' Sorting into Gryffindor came as a massive shock to everyone except Sirius himself. He was never quite allowed to forget he was a Black, and fought to live down the Black reputation, which resulted in some rather ... unfortunate choices during his school days, especially regarding Slytherins in general and Severus Snape in particular. Not that your father helped much when it came to Severus (or at all, if I'm honest). It was a case of schoolboy rivalries gone wrong. Both your father and Sirius eventually grew up a bit, and I became quite taken with your father. We got married less than a year out of school. Your father and Sirius became Aurors, and I started to work on my Charms mastery under Filius Flitwick, who, I sincerely hope, will still be a teacher when you get there. All of us, and quite a few others, were part of an organization run by Dumbledore that was trying to contend with Voldemort, since the Aurors were completely swamped trying to deal with all the attacks.

Two years later, I had just attained my Mastery (and the war with Voldemort was really heating up) when I discovered I was pregnant. We were so thrilled. Sirius and Remus were over the moon as well. Peter ... well, I honestly don't know if it was true, but he at least pretended, at the time, to be thrilled.

Alice Longbottom, also a member of the Order, discovered she was pregnant about the same time. We ended up giving birth within less than twenty-four hours of each other. Two days later, we were visited by Dumbledore. He told us a prophecy had been made, stating that a child born 'as the seventh month died' would somehow be able to defeat Voldemort, but also targeted by him. He requested that we go into hiding.

I am unsure where Frank and Alice went, or what their fate may be. Dumbledore recommended the Fidelius Charm to your father and I, and encouraged us to settle somewhere rather a bit smaller than Potter Castle. He claimed the Fidelius was a far stronger protection than any ward the Castle might have.

As of now, we've spent a year here. It's a week after your first birthday, and James and I both snuck out long enough to leave the things you've found in the Potter Vault, because over the last year, we've had time to think, and we're rather a bit alarmed by what we've put together. We have no solid proof whatever, but there's a good chance by the time you read this that there will be solid proof.

The letter went on to detail the Potters' suspicions about Dumbledore. Most of it seemed rather far-fetched, at least individually, but together it sounded a bit more plausible. Lily wondered more than a bit about just how Voldemort came to be, and if Dumbledore'd had a hand in that, and about how unsympathetic the Headmaster had seemed to be of the plight of certain students (she never said who), and overly interested in the doings of others (Sirius in particular). He also seemed to manipulate things to his own ends. Like arranging for a werewolf to attend Hogwarts. James adored Remus as a surrogate brother and was willing to trust him with his life, but he and Lily both wondered if there hadn't been some sort of ulterior motive behind Dumbledore letting him attend Hogwarts. Lily also mentioned that there were things that, if he was alive, Severus would have to speak of, as none of it was her tale to tell, but that he had suffered from the Headmaster's peculiar brand of ... manipulation. But as she said, they had no real proof, at least, not then. Harry didn't see where there was much more of it now, either. Dumbledore had, at least, been careful.

"So, what else can you tell me?" He finally asked Zartank.

"Sirius Black is alive, and currently in Azkaban." Zartank said immediately. "He was never given a trial, never found guilty of any crime. Nor was he ever properly disinherited. Which means that he is Lord Black, even if he cannot, at this point, exercise the rights that come with the title."

"Why can't he?" Harry wanted to know. "I mean, unless it's just the whole 'being in jail' thing."

"No, it's more than that. The Heads of House have certain magically-imbued powers over their families, but they must be acknowledged as Head, which means that the Family signet ring accepts them. The magics worked into the signet rings will actually kill anyone fool enough to attempt to wear them who has no claim to the Headship. It is believed that Sirius Black was unaware of the fact he was Head, as his mother verbally disowned him when he was sixteen. He must have assumed the proper steps were taken to make it official, because he never came to the bank to claim the signet ring after his father's death, which happened before he was incarcerated. The Head of a family is stripped of his title and magic if he betrays his family, and your grandmother was a Black, making James Potter family."

"So if that ring could be gotten to him, ... "

"He would be able to take his rightful place as Head." Zartank confirmed. "His current accommodations notwithstanding. He is not guilty of familial betrayal, and the ring would rest easy on his hand."

"Is there a way to get it to him?" Harry wanted to know.

Zartank got an odd look on his face. "Of course not, young man. The rings are entrusted to our care after the death of a Head of House to keep bloodshed to a minimum. To surrender a ring to someone outside of the family it represents would be a serious breach of contract and trust."

Harry winced. "Sorry, sorry." He said.

Zartank shook his head. "You are Muggle raised, Mr. Potter, you had no way of knowing. Speaking of rings, before you ask, you can claim the Potter ring, if you so wish."

"Ok, interesting. What're the advantages and disadvantages?" He wanted to know.

"You are entirely too young to legally exercise most of a Head's powers." Zartank said. "Nor would you be declared an adult. You would need to retain the services of someone who can train you in the duties of a Head of House of your station, as you would be expected to begin to attend Wizengamot meeting for observation purposes when you reach fourteen, whether you claim the ring now or not. Bearing the ring would afford you a great deal of political protection ... attacking an eleven year old boy, whether in the press or with legal procedures, is one thing. Attacking a Head of House in the same manner, regardless their age, is quite another, as it is recognized that even if you aren't old enough to vote now, you will be, and as the Head of House Potter, your word and vote will carry a great deal of weight. Crossing wands with that is not something most wizards are willing to do, when they think about it."

"But if I'm not wearing the ring, they may forget, because I'm young yet, what I'll be when I get old enough." Harry guessed.

"Precisely." Zartank said. "It will also give your protestations of Sirius Black's innocence more weight."

That was pretty much all Harry needed to hear to decide. "I think I'd better claim the ring. I'm going to need all the help I can get, I think."

Zartank smiled with deep approval. "Just so, Mr. Potter." He tapped his desk with a long finger, and Griphook appeared in the door a minute later, bearing not one, but two small boxes.

The boxes were placed on the desk, and then Griphook eyed Harry and Hedwig for a second, before saying "There is a customer demanding your presence, Zartank."

Zartank glowered down at the boxes, opening them both. "You brought the Black ring as well? Foolish boy." Then he sighed. "Very well. Forgive me, Mr. Potter. I shall be back as quick as I may."

And the two of them walked out, leaving both boxes open.

Harry blinked, stared at the door, then at the boxes. "Ummm, Hedwig, is this striking you as at all fishy?"

/Just a bit, Harry. I think ... I think that the Goblins cannot *officially* do anything, but that they're willing to do things unofficially./

/Like get Sirius' ring to him./ Harry guessed. /Can you get out of here?/

/Once they open the room door, yes./

/Right. Here goes nothing./

Harry popped his trunk (which had been stashed in the corner of Zartank's office after his arrival) open and grabbed quill and parchment, scribbling two short letters.

Remus

Hi. It's Harry. I really don't know what to say, but I just found out about you today. Mom and Dad said you were their friend. I'd really like to meet you and hear about them. Incidentally, the owl's name is Hedwig, and she's my familiar.

Harry

and

Sirius

Hi, it's Harry. I've had the most interesting day at Gringotts. You might want to wear what's with this letter. I've been assured that you'll be able to without ill effect, and I believe it. Writing, given your location, is not the best idea. Hedwig is my familiar, so just tell her if you need something, or want to give me a message, and she'll be able to relay it.

Harry

Harry approached the two boxes. The ring on the right seemed to ... call to him, for lack of a better word. It was gold, with some sort of red stone (not a jewel, as it did not glitter in the light, but actual rock) that had a surprisingly detailed coat of arms carved into it. Two lions up on their hind legs, facing each other, and between them a shield.

The other ring, Harry was diappointed to realize, he couldn't see, as it had been placed in some sort of small bag. Once again, suspicion ran rampant, as the bag was small enough to be carried by an owl.

"All right, Hedwig, here goes nothing." Harry's hand shook as he reached out to touch the bag, but nothing bad happened. He let out a relieved whoosh, and soon had the tiny bag wrapped in the bit of parchment and tied securely. "Ok, now, how should we do this?"

/Tie them both to my legs. That way, my beak is free to fight if a wizard or owl tries to stop me/

"Right, good idea." Harry found a bit of string and tied the two bits of cargo to Hedwig's legs. "There you go."

That dealt with, Harry finally paid attention to the other ring. Given the relatively small size of the ring, most of the detail to the crest was either lost or too tiny to actually see, but he studied it for a moment anyway, feeling more than a bit odd about the whole 'Peer of the Realm' thing. The Dursleys would have *fits* when they found out. If they ever did, seeing as Harry had no desire to ever tell them. Finally he reached out and grabbed the ring, settling it on the ring finger of his right hand. The ring glowed gold briefly, then shrank to fit his finger.

He'd barely got that done when Zartank returned. Harry started to sweat, but Zartank shut both boxes without looking in either of them. "Congratulations, Lord Potter." He told Harry.

Harry grinned. "Do you mind if I send Hedwig off with a quick note to Remus?" He asked. "I'd like to get in contact with him as soon as possible."

"Not a problem. She can go when Griphook leaves with the boxes." Zartank told him.

A few moments later, Griphook appeared and took the boxes. Hedwig flew out after him.

"Is there anything else we need to cover?"

Zartank shook his head. "That is all." He said.

"Right. Now I know everything ... do you think I should bring the whole 'Sirius is innocent' thing to light, and if so, to who?"

"I would recommend contacting Amelia Bones." Zartank said. "She is head of the DMLE, and well-reknowned for her fairness, adherence to justice, and incorruptibility."

Harry nodded. "I wouldn't have got her, if I'd called, would I?"

"Very likely not, Lord Potter." Zartank said.

"Thanks for stopping me."

"You're welcome." Zartank looked both surprised and pleased by the thanks.

"So, write to her specifically. I can do that when Hedwig gets back." Harry said.

"Quite so. Though she may be a few days. Remus Lupin more or less disappeared within a month of your parents' deaths. It's possible he left the island entirely, in which case it could be as much as a week before Hedwig reaches him."

"Right. Now, question. Should I go back to the Dursleys, or ... " He waved a hand. "Well, I've apparently got any of a dozen places to live in."

Zartank considered that. "I might suggest returning, at least until school begins." He said. "Lest someone check up on you. The less they know until you're ready, the better."

Harry grimaced. "Good idea."

"Dumbledore has written about your trust vault key." Zartank said.

"Crap. That's going to complicate matters." Harry said. "Is there anything that can be done to stall him? Or, I dunno, make a key that looks like a key, but isn't?"

"Stalling him is quite easy, and already being done. If we are particularly stubborn and pedantic, we can draw it out for a few weeks. The false key idea ... " Zartank thought about that, too. "He'd find out, sooner or later."

"But not for a while. I already have my school stuff, and unless he comes here every month to get the Dursleys their money ... ?"

"No, he does not. That is handled automatically. Which means that it may very well be this time next year before he discovers the switch." He nodded. "It will be done. And we won't have to stall him for weeks this way, either. Just a couple of days."

Harry grinned. "Well, that's good. Keeps you out of trouble. If I'm going back, I'd better get going. The Dursleys might not notice me not being underfoot all day, but they'll notice if I'm gone after dark."

He gathered the papers, put them in his trunk and headed back out of Gringotts.

HPHPHP

Zartank sat back with a pleased smile after young Lord Potter left. There was strength and to spare in the boy, both magical and moral, and a keen intelligence. He regretted that he had not been able to tell the boy absolutely everything, but Zartank's family had been the Potter's bankers since time immemorial, and they had long ago been sworn to silence about certain matters. Matters that the boy could not currently safeguard, considering who he was contending with. Zartank had little doubt, however, that the information Zartank was unable to disclose would find a way to disclose itself to young Lord Potter without his assistance, if he was right about who and what the boy was. He looked forward to the mayhem the lad would wreak over the coming months and years, even if he wasn't. The lad certainly seemed to be taking a dim view of being controlled and manipulated.

Griphook walked in. "He sent it." Meaning the ring.

"I know." Zartank said. "Bright lad." It had been a chancy thing, to see if the boy would do what needed to be done, that the goblins themselves couldn't do without fear of reprisals.

"You think he's the one, don't you." Griphook said.

"He has to be. Everything else matches." Zartank said.

"You know who they all are, then?" Griphook asked, looking intrigued.

"Not all, no, but a few of them." Zartank admitted.

Griphook considered, then frowned. "I can't remember all of it."

"I'm not surprised." Zartank admitted. "My family's had it committed to memory since the prophecy was made, but it's more of a curiosity to other families."

"Long has evil battled
Long has evil won
Yet comes the day
When Light's victory shall be won
Controlled shall be the werewolves
Despised shall be the house-elves
Hated, the goblins
Hunted, the rest
For four and twenty years
Shall evil's heir yet rein
Until the Heir is woken
And the Light holds sway
Gather ye the Werewolf, Heir,
Gather ye the Dog
Gather ye the Fox
Gather ye the Bear
Gather ye the Tigress
And Mischief's Heirs
Ally ye the Snake,
Ally ye the Cat
Ally ye the House-Elf
Ally ye the Goblin's son
Against the Pack evil cannot stand
The Pack shall evil fear
Together, united, the world will you save
And unite all beings of magic
But woe betide, for if you fail
And gather not the Pack
All are doomed, and evil will reign"

Zartank quoted. The prophecy was one of the last made by the late, great seeress Cassandra, whose pathetic descendant now attempted to teach the unteachable art of Seeing to the students of Hogwarts. It was also one of the few that she had made certain were passed on to the family of the person it would eventually effect, as it was very important.

"Right. Well, controlled, despised, hated and hunted about says it for the various magical beings." Griphook said. "But the twenty-four year bit is a problem."

"Yes and no. Voldemort is not dead, every goblin knows that, even if the wizards have deluded themselves. It's been twenty-one years since he first declared war on the wizarding world. I suspect the prophecy will come to fruition in three years."

"When the lad's fourteen? Right when he starts taking his place as a Lord and Head of House. Makes sense." Griphook agreed. "And if it is him, the werewolf's rather obvious."

"Yes, and Sirius Black is an animagus, with the form of a dog." Zartank said.

"Even better." Griphook agreed. "The fox, bear, and tigress?"

"No idea. Given the fact that the first two on the list transform into animals, whether by choice or no, it's possible they're animagi. If so, they're not registered."

"Or haven't become animagi yet." Griphook pointed out. "They could be children, close to Lord Potter's age."

"Agreed. Miscief's Heirs almost makes me think they're talking about Lord Potter and an unknown, illegitimate son of Black's, given their activities in school."

"True, but if Lord Potter is the Heir, and supposed to be doing the gathering, it's a bit off." Griphook argued.

"True enough." Zartank said. "I strongly suspect the cat is Minerva McGonagall, and the snake is Severus Snape. Given their respective abilities, they would make formidable allies. Though I do not think Snape is an animagi. Which means some or all of the animals could merely be avatars for personality traits."

"Indeed. The house-elf is a mystery. Yourself as the goblin?" Griphook asked.

"I don't think so. Oh, I will be his ally anyway, but the wording of it ... goblin's son? Why not just say goblin? I suspect it was put that way because the other parent wasn't a goblin."

"Flitwick." Griphook said instantly. "That's the only wizarding family with goblin blood, though it's a few generations removed from 'son'. And Filius would make for another formidable ally."

"Precisely." Zartank grinned.

"Will he ever be told about it?" Griphook wanted to know.

"Not until he's safer from that meddlesome old goat. As things stand, the old man could rip the prophecy out of the boy's mind, and then we'd be in real trouble. We'll have to wait until the lad learns to shield his mind."

"True." Griphook agreed. "Snape is an Occlumens."

"Yet another reason for the boy to make an ally of him." Zartank agreed. "For now, we will have to wait."

Chapter Text

The Time Between

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 2, 1991 Azkaban

In the normal course of events, owls did not grace Azkaban and its environs. As such, a snowy owl should really have garnered some level of attention, but the dementors could not see, and did not perceive animals, and the small handful of wizard guards had long ago become negligent and careless in the performance of their duties. After all, the prisoners were deprived of wands and in the near-constant presence of dementors. What could they possibly do?

So it was that Hedwig reached the window to Sirius Black's cell uncontested. She landed with a deliberately noisy scrabble, and the scruffy, rail-thin, miserable-looking black dog hiding under the thin, rickety cot scrambled out of hiding, its form twisting and changing to that of an equally ill-kempt man as it moved.

For a long moment Sirius stared at the owl in confused incomprehension, unable to quite reconcile what he was seeing. It wasn't until the owl clacked its beak impatiently that he rallied, giving his head a shake and approaching the bird. It held one leg out, though Sirius could not help but notice it carried another missive. He blinked in shock when he spotted the name on the second letter.

Someone was writing both himself and Remus? For the first time in a decade, something like hope rose in Sirius' chest, and he quickly took the letter meant for him. He was surprised when the bird did not immediately depart, given it had another letter to deliver. He set aside that curiosity in favor of the letter. To his surprise, a small pouch fell out of the parchment when he unrolled it. He caught it quickly, then read the few short lines.

"Harry." He whispered, staring at the parchment in something like awe. "Harry wrote ... " He glanced at the owl. "He knows." Sirius almost broke down crying in relief that someone knew, and believed, he was innocent. He carefully set the letter on the cot, and opened the pouch.

It took every ounce of his exceedingly shaky control to *not* laugh like a demented hyena when the Black Family signet ring rolled into his palm. Merlin bless the goblins. And Merlin bless Harry. If this was any indication, he was a right proper Marauder. He took a breath and slid the ring on, then grinned in triumph when it glowed gold and sized itself to his finger. Thanks be to everything that 'betraying' one's family was, at least by the magic that governed the rings, not opinions and beliefs, or getting Sorted into a different House than everyone else.

The ring wasn't much, not here, at least not until the right person noticed he was wearing it, but it was something. Sirius sat down on the bed and looked at the scrap of parchment. Harry was right. Writing was a bad idea. He glanced up at Hedwig, and gave her a grin. "Trust the pup to have a familiar at all, nevermind this young." He said. "Tell him I'm all right, and that I love him, and to be careful. And watch out for him, would you?"

Hedwig bobbed her head emphatically, then swooped into the sky. /Harry, I've delivered the ring to Sirius. He's wearing it. He says he's all right, and he loves you, and be careful./ She relayed.

/Hedwig? You're there, and I can hear you still? Wow./

Hedwig snickered mentally. /Which part of being with each other no matter where we go did you not quite understand, again?/

/So I'm still figuring this out, sue me./ Harry snarked back.

/I think not. Incidentally, I don't think Remus left the island, or if he did, he came back at some point. He feels a lot closer than the day's flight it'd be just to reach France./

/Well, that's good news./

Sirius watched Hedwig disappear into the distance and shifted back to dog form. He needed to think, to plan. The knowledge of his innocence had kept him sane, but dreams of revenge had kept him warm at night. Neither were happy things, so the dementors could not feed on them.

Unfortunately, his plans for revenge had been ill-formed and nebulous, given the apparent impossibility of him getting out of here. Now, though ... now was the time to get down to business and really think things out. Because he was going to get out of here, and when he did ... well, right now it was a tossup as to who he'd go after first, and just how badly he'd screw with them. And the best part was, they'd never see it coming. After all, everyone knew it was suicide to cross a Black, and hadn't everyone been watching him, waiting for him to prove that blood tells? so he would indulge them ... just not in the way they expected.

HPHPHP

Somewhere in Wales

Remus Lupin's life had been quietly miserable these last ten years. He'd all but left the magical world entirely, mostly because no one would employ a werewolf. Of course, the fact that his pack had been shattered beyond repair with two dead, one a traitor, and one wrongly jailed, really didn't help. Unfortunately, life in the muggle world hadn't been much better than in the magical. He still had to take two or three days off around the full moon, which most employers frowned on, so Remus had been reduced to whatever temporary work he could find in order to survive.

More than once, he'd been tempted to end the misery, but every time, the knowledge that James' son was out there somewhere stopped him. Harry would not stay hidden forever. He would attend Hogwarts. He would need help, if only to adjust to the magical world. Remus, being far from stupid, had long since come to the conclusion that Harry had been placed with Lily's sister. Unfortunately, that knowledge did not allow him to find Harry, as he had not the foggiest notion of where Petunia might be living, and Dumbledore was adamant that everyone stay away, so finding out from that source was just not happening. If anyone else knew, they either weren't about to tell a werewolf or could not pass on the information due to a spell or oath.

Recently, he'd begun making plans. Harry would be at King's Cross September first, and Remus fully intended to be there to meet him. Fortune smiled on him in that the full moon was on the twenty-fifth of August, which meant that while he'd still be a bit low on energy, the aches, pains, and deep exhaustion that followed his transformations would be over. He'd still look like he'd got run over by a lorry of course, but there was nothing he could do about that. Even more fortunately, he'd managed over the last year to put enough money by to get to King's Cross, since he'd not be in any shape to apparate that sort of distance. Partway there, yes. The whole way, no.

He'd just gotten back to his tiny shack (only the heavily reinforced basement was anything other than barely adequate), when a white owl swooped down at him, parchment tied to its leg. Despite being thoroughly startled, given it had been well over a year since he'd heard from anyone in the wizarding world, he held out an arm for the owl to land on.

"Hello there. Just a moment and I'll get you some water and get that letter, all right?" He told the owl.

He unlocked his front door and walked in. There cramped main room had just barely enough room for a single chair and some bookcases, crammed with old, worn and battered books from both the muggle and wizard world. He settled the owl on the back of the chair and then headed into the kitchen to get a dish of water, and came back out.

"Here you are, then. Let's see who's writing me, shall we?" Remus gently removed the parchment from the owl's leg and opened it.

He rapidly became grateful he was standing right by the chair as he sank into it, tears springing to his eyes. "Harry." His voice throbbed with relief and joy. "I don't ... how ... " He looked at Hedwig. "A familiar? That's incredible." He looked down at the short letter again. "James and Lily said? Now he's got me curious. Of course I'll meet him! I'd been planning on intercepting him at King's Cross anyway. I should have known that James and Lily's son would have managed something like this. There's so much I need to tell him."

Hedwig crackled in amusement, which had Remus looking at her for a moment. "Of course, if 'James and Lily said', it's entirely possible he knows some or all of it already." To which Hedwig bobbed her head enthusiastically. "So much the better. I'll be more than happy to meet him, but we'd best do it somewhere relatively safe. And probably as close to wherever he lives as we can, so his absence doesn't get noticed."

Hedwig passed along Remus' comments. /I like this one, Harry. He's quite clever./

/Glad you approve/ Harry told her, deeply amused. /I'll have to think of somewhere to meet him. Probably the local library. I'll have to send you back with directions once you've had a rest and visited Amelia Bones./

Hedwig crackled again, briefly preened Remus' hair, and took her leave.

Remus started packing.

August 4, 1991 Amelia Bones' residence

Amelia always scanned the mail just after breakfast. Nothing malicious reached her, between the wards around her property and her house-elf's protective diligence. There was the paper to be read, more to observe patterns in what was reported and considered news than to find things out, as in her position she generally knew things before the paper did. There was also usually at least one missive from the office, an overnight report of whatever trouble had occurred. At least once a week she got a letter from her younger brother, the only other member of her family to escape death at Voldemort's hands, and her niece (despite the fact she saw them in person at least once a month). There was also, inevitably, missives from various members of the Wizengamot seeking her opinion and or support on various bills and laws being put to vote.

She was wholly unprepared for the contents of one of the letters.

Madam Bones

For the last ten years I have grown up unaware of the magical world. Imagine my surprise a few days ago when Rubeus Hagrid arrived with my school letter and informed me of my parentage ... and my fame. I found myself curious indeed, and arranged a return visit to Gringotts the next day.

To say I was stunned and deeply disturbed by what I found is to vastly understate the case. I have been assured by neutral parties that you are a witch well known for her fairness of mind and devotion to justice. I would ask you to review and investigate the information I bring you with an open mind.

Shortly before their untimely deaths, my parents left some vital information in the Potter Vault. Their will, a magically-binding document, and a memory. It is the memory and one of the notarized document and the memory that I feel I must bring to your attention. In the memory, my parents told me briefly about Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. They also mentioned that they feared something underhanded was going on, and had thus left proofs behind, just in case they were right. In the memory and the document both, they averred that Peter Pettigrew was their Secret Keeper, not Sirius Black, and that if they were right about underhanded dealings, Sirius Black would either be dead, Kissed (whatever that means) or incarcerated in Azkaban. I was able to confirm with the neutral parties that recommended I contact you privately that Sirius Black is indeed in jail.

I am unaware of the hows and whys of his incarceration, but I beg you to investigate. I will be more than willing to allow you to view both memory and document in the course of your investigation, but I must insist they remain in my possession until such time as it becomes necessary to part with them.

Yours respectfully

Harry Potter

Amelia stared at the letter in dumbfounded disbelief. Harry Potter writing her was shock enough. Harry Potter writing her about this ... it was enough to give a witch palpitations. She read and reread the letter several times before setting it down and contemplating what she'd read.

Sirius Black's capture had been surrounded by enormous amounts of rumor, speculation and gossip. There had been no doubt as to his guilt. After all, everyone knew he was James' best friend. Who else would James have trusted with his Secret? But if this memory and document were legitimate ... well, it was worth looking at, in any case. Surely the trial transcript would reassure the boy? Yes, that would do. And if by chance something did appear to be amiss with the trial and/or arrest proceedings, then Sirius would be owed a proper hearing. Even someone like him deserved a fair trial. She got out parchment and quill and jotted down a quick response.

Mr. Potter

Firstly, welcome back to the Wizarding world. Regarding the matter you wrote to me about, I confess myself intrigued and concerned. I will be looking into the matter within the next day or two, and will let you know what I discover from my end. I would indeed be most interested in seeing the memory and document in question. Would it be possible to arrange a meeting, say next week? We would then be able to exchange information, mine for yours.

Yours respectfully

Madam Bones

The moment she finished the letter, a snowy owl flew in through the window and gave her a pointed look, holding out its leg and clattering its beak imperatively. Amelia looked at it for a moment. "Potter's owl, I take it." Well used to the vagaries of post owls, she lost no time in tying the letter to the owls leg, and watched it depart.

HPHPHP

Ministry for Magic, later that day

Amelia Bones stared at the magical filing cabinet in front of her in abject horror. She'd told her office crew she'd be in Records looking at old cases (which was, thankfully, the honest truth). She really hadn't expected what she'd found. Or, rather, not found. There was not one scrap of documentation regarding Sirius Black's case. Not an arrest record, not a trial transcript, nothing. Not in the general records nor in the controlled-access files. Nor were any of the belongings Sirius Black had to have had on him at the time he was arrested anywhere to be found in the Auror lockup. Suddenly, that 'underhanded dealings' worry of the Potters' did not seem so farfetched. Amelia left the Records room and headed back to her office. She would have to question people, quietly and carefully, to see what, exactly, had happened.

Wales

Hedwig dropped off another short letter with directions to the library close to Privet drive. Remus told her to tell Harry he'd see him in two day's time.

August 6, 1991, Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry had to fight the urge to pace as he waited in the library. He and Hedwig had been here since about an hour before the library opened, since Harry was entirely too anxious to sleep. He was about to meet one of his parents' best friends.

/Here he comes/ Hedwig told him. Harry immediately moved to a spot where he could see the door. A few seconds later he spotted a man in old, worn but well-cared for clothes walking through the door. He stopped rather abruptly for a second before he seemed to recover and close the distance. Up close, Harry could see that Remus looked a good bit older than he had to be, if he was of an age with Harry's parents. Remus's face was lined and there was more than a touch of silver at his temples.

For Remus, the first glimpse of Harry hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. From a slight distance, Harry looked so much like an eleven-year-old James it hurt. He stopped for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and then closed the distance. "Hello there, Harry." He said. "You look so much like your father it's incredible."

Harry smiled a bit. "Hello, Remus."

They stood there rather awkwardly for a minute before Remus somewhat hesitantly tried to hug Harry. Harry stiffened for a second instinctively, entirely unused to being touched without malice, then sort of melted into it. That seemed to break the ice, and after a minute the two of them tucked themselves into a corner and talked for hours.

August 11, 1991 Little Whinging, Surrey

This time, Harry waited for Amelia Bones in the small meeting room on one side of the library.

/Here she comes/ Warned Hedwig again.

Amelia Bones had been expecting, given Harry's family's wealth and standing, a well-turned out young man, even if he had only recently been made aware of the wizarding world, the Potters were well off enough to have provided quite well for Harry in the event of their deaths. Unlike many witches and wizards, Amelia was fairly at home in the muggle world. She had made a point of it, early in her career, so as to call less attention to herself on those inevitable occasions when a wizarding matter spilled into the muggle world.

Harry was dressed surprisingly simply, and in clothes that looked suspiciously, painfully new. He was also far too thin for a boy his age, and had the sort of world-weary, wary look in his eyes she generally associated with people who'd seen the ravages of the war with Voldemort up close and personal. It was not a look she expected to see in the eyes of a young man raised away from such things. It was a look that had her Auror's instincts raising an alert. It really didn't help that she'd spent the last week discovering things that disturbed her deeply.

"Mr. Potter. A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Madam." Harry said.

They sat down at the table and started talking.

August 12, 1991, Privet Drive

Harry still couldn't believe it. Sirius hadn't had a trial. He apparently hadn't even been questioned. He'd just been shoved into Azkaban and forgotten. Amelia had looked and sounded deeply disturbed by the whole thing. She'd not looked at either the document or the memory, but had told him to keep them safe, as she'd need to view them and register them as evidence when they moved to get Sirius out of Azkaban.

The when and how of that particular trick, Harry had left to Amelia. She, after all, knew the Ministry and the people she'd be dealing with, and he did not. So Amelia had set the date for dealing with Sirius as September first. Certain key people would be entirely too busy to stick their noses into things, which was good, as those same people were complicit in the obstruction of justice and the suppression and/or destruction of every evidence of the entire affair save Sirius himself.

August 3-30, 1991, Privet Drive

Harry spent the time between letters and meetings with his nose buried in his schoolbooks. Thankfully, the Dursleys seemed to be settling for ignoring his existence. He wasn't even being forced to do chores, much to his relief. Remus proved to be an invaluable resource, as he recommended several supplementary books to Harry that made a lot of things a good bit clearer and easier to understand. Their meetings (every few days after the first one) were filled with tales about James, and Lily, and Sirius. Harry soaked it all up like a dry sponge, reveling in finally learning things about the parents he'd always wondered about.

August 15, 1991, Hogwarts

Minerva McGonagall was not, normally, a woman given to emotional excesses, but the closer the new school year got, the more anxious she became. She had never been easy about Harry's placement, had never been happy with it, and had remonstrated with the Headmaster more than once. She'd even tried to go back to watch after the poor boy, only to discover she couldn't find the place, despite having been there and seen it with her own eyes. She could only hope that Harry was all right. And if he wasn't, the Headmaster would be getting a taste of her ire, and whether he liked it or not, something would be done, or her name wasn't Minerva McGonagall.

And as for Severus, if that man didn't treat the boy right, there'd be hell to pay. Severus had been all but unlivable during the teacher meetings over the summer, completely unreasonable about anything and everything to do with Harry and taking it out on everyone in blasting range. He'd always been dour, vicious-tongued and all-around unpleasant, but this was ridiculous. She had half a mind to take a paddle to the man's posterior in hopes it would improve his disposition, despite knowing that such an indignity was precisely the wrong thing to do with an already prickly Severus.

August 31, 1991 Privet Drive

/Tomorrow's the day, Hedwig./

/Indeed it is. Are you looking forward to it?/ Hedwig asked, with the air of someone who knows the (blatantly obvious) answer and is asking merely to humor you.

Harry gave an amused snort. /More than a little bit. It was nice of Remus to offer to take me to King's Cross. Better than having to deal with the Dursleys, for sure./

/Definitely. I shall be quite glad to leave this place. Those people are beyond rude./

/Not going to argue with you on that one./ Harry said.

/Do you have everything packed?/ Hedwig wanted to know.

/Yep. I even double-checked. We're ready./

Hedwig, who'd been sitting on his knee, enjoying his gentle scratching of the back of her head, turned her head and gave his fingers a gentle, loving nip. /Have you decided what to do about the Dursleys?/

/For now, I'm just cutting off their payments. That's revenge enough, considering they'll have ten months of restricted means to look forward to. The rest ... I'll deal with that when things are a bit more settled and sure. I want Sirius free and safe before I really start rattling cages/

/That's probably wise./ Hedwig agreed. /It's getting late. You'd best get to bed, you're going to need your rest./

/Yes mum/ Harry thought, trying hard not to laugh. Hedwig gave him a dirty look before she settled herself on the owl stand next to his bed.

Chapter Text

Shattered Delusions

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. This one's a fun one, folks. All *sorts* of heck breaking loose!

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 1, 1991 King's Cross

Harry was awake at dawn, entirely too excited to be leaving the Dursleys and going to Hogwarts, too worried about Sirius and the Headmaster to sleep until a more reasonable hour. He got up and checked his trunk (again) to make sure he had everything packed, and then snuck downstairs to steal some breakfast, rather than chance the Dursleys' tempers. Then he changed into one of his sets of decent clothes and paced for a bit, before finally sitting down. He dug a book out of his trunk, and tried to read for a bit. Tried being the operative word.

/Harry, have you managed to read one word of that?/ Hedwig asked.

Harry blinked. He hadn't noticed her waking up. /Nope. Don't think so. Too excited and worried./

/It's going to be quite the day./

/No kidding./ Harry agreed.

Finally, though, it was time to head out for the house two down to meet up with Remus and head for King's Cross. They'd explored the limit of the wards around Privet Drive over the last two weeks, and discovered that they butted up against the houses to either side, halfway into the street in front and halfway into the garden of the house behind the Dursley's. Remus had written yesterday to tell him he'd arranged for a cab to pick them up from in front of the house they'd picked as their take-off point, and that he'd be there in the morning.

Harry hadn't actually seen Remus since the twenty-third, so he was a tad alarmed when he hauled his trunk out of the house and spotted the man down the street. He looked like hell. Harry knew, of course, that the transformation was not natural or comfortable to go through, as Remus had been quite charitable in explaining the whole thing, but to know it and to see it was two vastly different things. Harry hurriedly manhandled the trunk down the walk until he saw Remus's face light up, which meant he'd got past the wardline.

"You all right, Remus?" He asked immediately.

Remus gave him a slightly tired smile. "I'm as well as may be, Harry." He said. "Everything go all right?"

"I'dve written if they hadn't." Harry said with a grin. "They've been ignoring me, thankfully."

Remus gave the general direction of #4 a nasty look. "Good. The taxi should be here in about five minutes, if they're on time."

They were, and Remus helped Harry toss his trunk in the boot. Hedwig (who was having NO part of cages, thank you very much!) opted to fly to King's Cross once she was sure Harry was on his way. Harry and Remus spent the drive quietly, since it wasn't possible to talk about school or such with the taxi driver so close.

Once they got to King's Cross, though, it was an entirely different affair. For one, Harry spotted several people who were either dressed rather oddly, had trunks and owls, or both. One woman in particular stood out rather more than most. She had steel gray hair and a thin, severe face. That was pretty much the last thing you noticed about her. The first thing you noticed was the hat with the ginormous vulture on it. Harry knew she had to be a witch, because there was no possible way to keep a hat like that on other than by magic! She was also carrying a huge purse. There was a brown-haired, slightly pudgy boy beside her, clutching something in his hands and looking like he wanted nothing more than to hide behind the woman beside him. Harry wanted to duck and run when the woman spotted them. She frowned for a long moment before the expression cleared.

"Remus Lupin. Yes, you would be here today, wouldn't you?" She said. She spotted Harry and her eyebrows went up. She shot Remus a look Harry couldn't interpret and then turned back to Harry. To Harry's everlasting relief, she didn't start gushing and cooing. "Mr. Potter. Welcome back. I am Augusta Longbottom. This is my grandson Neville."

Neville's eyes went wide at the introduction, but so did Harry's. Neville Longbottom? Harry gave himself a mental shake. "Hi, Neville."

"H'llo." Neville said quietly.

"Bit much to take in, isn't it?" Harry asked, motioning around them. The crowd had thinned somewhat, so that they were able to approach the pillar that was the gate to Platform 9 3/4.

"Yeah, a bit." Neville admitted quietly.

Hedwig zoomed in then, drawing a few eyes, but only wizarding ones. She landed gently on the arm Harry automatically held out for her, and Neville goggled.

"Wow, what a beauty." He breathed.

Hedwig fluffed up and gave Neville a thoroughly pleased look. /I like him!/

Harry had all he could do to keep from laughing. "You just won a friend, mate. This is Hedwig. She's my familiar."

And there went Neville's eyes again, and his startled gaze went from Hedwig to Harry. "Merlin, Harry. A familiar? Really?" He breathed, sounding thoroughly awed.

"Yeah. She's dead brilliant." Harry said, giving Hedwig an affectionate stroke.

"I'll bet. Familiars are supposed to be really special." Neville sounded faintly envious. "All I've got is Trevor here." He lifted the hands he'd been clutching protectively close, and Harry finally spotted a toad's scrunched face peeking out from between Neville's palms.

"Toads aren't so bad." Harry said. "At least in summer you won't have to worry much about bugs, right?"

That made Neville smile. Then Augusta, who'd been talking quietly with Remus, spoke up. "We'd best go through, children. We'll want time to get you two settled."

"Yes, Gran." Neville said, then looked at Harry and gulped.

"Don't get scared. We'll stick together, right? That way it won't be so bad." Harry offered.

Neville gave him a strained smile. "Thanks, Harry."

"No problem."

The two of them ducked through and hurried out of the way, and Remus and Augusta followed a few moments later. They headed for the luggage compartment with their trunks, and then wandered back up towards the seating compartments. About the time they got there, someone came through the barrier quite literally screaming, and visibly trying to hit the brakes. The reason for the spectacle quickly became clear as the head of an enormous snake poked out from under the black-haired girl's trolley. The snake was moving incredibly fast for as big as it was. It took Harry a few seconds, but eventually, recognition hit, and he raced forward before anyone could recover from their surprise and start trying to hex the big python.

[[What're you doing here, big guy?]] He asked, still unaware that the words were very much not coming out in English.

[[Looking for you, Speaker. White-wings there herded me here.]]

That made Harry blink. /Hedwig?/

/Ooops?/ Hedwig sounded sheepish. /I'm sorry Harry. I forgot all about him in all the excitement. He tried to follow you out of the zoo so I herded him here./

/Can you talk to him?/

/No. I can understand what he's saying because you can, but I can't communicate directly with him./

/Gotcha/

[[Her name is Hedwig]] He told the snake. [[Mine's Harry. What's yours?]]

The snake made a wordless hissing noise that Harry decided was laughter. [[We'll make a fine trio. My name's Hissesh]] He said. [[And we are garnering a lot of attention.]]

That, Harry discovered when he stopped concentrating on the snake, was putting it mildly. Pretty much everyone on the platform had stopped dead in their tracks and were staring. The vast majority of them looked either terrified, horrified, or both. Remus was one of the few exceptions. He looked startled, but Harry was grateful that seemed to be the end of it. Augusta had a similar expression on her face. Over by the barrier, there was a gaggle of redheads. Among them, standing a bit to the side, were a pair of twins. They were openly grinning, clearly delighted.

"Ummm ... Remus? Why is everyone staring?" Harry asked. "I know he's big, but he's harmless, really. And quite friendly."

Remus grinned a little bit. "It's not the size of the snake that's got everyone's attention. You were talking to it."

"Well, yeah. I mean, why not? He talks back, so it's not like I'm some barmy old cat lady or something." Harry really didn't see the problem.

Remus couldn't help but laugh. He wasn't the only one. The twins were all but rolling on the floor. "Harry, the ability to talk to snakes is very, very rare." He said. "It's called being a parselmouth, or parseltongue. It's also a skill that has a really bad reputation."

Harry frowned. "Why's that? I mean, it's just talking to an animal."

"True, but unfortunately, more than one Dark Wizard has had the ability in the past, so it's associated with Dark magics." Remus said.

Harry snorted. "That's just silly. I mean, nearly any magical ability could be used by evil wizards! If every spell or ability that ever got used by a bad guy got put on a 'never use again' list, I'd bet there'd be no magic left to be done!"

Remus (and Augusta, Harry noticed) was looking thoroughly pleased. "There are a few folks who agree with that sort of thinking, Harry, but that doesn't change the fact people are scared of it."

Harry shook his head. "They really shouldn't be." He said, then glanced down at Hissesh. "Maybe I ought to bring him with me. It's not like I'm going to be bad or evil. Maybe if they see someone talking to a snake who's just normal, it'll help."

Now the two of them just looked deeply amused. "It might at that, Harry. It might at that. He's pretty big. You going to need help getting him aboard?" Remus asked. There was a light in the man's eyes Harry normally only saw when Remus was reminiscing about some spectacular prank.

[[What do you think, Hissesh? Can you get on the train without help?]] Harry wanted to know.

[[Certainly]] Hissesh said.

"Hissesh says he can manage on his own, Remus." Harry told Remus.

"All right then, Harry. We'd best get you in a compartment." Remus said.

Harry glanced over at Neville. Neville had been staring at Hissesh the entire time, eyes wide with alarm. "Neville?" He was worried the other boy would bolt.

Neville swallowed hard. "He ... he won't eat Trevor, will he?" His voice wobbled dangerously.

"I'll make sure he doesn't. Actually, I better make sure he doesn't go after anyone's pets. [[Hissesh, if you come with me, the place I'm going has a lot of animals. So anything that smells of people is off the menu, ok? They're peoples' pets. There's a forest right next to the school, so I'm sure you'll find plenty to eat in there]] Harry wasn't anywhere near as concerned about the owls, since they could easily keep out of reach.

[[That's fine, Harry. I won't eat anyone's pet]] Hissesh agreed easily.

"He said he wouldn't eat any pets, Neville." Harry relayed.

Incredibly, Neville seemed willing to trust him on that. He still seemed hesitant around Hissesh, but Harry really couldn't blame him. A fifteen foot long snake was enough to make anyone wary, at least if they couldn't talk to it. People were certainly making a path for their little procession with all due haste.

They settled on the first empty compartment they came to, and Remus stashed their trunks in the overhead racks. "Take care, Harry." He admonished. "And I want to hear all about your first week!"

Harry grinned and hugged him. "I will, Remus. And you will, I'm sure!" Then he pulled back and glanced up at Remus, who still had that glint of deviltry in his eyes. "You're up to something."

Remus laughed outright. "Not really. Just anticipating the expression on a certain someone's face by the end of the day. What we had originally planned was going to have them very put out, but add Hissesh to the mix ... "

Harry giggled. "He's going to have fits."

"I'll have to write Minerva, see if she'd be willing to allow us a peek at the memory." Remus said. "All right, you two. Take care and have fun."

"We will!" Harry said. They hugged one last time and then Remus got off the train. Hissesh curled himself up under the seat, and Hedwig settled on Harry's lap, contentedly basking as he stroked her feathers.

They'd been alone not even two minutes when a squat, smush-faced, bandy-legged orange hairball of a cat stalked in with all the imperious majesty of visiting royalty and leaped neatly onto the seat beside Neville, sniffing him and giving a grating "Meh" that both Harry and Neville decided to take as approval.

On his lap, Hedwig blinked, eyed the cat, and then turned to look at Harry. /He's a familiar! I can feel it./

Before Hedwig could say anything else, a girl with bushy brown hair hurried up, looking aggravated. "Crookshanks! What do you think you're doing running off like that! You could have gotten stepped on!"

The big orange cat clearly did not think much of that possibility if its expression was anything to go by. There was a moment's silence, and then the girl's eyes went wide as she turned to look at Harry and Hedwig. "Really?" That was clearly meant for Crookshanks, then she focused on Harry. "You've got a familiar?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Her name's Hedwig. Crookshanks is yours?"

The girl nodded. "I was so shocked when it happened! I mean, I got my letter last year, since my birthday's in late September, so I had a while to poke around and find things out, and familiars are really, rare. And the last time someone my age got one was like a hundred years ago! And there didn't seem to be much written about them." Clearly, that lack bothered her. "Oh! Where are my manners. Hermione Granger." She offered her hand.

Harry shook it. "Nice to meet you. This is Neville Longbottom. You've met Hedwig. Umm ... are you afraid of snakes?"

"Of course not ... oh! Oh! That was you? I was on the far end of the platform so I only heard about a snake and a boy, and something about talking to the snake." Hermione picked Crookshanks up and sat down next to Neville. Crookshanks purred fit to rattle the window loose when she started petting him.

"That would be me. Hissesh is a Burmese python. Full grown. He's currently curled up under the bench."

Hermione nodded. "Right, thanks for the warning. But won't you get in trouble? I mean, snakes aren't allowed!"

"I might, but I couldn't exactly leave him at the station, now could I? It's going to be winter soon enough, and then he'd be in real trouble. Oh, and my name's Harry Potter by the way." Harry told her.

Her eyes went wide. "I've read about you!" She squeaked.

Harry made a face. "Don't believe everything you read. Far's I know, there were only four people in that house that night and only one's left around to talk to. No one's asked me about what happened. Not that I can remember anything to tell them if they had!"

Hermione made a face like she wanted to contest that, but right then Crookshanks apparently dug in a bit too hard with his claws or scolded her telepathically or something because she jumped and gave a bit of a yelp before shooting the cat a look and subsiding.

The whistle blew, and Harry leaned out the window to wave at Remus one last time before the train rolled out of the station.

Ministry For Magic

Amelia had been planning to day for weeks. She had the required notices already written, waiting for delivery. Each one said the same thing ... that a murder trial was being held at a certain time. Dumbledore's was the only one that varied, and then Amelia had only added a note that amounted to 'I know you can't come because it's the first day of school, but I thought you ought to know'. Conveniently, nothing was said about who the accused murderer was, or when the murders had been committed. She was also taking ruthless advantage of the fact that there was no required minimum amount of time between notification of a trial and the trial taking place. Normally, there was at least a day's wait, but that was not legally required, and this would hardly be the first time a rushed trial had been held. Though she was honest enough to admit that she'd never seen a fifteen minute window before.

The courthouse was empty and would stay that way until trial time. But first ... first she had to get Sirius Black from Azkaban to the Ministry without any problems. That part of the plan had proved trickier than she would have liked, as to her dismay, there were fewer Aurors she felt she could trust with the task than she really ought to be able to. Finally, she had settled on Kingsley Shacklebolt and, on old Alastor's recommendation, Nymphadora Tonks. She'd been hesitant about including her as the girl was Sirius' cousin, but apparently she'd fallen on the side of not believing him guilty, rather than wanting to tear the man to shreds. And finding aurors who would not treat Sirius badly or be tempted to have an 'accident' while escorting him had been unbelievably difficult.

The three of them took the boat to Azkaban. The given reason for retrieving Sirius was that he'd been sentenced to the Veil. Not one person had questioned it, and more than one had lauded the decision. The human guards certainly couldn't have cared as they trussed Sirius up like a hog for slaughter before handing him over to Amelia, Kingsley and Tonks.

Amelia honestly didn't know what to expect when they hauled Sirius into the room before leaving him to her care. Azkaban was not kind to its prisoners. Insanity was a foregone conclusion, but the amount of time it took varied from person to person. Still, a decade ... she could only hope there was some spark left in the man.

So she was vastly surprised and hugely pleased when Sirius walked in, gaunt and pale and dirty but with his chin up and his eyes remarkably clear and keen. How he'd managed to escape insanity after a decade of exposure to dementors would bear investigation ... later. For the moment, Amelia was just pleased he was apparently sane. He was also cupping his left hand over his right, as if shielding something from view.

"We'll take it from here, gentlemen." Amelia told the guards, and Kingsley and Tonks moved to bracket the chained Sirius. The guards glowered, but went back to their posts.

They made it to the boats, and then to shore, in near-total silence save for the clanking of Sirius' chains. Once they were well clear of the prison, Amelia turned to look at Sirius. "Mr. Black, I've been asked to give you a message. Mr. Potter sends his warmest regards."

That fast, Sirius' silent, ice-cold demeanor melted, and a huge, triumphant grin split his face in half. "You're not here to kick me through the Veil." His voice was rough from disuse. He let his left hand drop, and what Amelia saw on his right hand made her eyes go wide.

"No, Mr. Black, we most certainly are not. However, we must act as though we are until the last moment." Amelia said.

Sirius nodded. "I understand." He managed to get the grin off his face surprisingly quickly, and then Amelia held out the portkey that would drop them off right on the courtoom level. Seconds later, they were gone.

Fortune smiled on them. There was no one in the corridor when they popped in, and they immediately hustled into the prisoner waiting room to one side.

"Kingsley, if you would fetch something clean for Mr. Black to wear, and possibly some water for a quick wash, so he looks somewhat less disreputable." Amelia requested. "Tonks, no one is to enter this courtroom until I return."

Tonks gave a fierce nod, and Amelia hurried off to her office. From there, she grabbed the thick sheaf of invitations, and sent them off. Then she hustled back to the courtroom. Tonks nodded to her when she approached. "No one came down." She reported.

"Excellent." Amelia said. "They'll start arriving within moments, at least the ones in the building. That's probably all we'll get." Which meant no Lucius Malfoy. He was the brains behind the remnants of the Death Eaters (no, she was not at all fooled as to Lucius' loyalties, though she could not prove anything), and without him, they wouldn't be able to act as a unit. She regretted that Lady Longbottom would also be unable to attend, as that redoubtable witch's support would have been invaluable, but if it kept Malfoy out of this, she'd accept the loss.

Tonks nodded. "What about the Minister?" She asked. Fudge was their biggest problem in all this.

Amelia glanced at Tonks. "I'm afraid his notification was unavoidably delayed."

Tonks smirked hugely.

Shortly, people started arriving and taking their places, looking harried and intrigued and faintly annoyed. The moment the clock struck the time, Amelia waved her wand and the doors slammed closed and sealed. No one would be able to enter now without her permission ... and she intended not to give it to anyone. Despite their annoyance and curiosity, everyone settled quickly, well used to the process by now.

"Murder trial, September the first, to determine the guilt or innocence of the accused." Amelia took a breath, knowing that she'd get interrupted the moment the name was out of her mouth. "Sirius Black."

She was right. There was an instantaneous howl of outrage from all and sundry, and she slammed the gavel with what was probably unnecessary force. "There will be no further outcry from the court!" She snapped. "Interrogator, Amelia Bones, Head of the Deparment of Magical Law Enforcement. Witnesses for the defense." Another breath, in anticipation of another outcry. "Lord James and Lady Lily Potter." At least this time they managed to cut themselves off after a split-second yowl of shock.

"Bring the pensieve." She commanded. Kingsley, who'd been standing guard with Tonks, immediately headed into the side room where the pensieve was kept and brought it out, setting it on the floor between the judge's booth and the accused's chair. "Who will examine the pensieve to aver it is untouched?"

There was a long moment of silence, and then a man with fading ginger hair and old but well-maintained robes stood. "I, Septimus Weasley."

Amelia restrained the impulse to kiss the man as he stalked down to the pensieve and started casting detection spells designed to reveal if the pensieve had been tampered with in any way. They all, of course, came up clear. Amelia stood and walked down to it, pulling the vial containing the memory, and the magically-bound document from her pocket. "I submit this memory and document into evidence in the name of Lord and Lady Potter and of their son, who brought this evidence to my attention."

She decanted the memory into the pensieve, and it glowed gold for a moment, indicating the memory was untampered with. Amelia cast the spell that activated the pensieve and the ghost-like spectres of James and Lily Potter rose up.

"Hello, sweetheart." Said Lily. "I hate that we're having to create this memory for you to view, but both your dad and I are ... suspicious ... and paranoid. And if you're watching this, then the worst has happened."

James took over for a bit. "If you're watching this, kiddo, it means that the Fidelius charm we were hiding under was broken, and the wrong man probably got blamed for it. You see, Sirius Black is one of my best friends, practically my brother. We've been all but attached at the hip since we were eleven. When we went into hiding, we used something called a Fidelius Charm, but the catch was that we had to use what's called a Secret Keeper. Everyone knows how close I am to Sirius." James made a face. "We decided to use that to our advantage, and let Sirius act as a decoy. The real Secret Keeper is ... was ... Peter Pettigrew. And if you're watching this, he betrayed us, and Sirius is either dead, Kissed or imprisoned. If he's imprisoned, use this memory, and the documents included in our will, as evidence to get him released."

For the count of ten, there was complete silence. Amelia broke it. "This document is a magically binding document stating that Peter Pettigrew was the Potters' Secret Keeper." She said, holding the document up. She cast a quick spell on it to protect it from harm and then floated it to Septimus, who looked at it, nodded, and then walked over to hand it to the nearest person. The document slowly passed from hand to hand as people confirmed with their own eyes that the document said what Amelia claimed it did. With every new set of hands, an infuriated rumble grew until the courtroom throbbed with the assembled group's anger.

Amelia moved back to the judge's booth. "Bring in the accused."

Tonks ducked into the waiting room and came out with Sirius. He was in a clean black robe, and while his hair was still extremely long and tangled, it was clean, as was the rest of him. As he had done on the walk out of Azkaban, he strode in with his chin high, every inch the scion of such an exalted House despite his less than accommodating attire and appearance. He settled in the accused's chair like it was a throne. His Head of House ring was clearly visible to pretty much everyone, and a low-voiced hum rumbled around the room as people reacted to the sight of it.

"Auror Shacklebolt, if you would administer the Veritaserum." Amelia commanded, and then had to bite back a chuckle when Sirius stuck his tongue out the second Kingsley approached. Three drops and a minute later, Sirius slumped in the chair, his expression going unfocused and dreamy.

"Sirius Black. Are you a Death Eater?"

"No!" Even with Veritaserum in his system, he managed to sound horrified by the idea.

"Were you the Potter's Secret Keeper?"

"No."

"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?"

"No. Little bastard got away." And to sound disappointed.

"Did you blast a hole in the street?"

"No, that was Peter."

"Did you kill anyone the day you confronted Peter Pettigrew?"

"No."

How then did you end up in Azkaban?" She demanded.

"Crouch and Bagnold, that's how. Least, best I can figure. I know Crouch for sure. He laughed when he tossed me in, said no one would care if I rotted in there for all time."

Amelia had suspected something of the sort. "And at your trial?"

"No trial. Just left there to rot."

Amelia nodded to Kingsley and he applied the antidote. The Wizengamot seemed to be too shell-shocked to react to what they'd heard. Amelia glanced around the room. "All those in favor of fully clearing Sirius Black's name, reputation, and honor of all accusations in the matter of the deaths of James and Lily Potter and Peter Pettigrew?"

Every single hand went up.

"Then let it be published that Sirius Black is a member in good standing of the British Wizarding community, his honor unblemished, and has assumed the mantle of Lord Black as is his right and duty." Amelia said, then glanced down at Sirius. "We owe you our deepest and most abject apologies, my lord. You may rest assured that I will investigate the circumstances surrounding your illegal incarceration with every resource at my command, and bring the guilty to justice. I am wholly appalled that our system of justice has been so basely abused."

Sirius acknowledged her avowal with a regal nod. "You have my gratitude, Madam Bones, for being a voice for justice at long last." He said.

"I hereby declare this trial closed." Amelia declared, and waved her wand at the doors. They swung open, and there was a concerted rush as people all but flew out the door to spread the word.

Septimus Weasley was one of the exceedingly few that lingered. He approached Sirius slowly. "My lord, it would be my pleasure to host you until such time as you have ascertained the state of affairs of your House." He said, offering his hand.

"I thank you for the offer, Mr. Weasley, and gladly accept." Sirius said, accepting the hand with ill-concealed relief. The Weasleys were solid and dependable as a general rule, and he'd known Septimus through Molly and Arthur, so he was a friendly face (well, other than Tonks, of course, but she'd been practically a babe in arms the last time he'd seen her).

Amelia approached, holding out the vial and the document. "The young Lord Potter will be wanting these back, my lord." She said, then glanced at the two men. "Might I suggest a portkey, gentlemen, if you wish to leave here unmolested?"

Sirius nodded. "That would be a good idea, Madam."

She nodded and pulled a quill out of her pocket. Since she knew the name and location of Septimus' home, enchanting the quill into a portkey was easy enough. "It will activate in thirty seconds, gentlemen." She said and promptly handed it over.

A few seconds later, they popped out.

The moment they appeared in Weasley Cottage (not to be confused with the Burrow), Septimus gave Sirius a sharp-eyed look. "A Healer first, lad, and then a few solid meals, a bath, and a haircut."

Now that they were out of the public eye, Sirius relaxed and dropped the 'party' manners. "That sounds really good, Septimus. And thanks for being willing to put me up."

"Least I can do, lad, least I can do."

Hogwarts

The train ride was not without its adventures. The red-headed twins that Harry had noticed on the platform poked their noses into Harry, Hermione, and Neville's compartment about half an hour after they'd left the station.

"Here he is!" One of them declared in a bright, happy tone.

"Wonderful lad. Great potential." The other said, grinning hugely.

"I thoroughly agree, George."

"So tell us, just how long did you plan that?" The other twin (George, apparently)

Harry blinked at them, then shook his head. "I didn't. See, I kind of helped the snake ... his name is Hissesh, by the way ... escape from a zoo on accident. And then he came looking for me and found me here. I had no idea talking to snakes was such a big deal, or anything. And I really don't understand why it is."

The unnamed twin stared at him in awe. "You've done this without any planning? Bloody hell. Something tells me this coming year is going to be so much fun." He held out a hand. "Fred Weasley. And this is George."

Harry shook their hands. "Nice to meet you guys. I'm Harry. So, you're not freaked out about the snake, or me being able to talk to him?"

"Are you kidding me?" George said. Then he blinked. "Wait ... Harry? As in Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded.

The twins glanced at each other and then very nearly fell over, they got to laughing so hard.

"Greatest."

"Prank."

"EVER!" they squeaked in between bouts of laughter. When they finally got a hold of themselves, they grinned at Harry.

/They're rather easily amused, aren't they?/ Hedwig commented. /I wonder what they'd make of it if they knew the whole of it./

/Shall I tell them, at least in a roundabout way?/

/They'll find out about some of it soon enough./

Harry grinned back at the twins. With teeth. "Gentlemen, let me assure you ... this is only the beginning. You were more right than you know about this year being ... fun."

The twins immediately plopped down on the seats, forcing Harry to scooch over, much to Hedwig's amused annoyance. "Do tell!" They said in unison.

Harry grinned. "Let's just say that the boat is going to be well and truly rocked, and I've had a part in it. And there will be people who are going to be very much not happy about the rocking. Meeting up with Hissesh was an accident ... you'll probably find out at the feast what I've done that I actually planned out."

The twins looked thrilled and as curious as all get-out. "Where is your slithery friend, anyway? He's rather big to manage to hide anywhere."

That seemed to be Hissesh's clue, as he slithered up and rested his head next to Hedwig on Harry's lap, keeping the bulk of his weight on the floor.

"Whoah. Definitely big." One of the twins said, looking a bit startled at Hissesh's sheer size. He reached over to stroke Hissesh's head. "But very, very cool."

Hedwig gave an annoyed clatter of her beak, and Harry grinned. "This, boys, is Hedwig. She's my familiar. And before *he* gets annoyed, that's Crookshanks, and he's Hermione's familiar.

"WICKED." The twins breathed as one, staring at the two animals in awe.

They spent the next fifteen or so minutes talking before the pale boy with the white-blonde hair that Harry remembered from his first trip to Diagon Alley appeared in the door of the compartment. He had two Dudley-esque thugs by his side.

"So it's true then, what they've been saying. Harry Potter come to Hogwarts. And a Parselmouth!" The boy seemed oddly gleeful about that. "I'm Draco Malfoy." He gave the others in the compartment disdainful looks. "There's no need to sit with the riffraff, you know. C'mon, there's better seats up front."

Harry gave Draco an incredulous look. "They are not riffraff, and I'll stay sitting here, thanks."

/Can you believe the nerve of him, Hedwig?/

/Very rude little boy, isn't he?/ Hedwig agreed.

Draco was clearly unused to being dismissed. "Potter, you'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others. I can help you there."

Oh, that tore it. "I don't think so, Malfoy. I've no interest in collecting sycophants, unlike yourself, apparently." He nodded to the two still-unnamed boys to either side of Malfoy. "I don't judge people on their name or their blood. I judge them on who they are as individuals. So you can just sod off."

Malfoy backed off with surprising speed, but that might have had something to do with the twins being there. Older and with more spell knowledge than someone who'd not even got to Hogwarts yet, they were a bit of a bite to chew compared to other first-years.

HPHPHP

Headmaster Dumbledore was not having a good day. Not at all. It began a bare half-hour after the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross Station. That's how long it took Molly Weasley to reach the Burrow and contact him via floo in order to tell him about Remus Lupin, the dark-haired boy she suspected to be Harry Potter, the snake, and the boy speaking parseltongue. Apparently the boy had loaded the snake onto the train, and been seen in the company of Augusta and Neville Longbottom. Neither of whom, apparently, condemned the boy for the ability.

That was shock enough. The missive he received from Amelia a bare ten minutes after that barely even registered. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten such a missive at an inconvenient time, so he set it aside and more or less forgot about it ... until about roughly five minutes before the train reached Hogsmeade, when he received another owl, bearing a thin 'breaking/emergency news' issue of the Daily Prophet. The front page of which had huge headlines screaming about Sirius Black's innocence and less-than-legal incarceration. Dumbledore had no time to peruse the articles, but he didn't need to to know that Sirius Black free would do everything in his power to wrest control of Harry Potter from him.

Bad news and worse. Harry had clearly absorbed more of Voldemort than Dumbledore had suspected. The boy would doubtlessly be sorted into Slytherin. He would need to be watched carefully, to stop him from falling deeper into the Dark Arts than he clearly already had. Dumbledore fought the urge to pace as he took his place at the Head Table.

Up in the Headmaster's office, Fawkes was laughing.

HPHPHP

The moment Harry set foot to flagstones in Hogwarts proper, he swore he felt them shiver, just slightly. The other first-years around him didn't quite know what to do or how to react, because he had a clearly amused Hedwig on his shoulder and Hissesh slithering along beside him. A few of them were muttering darkly, others were keeping well clear of Hissesh, and some were giving him oddly calculating looks. At least bringing Hissesh with him had guaranteed that only he, Neville and Hermione were in a boat together, since Hissesh was heavy enough to count as a person. Hagrid had been ecstatic over Harry's new and rather lethal (well, potentially anyway) pet. Harry was just thankful that Crookshanks was accompanying Hermione, as loathe to be left behind as Hedwig.

McGonagall stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Hissesh, but that was her only reaction. She gave her usual speech, and then led the children into the Great Hall, paying no further mind to the huge snake that was following Harry like a friendly puppy.

The sight caused more than a bit of a stir, as everyone saw for themselves what only a few had seen at the station. Talk swelled through all four tables.

The Hat was brought out, and sang, and the Sorting began. The Hat seemed to dither for a while with Hermione, but she eventually got sorted into Gryffindor. It took about as long to sort Neville. Malfoy got sorted in about half a second ... Harry wasn't even sure the hat actually made it onto the blonde's head before declaring him.

Finally, it was his turn. Hissesh followed him up, and Hedwig, much to Harry's amusement, swooped over to the Head table right in front of Dumbledore and proceeded to stare the old man down. Then the Hat dropped over Harry's head.

**What have we here, then? Oh! Oh my. Well well. Aren't you the interesting young lad.**

Harry snickered. **I guess you can say that.** He agreed.

**You've suffered much, young man, but you're remarkably well balanced despite that. Truly, the only House I can eliminate is Ravenclaw. You possess a keen intelligence, my boy, but you do not thirst for knowledge. You would doubtlessly find Ravenclaw exceedingly dull. You're loyal and not at all afraid of hard work, so Hufflepuff would suit you well, you have quite a thirst to prove yourself and, if I might say, you're the most ambitious young man I've sorted in many a year, with those plans and thoughts running around in your head! But you've also got Gryffindor courage and honor in plenty. So where to Sort you?**

**Not Slytherin.** Harry said instantly. **I'm the Boy Hero. If I got Sorted there, they'd think something was wrong with me, and watch and suspect me even more than they already do. And most of the children of the people who supported Voldemort are there. They might not share their parents' beliefs or politics, but I'm not about to take that chance.**

**A well-made point, young man. No, Slytherin would be a poor choice, with those factors.**

**It better be Gryffindor. Heroes come from that House, after all**

The hat laughed in his mind. **Very true, young man, so it had better be ... ** "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry and Hissesh made their way to the Gryffindor table. His reception was a bit muted as people tried to figure out how a dark-wizard-in-training Parselmouth got sorted into Gryffindor of all places ... except for the twins, who were dancing a jig and shouting 'We got Potter!" with great glee and relish. Hedwig swooped from the Head Table to Harry's shoulder.

Eventually the Sorting ended, and the feast began. Talk ranged up and down the table. At one point, Harry noticed the black-haired, black-robed professor sitting next to Quirrel staring at him, and realized he had no idea who the man was.

"Hey Fred." He called to Fred, who was two down the table across from him. "Who's the Professor next to Quirrel?"

Fred didn't even glance around. "That's Snape. He teaches Potions."

"Snape? Severus Snape?" Harry asked, feeling startled. His mum had asked him to pass a message to the man, if he still lived, and there was that letter, too ... Harry had let the matter of Snape slip his mind in the chaos of the last few weeks.

"Yeah, why?"

"I've heard of him, is all. At least, his name. Didn't realize that was him." Harry said honestly.

"Oh, gotcha. Watch your back with him. He's a right foul git to Gryffindors." Fred warned.

"Duly noted. Thanks!"

Finally the feast was over, and then Dumbledore made some announcements that had Harry staring at Hedwig in disbelief. /Is he senile, or what? You do NOT tell a bunch of kids to not go someplace. It's the best possible way to get them to go there!/

Hedwig clacked her beak. /He's up to something./

/Well duh. The question is, what?/

Chapter Text

Recalculating the Sums

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 1, 1991 Hogwarts

During Sorting

Given the varied and continuing intrigues of the day, the staff and students of Hogwarts could be forgiven for not realizing something unusual was happening. The moment a certain young boy crossed her threshold, Hogwarts trembled as she began to wake fully for the first time in centuries. When she had first been created, the Founders and their Heirs had been only a few among many that spoke to her, interacted with her. But as time wore on, the knowledge that she was more than stone and wood had been lost to all save the Founder's Heirs. As knowledge of her sentience had faded, her attempts to reach out had been ignored by all but the Heirs, and one by one, they had died. Finally, only one remained. Worse, eventually, even with that one, the knowledge of what she was had been lost, and she had been alone. But this one, this one bore a Founder's Ring ... the first time one had passed her threshold in centuries. The Rings had been linked to her, as a way for her to contact the bearers if they were away. The Hat had told her of the boy, and she might just be able to get through to him where she had failed with his predecessors.

Filius Flitwick had been rather more than a bit intrigued by the day's events. Word of young Harry Potter having a familiar had spread through the staff, thanks to Hagrid, and speculation had run rampant. It frequently amused Filius that his colleagues were as bad as the children they taught when it came to gossiping. Something further had happened, the details of which had been rather sketchy, but apparently, Mr. Potter was a Parselmouth. Unlike many witches and wizards, Filius did not see the ability as an evil one. Quite to the contrary, he found it a fascinating ability. The emergency edition of the Prophet, swiftly perused, had stunned him. Even with such a hurried glance-through, Filius' keen mind was picking at certain details. Unfortunately such ruminations were interrupted (rather spectacularly) by Mr. Potter's arrival in the school, familiar on his shoulder and a massive python at his feet. Mr. Potter had seemed faintly amused by the reaction he and his companions were getting. It had all given Filius much to consider, once he had his Ravens settled and a few hours to himself to peruse the Daily Prophet in more detail.

After Sorting

Harry and Hedwig found out quickly enough what the Headmaster was up to, as McGonagall hustled down the aisle when they were dismissed and approached him.

"Mr. Potter, the Headmaster has asked to see you in his office, regarding ... " She glanced down at Hissesh. "Your rather unusual companion." McGonagall returned her gaze to Harry's face, internally fighting the desire to laugh. Albus had, of course, not reacted visibly to the day, but Minerva had known him a long time, and could read between the lines. To say the Headmaster was put out was putting it mildly. "If you would like, I will accompany you for the meeting."

Harry smiled. "I'd appreciate that, ma'am." He told her honestly.

McGonagall nodded, and turned to lead the way, controlling the shiver that wanted out when she heard Harry hissing behind her.

[[We're going to meet the Headmaster, Hissesh. This ought to be interesting.]] Harry told him.

So the three of them followed McGonagall to the Headmaster's office.

The moment they cleared the door, Hedwig launched herself onto the Headmaster's desk for another staring contest, her expression a clear threat. The Headmaster had no need of Legilimency or the ability to speak with animals to interpret that hostile gaze. 'Threaten my wizard at your peril'. it said, as clear as day.

"To have a familiar, Mr. Potter, and at such a young age, is a unique gift." Dumbledore finally commented. "But I am most curious about your other companion. How did you come to be in his company?"

Harry could see no disadvantage in telling the truth of it. "Well, I went to the zoo with the Durselys back in June." He said. "Hissesh was there. I was looking at him when Dudley shoved me so hard I fell and smacked my head. By the time I'd gotten my wits back, the glass front of the cage was gone, and Hissesh was heading for the exit." /Don't traumatize him too badly, Hedwig./ Harry thought. He was rather amused by the staredowns she'd been giving Dumbledore.

/Just making sure he knows where things stand, that's all./ She responded.

"And he has been with you since?"

Harry shook his head. "No sir. I got bundled off out of the zoo right quick by the Durselys, and even if I hadn't, they'd never have let me have any sort of pet, nevermind something like Hissesh. He showed up at King's Cross. Scared pretty much everyone silly getting to me, too."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am afraid we have a bit of a problem, Mr. Potter. A school is no place for a snake, particularly one as large and dangerous as this."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I couldn't leave him there. He's a python, and winter's coming. He wouldn't have survived. He's already agreed not to eat anyone's pets, and it's not like he's going to tag along with me everywhere. Can I at least keep him with me for a few weeks? Long enough to find him a proper home? He really didn't like the zoo." Actually, from their complaints, most of the snakes hadn't, but Harry wasn't going to mention that.

"Besides ... maybe if people see me talking to him, they'll stop being so scared of the whole 'can talk to snakes' thing." Harry said.

"That would perhaps not be wise, Mr. Potter. The worst of Dark Wizards have been reknowned for that ability, including Voldemort." Dumbledore objected.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "But that's ridiculous. Just because a few people have an ability and use it badly doesn't mean it's a bad ability. Like I told Remus, if every bit of magic a dark wizard ever used got put on a 'never use it again' list, there'd probably be no magic left to do!" He patted Hissesh's head. "This is just ... talking to an animal. It's really not that big a deal, or scary."

Behind him, McGonagall was fighting a grin. It was quickly becoming apparent that Harry had inherited a full measure of both his father and his mother. Bold as brass, smart as a whip, and caused more mayhem than you could shake a wand at. **Oh, James, Lily. If you could only see him!** She thought wistfully.

Dumbledore was at a loss as to how to proceed. This was not the broken, humble, dutiful, awed boy he'd long been expecting, and it was becoming clear that whatever had gone wrong, it had not happened recently. The boy did not have the air of someone unused to standing up for themself. There was steel in Harry's spine, and a determined glint in his eye that brought both James and Lily strongly to mind.

All his plans lay in ashes. Sirius was free, and would soon claim the boy ... not all his power could stop that. At best, he could delay it, nothing more. Remus had returned to the wizarding world, and was in contact with the boy at the very least, so would soon be joining forces with Sirius. If there was one thing Dumbledore had learned, it was that any one of the three premier Marauders had not been someone to trifle with, but as a group, they were downright dangerous to anyone they named foe. And Dumbledore knew that if those two put their heads together, he'd be dangerously close to being named foe without having antagonized Harry. Harassing the boy would just make matters worse. He sighed. There might yet be a way to salvage his plans, but he needed time. Time to think and plan how best to accomplish his goals.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Hissesh, did you say his name was? Can stay, at least for now. The school truly is not the best place for such a creature, however, so his residence must be temporary. Hagrid may be able to assist you in finding more amenable lodgings for him, as could Remus Lupin, since you seem to be in contact with him."

Harry let out a sigh of relief /What do you know, he's being reasonable/ He thought to Hedwig.

Hedwig laughed. /Might be because he's very much in a bad place at the moment/ She pointed out.

/True!/ "Thank you, sir. If that's all, I'm really getting tired, and it's quite a ways to Gryffindor Tower, from what Remus told me."

Dumbledore nodded. "Professor McGonagall will show you the way, Mr. Potter."

Harry grinned. "Thanks. C'mon, Hedwig."

Hedwig turned, flipped her tail at Dumbledore, and swooped the short distance to Harry's arm. Harry fought to keep from laughing at the clearly dismissive gesture and followed McGonagall out, Hissesh slithering along beside him.

By the time they left, the corridors were mostly clear of people. About halfway to the Tower, McGonagall spoke up. "Might I inquire, Mr. Potter, how you came to know Remus?"

"Will you tell the Headmaster?" Harry wanted to know.

McGonagall shook her head. "If you do not wish me to, no, I will not. We will speak in more detail later, but know that I have not always approved of the Headmaster's decisions."

That, combined with Remus' approval of her, was enough for Harry. "I went back to Gringotts." He admitted. "And talked to the goblins. Which led to me getting into the main Potter vault, which had some stuff my parents had left there, just in case."

"I see." McGonagall approved of such carefulness wholeheartedly. All too soon, they reached the Tower and she gave the password. "I shall see you at breakfast, Mr. Potter. Have a good night's sleep."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry said, and clambered through the opening.

He was met by a worried Hermione, Crookshanks in her arms, and Neville. "Oh, Harry, is everything all right?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Yeah, it's fine. The Headmaster said Hissesh can stay, at least for a while. I really couldn't leave him at the station, and didn't have anywhere else I could stick him on such short notice. I'll talk to Hagrid in the morning, see what he thinks, and if he can't come up with anything, I'll write Remus." He would need to write Sirius in the morning anyway, since he definitely did not want to leave the man wondering. He just hoped Sirius would be ok.

"If you think I'm sleeping in the same dorm as that dirty great snake ... !" A red-headed boy who looked like he was related to Fred and George started. Unfortunately for him, Fred and George were right there, and they clamped their hands over his mouth.

"Ignore ickle Ronniekins, Harry. He doesn't think before he speaks." Said George.

"For shame, Fred. You know he doesn't think at all!" Fred objected.

George thought that one over. "Sadly true, Fred." He agreed.

Ron's (Harry assumed that was his non-nickname name) face was nearly as red as his hair, and he was giving the twins a lethal glare. Though Harry noticed he wasn't the only hesitant one in the common room ... which seemed really full, as if most of the Gryffindors had delayed going to bed to see what had become of him. It was more than slightly disconcerting.

"Hissesh won't attack anyone, or anyone's pets. He used to be in a zoo, and escaped, and he can't survive in the wild, at least, not in England, especially not over the winter, and I'm just looking after him ok?" Harry told the room in general. "He's actually very friendly."

Neville nodded. "He just sort of curled up under the seat on the train, and stayed there. Laid his head on Harry's lap for a bit, but that was about the extent of it. And I had Trevor out the whole time. Hissesh never so much as looked at him."

The Gryffindors seemed to accept that, though their welcome was still lukewarm. They at least weren't outright antagonistic, for which Harry was grateful. He grinned at Hermione. "See you in the morning, Hermione." He told her, then glanced at Neville. "You been to the room yet?"

Neville shook his head. "Everyone was kind of loitering around. One of the prefects got really irritated about it."

Harry snorted. "I don't exactly blame him. I mean, I know the whole 'big snake' thing is a bit weird, but c'mon."

Neville grinned, and they trooped up the stairs after their roommates. Fortunately, while Ron was shooting Harry darkly displeased looks, the other two boys seemed to be willing to wait to pass judgment.

Which probably ended up being a good thing, because it took precisely ten seconds after they got into the room for things to go to hell. Hissesh's head started swinging, his tongue flicking fast and furious.

[[Hissesh?]]

[[There is something ... ]] Hissesh muttered, then hefted himself onto Harry's bed to get a better whiff.

Hedwig was only a few seconds behind him. /I could swear there are six people here, not five/ She told Harry, then swooped over to the back of one of the chairs, head swiveling.

They triangulated whatever was bothering them almost as one ... and whatever it was, was on Ron's bed. Of course. Hissesh lunged across the gap between beds, there was a terrified-sounding shriek, and then all hell broke loose as a rat flew off of Ron's bed. Hedwig went after it instantly, with Hissesh not a second behind.

The next minute or two were utter chaos. The rat scrambled like mad to evade the two predators, who were lunging and swooping around the room with a fine disregard for everything except Harry's skin, and even that was all Hedwig, as Harry had a few close calls with Hissesh as the snake tried to corner the rat. The five boys were yelling and screaming and trying to stay out of the way, and, in Ron's case, rescue his rat. How they didn't have every Gryffindor in the room within seconds of things starting, Harry couldn't figure, but he was grateful.

Finally, eventually, Hissesh and Hedwig managed to coordinate, and the next thing anyone knew, Hissesh was curled in a loop around the terrified rat, poised to strike if it so much as breathed wrong.

[[It is human, Harry. I smell it.]]

/I'm with Hissesh. That is no rat. It's a person./ Hedwig was perched on one of Hissesh's coils, staring down at the terrified rat.

Ron was apoplectic. "I knew it, I knew it! You're going to kill us all in our sleep! How the bloody hell did you get into Gryffindor, I want to know! Bloody dirty Slytherin!"

Harry glared at Ron. "They're after him because it's not a bloody rat, Ron. They can both tell."

Ron scoffed. "So says you!"

"Neville, do me a favor. Go run and get Hermione and Crookshanks, and then go find McGonagall." Harry asked.

Neville looked worried, but nodded and headed towards the door, slipping out of the smallest crack possible. Ron, of course, was not taking any of this well, his face such a deep purple-red that Harry was worried Ron would blow a blood vessel. Harry refocused on him.

"Hedwig is my familiar. Crookshanks is Hermione's. If she can tell, he will. And if by some miracle both Hissesh and Hedwig are wrong, I'll apologize and call them off, but if they're not ... "

Hermione slid into the room just then, breathless and wide-eyed, and Crookshanks slid between her ankles. He got one look at Hissesh and Hedwig (Ron's rat was completely hidden by Hissesh's coils, his head, and Hedwig), and ran over. He poked his snub nose into the hollow within Hissesh's coils where the rat, utterly terrified, was huddling, and a second later he let out a deep-chested rowl. Hermione's eyes went wide.

"He says the rat's not a rat." She said.

Harry turned to the still-apoplectic Ron. "I told you! Now we wait for McGonagall. If he's an animagus, there's a spell to force him out of animal form."

In the sort-of-quiet of the next couple minutes, while they waited for McGonagall to arrive, Harry finally had a few moments for something to percolate through his brain. Remus, in his reminisces, had mentioned that James, Sirius, and ... him ... had become animagi to accompany Remus during his transformations (an idea Harry fully intended to pursue himself, as soon as possible). He'd also mentioned their forms. Peter had been a rat.

/Hedwig ... I think that might be ... / Harry had to fight down the urge to walk over there and wring the rat's miserable neck.

/Calm, Harry. If it is, he will be dealt with./ Hedwig reassured. /Just let's not do anything rash/

That nearly made Harry laugh, given it had been Hissesh and Hedwig zinging around the room with a fine disregard for anything save catching the rat. It was a good thing the beds were so sturdy, because otherwise Harry was relatively sure they'd have been sleeping on the floor. As it was, three of the desk chairs had been destroyed by Hissesh as he ricocheted around and most of the bed curtains had got torn up in the mad scramble. The rest of the bedclothes had got scattered all over the room, and Dean's trunk had a dent in it that Harry was fairly sure hadn't been there when he'd first walked into the room.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom informed me that something is amiss?" McGonagall said as she stepped into the room. "Oh my. Whatever happened in here?"

"His bloody snake and owl are trying to kill my rat!" Ron fairly howled. "I'm not staying in the room with him, or them! They're going to kill us!"

"Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall's voice cracked sharply. "Control yourself. Mr. Potter?"

"They're both insisting the rat's not a rat. According to Hermione, Crookshanks agrees." Harry said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Very well then. We shall see about this." McGonagall eyed the tangle of animals for a moment. "Would you ask Hedwig and Crookshanks to move aside? The rat shall not escape."

The two familiars moved aside with every evidence of great reluctance. McGonagall approached Hissesh, wand drawn. "And if you would ask Hissesh to loosen his coils? If it is a person, they won't have room to expand."

Harry was more than half-tempted to say 'too bad', but relayed the request to Hissesh, who uncurled a bit more, watching the rat carefully.

Once there was enough room to work with, McGonagall shot a spell at the (almost literally) petrified rat. Seconds later, it shivered and twisted and ...

And there was a balding, overweight, balding rat of a man standing inside Hissesh's coils.

McGonagall's eyes went wide, and then she got an expression on her face that Harry sincerely hoped never to see turned his way. It was hate, and loathing, and a bone-deep anger. Her wand was pointing dead between the man's eyes when she all but literally hissed "Peter Pettigrew."

Ron had gone from red-faced rage to a pasty, greenish-white when what he'd thought of as a pet became a person. His mouth flapped a few times, but nothing was coming out.

It was Neville, staring from McGonagall to Harry, that finally asked. "So ... who is he?"

"The man that betrayed my parents to their deaths." Harry was dimly amazed that he could sound that venomous, but then, everything was a bit ... detached at the moment. Standing there staring at the man directly responsible for his parents' deaths (Yes, Voldie killed them, but he'd never have got near them if not for this man!), he discovered that he might not be capable of killing someone, but he was damn sure capable of entertaining thoughts of agonizing torture.

"But that was ... " Dean started.

"A special edition of the Daily Prophet was dispatched while the students were en route to Hogwarts." McGonagall said, her voice still vibrating with rage. "I did not get a chance to fully peruse it before everyone arrived, but the headline was declaring Sirius Black innocent. And it was Mr. Potter who made the discovery."

"My parents left some stuff behind in the family vault." Harry explained. "That's how I found out." He waved at Pettigrew, fighting the urge to punch the man in the nose (or worse). "He's the one that betrayed my parents, framed Sirius and killed a dozen people just to get away."

Ron looked at McGonagall, apparently hoping she'd deny Harry's claims. When she didn't, Ron's already greenish complexion went as green as the Slytherin banners in the Great Hall and he sort of curled up into a ball, making noises like he was trying to keep from puking as the realization that he'd been sleeping with a murderer in his bed set in.

McGonagall gave Ron a sympathetic look. "Mr. Finnegan, if you could go and get Percy Weasley, and ask him to assist young Mr. Weasley to the infirmary?" Then she shot two spells at Pettigrew, one that made him lock up, and another that wrapped him up in ropes. "I shall escort the prisoner to the Headmaster's office. Mr. Longbottom, if you would inform the Weasley twins that their presence is required in the infirmary?" She glanced at Harry. "You may stay or come with me, Mr. Potter. Should you chose to stay, I will inform you of the remainder of tonight's events at breakfast, or lunch, if things are still in an uproar." Her tone indicated she was betting on there still being an uproar. For that matter, Harry didn't much disagree with her.

"I think I'll stay." He said. "I'd probably fall asleep in the middle of everything anyway."

McGonagall looked well pleased, and gave him a nod before steering the petrified Pettigrew out of the room. A tall, slightly pinch-faced redhead skidded into the room just seconds after she left, looking rather confused and concerned, and between him and Neville, they managed to get Ron on his feet, and Percy half-carried his younger brother out of the room.

September 2, 1991 Hogwarts

Severus Snape would be the first to admit that he was a great many unpleasant things. He had done things in his life that he deeply regretted and was thoroughly ashamed of. But he was also a man of keen intelligence and in possession of more than a fair share of cunning, ambition, and guile. He was, in many ways, a Slytherin's Slytherin.

And he'd been playing everyone around him like a fiddle for over a decade.

He had, as a teenager, fallen for the silvered tongue and honeyed words of both Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort. Everyone that knew him had their own pet theories as to why, but only he knew the truth. The first four years at Hogwarts had made it plain to him that certain people were accounted as worth more than others to the Headmaster, but the real break had come in his fifth year. When Sirius Black had been let off with a slap on the wrist for an action that would, at best, have killed Severus ... well, after that, there was no way that Severus Snape would ever be the Headmaster's man. Unfortunately, the rhetoric espoused by Lord Voldemort had turned out to be naught but lies and deceit. Doubly unfortunately, Severus had not discovered this until he'd taken the Mark, for Lord Voldemort had courted Severus assiduously, recognizing that, halfblood though Severus was, his skill with potions was nigh unmatched. When the one person he had ever loved came under fire (thanks to his own actions, for which he damned himself), he had done the only thing he could ... gone to Dumbledore.

At least Dumbledore did not encourage his followers to commit depravities. But Severus had no delusions as to his place, or worth, to the old man. And in that light, he had crafted himself, ensuring he seemed a proper tool while also ensuring no one, not even Dumbledore, ever realized he was anything but. He knew what was expected of him, as both a Slytherin and an erstwhile 'servant' of the Dark Lord, so he ensured everyone saw what they expected to see. And like a proper Slytherin, he waited, patiently, for the day he could give both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore the metaphorical finger and finally walk his own path.

Because it was expected, he had worked himself into a fine froth this last summer over Harry Potter. As if he would visit the sins of the father on the son? He had long come to terms with James Potter. The boy had become a man, and won Lily's heart. He would not have done, if he had remained the bullying, immature git he'd been for most of his Hogwarts career. And he had died in defense of his family. Such things went a long way to soothing old wounds. Besides, the boy was Lily's child as well as James' ... and Severus did not have it in him to hate anything to do with Lily Potter nee Evans. Still, it had been amusing watching Dumbledore give him sad looks, and watch McGonagall fight the urge to hex him as he waxed verbose over 'Saint Bloody Potter'.

He had wondered, however, what sort of boy would be walking through Hogwarts' doors though. He had his suspicions about where Dumbledore had stashed the boy, and if they proved true, the chances of there being problems was high. Petunia had no love of magic, and it would have been entirely too easy for her to lash out at her sister's son. It had been possible that the boy had been broken ... Severus was not fool enough to think Dumbledore had wanted it otherwise ... and if so, there would be little he could do.

The speed with which things had gotten interesting on September first had left Severus fighting an entirely out-of-character grin. And when the boy had walked into the Great Hall ... Severus had wondered briefly if the boy might not just end up in his House. Oh, not because of the snake, or the parseltongue ability. No, it was because he could see the maneuvering in the day's sequence of events. First the snake, then the uproar over Black, then walking in with a familiar on his shoulder and a snake at his feet ... and being Sorted into Gryffindor on top of it all. He'd been highly amused, and for the first time since he was fifteen, there was a glimmer of hope. This boy was no broken, malleable martyr. What he actually was remained to be seen, but it was encouraging that there seemed to be no true malice in the boy.

When the floo in his office roared shortly after he'd retreated there after the Sorting Feast, and the Headmaster informed him of the discovery of Pettigrew in Gryffindor Tower, it took all of Severus' iron control to keep from laughing. Only when the fire had flared yellow again did he let the grin he'd been fighting out. He didn't think the boy had known where Pettigrew was at, but the swift and attention-grabbing capture would be all but impossible to silence. Normally, what happened in Dumbledore's little fiefdom never reached outside ears until it was long over. This time, there was little chance of that.

"That boy really is the most Slytherin Gryffindor in existence." He murmured. Bold, sly, ambitious, brave ... yes, very much the Slytherin Gryffindor. Severus wholeheartedly approved. He stalked out of his office and headed for the Headmaster's office, dearly hoping that he'd get a chance to hex Pettigrew before the night was done.

September 1, 1991 Weasley Cottage

Sirius opted for the shower first. He didn't even bother trying to fight with the excessive length of his hair, however, and got Septimus to cut it just below his shoulders and vanish the excess. It would have to be trimmed once he'd washed and combed it out, but at least now he wasn't going to have to fight with several extra feet of hair that would have gotten cut off anyway.

He spent over an hour in the tub, scrubbing the stench and filth of Azkaban off his body, and very nearly fell asleep in the process, which annoyed him. He was entirely too weak. Well, a healer, some potions, and time would hopefully fix that. Eventually, he clambered out of the tub and dressed in a robe Septimus lent him. He walked out into the main room and smiled when he spotted Cedrella.

Cedrella Black had been essentially forced into an arranged marriage by the then-Lord Black in an exceedingly poorly-thought-out attempt to corrupt the future Head of the Weasley family to a Black family way of thinking. It had been a rather spectacular failure. Sirius didn't know if it had just been Weasley bullheadedness, or if Cedrella had deliberately failed in her charge, but Septimus had picked up more than a few Slytherin tricks ... and none of the Black family's prejudiced thinking. Whichever it had been, Cedrella had been made persona non grata in the Black family. Sirius had never actually met her, though he'd heard tales of her through Arthur, who was quite fond of his mother, a fact that made Sirius think that Cedrella had made the best of a situation not of her choice, and had perhaps even managed to find happiness with Septimus. He only knew what she looked like because of family portraits.

She crossed the distance between them and immediately seized his shoulders, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Sirius. Septimus told me everything. I'm so glad you've got out of there." She pulled back and looked him up and down. "As if you would ever betray family! The very idea!" She tsked. "Disagree with their notions of superiority and such, yes. Betray them, no." She shook her head. "Now, I've arranged for a light repast, since I don't think your digestion will be able for much for some time, and then the Healer will be by to ensure you suffer as little long-term damage as possible, and in the meantime, we shall have to discuss a great many things." She frowned. "No one harms the Black family with impunity."

"Revenge can wait, Cedrella." Sirius said as he allowed himself to be led to the kitchen. "I learned that one the hard way. Right now, I need to get family affairs dealt with, and that includes Harry. He's going to need all the protection he can get from Dumbledore."

Cedrella scowled. "Quite so, though if I may say, it would seem he's already trying to slip Dumbledore's noose."

Sirius grinned widely. "I noticed that. I wonder how that came about?"

"I've not the faintest notion at the moment, but there's rumors going around that he has a familiar, and there was some sort of situation with a snake. I've even heard rumors of him speaking parseltongue! It's all been quite entertaining. I've not seen this much gossip flying about since You-Know-Who's defeat." Cedrella told him.

Sirius laughed. "Well, I can confirm the familiar. Harry sent her to me with a note. And this." He lifted his right hand to indicate the Head ring. "So I suspect it is safe to say that the goblins have taken a side in the continuing conflict."

Cedrella and Septimus' eyes went wide. "Yes, you could definitely say that." Septimus agreed. "And having them on our side will make matters a great deal easier."

Fortunately, the Healer's exam revealed nothing more serious than malnutrition from not eating properly and the fact he was over two stone underweight. Both conditions were fixable with a simple potion regimen over the next month.

Once the Healer had left, the three of them spent a good deal of time talking, with Septimus and Cedrella catching Sirius up on everything he'd missed. Eventually, though, his energy flagged and he headed for bed. There would be much to be done over the next days and weeks, and he would need every ounce of energy he could summon to accomplish what needed to be done.

Chapter Text

Tentative Alliances

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 2, 1991 Hogwarts

If Severus had been secretly amused by all the events of the day before, Slytherin House best resembled a kicked-over hornet's nest. It only got worse when, at breakfast, the students finally got their hands on not only the emergency edition of the Prophet, but also letters from their parents. The post owls had been ... quite busy, overnight, and didn't look to be getting a break anytime soon. There were quite a few speculative looks getting tossed Harry's way from the Slytherin table and enormous amounts of quiet thought. Slytherins were not, as a rule, inclined to gossip unless it served a purpose. Listen to others gossip, yes Gossip themselves, not so much. Especially under these circumstances, when they were unsure where the loyalties of their fellow Slytherins lay, nor were they quite sure what the last day's events might portend for the future.

Harry, with Hedwig on his shoulder, did his best to ignore the intrigued, speculative and bewildered (to name but a few emotional states) looks he was getting, not just from Slytherin (though they were the most blatant about it, ironically enough) but from all four tables. Fortunately, Neville and Hermione were sitting to either side of him, and Crookshanks was providing his own bit of amusement by sitting at the seat next to Hermione, for all the world like he was a student in his own right.

/They're quite the bunch, aren't they?/ Hedwig commented after Harry had passed her up a bit of sausage. She didn't really need the extra, since she could hunt for her own meals, but neither of them was going to mention it. She gently preened Harry's hair.

/You could say that. Though it makes me wonder what the adults are like, if the kids are this bad/ Harry told her.

Hedwig chuckled. /Very good point. I imagine most of them are stirred to a froth./

/Well, you'll get a chance to find out, at least a little, since I'm going to be sending letters to Remus and Sirius later today. I was going to get them done last night so I could ask you to take them this morning, but ... /

/But finding the rat scuppered that idea/ Hedwig finished.

/Yeah. I've got to go check on the Weasleys, see if they're all right. I can get the letters done then. It's only Charms before lunch, anyway./

/Sounds like a good plan to me, Harry./

Charms class proved to be fun. Flitwick was bubbly, genial, and just downright nice. They got a lecture on what Charms were. There were, Harry learned, different classifications of spells. Charms consisted of any of a number of spells applied to an object or person to move them or change their appearance without changing the item or person in any way (with the exception of color changes). For such a simple application, there were apparently thousands of charms, each designed to do a specific thing. Jinxes, hexes, curses and their counters, Flitwick told them, while sometimes falling under the general aegis of Charms, were generally used in duels and self-defense, and were therefore discussed in more detail in Defense Against Dark Arts. Transfiguration covered spells that changed one thing into another. Casting spells, Flitwick claimed, had only a little to do with magical strength, and a great deal more to do with proper enunciation, wand movement, and determination. Lack in any of the three, and you were in trouble.

After the lecture, Flitwick got them started on the most basic of wand movements, a tedious task that the short professor somehow made fun. For homework, they had to read the first chapter of the Charms book (which Harry had done over the summer, so he was ahead of the game) and practice the wand movements discussed in the chapter.

Harry headed to the infirmary straight after class, worried about Ron, who had missed breakfast and class. Hedwig, who'd opted to fly, swooped in behind him and landed on the footboard of one of the beds. He found Ron, the twins, and the older boy ... Percy, had his name been? ... huddled together, with a ginger-haired woman (whom Harry thought he recognized from the train station) and man who were clearly their parents. Mrs. Weasley was trying to hug all four boys at once and somehow managing it, fussing worriedly, while Mr. Weasley looked a wee bit lost, and more than a bit disturbed. Percy looked nothing short of catatonic, his expression one of blank horror. Ron didn't look much better, and the twins had grim, angry expressions on their faces.

"Ummm ... hi." Harry said somewhat hesitantly. He didn't really know what to say 'are you ok' was kind of stupid, as well as the answer really being self-evident. He fought down a pang of envy at the whole 'loving family' thing.

Both of the adults glanced up, and from the look on Mrs. Weasley's face, she recognized him. "Hello there, dear." She said. "You're not hurt, are you? Madame Pomfrey stepped out for just a moment ... "

"No, no, I'm fine. I just ... wanted to make sure everything was ok. Last night was more than a bit unexpected, I guess you could say." Harry said, shifting slightly from foot to foot.

Mrs. Wasley, much to Harry's surprise, smiled at him and moved away from her shell-shocked sons. The next thing he knew, he was being hugged half to death. He froze up in shock for a moment. Remus had given him quite a few hugs since the first one, but it was still a sensation Harry wasn't used to, even with him. Coming from a total stranger, it was just that much more startling.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Mrs. Weasley told him, her voice shaking. "When I think of what that monster could have done ... !" Her voice broke, her tone somewhere between rage and terror. "We all likely owe you our lives, young man."

Harry, still enfolded in Mrs. Weasley's arms, and at this point not exactly wanting free, as he had discovered her hugs were, if possible, better than Remus' (maybe it was all the practice she'd had to have, with so many kids?) ... shook his head. "No. No you don't. He hadn't done anything ... " And then, in a worried voice. " ... had he?"

It was Mrs. Weasley's turn to shake her head. "No, no he hadn't, thank Merlin. Madam Pompfrey and the Headmaster cast every detection spell they knew between them." She finally turned loose of him, with every evidence of reluctance.

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. Ron may have been a bit of a prat last night, but he liked the twins, and really didn't like the idea of something horrible happening to anyone, prat or not. "Oh good. I'm really glad. Still, you guys don't owe me. I really didn't have much to do with it anyway. It was all Hedwig and Hissesh."

Molly smiled down at him, and then glanced over at Hedwig. "Ah. I heard rumor this lovely lady is your familiar?" She asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. She's really brilliant."

Hedwig gave a pleased cackle and fluffed up. /Too right, I'm brilliant!/ She commented, making Harry laugh.

"Then I thank you, Hedwig, very much." Molly said. "And Hissesh would be the big snake that caused such a stir at the station, then?" Molly asked.

Harry nodded again. "I met him at the zoo. He got loose, and I guess came looking for me because I could talk to him."

"Ahh, I see." Molly didn't look ... thrilled ... about the talking to snakes, but she wasn't freaking out, either, much to Harry's relief. "And where is he now?"

"Still up in Gryffindor Tower. He's a bit big and attention-grabbing to follow me everywhere. I don't think the teachers would be happy with their classes getting interrupted."

Molly nodded. "Very true, I've no doubt. Still, if you would pass on our thanks?" Molly asked.

Harry nodded. "Sure thing."

Arthur finally spoke up at that point. "Harry, do you know about, well, what else happened yesterday? At the Ministry?"

"Oh, you mean Sirius Black's trial? Yeah, I know. I know he's my godfather, too. My folks left some stuff in the Potter Vault."

"Ahhh, that simplifies things then. He's staying with my parents, Septimus and Cedrella, until he's on his feet."

"Oh, thanks for letting me know." Harry hesitated. "Is he ... ok? I mean, Remus made it sound like being in Azkaban was really, really awful." He shuddered at the concept of a creature that sucked all the happiness out of you. Yikes.

Arthur nodded. "According to my father, he's thin as can be but otherwise fine." Which, he knew, was a miracle, given the usual fate of long-term Azkaban detainees.

Harry let out a whoosh of air. "Thank goodness. I'm going to be writing him in a bit. I meant to last night but things sort of got derailed."

Which had Molly giving a shaky laugh. "Indeed they did." She agreed, before returning to her own sons and her quiet fussing over them.

Harry headed for the twins, since Ron and Percy didn't look like they were going to be able to talk much. "You guys ok?"

The twins looked at him. "Mad as hell." They said in unison. "And wishing we'd got a chance to hex the bastard."

Harry snorted. "Trust me, it took Hedwig to keep me from strangling the bastard with my bare hands, so I completely understand." He told them. "I'm just glad everyone's ok."

The twins nodded in agreement. "Yeah." Said Fred.

"Though Percy's ... not." George said.

"He's taking it hard. He was the one that found the rat."

"And begged to be allowed to have it as a pet." The other finished.

Harry grimaced. Yeah, that would be enough to make anyone a bit twitchy. "Well, I better get out of here before Madam Pomfrey comes back. I've heard she's pretty fierce." He finally said. "I'll bring Ron's homework at the end of the day, if he's still not back in the Tower by then."

Harry headed out, Hedwig winging after him, and looked for a quiet spot where he could write undisturbed. After he settled himself in an abandoned classroom (if the dust was anything to go by) he pulled out quills and parchment and settled in to write.

Dear Sirius

I'm so glad everything worked and we got you out of Azkaban. I hope you're ok. Now you're out, I think it's a bit safer to explain some stuff, though if Remus gets there first, he may have already told you everything before this reaches you.

Harry went on to outline what he'd discovered when he'd snitched his vault key from Hagrid and returned to Diagon Alley, then told about the arrival at King's Cross and his first (rather startling) day at Hogwarts before he signed it. He sent a second, much shorter letter to Remus, telling him where Sirius had got to, just in case, and mentioning that he'd found out where Snape had gotten to (Remus, so long away from the Wizarding world, hadn't known). Once he'd got that done, he sent the letters off with Hedwig.

There was not hide nor hair seen of any of the Weasleys the rest of the day, not that Harry blamed them. That evening, he brought the day's homework to the infirmary for Ron and ducked out as quickly as he could, rather uncomfortable with Mrs. Weasley's doting. It was nice, but he wasn't used to it.

HPHPHP

Late that evening, after curfew when all the students were at least supposed to be in bed (though some probably weren't), Minerva and Filius were having a quiet talk in Minerva's office.

"It has been quite the forty-eight hours, has it not?" Filius asked, sipping a glass of something that was most definitely not tea that had a name Minerva could not pronounce. It was a goblin-made liquor that Minerva had made the mistake of tasting. Once. A very long time ago. Definitely an acquired taste.

"You can say that again, Filius. Quite the adventure. I cannot be the only one to think that even the Headmaster did not see any of this coming." She said. She wasn't smiling, but there was definite amusement in her eyes.

"Most especially not our esteemed Headmaster." Filius observed. "I had the distinct impression that he is entirely less than pleased."

Minerva frowned. "Unfortunately, I'm inclined to agree with you. Though, I will grant, it's been a couple of days of shocks. That snake! Don't get me wrong, Filius, I don't hold with that nonsense about parseltongue and dark wizards, but after him, it's more than a bit unnerving to have someone chatting a snake up."

"True enough, but I get the sense ... " Filius hesitated.

Minerva eyed him. "Go on." She'd long ago learned to trust Filius' observations. He had an exceedingly keen mind, an eye for detail, and was quite good at reading people. Between the three, he was seldom wrong.

"I get the sense that the Headmaster had expected something entirely different from what he got, and was ... angry ... that his expectations weren't met." Filius said.

Minerva frowned. "He was quite put out." She agreed. "And I remember how adamant he was as to Harry's placement, when everything happened."

"Consider also the ... finger pointing ... in the special edition concerning Lord Black. What one name was not so much as hinted at ... but had the power to do something about Lord Black's ... unfortunate situation?"

Minerva inhaled sharply. "Filius ... do you realize what you are implying?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Filius took another sip of his drink. "The pieces ... fit. As reluctant as I am to admit to it. Mistakes being made are understandable, but I get the sense that this is something else."

"But why?" Minerva wanted to know.

"Control." Both Filius and Minerva jumped a mile, as it was not Filius that had spoken. Severus glided forward out of the shadows near the door. "You would do well, both of you, to remember to lock your door when you are speaking of things you do not wish heard." He growled at them. "Dumbledore wants control of the boy. He is a lightning rod to the Light's cause. He will one day usurp the Headmaster's place as icon for the Light ... if he survives."

Minerva frowned at Severus. "What do you mean, if he survives?" She asked, her voice going a touch shrill.

"The boy was left in ignorance of who and what he is." Severus growled. "Remember, I grew up down the street from the Evanses. I know precisely what sort of woman Petunia is, and her husband would have been more of the same, if not worse." He sneered. "Consider what we have been asked to hide, here at the school. Consider the ... traps ... we have been told to set. Consider their ... difficulty."

Minerva thought about that. She'd been less than pleased about the Stone being in the school, but Dumbledore being Dumbledore, she'd not been able to do a thing about it. She knew what trap she'd been asked to set, and it made her frown.

"Consider also Quirrell." Snape continued. "The man has changed, drastically. Yet ... "

That upgraded the frown to a scowl. Yet, indeed, Minerva agreed. "So ... some sort of test, for Harry?" She asked, sounding utterly outraged.

"It is my suspicion." Severus agreed. "The Boy Hero must be trained, after all."

"Well, that I agree with, but this ... this isn't training, Severus!" Minerva objected.

"Oh, but it is, Minerva, if you want a brainless martyr who rushes in where angels fear to tread. I have little doubt that Dumbledore had planned to lead Harry straight to the stone by any of a number of means. Most or all of them involving teaching the boy he is alone and cannot depend on anyone, save the Headmaster."

Minerva and Filius both scowled at that. "Well, he'll see that plan thwarted, mark my words." Filius said, sounding highly peeved. "It will be a simple enough task to provide the boy with extra tuition."

"Quite." Minerva agreed. She was, however, eyeing Severus with interest, and a growing amusement and admiration. "You've been playing, haven't you?" She finally asked.

Severus pretended incomprehension. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Don't give me that, boyo." Minerva scolded, sounding amused. "Though really, it's my own fault for not realizing it before now." She gave her head a shake. "As if a man with your putative temperament would have survived as a spy for long."

Severus didn't smile, but there was no missing his amusement. "I am what I am expected to be, Minerva. Nothing less, nothing more."

Minerva eyed Filius, who looked amused, rather than at all surprised. "You knew."

"Of course. The clues were there, if one knew how to read them." Filius said. "I rightly reasoned that Severus was acting as he was for reasons of his own, and said nothing."

Severus inclined his head to Filius. "We shall have to wait and see what developments arise. Dumbledore has been caught unawares by the last two days' events, and will be attempting to figure out how to regain the upper hand."

"And Harry, Sirius and Remus will be doing their own maneuvering." Minerva agreed.

"I do not envy Dumbledore the position he will find himself in, as a target of the Marauders." Severus said, face twisted in distaste at old memories. He may have come to terms with Potter, but Black was, and likely would remain, unless he had changed vastly, an entirely different proposal. Even if he had changed, it would not change the fact that what had happened in the past had happened.

Minerva gave a snort. "I quite agree. Much as I liked the lot of them, they were frequently vicious to their enemies."

September 2, 1991 Weasley Cottage

Remus had, indeed, found out where Sirius had gone after his trial, and made his way to Weasley Cottage quite early. Septimus answered the door, and smiled. "I expected to find you on my doorstep soon enough." He said. "He's upstairs, only just woke up."

Remus headed up, surprised to discover that he wasn't racing up the stairs as fast as he could move. He was, in fact, dithering and delaying, more than a bit. But eventually, there was no more time to dither or delay, and he was up the stairs. The door to Sirius' room was open, and Sirius, looking more than a bit bleary and still dressed in pyjamas, was puttering around grabbing clean clothes prior to having a bath. Remus nearly whined. Sirius looked horrible. Skeletally thin, more than slightly jaundiced ...

That was as far as he got, because apparently, he actually had whined, despite thinking he hadn't, because Sirius turned quickly. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then, with no memory of actually having moved, they were in the middle of the room and hugging each other half to death. Deep within Remus' mind, the wolf was all but shrieking in joy and triumph at having a member of its pack back. And then, his face buried in the crook of Sirius' neck, joy turned to grief and tears as he fell apart.

For werewolves, pack is ... everything. Whether that pack is other werewolves, blood family, close friends or some combination of the three matters not a whit. Even the most ... twisted ... of werewolves will try to build and defend a 'pack', though for the twisted ones, like Fenrir, the pack never does remain stable, with members leaving or being killed by a capricious leader. For more stable and sane werewolves, losing pack was traumatic. This was equal parts werewolf nature and the fact that known werewolves quickly found themselves pariahs in the wizarding world, and whatever pack they managed to join or gather around themselves was their only support and source of companionship and friendship.

Remus had lost his entire pack a decade ago, all within a three-day timespan. The only way he'd stayed sane, stayed alive, was concentrating on being there for Harry (who he'd seen only twice before the Potters' deaths) once he got to Hogwarts. He hadn't allowed himself to dwell on the Potters' deaths, Peter's betrayal, or Sirius' incarceration because if he had, he'dve gone mad or killed himself.

Getting Harry back had helped him immensely, but he'd never had a chance to really get attached to Harry as 'pack' prior to his parents' deaths. Oh, he was pack now, but hadn't been, quite, prior to this summer. So meeting him and all that hadn't really hit Remus all that hard. Getting Sirius back was an entirely different kettle of fish, and after a decade of holding it together as best he could, he just lost it.

Not that Sirius was all that far behind him. While Sirius hadn't had the werewolf issue to contend with, he'd not been any more able to properly grieve while in Azkaban than Remus had been, and Remus' presence proved to be too much. For a little while, tears flowed as the two men grieved for their lost friends. Eventually, they managed to pull it together and, still a bit soggy around the edges (and now sitting on the floor, having collapsed at some point) hugged again.

"It's good to see you, Padfoot." Remus said, his voice hoarse and shaky from tears.

"Likewise, Moony." Sirius wiped at his eyes. "Now, I need a bath, we need breakfast ... and then we're going to have a nice, long talk with Septimus and Cedrella."

Remus was all for that, and scooted back downstairs to allow Sirius to get cleaned up for breakfast. Cedrella gave him a sympathetic look, but neither she nor Septimus actually said anything about his rather red-eyed and teary state. Sirius came down about half an hour later and the four of them settled at the table to eat.

They'd been about to start talking things over just after breakfast when a near-hysterical Molly called via floo, telling them what had happened at Hogwarts in the night. To say Septimus and Cedrella were enraged was the understatement of the century. Sirius and Remus weren't far behind them, though they both spared a thought of thanks that the cowardly, traitorous bastard had been found and captured.

"My god. All these years!" Septimus fairly snarled. "I need to change the wards. That ... thing ... has been in this house."

Cedrella nodded in agreement. "We can do that once we've had a bit of a planning session, dear. We need to get organized."

Septimus took a deep breath and nodded. "Poor Percy's all but catatonic, according to Molly. Not that I blame the poor lad. It must be horrifying, realizing a pet you'd cared about for years was ... " He made a face. "They've been doing detection spells since they found out, to make sure nothing nefarious has been done to any of them. Fortunately, everything's coming up empty."

Cedrella breathed a bit easier at that. "Well, that's good news. I'd hate to have to break into the Ministry to flay the bastard alive if he'd hurt any of them." The enraged gleam in her eye and the dead serious tone made it clear that she meant that threat quite literally. "Well, anymore than he has with the realization that he wasn't actually a pet." She glowered.

At that point, Hedwig arrived, bearing letters for Sirius and Remus. Sirius reached over to stroke Hedwig, giving her a happy grin. "Hello there, Hedwig. You do realize you're now one of my favorite ... well, not people, since you're not, but next closest thing to it. Helping Harry, helping me ... catching that bloody, traitorous rat!"

Hedwig puffed up, looking exceedingly pleased with herself, and nibbled Sirius' fingers gently.

Remus reached over and joined in with showering her with affection. "I definitely agree with Sirius, girl, You're first rate in our books. And tell Harry to pass the thanks on to that big snake of his, will you?"

She bobbed her head. /I really, really, really like these two, Harry./ She told him, her voice as close to a purr as a bird could possibly get. /They're ... quite pleased with both me and Hissesh./

At Hogwarts, Harry laughed out loud. /Let me guess, they're petting you and telling you how brilliant you are/

/Of course they are!/

Harry snickered again, grateful he wasn't in class at the moment (rather, on his way to class). /You're so predictable, Hedwig/

/Hmmmph. Remus says to pass their thanks on to Hissesh./

/I'll do that./ Harry promised.

The four adults at Weasley Cottage traded their various bits of knowledge and suspicions. They batted ideas around for a plan of action for hours, trying to come up with contingency plans for the most obvious ploys that might be tried against Harry. Sirius had to be restrained from blazing ahead in his desire to get custody of Harry.

"Going off half-cocked will make it easy for Dumbledore to pull something, cousin." Cedrella advised. "You and I both know that he can't keep Harry from you forever, but he could keep the boy out of your hands for quite some time, if you don't come to the first fight well-armed. A few days or a week now will save you months or years later."

Sirius didn't much like it, but he had to admit she had a point, so he settled for getting in contact with the Black family solicitor. He had no intentions of retaining the man's services, given he was as slimy and evil as the bulk of his relatives, but he would need to get any and all records the man had out of his clutches before Sirius retained the services of someone more ... palatable. That meeting would not be for a few days, thankfully. Until then, Sirius contented himself with writing Harry a long letter and sending it off with Hedwig.

Chapter Text

Gathering Forces

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 3-5, 1991 Hogwarts

Much to Harry's amusement, Dean and Seamus both petted and made much of both Hedwig and Hissesh, and quite a few Gryffindors asked after Hissesh when Harry and Hedwig made their way to the Common Room. Apparently, participating in the capture of a known traitor and murderer had gone a long way to quelling the worst of peoples' prejudices where snakes were concerned. Harry called Hissesh down, and after a slight hesitation, several of the students had petted and patted him, much to his evident pleasure.

Harry headed to the Infirmary before breakfast to check on the Weasleys. He got there just in time to see Madam Pomfrey clearing the twins to return to classes. They were grim-faced and angry still, but evidently coping well enough. Ron had progressed from green-faced horror to verbal horror, but he was at least talking it out. Poor Percy was still very much not dealing with the discovery, though he was at least responding to people again. He was mute with horror and spent much of his time curled into a miserable ball, though. Mr. Weasley had returned to work, but Mrs. Weasley was still there, fussing over all four boys and looking a little lost as to how to help Percy. He didn't notice Madam Pomfrey giving him a long up-and-down look before he left.

He caught up with Hermione and Neville and they headed for the Great Hall, chatting amiably. Breakfast and morning classes were pleasant enough, and they all three sat together whenever possible. Harry noticed that Neville seemed to be having a lot of trouble, but didn't say anything, as he had no experience with things like offering to help. Fortunately, Hermione seemed to have no such difficulties, and was perfectly willing to try to help Neville when they had a study period after lunch, and Harry was able to join in after she initiated the whole thing. Of course, that only lasted a half-hour before Crookshanks abruptly jumped up onto the table and sprawled all over Hermione's books, effectively stopping her from doing much of anything. When Hermione remonstrated with him, he turned his head enough to stare her down. Harry didn't have to be able to hear the telepathic conversation to take a good guess as to its content, and he rather quickly began to giggle, which got Hermione and Neville both going.

"Oh, all right, Crookshanks, you win. I'll stop studying for now." Hermione said aloud, then glanced at the others. "Honestly, you'd think wanting to get good grades was a bad thing, the way he goes on!"

That got a loud, grating "MREH!" from a clearly irritated Crookshanks, who glared at her.

Hermione blushed at whatever Crookshanks had told her, and then reached over to rub his head. "I know, I know. There's a line between studying enough and obsessing." From her tone, she clearly didn't quite believe that.

Harry gave an amused snort. "I see he's as bossy as Hedwig."

/Hey!/ Hedwig, who'd been perched on the back of his chair while they studied, nipped at his ear.

"Ow!"

/That's what you get for insulting me!/ Hedwig huffed.

Hermione started snickering, which got Neville going again, which got Harry going. He reached up to stroke her breast. "All right, girl. I'm sorry." He said when he finally managed to calm down.

/Apology accepted./

He was startled when, after dinner, McGonagall asked him to follow her to her office, which was across the hall from her classroom. Once they were there, Harry gave her an anxious look. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"Of course not, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said, her expression easing considerably. "But something was brought to my attention which I would be very remiss, as a professor, to leave alone. Madam Pomfrey pointed out to me this morning that you are ... " McGonagall hesitated. "Perhaps not in the best of condition. And that there might be something amiss at home. Considering the opinion I had of the Dursleys after watching them for a mere twenty-four hours, I tended to agree with her."

Harry blinked. "You mean ... you didn't know?"

"Know what, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"I thought ... my first letter ... it was addressed to the Cupboard under the stairs." Harry explained.

McGonagall's face got very pinched. "Cupboard? Mr. Potter?" Her voice was strained. "The Hogwarts letters go to the child's room."

"It was." Harry said quietly.

McGonagall made a strangled noise of outrage. "Those filthy ... " She cut herself off. "Mr. Potter, I must apologize. I had no idea. The letters are addressed automatically, by a special quill attached to the book that keeps track of all magical children in Britain."

A knot in Harry's gut loosened. "You didn't know?" That letter had been much of what had driven Harry to steal his key back from Hagrid, certain there was something fishy going on.

"Most assuredly not, Mr. Potter. I shall have to keep a close eye on the quill, in future." McGonagall said. She glanced at him. "You have already taken steps that will see you free of their home, Mr. Potter, but I think it would be wise to visit Madam Pomfrey and ensure that you will suffer as few long-term physical effects as possible. And if you should wish to speak of your situation while you lived there, my door will always be open to you." After a moment, she added. "As will Professor Snape's, in all likelihood. He takes an exceedingly dim view of child abuse." Boy, was that putting it mildly. There'd been at least two cases over the years when Severus had had to be restrained to keep him from earning a stay in Azkaban in retaliation for the abuses suffered by his Snakes.

"Thank you, Professor." Harry said. He wasn't really wanting to talk about it, but knowing he could, if he ever wanted to, was nice.

McGonagall walked with him to the Infirmary, claiming he'd tripped and fallen to keep the Weasleys, who were still in residence, from discovering what was really going on. Pomfrey pulled him aside into a curtained-off area and did a series of scans. When they were finally done, she let out a relieved breath.

"You're in remarkably good shape, all things considered, Mr. Potter." She told him. "You're malnourished enough that it's stunted your growth a bit, but it's not critical, and you're young enough that it's not permanent. We can get you on a regimen of potions to correct the nutritional deficiencies and you'll be right as rain in no time."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "They were always really careful not to do things that would gain them too much attention. Me wearing Dudley's castoffs could be explained any number of ways that reflected solely on me, same with me being small and skinny, but broken bones and the like ... not so much." He'd been neglected, denied food and access to things like hot water (and even the bathroom, during especially long 'lock-ins' in the cupboard), verbally abused almost without cease, and occasionally hit, kicked, or shaken (mostly by Dudley, though Vernon and Petunia had taken swings at him a few times) and whalloped frequently, but never to the point that it did more than bruise him somewhere that couldn't be seen.

Hedwig gently preened his hair. /I am glad things can be fixed, Harry./ She told him. /And don't you go thinking that what they did was 'not that bad', young man. It was more than bad enough!/

Wednesday was far quieter than the days previous, though Hissesh spent most of the day in the Common Room, enjoying the attention of whatever Gryffindors happened to be about. Harry thought the whole thing was immensely amusing ... the Lions had adopted a Snake as one of their own. But that evening, Neville made one of his infrequent comments about his home life. Up to then, it'd been mostly to the tune of 'they thought I was a squib, and useless'. But this time, he mentioned how his Uncle had hung him out a window in order to try to force him to exhibit magic, and 'accidentally' (Harry wasn't buying that for a second) dropped him.

"He WHAT?" Harry practically bellowed. "My god, Neville ... you do realize he could have killed you, don't you, if you hadn't done accidental magic?" He asked, because it was apparent from Neville's expression that the whole thing had got swept under a rug and made to look far less ... utterly insane and potentially lethal ... than it was. "You should talk to Professor McGonagall."

"It's really not that big a deal, Harry." Neville said quietly, looking highly uncomfortable.

/Don't push it, Harry. Go to McGonagall. She can take it from there./ Hedwig advised.

/Right. I'll tell her first thing in the morning./

Thursday morning he got up early and headed for McGonagall's office, hoping to catch her before she went to the Great Hall for breakfast. Fortune smiled on him, as he got there just as she was about to head out.

"Professor, can I talk to you real quick? It won't take long."

"Of course, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said, and motioned him into her office.

"It's about Neville." Harry said, once the door had closed. "I think ... well, I think he's in more trouble than I was, at home. He's commented a couple times how they all thought he was a squib, and a disappointment and all that, but last night he mentioned that his uncle hung him out a window and dropped him trying to get him to do magic."

McGonagall's eyes went wide. "Oh my. That is serious. Even if it was an isolated incident. Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Mr. Potter. I shall speak to Mr. Longbottom yet today."

Ron joined them for breakfast, grim-faced and quiet. Harry wasn't entirely sure Ron being back in classes was a good thing, and decided to keep a close eye on Ron. Percy, evidently, was being taken home for a while, as he was still taking the whole mess very badly and wasn't in any shape to attend classes, nevermind perform his Prefect duties. Another fifth year was assigned as temporary Prefect until Percy returned.

McGonagall pulled Neville aside after dinner, much as she had done with Harry. Harry watched them go, hoping things would be all right. He trailed Hermione back to the Common Room and they studied for a while ... until Crookshanks intervened again, plopping himself on Hermione's books. He'd done that Wednesday as well, and Harry just snickered at the contrary familiar.

"Right. I think that's our cue to do something else. Exploding snap, maybe?" Harry said.

Hermione gave Crookshanks a resigned look. "I suppose. At least it's less messy than Gobstones."

"Oh, no kidding." Harry said. The game had looked like fun until he'd seen the stones spitting stinky stuff all over people. Definitely not his idea of a good time.

It wasn't until they'd packed up for the evening that Harry realized that Ron and Hissesh had been existing companionably in the Common Room. Harry glanced around in surprise to check that Ron was, in fact, down here, and blinked when he spotted Hissesh curled up on the floor next to Ron. Ron seemed to be ignoring Hissesh, but considering the red-head's initial reaction to Hissesh, it was a huge improvement.

Neville finally showed up an hour after curfew, red-eyed and pale, and slightly miffed with Harry, if the look on his face was anything to go by. Still, he sat down nearby. "Why'd you tell, Harry?" He asked, quietly.

"Because nobody deserves to get dumped on like that, Neville." Harry answered. "And because I know what it's like."

That startled Neville so badly his mouth hung open. "What?" He asked. Hermione wasn't much better, looking utterly stunned.

"Yeah. The Durselys? Really don't like me. At all." Harry said. "Pomfrey spotted it, and told McGonagall, who talked to me about it. I mean, I'm never going back there so it's not like it can happen again, but it still did, you know? And I may not know much about this whole friend thing, but even I know I'd be a shitty friend if I let my mate get abused without saying something."

Neville gave him a shaky smile. "Thanks, I think. It ... it really wasn't that bad."

Harry snorted. "Try the other one, Neville. I might believe it."

Neville made an odd noise, then brightened a bit. "McGonagall's taking me to get a new wand come the weekend."

"New wand? What happened to this one?" Hermione wanted to know.

"It's my dad's. Doesn't really work for me, but Gran said if it was good enough for him, it was good enough for me, and wouldn't take me to get a new one."

Harry made an outraged face. "Bloody hell. Ollivander told me that the wand chooses the wizard, and you don't get as good results with an ill-suited wand. Why would she do that to you?" He shot a look around to make sure the Weasley's weren't close enough to hear this question. "I mean, you're not real poor or something, are you?"

Neville shrugged. "Dunno." He admitted. "And no, we're not. Oh, we're not the Malfoys, but we do more than well enough."

September 3-5 Weasley Cottage

Cedrella accompanied Sirius to the meeting with the old Black family solicitor. Sirius was grateful for her backup. He may have been raised in the Black family, but the brutal truth was that he'd never picked up on certain things. Oh, he was adult enough now to admit he had a vicious streak, but he was, at heart, a Gryffindor with a tendency to jump first and check how deep the water was after he landed, if at all. Cedrella was the only Black he was willing to talk to who could play the game the Black way, and he'd need that for this encounter. While he'd gotten in contact with her, and Andromeda may have been sorted into Slytherin, she was nearly as unused to playing the Black game as Sirius was. She, unlike Sirius, had been fully disowned when she married Ted Tonks. Sirius hadn't brought it up yet, but if she wanted, he'd reinstate her into the family.

The man was every bit as slimy, slippery, and outright evil as Sirius had feared, and it took no small amount of shenaniganry to get all records pertaining to the Blacks into Sirius' hands ... and to get the man to sign a magically binding agreement that he'd handed all original documents and all copies over, on pain of losing his magic. The man had very much not been pleased by that document, and Sirius had noticed that an extra file or two had found its way into the pile before the man actually signed the thing.

Documents obtained, Sirius went looking for a new solicitor, and found one in Jepson Hasthwaite, a Slytherin about a decade older than himself. The man was sharp as a tack, sneaky, cunning, and sly without tipping over into 'illegal and immoral' ... in other words, just about perfect for Sirius' needs. Better, he'd been willing to take on the tangled morass that was the Black family's legal affairs.

"The first thing I need for you to do ... and it might be tricky ... is to get me legal custody of Harry Potter. I'm his godfather, and I know for a fact I was first on the list of people who was to have the care of him." Sirius told Jepson.

"And you anticipate trouble with this?" Jepson asked.

"Some, yes. Not sure how much. Dumbledore seems to have been putting his nose where it didn't belong where Harry was concerned, and I'm fairly sure he'll at least try to contest Harry coming to me, even if in the end, it's inevitable." Sirius grinned. "I am, after all, Lord Black. His coffers are nowhere near as inexhaustible as mine."

Jepson smiled a shark's smile. "Quite, but you would prefer sooner rather than later."

"Yeah. I've been hearing things from Remus about Harry's current caretakers that I don't much like. Not that Harry has told Remus much of anything, but Remus is good at picking up on things." Werewolf senses came in handy, sometimes.

"I see. If that is the case, it should be easy enough to construct an ironclad case for your taking over his guardianship. I shall begin putting things together yet today." Jepson told him.

"I appreciate that." Sirius told the man. Soon after that, he was heading back to Weasley Cottage.

His next item of business was to check on the Black family home. He hated the place, but it was the only property the Blacks owned in Britain proper, and he'd need somewhere to live. He would probably transfer to Potter Castle once he was Harry's guardian, and had access to the Potter homes, but until then, he needed somewhere to go where he wasn't presuming on someone else's hospitality, even if they were family. Remus went with him, both as moral support and as backup just in case things were particularly bad.

It turned out to be a good thing that he came, because the house was to the point where it was half a step from completely unlivable. There were infestations of magical creatures everywhere, and Kreacher had clearly not cleaned anything other than Walburga's portrait since her death. The scrawny, malevolent house-elf had also clearly gone even more insane than he'd been a decade and a half ago. By the time they got the place in livable shape, Sirius would probably have been Harry's guardian again for a year or two, it was that bad. Sirius shook his head in disgust, told Kreacher he was never to leave the house under any circumstances, and locked the place back up. He'd look into having it leveled later ... it would really be the best thing to do at this point. He'd just have to presume on Septimus and Cedrella's hospitality until he had custody of Harry.

September 6, 1991

Harry was nervous. Today was their first Potions class ... a double class with theSlytherins, unfortunately. Oh, Harry didn't really think they were all bad, but Malfoy was most definitely a git, and Harry wasn't much looking forward to being trapped in a class with him for an hour and a half. And too, there was the whole 'friend of his mom's' thing, and the message he'd been asked to pass on, and the letter. He'd been debating since Monday what to do, how to handle this, and still hadn't made up his mind.

/What do you think, Hedwig?/

/Bring the letter. If an opportunity arises, use it. If not, you can always try again later./

Harry nodded, hoping things would go well. If he was honest, half the reason he was so nervous was because he'd been hearing, almost nonstop, about the evil, greasy, biased bat of the dungeons. The description didn't much sound like someone he thought his mum would've been friends with, but people did change.

That this was the one class where Harry was reluctant to let Hedwig accompany him, due to the ingredients and fumes that would be about, just made matters that bit worse. Hermione, who'd come to much the same conclusion Harry had and asked Crookshanks not to attend Potions, was nearly in as much of a dither as Harry was. Crookshanks had spent most of the morning in Hermione's lap and winding around her ankles fit to trip her up and knock her down. Hedwig, as had become customary for her, had parked herself on Harry's shoulder and was disinclined to move until she had to. Harry's had to laugh at the irritated glares he got from Hermione for the fact that his familiar wasn't a four-footed menace. She was a two-winged bossy one.

/I heard that!/

/You were meant to./ Harry told her, fighting amusement.

/Hmmmph. I see how it is!/ Hedwig nipped him (gently) on the ear, but Harry could tell she was amused rather than annoyed or upset.

"Well, we better get going. Potions class is a good clip from here." Harry said, glancing over at Hermione and Neville. Neville, of course, was generally in a state of nervousness. "C'mon, Neville, it won't be so bad. I bet everyone's exaggerating, you know, pulling a fast one on the 'ickle firsties'." He said the last two words in a mocking tone. "Besides, didn't you say you really like plants? Well there's a lot of those in Potions. I bet you do brilliant."

Neville seemed to take a bit of heart from that and gave a slightly nervous nod. "Yeah, ok. Let's go." He said quietly.

They trooped to Potions class, with the rest of the first-year Gryffindors trailing along behind them, much to Harry's amusement. When they got there, the door was closed and locked, so they settled in to wait. A couple of minutes before class was to start, both Hedwig and Crookshanks took their leave. Harry watched them both go warily, as by then the Slytherins had arrived and were standing between the two familiars and the exit out of the dungeons. Thankfully, none of the Slytherins even looked as if they were considering something less than nice where the familiars were concerned, and Harry returned his attention to the door just as Snape appeared, robe billowing behind him, to open the door.

They all scurried in and found places. Unfortunately, it was two to a table, so they had to split up. Harry decided to stick with Neville, since he tended to have the best luck calming him down, and Hermione ended up sitting with Dean.

Snape was ... something else. Intimidating, certainly, without half-trying. He had even the Slytherins pinned to their seats in silence within seconds of everyone being seated ... and he managed that while taking roll! Harry quailed mentally when Snape seemed to sneer at him when he called Harry's name, but the more Harry watched the man, the more he came to realize that the man was ... play-acting. Oh, the intimidation and air of command were real enough, but the disdain and malice weren't. Well, at least not universally, anyway. The disgusted look he shot Crabbe and Goyle had been real enough. But for most of the rest of them, body language and the look in the man's dark eyes didn't quite match the emotion in the man's voice. It was subtle enough that the only reason Harry caught it was because he'd learned from a very young age to watch Vernon, Petunia, and especially Dudley like a hawk in order to evade physical retribution for imagined wrongs.

It certainly helped that, because he'd spent the last month with his nose buried in books, he was able to answer the questions Snape put to him. He got the feeling that pleased Snape, though there was no outward indication of such.

The rest of the class passed quietly enough. Harry murmured quietly to Neville, encouraging him to slow down, breathe, and relax when he caught Neville starting to tremble with nerves. Neville obeyed, and, after a few moments, was able to get himself back under control. With a bit of care, they managed to successfully complete their potion before class ended, though by then Neville was one step shy of a nervous wreck despite Harry's quiet support and reassurances.

Snape gave them their homework for the next class, and everyone started to pack up in order to head out. Harry hesitated for a long moment, then glanced at Hermione and Neville. "I'll catch up, guys." He told them. They both gave him dubious looks, but headed out.

"What do you want, Mr. Potter." Snape fairly snarled, sounding exceedingly cross. But again, his tone didn't quite match the rest.

Harry took a deep breath, grabbed his books and ensured the letter was on the bottom of the pile, then walked up to the desk, setting his books on the edge. "Sir, I was wondering ... are there any books you could recommend for someone raised by Muggles, to explain things? Some of the terminology involved with Potions is more than slightly confusing."

Ok, so it was lame. Remus had pointed him at some books that explained the weird terms used in the various classes, after all. But Snape was, after all, teaching potions. He just might know of something better, and the whole thing at least sounded halfway plausible as an excuse to approach the man.

Snape gave him a narrow-eyed look, but then, after several long moments, finally spat out the name of a book.

Harry smiled ... it was the book Remus had pointed out to him, but that was all right. "Thank you, sir." And then he lifted his books off the desk ... but left the letter behind. He made tracks out of there as fast as he could move without running.

Snape's POV

Minerva had kept Severus abreast of all things Potter-related. He was, evidently, a bright student. Not first in his classes ... that distinction seemed to be going to Miss Granger for the most part, aside from Herbology, where Mr. Longbottom seemed to be shining ... but definitely in the top five so far. Not that that was saying much, with only a week of classes under the boy's belt.

The discovery that Harry had, indeed, been abused in some manner had not gone down well at all, to put it mildly, and it had taken all the control Severus had learned over the years to keep himself from storming into the Headmaster's office and demanding satisfaction of the man.

It was also quickly becoming clear that while Harry seemed to have inherited the bulk of his father's looks, he'd inherited the bulk of his mother's temperament. Snape had been quite aware of Harry's efforts to calm and reassure Mr. Longbottom during class, and he was quite sure those efforts had averted disaster at least once, if not more than once. And from the reports he'd gotten from Minerva, Harry had been the one to sound the alarm about Mr. Longbottom's family life.

Aware that the boy had been put through the wringer, Severus had not focused his ... attention ... on Mr. Longbottom as he otherwise might have done. It was plain to him that the boy's sense of confidence had been all but destroyed, though it might be possible to resurrect it over time.

Attuned as Severus was to noticing the minutae about the people around him, he swiftly became aware that Harry wasn't buying his 'evil bat' act. He wondered what had tipped the boy off, and not for the first time wondered how on earth the boy had gotten himself sorted into Gryffindor.

He'd been hard-put to keep his expression blank when Harry approached him with a rather pitiful excuse of a question. It was clear the boy'd wanted to approach him for some other purpose, and Severus wondered what it was ... until he saw the boy flexing and rearranging his hands on the pile of books he'd set on the edge of Severus' desk ... leaving a slim envelope behind. Once the boy was out of the room, Severus started to pull his wand to check the envelope for malicious spells when he realized that the envelope was far from new. It was old, and yellowed, as if it had been sitting around for a long time. And then he saw the handwriting on the envelope and was abruptly grateful he was sitting down, or he'd have fallen, because his knees abruptly turned to jelly.

It was Lily's handwriting.

Badly shaken, it took Severus a few moments to work up the nerve to touch the letter, and then he tucked it gently and with great care in the drawer of his desk to read later, since he still had an entire day's worth of classes to get through.

Somehow, he got through classes on autopilot, and no one seemed to notice anything off about him, for which he was grateful, because his mind kept turning to the letter sitting oh-so-innocently in the drawer. It was a minor miracle that there weren't any catastrophes given his lack of true attention to his classes.

Finally, the day was done, and he was able to retreat to his quarters with the letter. He poured himself a cup of tea (though he was strongly tempted to something stronger, despite the fact he avoided drinking whenever possible) and settled in the chair closest to the fireplace in his rooms.

For several long moments, he simply turned the precious envelope over in his hands, reluctant, and, though he would never admit to it, afraid of its contents. Finally, with great care, he worked the seal loose and pulled the sheet of parchment out of the envelope.

Dear Sev,

This is the third time I've attempted to write what had become a surprisingly difficult letter. There is so much to be said between us, and I regret that it cannot be done in person. Doing it this way seems so ... cold and remote, but I fear that it will be the only way.

Sev, I know about the prophecy. Dumbledore came to me and Alice after Neville and Harry were born and told us about it, and that Voldemort had heard about at least some of it. It's been six months since then, and I've had time enough to think (and Dumbledore has let enough crumbs of information go, in our brief talks with him) that I've put a lot of things together, that add up to a conclusion I'm not liking.

You don't know how much I hate myself, some days, for refusing to forgive you, in fifth year. So much was going on that year, and you needed me to support you, not abandon you. I've spent a lot of time wondering if I'd stuck by you, would you have taken the Mark? Somehow, I don't much think so, and I blame myself for that. I was such a silly girl that year. By the time I'd realized my mistake and forgiven you, it was too late. For whatever it's worth, Sev, I do forgive you for that day, not that there was really all that much to forgive. You'd been pushed so far past anyone's limits by that time it's a wonder you didn't hex James and Sirius permanently blind that day, nevermind slipping and saying an unfortunate word in the heat of the moment.

But I know you, Sev ... you are not an evil man at heart. Grumpy, yes. Evil, no. I know that you won't be a 'true' follower for long, if you ever actually are. Some of the things that Dumbledore has said in the last few months lead me to believe that you're already rethinking your support of Voldemort. Somehow, I suspect your rethinking has to do with me, which makes me happy, because it means my friend is not truly lost.

Sev, there are things ... I don't have all the pieces of the puzzle, but I'm not liking the conclusions that I'm coming to. If Harry becomes the one that can defeat Voldemort, he's going to need all the support he can get. Watch over him for me, please?

You were my best friend for years ... and even when we parted ways, there was never anyone that took your place. They couldn't. I've badly missed my best friend these last few years, Sev. Take care of yourself. I really don't want to see you in the afterlife for a very, very long time.

Always Your Friend

Lily

Severus stared at the fire for a long time after reading the letter, mind a thousand miles away and more than twenty years in the past, remembering a vivacious, pretty little red-haired girl who'd been the only bright spot in an otherwise utterly dismal childhood. After some indeterminate length of time, he carefully folded the letter, then rose to put it in the heavily protected niche that hid the few sentimental mementos that Severus owned. Most of them had belonged to Lily at one time ... a hair-ribbon that had come loose that he'd stuffed in a pocket and then forgotten to return to her (and subsequently found, years later, in the bottom of his school trunk), a handful of notes and letters, some old Potions notes on their joint projects, two wizarding photos of Lily and three Muggle ones, and now this letter. The only other thing in there was his Master's parchments and the attendant accolades that had come with being the youngest to achieve that status since records had been kept ... he'd earned the title at a mere twenty-one, just a few months before Lily's untimely death, when most Masters did not attain the rank until they were in their thirties at the earliest. For those few, brief months, he'd been a rising, shining star, Voldemort and his Mark be damned. Masters of his instinctive skill were exceedingly rare, in any discipline, and were much-sought-after when they occurred.

Unfortunately, his instinctive ability with Potions did tend to make him a bad teacher, which he was man enough to recognize, if not admit. He just 'knew' what the right thing to do, what the right ingredient to add was with any given potion, understood without half-trying the way things interacted ... and got frustrated with people who couldn't keep up with him, or couldn't see things that were painfully obvious to him (like needing to add an extra beetle eye because the infusion was weak, or some such). Of course, Dumbledore hadn't much cared about that, and if Severus was honest, the only way to have him close to Dumbledore was as a teacher, and it would have been utter folly to have a man of his acknowledged skill with potions to be teaching anything else. Voldemort would never have fallen for it.

Of course, it had all turned to ash and vapor when Lily died, and he'd have gladly disappeared entirely, or better yet died himself, if it had been possible, at the time. He'd been completely unlivable that year, snapping and snarling at everyone in earnest. It had been the true beginning of the 'evil bat of the dungeons'. Up to then, he'd been strict and as intimidating as a twenty-one-year-old can manage, but hadn't become known as the evil bat. It wasn't until two or three years later, when the worst of the grief had faded, that he'd chosen to continue the act.

He sealed up the niche again, and returned to the sitting room, staring into the fire long into the night, plans and contingency plans and speculations and suppositions turning over in his mind. There was never a question of him watching over Harry ... he'd planned on it even before things had gone so strange in the last month or so. Granted, up to then, he'd have had to settle for protection from afar, anonymously, but the way things were falling out at this point, he'd be able to take a more active role, and that could only be to Harry's benefit. If a Gryffindor, even one so bright as Lily, was seeing less-than savory things, you knew it had to be bad. The only question that remained was whether or not Black would tolerate his assistance ... and whether or not Severus could abide being in Black's presence at all. That remained to be seen, but unless the man had changed from the rash, angry, bigoted boy he'd known, there wouldn't be a chance in hell of them coexisting peacefully.

Chapter Text

Enter Hogwarts

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 7, 1991 Hogwarts

Dumbledore sat at his desk in the Headmaster's office and frowned at the roll of parchment on which he'd tallied up everything he knew, or had discovered, about one Harry Potter. It added up to a most frustrating list. One ... the boy had his Head of House ring. Hagrid had confirmed that the boy'd not gotten it while he'd been with him. That meant that the boy'd somehow snuck away from Privet Drive unseen and returned to Diagon Alley. Either he had had a new vault key made, or the goblins had summoned, then returned, the existing key. Much as Dumbledore would have liked to blame the goblins for all of that, he knew they were required by law to comply with any request a wizard made regarding their money and vaults. All Potter'd had to do was ask the right questions, which he apparently had.

Two, the boy was a parseltongue and was running around with a snake. Three, Dumbledore was not fool enough to not realize the timing of events on September First. While he wasn't sure that had been Harry's idea, it definitely could have. Clearly, the boy'd been more affected by Tom than Dumbledore had feared. Oh, the lad wasn't quite evil yet, but he was definitely headed that route, from the signs. Hopefully, that could be corrected.

Despite the bad start to the year, his plan was still in play. Quirrell was here, Voldemort was near, the Stone had been dangled in front of Harry's nose, and Hagrid would be leaving a bit of a clue for the boy to see when Harry visited him later today. If anything, actually, Albus realized his plan might just go even better than before. Harry was proving to be more inquisitive than Dumbledore had anticipated, and that curiosity ought to have Harry chasing the breadcrumbs nicely.

He'd have to do some work to prepare the boy for the Mirror later this year, that was certain. Harry was nowhere near in the right frame of mind to ... appreciate ... that particular artifact the way he needed to. His future plans, however, would need adjusting. Fortunately, there was more than enough time to worry about that later. Right now, he needed to figure out how to regain control of the Potter heir and the power he wielded, all unknowing, in their world. To have the scion of one of the two remaining Ancient and Noble Houses at his beck and call had long been Dumbledore's ambition. James and his father had been wholly unsuitable, but he had a chance with Harry ... and if he succeeded, he truly would rule the British Wizarding world ... and all without shedding a drop of blood.

It had been their dream ... his and Gellert's. To reign supreme over the Wizarding world. They'd made so many plans, as boys. Unfortunately, Gellert had gone much too far in his ambitions, and had to be stopped, for the greater good. Albus had managed to consolidate his position quite nicely by 'defeating' him. If you could call coshing someone over the head when they were asleep, tying them up and then dragging him to Nurmengard's most secure cell, then regaling anyone who would listen with a lurid tale of a vicious battle a defeat.

He'd been able to finagle himself into some of the highest, most powerful positions in the wizarding world thanks to that, his word heeded and obeyed almost without qualm. Still, ultimate power had evaded his grasp in Britain. That island had always been more insular and snobbish than other Wizarding communities, and would heed only their own political figures. The Potters and Blacks held a power in Britain that none other could equal, and had been the ultimate powers in Britain since time immemorial. Dumbledore had been forced to content himself with, to borrow a comparison from Muggle tales, becoming the vizier to the throne when he wanted the throne for himself. For a time there, it had looked as if the Black Heir had been, if not destroyed, then rather effectively muzzled, and the Potter Heir in the process of being molded into becoming Dumbledore's mouthpiece. Now, all that had been changed and he was not best pleased. Gellert and Tom both had been fools ... fighting wars was not the answer ... you only ended up killing the people you wanted to rule, and they'd never really forgive you for it. Dumbledore was sure his way was far better, for everyone involved.

From his perch nearby, Fawkes watched Dumbledore silently. Though he remained here to keep the old man from becoming alarmed, his loyalty had already been transferred elsewhere. He only remained so that he knew as much of what the old man was up to as possible, for when the time came.

Hagrid's Hut

Hagrid had invited Harry to come meet him on Friday, but Harry, who'd wanted more than a few minutes with the friendly man, had postponed it to the next day, when they could have an hour or two to chat and maybe have tea.

Now, an hour or so after breakfast, having got the last of his homework for the week done, Harry gathered Hedwig and Hissesh and headed out of the castle. Hissesh wanted to go check out the Forest so he had an idea of what he was working with and where the prey might be before he actually needed to hunt, and it gave him a chance to burn some energy. Hermione and Crookshanks joined him. Neville and McGonagall had left just after breakfast to get Neville his new wand, so Neville would be giving this visit a miss, but promised to join them the next day, since Harry fully intended to drop by Hagrid's again on Sunday.

They garnered quite a few looks as they headed out, but only one or two of the looks were openly hostile. It seemed that Hissesh was in quite good odor with more than Gryffindor after the Rat Escapade. Soon enough, they were outside and at Hagrid's door. The booming bark from within gave Harry a very worried start, and he started backing away from the door. While he wasn't afraid of dogs, he wasn't overly fond of them, either, thanks to Ripper and his kin, and whatever breed of dog was in there sounded rather like it could eat him in two bites.

"Back, Fang, ya daft mutt!" Hagrid yelled, then. "Jes' a minute! Barmy dog! Git on wit' yeh!"

Evidently, Hagrid managed to get Fang (and that name really wasn't helping to ease Harry's worries) back away from the door, and his hairy, grinning bulk appeared in the door. "'allo there, Harry! C'mon in! Don't mind Fang. He's harmless." Hagrid headed into his hut while Harry, giving Fang a look, edged in.

Fortunately, Fang proved to be totally mis-named. While huge, and with a truly alarming-sounding bark, the big mastiff hound was a big wanna-be lapdog. It took them some minutes to get settled, with Fang bouncing between Harry and Hermione, begging for attention.

"Hallo there." Hagrid said when he spotted Hermione. "Yeh'd be Hermione then? Harry mentioned yeh when he said he'd rather come by today."

"Yes, that's me." Hermione seemed a bit uneasy in Hagrid's hut, not that Harry could blame her. Most everything in the place was Hagrid-sized, which left him feeling like a midget. "And this is Crookshanks." She said, indicating her familiar, who'd managed to corner Fang and was currently staring the big dog down.

"Ahhh, yah. Heard all about him. Helped catch that no-good rotter, di'n't he?" Hagrid gave the big ginger cat a pleased look. "An' Hedwig o'course. Head that big snake o' yours had a part in it too, Harry. Y'didn't bring him along, then?"

"Actually, I did, but he wanted to check out the Forest, so he'd know where to go when he needs to hunt, at least while it's warm enough for him to do that. I'll have to figure out something else before winter sets in."

"Ahhh, I c'n get him somethin' ta eat easy enough, Harry. I'm in there most every day." Hagrid offered.

Harry smiled a little. "It wouldn't be taking away from the time you needed to do other stuff or anything?"

"Nah. Gotta hunt mos' days anyway." Hagrid told him.

"I'd really appreciate that. Hissesh'd only need something every week and a half or so, I think ... I'll have to ask him to be sure, when he gets back here."

They all gathered around the table, and Harry blinked in confusion when he spotted a newspaper that was, at this point, over a month old. Why on earth did Hagrid have it sitting on the table? Then he saw the main article, and his frown deepened.

/Hedwig, does it seem at all fishy to you that Hagrid made a big deal of that package when I went with him to Diagon Alley, and now I find a newspaper telling how the vault the package came from got robbed that same day ... when it happened over a month ago?/

/That is more than a bit fishy./ Hedwig agreed. /But I don't think it was Hagrid's doing./

/No, I agree with you. Not his doing. He's just not the type to pull something like this deliberately. But I know someone who would have put him up to it, no problem./

/That makes two of us. I wonder what he's up to./

/Well, it's got to do with that package. I'll figure it out later. Maybe. For now, I'll just enjoy Hagrid's company./

/Good plan./

They spent the next hour drinking tea, and eating rock cakes. Harry made due mental note to never eat Hagrid's cooking again ... the sausages had been edible but the cakes? Definitely not. Hagrid even provided a freshly-dead vole for Hedwig and a tin of fish for Crookshanks. They talked about classes, and Hogwarts in general. Hagrid even told a few tales about James, Sirius, and Remus and the trouble they got up to when they were at school that had Harry laughing helplessly. And he automatically included Hedwig and Crookshanks in the conversations, too, and despite the fact neither familiar could actually speak to him, Hagrid definitely got the gist of their responses, evidently able to interpret their various noises and body language quite easily.

"Remus hasn't mentioned that one, yet." He hooted at the last story. "Come to think of it, I don't think he mentioned any of those stories. Probably didn't want to give me blackmail material."

Hagrid grinned. "Yah. I could tell you a thing or ten 'bout that lot, I could, that they'd never want yeh ta know. Made right prats of themselves more'n once."

"I'll just bet." Harry said with an amused snort.

At that point, Hissesh finally returned, bumping the door with his nose. Harry got up to open the door and let him in, and the big snake curled himself around an exceedingly apprehensive Fang for warmth. [[The forest is so full of prey, Harry. I will enjoy the hunting here.]] He commented.

[[Glad you like it. Hagrid told me he'd be willing to bring you things when the weather gets too cold for you to hunt.]]

[[That is very kind of him. I will appreciate that. I could just eat something quite large and hibernate, but I think I would then miss out on a lot of fun around here.]]

[[No doubt!]] Harry said with a laugh, then turned to Hagrid. "He appreciates the offer to bring him food during the winter, Hagrid."

" 'e's more'n welcome." Hagrid said, glancing over at the big snake. "He's a grand big 'un, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he definitely is." Harry said. "And smart too. He and Hedwig twigged to the rat at pretty much the same time."

"Tha' so? Y'never did tell me the whole of it." Hagrid said.

So Harry told him what had happened. "And then he got dragged out by McGonagall, and I've honestly not heard or seen anything else, except for the article in the paper the next day. Evidently, his trial will be this Monday."

"Yeh plannin' on goin'?" Hagrid wanted to know.

"No. I'd be too tempted to hex the bastard."

"I don't blame you." Hermione said, speaking up for the first time since Harry started his story. "Goodness knows even I'd be badly tempted to do something rash to someone who'd done everything that he's done! It's simply awful."

"No kidding." Harry agreed.

"Well, it's gettin' on ta lunchtime, so we'd best head for the castle." Hagrid said. "An' then I've got me rounds ter do."

Harry nodded. "I better walk Hissesh up to the Tower. People seem to be better about him, but I don't want to chance him being alone just yet, at least not outside of Gryffindor Tower. Besides, he can't exactly say the password."

They headed out, and Harry, Hedwig, and Hissesh hurried to the Tower. Once Hissesh was safely within the Tower, Harry headed back down.

By the time he got there, Neville had returned, looking flushed and triumphant and grinning just a bit goofily at his new wand. "I've already tried a few spells, Harry, and it's so much easier!" He crowed, when he showed it to Harry.

Harry grinned and clapped Neville on the shoulder. "That's great, Neville. I'm really glad that got fixed." He just didn't understand why it'd been a problem in the first place, but that was something to contemplate for later, along with the vault thing. And the paper thing. Something was definitely up with that.

They split up after lunch. Hermione wanted to do a bit of reading. For fun, she insisted, though Harry was betting she wanted to try to sneak some studying in, if she could manage to get 'round Crookshanks, who had proved to be remarkably persistent in not allowing Hermione to study too much. Oh, he didn't try to stop her from learning or anything, but whenever she got too enthusiastic with a homework assignment, such as wanting to add a few extra feet to an essay, which had happened with every essay so far, or tried to study more than two lessons ahead, he'd plunk himself down on top of whatever she was working on and refuse to be moved until she gave up. Hermione would inevitably give him a dirty look, and try to talk him into moving before she sighed and closed up her books and parchments and forced herself to do something else.

Hedwig, on the other hand, had had to remind Harry that he was no longer at the Dursleys, would never see them again, and that tailoring his scholastic effort to Dudley's level was seriously counterproductive. The habit of hiding just how well he could do was proving to be tricky to break, though with Hedwig to help it was easier than it probably would have been otherwise.

Since Harry had managed to get his homework done, he glanced over at Neville. "Hey, Neville ... did you get all your homework done?"

"Except for Potions, yes." Neville said. "I plan on going through Charms and Transfiguration again, though ... might be easier now." He patted his wand. "Would you mind if I checked my Potions homework against yours later tonight? I want to get it right. Snape is ... " Neville shivered.

"Yeah. Definitely a piece of work." Harry agreed as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait. "And no problem. I'm just going to poke around for a bit until later, ok?"

"Sure. See you later." Neville said, then headed into the Tower.

Harry turned aside and headed off. "Ready to get a bit lost, Hedwig?"

/As if. Post Owls never get lost./

/Oh really? Well, that's great to hear. You'll be able to steer me out if I get turned around./

/Someone is being exceedingly cheeky./

/You know you love me for it./

Hedwig gave Harry an affectionate nip as they headed onto the stairs.

Harry gave a surprised yelp when the stairs moved, and clung to the railing. "Eeep! They warned us about this, but man, could they not do that when people are on them?" He asked aloud. The stairs clunked into place, and Harry quickly got off them on the next landing, wanting off the merry-go-round for the moment. "Whew."

She had waited. Patiently. She was aware he was young, and would need time to adjust and adapt to her, to his classes. So she had let his first week go by without trying to get into contact. Now, though ... now, she had to try. He was kind enough to go wandering about without his human companions, which made things so much easier. It was a simple matter to divert the stairs he was on in the direction she wanted him to go. Once he'd gotten on the landing, she moved all but one of the other staircases at once, hoping ... yes! He headed up the stairs. Towards the seventh floor. Towards the room.

Harry frowned when all the stairs moved at once. He'd half a mind to chance the stairs and head back the way he'd come, but when he started that way, his Head ring had warmed. It had rather thoroughly startled him, enough to get him up the one unmoving staircase before he stopped.

/Hedwig, something fishy as hell is going on./

/Agreed. All the stairs moving at once? Very odd./ Hedwig told him.

/My ring just warmed up when I tried to go the other way on the stairs./

/Really? That's ... odd. And interesting. I wonder what it means?/

/A warning of danger, maybe?/

/Possible, definitely possible. I don't know the properties of the rings to be able to say with any surety, though. You'd be better off asking Sirius in your next letter to him./

/Oh, hey, good idea, even if it wasn't for the weird stuff. Good stuff to know. I'll have to remember to ask./

/I'll remind you ... Harry, behind you!/

One of the multitude of suits of armor had moved off its pedestal and was approaching Harry, clanking loudly. Its weapon, a heavy-looking axe, had been left behind. Harry gave it a wary look and gave way before it. Soon, it became clear he was being ... herded.

Before too long, they came to a stretch of corridor marked by a large tapestry of someone trying to teach trolls to dance. To Harry's surprise, a door appeared out of nowhere and opened, revealing what looked like a rather comfortable sitting room.

/This is just getting weirder and weirder, Hedwig/

/No kidding. But I sense no malice ... not that I'm sure I'd be able to sense malice from animated rock and metal rather than a flesh and blood living being./

/You are ever so much help, you know that, right?/

Harry tried to walk past the door, only to have a second suit of armor clamber off its pedestal and block his way. Thwarted, he eyed the two suits, then the room, and finally, reluctantly, walked in. The moment he did, the door closed. Harry whirled to face the doors and had to suppress the urge to throw some (largely useless, given his existing knowledge) spell in an attempt to get out.

"I ask your forgiveness, Heir, for alarming you." Said a soft, gentle feminine voice behind him.

Harry whirled again. /Why didn't you warn me!/ There was a tall, brown-haired, gray-eyed woman standing just behind one of the chairs, regarding him with a very strange look on her face that Harry couldn't quite decipher.

/She wasn't there half a second ago!/ Hedwig yelped, winging off Harry's shoulder to somewhere she could better launch an attack if it became necessary.

"Who are you? What is this room? Why was I forced in here?" Harry wanted to know.

"All good questions, Heir ... and I shall answer them, gladly. I am Hogwarts. Or, more properly, a representation of Hogwarts that can more easily interact with people."

Harry stared for a long moment. "Hogwarts? As in, the school?"

The woman smiled. "Yes."

Harry blinked and sat down quickly in one of the available chairs. "Whoah. Ummm ... wow. Either this is one heck of a dream, or magic can do a heck of a lot more than I suspected."

That got him a laugh, from both Hedwig and Hogwarts. "Magic is indeed wondrous, Heir."

Well, that answered that. "Ok ... so ... you're alive, or something?"

"Yes. I'll tell the full tale later, since I want to answer your original questions first. This room is known as the Come and Go room, or the Room of Requirement. It can become any sort of room, and supply any need, you require. The only catch being that anything created by the room cannot be removed from it. So you could ask, for instance, to see the journals of the Four Founders, but you would be unable to take the journals with you when you left."

"Gotcha." Harry said.

"As for your last question, well, the answer to that will also involve the 'full tale' I promised you." Hogwarts said.

"Oh, this is going to be interesting." Harry said, sitting back.

That got him a laugh. "Quite so. Now, you know of the Founders, yes? Well, they did not just build me from brick, mortar, and wood. They poured a great portion of their own magic into the making, working spells of such power and complexity that the like will probably never be seen again. When they had done, I was ... aware. Back then, I was very simple, a child you might say, and much that happened I did not understand until later, when I began to comprehend more complex things."

"The Founders, the other teachers and all the students knew I was alive, back then, and they all spoke to me, interacted with me. Gryffindor created the Hat not just to Sort the children, but to provide the Headmaster with a direct, easily transported link to me. They also created four rings, one for each Founder, so that if danger threatened, I could let them know by heating the rings. Fawkes was bound, of his own free will, as another protection and guide for the Headmasters."

"Wait, Fawkes?"

"A phoenix. He mostly stays in the Headmaster's quarters and office, and isn't seen about much ... at least, not anymore. There was a time when he was more active and interactive with everyone."

"So what happened?"

"Time is what happened. People began to forget, or not to believe, that I was alive. They attributed the talking statues and suits of armor to magic spells. The full purpose of the Hat was eventually forgotten, and as of a few hundred years ago, all knowledge that I was more than a mere magical building had been lost."

Harry frowned. "That must have really hurt."

"It did." Hogwarts admitted. "So much so that I decided to ... sleep, for lack of a better term for it. I let the magic that pervades me do as it will and paid no mind to anyone ... none of them would hear me. But then, you came, wearing a Ring, and I decided to give it one last chance ... try to make someone believe that I am more than they think I am."

"You're succeeding." Harry said, then his eyebrows went up. "Wait ... ring ... you mean I'm a descendant of Gryffindor?"

"No, young Heir. You *are* a Gryffindor." Hogwarts told him.

"WHAT?"

"Yes. The Founders were great friends. But Salazar's son, who bore his name, became very angry and embittered about muggles and muggleborns when his wife and children were killed in a witchhunt. He did not want Muggleborns anywhere near the school, and got very nasty about it. Unfortunately, times being what they were, he had a few people who agreed with him, and they started causing trouble. Their hatred was such that when Godric, Helga, and Salazar stood against them ... poor Rowena had died already by the time this had all happened ... Salazar's son and his friends started trying to wipe both Godric and Helga's families out of existence."

"Oh man." Harry said. "So that's why everyone says Salazar's evil. The fact that it was Salazar junior must have got lost over time, just like the knowledge that you're more than just a building."

Hogwarts nodded. "Precisely." She agreed. "Godric's grandson and future heir was no fool. Helga and her daughters and their children were being hunted, and two of Godric's children had been killed. He knew that Salazar and his friends would not stop until both lines were dead and gone. The only way for Gryffindor's line to survive would be to go into hiding. So he arranged for his own eldest son, who would eventually inherit the Gryffindor titles and lands, to seem to die. As he had no other sons, that effectively 'killed' Gryffindor's line. What Salazar never knew was that Godric, his eldest son and grandson worked one last great piece of magic to hide their line, erasing Gryffindor from history and replacing it with Potter. Eventually, the existing Gryffindors were killed and the new Potter heir came to power, but no one realized the switch had been made."

Harry just stared for a long moment. "So ... everything about the Potters is a lie, then?"

Hogwarts shook her head. "No. The titles, lands, and power that the Potter wield are all legitimate, and originally belonged to Gryffindor. All four Founders, actually, were from so-called Ancient and Noble Houses. It took serious money and clout to open a school of my magnitude back then, even if it had just been a building, and not ... well ... me. Godric arranged everything with the knowledge and consent of the existing King at the time. The King arranged for the muggle end of things to be changed over, while Godric and his kin took care of the magical end. As far as everyone was concerned once the spell had been accomplished, Godric Gryffindor came out of nowhere, and was essentially a nobody until he teamed up with Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin to found the school. Potter, so far as everyone was concerned, was the 'Ancient and Noble House'. No one's ever figured out that they're actually one and the same thing ... despite the Potter crest being so similar to the Gryffindor one."

Harry grinned a little at that. "Hiding in plain sight."

"Exactly. But the knowledge of who they truly were was vouchsafed only to the Head of the family, and passed on by word of mouth."

"And at some point, someone died unexpectedly, and the word didn't get passed on." Harry said. "Which lost you your last hope of real companionship, until now."

Hogwarts nodded. "It did manage to save Godric's line, though, for which I'm grateful. The other three Founders' Heirs are long gone now. Ravenclaw, poor woman, her heir never married, so her line ended with Rowena's death, since she outlived her daughter. Helga's line, passing from eldest daughter to eldest daughter, hung on the longest, but even that died out eventually. The Slytherin line became victim to its own razed-earth agenda ... the attrition of so many battles wiped them out about a hundred years after Salazar junior started his little war, though a non-heir line has survived into the modern day intact. The Gryffindor Ring is the only one left in existence. The other three destroyed themselves when their lines died out."

Harry shook his head. This was a *lot* to take in. He was, in point of fact, a Gryffindor. And Hogwarts was alive and ... yeah. Whoah. "Ok, not to sound pathetic, but other than me chatting you up now and again, what does it all mean?" He wanted to know.

"It means that I am yours to command, if the need ever arises. Fawkes will heed your call, as will Shassahshah."

Harry blinked, then frowned. "Ok, that last name ... sounded suspiciously snake-like."

Hogwarts smiled. "It is. Shass, as she prefers to be called, is a basilisk. Salazar raised her and trained her to help defend the castle in times of war. Mostly, she hibernates. But if you ever need her, I can tell you where to go to summon her, since you can speak to her."

"There's a basilisk in the school." Harry said, voice flat. "Oh joy."

"She's sleeping, Heir, and will not wake unless she is summoned. There is no danger." Hogwarts insisted.

"Oh, I believe you, it's just ... basilisk!" Harry said.

Hogwarts smiled at him. "A bit much to take in all at once?"

"You could say that. So ... can you hear me anywhere?"

"Yes. Just say my name if you want to talk directly to me. I can answer you through any of the suits of armor and statues that are scattered around, or the Hat, if you happen to be in the Headmaster's office." Hogwarts told him

"Just how much does Fawkes understand? Is he a familiar?" Harry asked.

"He is quite intelligent, and no. Phoenixes cannot be familiars because they are immortal. He is, however, bound to me as companion, and has been the only one I've had to talk to for a very long time. He can understand anything you say, though responding will be trickier. He can forge a limited sort of telepathic connection with the various Headmasters ... enough to talk to them, but not enough to sense what they're thinking or feeling, but I don't know if he'd be able to do that with you, as you have Hedwig and her bond to you." Hogwarts explained.

"Fair enough. Worst comes to worst, I'll stick to yes or no answer questions ... he'd be able to get that much across." Harry said with a grin.

"Quite so."

Harry (and Hedwig) spent the rest of the afternoon in the Room, chatting with Hogwarts. It was ... interesting, to say the least. She'd seen so much! Over a thousand years of history. Even though she'd been 'asleep' for much of it, she had still been vaguely aware of what was going on, picking up on bits and pieces of gossip from Fawkes and the Hat. It took until nearly dinnertime for Harry to get Hogwarts to call him by name, rather than calling him 'Heir' all the time.

He was, understandably, more than a bit quiet at dinner, though he managed to rally enough to go over their Potions homework with Neville to ensure he'd got it right.

He'd wanted something, anything other than the Dursleys. He really, really should have heeded the saying about being careful what you wish for. This was ... well, nuts said it nicely. Still, despite the fact he was fairly sure he was headed for a funny farm at this rate, he wouldn't change things.

Chapter Text

Truth Justice and Family

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 9, 1991 Ministry

Harry might not have planned on going to the trial, but Sirius and Remus had other plans. So it was that they arrived at Hogwarts rather early in the morning. While they both still looked physically worn and a bit thin, they were both dressed with a goal in mind. Remus had forgone his usual faded, worn and patched robes for high-quality, simply cut robes in black, with the Black family crest embroidered in bronze thread over his left breast, indicating (to those who knew such things) that he was a valued Black Family 'retainer'.

Not that he'd exactly accepted wearing the crest without at least a bit of a fight, even when he knew that to be seen as a family retainer afforded him more protection and safety in the wizarding world than he'd ever had, even with Dumbledore's patronage. He and Sirius knew the truth, that he was definitely not a family servant, but it was the best way Sirius could protect his friend without getting him into the Black family proper, either as brother (it was impossible to blood-adopt adults) or brother-in-law. Besides, it gave Remus authority to make purchases, speak and act in Sirius' name, and since they were of the same mind on ... well, pretty much everything ... that was only to the good.

As for Sirius, he too was clad in black robes, though his were of a heavy brocade, and far more elaborately cut. He also bore the Black Family crest on his left breast, but his was embroidered in full color. His hair, long as tradition decreed, was tied back, and he walked with an air of quiet, easy command that put all of Lucius Malfoy's airs and swaggering to shame. He may have disagreed strenuously with his family's politics, but he'd definitely learned how to act a proper Black and play a good game, even if he'd never quite managed to learn to play the game the Slytherin way.

It was early enough that their only encounter was with Filch, who looked much less than pleased to see both men, and grouched and grumbled even as he told them what the password to the Headmaster's office was. Sirius, ever the showman, thought it was just too bad that it was so early that not much of anyone saw their entrance, but it couldn't be helped, if they meant to arrive at the Ministry on time and in the proper fashion. At least their exit would be quite visible, which would be nearly as good. Maybe even better.

They swept up the spiral staircase and marched into Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore gave them a slightly startled look.

"Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked.

"The presence of Lord Potter and his familiar is required at today's trial, Headmaster." Sirius said, his tone coolly polite. "As the primary discoverers of the accused, their testimony may be required."

Dumbledore was not a fool. Sirius' attire and his manner made it blatantly clear, without Sirius saying a word, that Sirius would have Harry for the day, whether Dumbledore wished it or no. In this case, he was not inclined to fight the request. Sirius jailed for Peter's crimes had served Dumbledore's purposes a decade ago. That he could truthfully plead ignorance of events helped. There was no such protection here, and to fight Sirius would paint himself in a very bad light.

"I see no problem with it, so long as Mr. Potter is returned to the school by curfew." Dumbledore said. "I shall inform his Head of House and teachers. I imagine you will yet find him in the Tower at this hour. The password is Caput Draconis."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Sirius said, nodding with quiet dignity before he turned and, Remus dogging his heels, swept out. Once they were well clear of the Headmaster, and most of the way to the Tower, Sirius glanced over at Remus. "You'd better fetch him, Remus. He knows you. I'll wait in the Common Room."

Remus nodded. "Right." and followed Sirius past the Fat Lady.

Seeing the Gryffindor common room again was a rather nostalgic moment for both men, but Remus didn't allow himself to linger too long. Some of the older students, a handful or so of fifth, sixth, and seventh years, were already up and studying ... or pretending to. Their entrance had not gone unremarked and both men were being gaped at by the startled Gryffindors. Sirius fought down a smirk as he watched the Gryffindors stare at them.

HPHPHP

Harry had just woken up about five minutes before when there was a knock on the door. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the door a moment before he woke up enough to think to invite whoever it was in. By the time he thought of it, the door was opening and a familiar face was peeking in.

"Remus!" Harry said, grinning widely as he hurried around his bed to greet the man. "What are you doing here?" He wanted to know. Then Remus' clothing registered. "Hey, nice duds."

Remus grinned. "I came to pick you up for the trial today." He said. He'd decided to keep Sirius' presence a surprise until the last possible moment. Thankfully they'd be a little while. "Dumbledore gave you the entire day off. Why don't you go get cleaned up, and I'll lay out some robes for you to wear."

Harry shrugged. "Ok, no problem ... just ... I make no promises as to my behavior if that ... that ... that ... " He trailed off, unable to find suitable words. "Well, if that thing comes anywhere near me or speaks to me."

"Don't worry, Harry. Everything will be fine." Remus said.

Harry took a quick shower and then headed back, still trying to pat his hair down. Remus saw him doing it and smiled. "Here, let me try something. James fought with his hair quite a bit, and I saw him doing certain things often enough that I think I've got the trick of it."

Harry was willing to try anything once if it made him look like he had anything other than bedhead. "Go for it, Remus. You can't possibly make it worse."

Remus snorted in amusement and waved his wand, muttering under his breath. After a few moments, he motioned towards a mirror. "There. Take a look."

Harry did so, and smiled. His hair was still all over the place, but now it was neater, and managed to look like it was supposed to be that way, rather than it looking like he just woke up and hadn't bothered with a comb. "Thanks, Remus. It looks loads better."

"I'll teach you the spells later." Remus told him. "For now, better get dressed." And he pointed out the robes lying on Harry's bed.

Harry turned and looked, and his eyebrows went up. The robes were (though he didn't know it) identical to Sirius', except for the Potter crest taking the place of the Black one. "Whoah. Definitely fancy duds. What's going on?"

"Just wanting to project the ... proper image." Remus said.

Harry thought about that for a minute, then nodded. "Hmmm, yeah, that's probably a good idea." He grabbed the robes and ducked to the other side of his bed (the curtains were closed and none of the other boys were awake yet) to change into them. He came back around, tugging at the cuffs a bit. "Feels weird." He said. "But then, I'm still getting used to robes in general, nevermind fancy dress robes."

Remus grinned. "Ready to get going?"

Harry nodded.

Remus made sure he was ahead of Harry on the stairs. By the time they got halfway down, they could hear several people talking, most of the voices excited or just barely restraining their excitement. Audible over them was Sirius' deeper, adult tones, though the words weren't clear. Then they were around the curve and Remus stepped aside to let Sirius and Harry be able to see each other.

Sirius, who'd been keeping an eye on the stairs to the boy's dorms, turned his full attention that way when he spotted Remus. The breath got knocked out of him when he got his first look at Harry. Remus hadn't been kidding. Harry looked so much like an eleven-year-old James!

"My god, you look so much like your father." He said quietly.

Harry had been staring right back at Sirius. There hadn't been an opportunity for pictures in his meetings with Remus, just tales, so he'd had no idea who this dark-haired, rather thin stranger was until he said that. "Sirius?" He asked, half afraid he was wrong.

Sirius grinned at him. "That would be me."

A huge grin split Harry's face in half and he hurried over, hesitating only a half-moment before giving the man a hug. "It's good to meet you, Sirius."

Sirius hugged Harry tightly. "Likewise, pup, likewise. And thank you a hundred thousand times for getting me out of there."

Harry fought back a sniffle. "You're welcome. It was the least I could do." And then his eyes went wide. "Oh! Oh, I forgot! I'll be right back." He dashed back up the stairs and then came down with the letter that had been left behind for Sirius (Remus had got his the second time they'd met up). "They left this in the vault for you." He told Sirius.

Sirius took the envelope with an almost reverent air, carefully putting it in a pocket. "I'll read it later, Harry ... I'm rather not in the right frame of mind at the moment to appreciate it." Harry couldn't blame him for that. Then it was Sirius' turn to glance around. "So where's Hedwig? And that snake I've heard so much about?"

"Hedwig spent the night in the owlery." Harry said. Ok, so it wasn't the truth. Hedwig had spent part of yesterday and last night trying to forge a communication link with Fawkes, but Harry wasn't about to mention that where anyone could hear. "But now she knows she's wanted, she can be here shortly. As for Hissesh, he's curled up under my bed asleep. You want to meet him?"

"Definitely. He helped catch that bloody damned traitor. I owe him and Hedwig both."

Harry grinned. "Be right back again."

/Hedwig, Sirius is here! He was asking about you. And Hissesh too. Window's open and I'm heading for the dorm room now to wake Hissesh./

/Be there in a moment. I think Fawkes and I have finally managed to connect. It's rudimentary, but I can get the gist of what he's trying to communicate, and if he has a connection like that with me, it ought to make forging a connection with you possible./

/That's good to hear./ Harry told her, then knelt by his bed. [[Hissesh, you awake?]]

[[Only just, Harry. What is it?]]

[[Sirius and Remus are here. Sirius wants to meet you.]]

[[Oh! More admirers.]] Hissesh did not sound at all put out. [[The more the merrier. I shall need to hunt tomorrow, though.]]

[[Not a problem. We can go after my morning class. I can grab a quick, late lunch if you run into trouble hunting.]]

Hedwig had arrived by the time he stood up, and he lifted her to his shoulder. [[All right, let's go]] He said, grateful he didn't have to say it twice, since Hedwig would hear the thought running through his mind.

The three of them headed downstairs, and the older Gryffindors greeted Hissesh happily, several of them giving him a pat or two.

"Well, that is definitely one very big snake, Harry." Sirius said, eyeballing the large python. "Don't know quite what I was picturing when Remus told me about him, but something that big definitely wasn't it. Can he understand English?"

"Yes, to a point. Simple concepts and language yes, complex stuff, not so much. He is an animal after all, and not a familiar. He just happens to be able to talk."

"Right, gotcha." Sirius said. He was still eyeballing Hissesh, though Harry could tell it was wariness and not fear. Harry didn't really blame him. If he couldn't talk to Hissesh, he'd be wary of such an enormous snake too. "At any rate, Hissesh, thank you for helping catch that ... rat-person you and Hedwig caught the other day. I told Hedwig this when she showed up right after the fun, but you two are right at the top of my list of all-time favorite creatures at this point."

"Mine as well." Remus agreed.

Hissesh managed to look enormously pleased despite the fact that snake faces weren't exactly built for expressiveness. [[Tell them they are most welcome]]

"He says you're welcome." Harry dutifully translated, then got around to the main subject. "So you're taking me to the trial?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. I don't really want to go, and neither does Remus, but it's an opportunity that can't be missed to ... well, make it plain that Lord Black is back, as is Lord Potter. Besides, they might actually call you and Hedwig as witnesses."

Harry nodded. "Should I bring Hissesh, too?"

Sirius and Remus were quiet for half a moment before they both started laughing hard enough that Remus, who'd been standing, had needed to sit down before he fell. It took them a few minutes to get themselves back under control.

"Sorry, pup ... just imagining the looks on the faces of everyone we pass with him dogging our heels, nevermind how the Wizengamot would react. I don't think they're quite ready for Hissesh." Sirius said. "I'm fairly sure a few of the older members would keel over dead of shock. They're going to need a bit more time than your schoolmates to get used to that, though you probably will be able to waltz in there with him eventually." Then, more seriously. "Besides, as you pointed out, he's not a familiar, and they'd have no guarantee he'd understand what they were on about."

"True enough. So, we're out of here, then?"

"Yeah. C'mon." Sirius said. "Oh, by the way ... you're going to be seeing me act very snooty. Trust me, it's not the 'usual' me."

"But it's what you need to act like to get your point across." Harry said, understanding.

"Yep."

"Gotcha." Harry said. It wasn't until then that he realized that Remus and Sirius had the same crest on their robes, if in different colors. He blinked. "Ummm, don't take this the wrong way, but ... since when are you a Black, Remus?"

That got both men laughing again. "I'm not, Harry. We'll explain on the way out." Remus told him.

Hedwig settled herself on Harry's shoulder as the four of them headed out of the Tower, with the (rather violent) recommendations from the Gryffindors as to what they should do to Pettigrew following in their wake. They were quiet until they'd left the school proper, at which point Sirius started talking.

"I'll be going over this with you in more detail later, Harry, since it's all stuff you'll need to learn for later, but the Wizarding world works on something remarkably close to a feudal system ... or at least, that's what Lily mentioned a few times. I've learned a few things about the Muggle world, but not enough to understand their history." He grinned over at Harry. "Binns isn't much of an enticement to get overly excited about history."

"No kidding." Harry agreed.

"Anyway, the wizarding world is pretty rank-conscious. Heads of Houses rate above everyone else, purebloods above halfbloods, and so on. With me so far?"

"Yep." Harry wrinkled his nose.

"Unfortunately." Here Remus spoke up. "So-called Dark creatures like werewolves and vampires are at the bottom of the pecking order."

"And the Ministry makes their lives hell ... even the ones that don't run around making trouble." Sirius continued. "On his own, Remus is ... well, kind of sunk. Job opportunities are nil, he could be dragged in on suspicion of a crime and killed without a trial, the list goes on. Which is where I come in. Blacks and Potters are at the top of the heap, rank-wise. We, and the people in our employ, pretty much can't be touched, on pain of some very not-nice consequences if we decide to get offended."

"So you hired him?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I did. Not without a bit of grumbling on Remus' part, since he's a wee bit sensitive about things like charity, but I'll be damned to the depths of hell if I let him run around unprotected. Anyway, the way the system works is that trusted and valued family retainers wear the family crest, done in bronze. It lets everyone know who they work for, that they have the authority to speak and act in the name of their employer, and in this case, is a big old 'hands off' sign."

Harry grinned widely. "Good!" He said.

"You'll probably see quite a few crests at the trial, in different colors. The current Head of House wears a full-color crest. Their immediate family ... parents, siblings, their spouse and children ... wear it in gold. The rest of the family wears it in silver." Sirius explained.

"Makes sense." Harry said. "And makes it clearer at a glance who's who."

"Yep. Ahhh, here we go." Sirius said coming to a stop a few feet beyond Hogwarts' gates. "We're going to apparate most of the way there. Quicker that way." He told Harry. "Fair warning, apparation takes a bit of getting used to." He held out a hand. "Need to be holding on to you to take you with me."

Harry shrugged and allowed himself to be tucked under Sirius' arm. Hedwig transferred herself to Sirius' shoulder for the ride. Seconds later, his world turned inside-out in a rather unpleasant manner. They landed in an alley somewhere, not that Harry took much notice right away, as he was busy trying to keep on his feet and keep his stomach inside his body. Once he'd gotten his equilibrium back, Sirius glanced down at him. "All right there?"

Harry nodded. "That ... will definitely take some getting used to."

/You can say that again./ Hedwig grumbled, poking Sirius none-too-gently with her beak. /Bit more of a warning next time, if you please!/ She quickly transferred to Harry's shoulder again, glowering at Sirius.

Sirius grimaced. "Ow! Hey, go easy!" He complained, then glanced over at Harry. "Yeah, yeah it will. And I take it Hedwig was no bigger a fan of it than you were?" He took a few moments to make sure both he and Harry were entirely presentable.

"Got it in one. She said next time, give us more warning."

"I'll remember to do that." Sirius promised. "All right. Game faces on, and here we go."

The three of them walked out of the alley and across the street. Sirius led them to an old phone booth, which made Harry give him an odd look. Sirius just herded him into it, and somehow the three of them actually managed to fit into something that really should only have been big enough for one person. Sirius put some coins in the slot and hit some numbers, then stated their names and why they were there. Three badges spat out of the coin-return slot, and he handed them out. Harry patted his into place on the right side of his chest, opposite the Potter crest. The telephone booth sank into the ground, and then they were in a huge room with a good dozen or so fireplaces and what seemed like half the population of wizarding Britain, all of them hustling through the main foyer in various directions.

Harry stayed half a step behind Sirius, mostly so he wouldn't get lost and could see just what Sirius was doing, for the most part. He also tried to imitate Sirius' air and way of walking, though he could tell he wasn't quite managing to pull it off. He'd need to practice that for next time.

They stopped at the security checkpoint. The guard seemed harried and bored at the same time. He passed Harry and Sirius through without a problem, but when it was Remus' turn, Harry was fairly sure they'd have a problem, because the man seemed to recognize Remus' name. He gave Remus a dirty look and opened his mouth to say something, but evidently, at that point, he spotted the crest Remus was sporting. The man's eyes went from the crest, to Remus' face, to Sirius, who was managing to exude an air of menace without, as far as Harry could tell, moving a muscle. After a moment, the guy snapped his mouth shut and passed Remus through security without comment, though he definitely looked less than pleased about it.

/If that's the way Remus gets treated, it was no small wonder he left the wizarding world!/ Harry thought to Hedwig.

/I agree./ Hedwig grumped, sounding much less than pleased herself.

/Makes me feel better that Sirius can protect him./ Harry admitted. He didn't want Remus to be in danger from idiots and bigots ... though that might be a bit redundant.

Sirius and Harry's presence was definitely causing a bit of a stir in the people hustling about. A great many speculative looks were aimed their way. There were also a number of deeply pleased looks, as well as quite a few others that Harry couldn't decipher. Then they were on the courtroom level, which was alive with people ... and reporters. Reporters that more or less went into a frenzy when they spotted Sirius and Harry.

Harry couldn't even make out anything from the initial rush of noise, as the reporters' voices overlapped. He nearly went blind when a half dozen or so flashbulbs went off. Hedwig gave a grating, angry cry, half-spreading her wings as she gave the reporters a death-glare. Sirius completely ignored them, forging a path through the herd to the courtroom doors, which slammed to behind them, without letting any of the ravening hordes into the courtroom.

The courtroom itself was huge. The room was round, and there were tiers of seats that reached halfway up the wall, capable of holding perhaps two hundred people, all told. And from the look of it, practically every seat was filled. At one point on the circle, there was what looked like a judge's podium to Harry's eyes. On either side of that structure were people wearing ... uniforms, for lack of a better word. Most of them in black, with odd-looking hats, but the line of people closest to the floor (and a rank two deep up the sides) were all wearing a pinkish-red robe (and odd-looking hat). He supposed these people were the jury, as everyone else in the room was wearing a wide variety of robe colors and styles. At the very center of the open space in the middle of the room was a huge, almost throne-like chair, with heavy chains curled around its base.

As they walked into the room, Harry got a taste of what the future would hold, because those few who'd been looking at the door when it opened reacted to their presence, and quickly nudged their neighbors. The noise-level in the room fell off for a few moments before returning, but there was no missing the looks Harry and Sirius were getting. Most of them were speculative. Some were approving. Only a small number seemed to be outright disapproving, and Harry noticed a man who had to be Malfoy Sr. (the resemblance between father and son was rather spooky) was one of the ones who was seriously not happy, as were most of the people in his immediate vicinity.

Sirius led the three of them to a spot around the circle that was straight across from the doors, with the judge's podium a quarter circle to their right. Sirius greeted the people around them by name, and most of them greeted Sirius, Harry and Remus in a friendly manner, though a few of them looked at Remus askance.

A few minutes later, the doors opened one last time to admit a single press representative and their cameraman. The doors slammed shut again and this time, everyone quieted. The judge (who turned out to be the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, and Harry found that rather odd), called for order, and then Pettigrew was brought out.

From there, the trial rather resembled Sirius' in most respects ... most of the questions were the same, though the answers were completely different. The crowd's reaction was different as well. There were a couple points when Harry wondered if Pettigrew would make it out of the courtroom alive, as people seemed to be right on the edge of hexing him into oblivion then and there. Harry was slightly surprised to discover he wasn't called as witness. But at the end of the questioning, when all his posturing had been stripped away and the Veritaserum had worn off, Pettigrew gave a vicious-sounding laugh.

"Condemn me if you want, but I've won. The Potters are dead, Remus driven from the country, and Black as mad as a hatter. The boy will be ripe for the picking when my Lord returns."

"You should." Sirius said, his voice carrying through the room. "Perhaps learn to pay attention, rat, to your surroundings. I have been told that Remus was within about fifty feet of you at the platform, I am quite sane ... and Harry will never fall to Voldemort, should he return."

Pettigrew damn near broke his own neck whipping his head to the side so he could see Sirius. The sight of the three of them sitting there made him crumple into the chair and give a high-pitched whimper of dismay. Not that it was audible, after Sirius' bold statement. Most of the room had reacted rather strongly to the mentions of Voldemort, and many had shrieked or yelped in alarm when the name was actually spoken. Harry rolled his eyes. They were so damn pathetic! Afraid of a name? How sad was that?

Pettigrew was sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss, which he was dragged off to have done right then and there. A few people trailed after, to see it done, but Sirius, who didn't want to get within a mile of Dementors if he had a choice in the matter, and didn't want to force Harry to watch something like that even if Dementors weren't a problem, headed for the exit.

Sirius was, evidently, an expert at evading the press, because they got out of there without giving anyone an interview or much more than silence and a cold, quelling look. They made it to the elevator and headed, to Harry's surprise, not back to the main level of the Ministry but another floor.

"Sirius?" He asked.

Sirius glanced down at Harry. "The guardianship papers are ready." He said. Jepson had been busy, but there had, in the end, been no need for his preparations. Dumbledore was evidently going to husband his resources for a fight he thought he could win. Sirius had been vaguely disappointed. It would have been satisfying to take the old goat down a peg or two right about now. "We just need to sign them."

Harry grinned fit to split his face in half. Oh, he'd planned to (if it had come to it) hide himself away at one of his properties come summer, but this was much, much, much better. "Brilliant!" He said.

"With a bit of luck, we'll be out of here before lunchtime." Sirius said. "And then we can have the rest of the day to talk and hang out. I figure I'll get you back to Hogwarts with just enough time to make it to the Tower before curfew since Dumbledore was kind enough to give me until then to return you."

Harry was all for that. "Sounds great."

The process with the papers was simplicity itself. Harry merely had to aver that he was agreeing to this of his own free will (a step that was necessary due to his status and age) and Sirius did likewise, and then they both signed the papers, and that was that. They headed for the main level and the fireplaces, where Harry was introduced to Floo travel (which was nearly as unpleasant as apparation), and he tumbled into the living room of Weasley Cottage.

Harry blinked when strong hands helped him to his feet, and he found himself blinking up at a man with faded ginger hair and a face quite similar to Ron's dad's, though the eyes were far sharper and more calculating. "Welcome, Mr. Potter. I'm Septimus Weasley, head of the Weasley family." He said. Behind Harry, the fire roared as Sirius and Remus arrived. "And this is my wife, Cedrella." He indicated a dark-haired woman standing a bit back from the fireplace that Harry hadn't noticed.

"Ummm. Hi." Harry said, feeling a bit shy. "And, ummm, call me Harry, please?"

Cedrella smiled. "Of course, Harry. And you have our gratitude for finding that ... " She made a face, clearly reluctant to say something rude. "As do you, Hedwig." She said, nodding slightly to Hedwig, who'd been staying quiet most of the morning.

Hedwig bobbed her head at Cedrella. /My pleasure, trust me. Foul creature. Bah!/

Harry snickered. "She says it was her pleasure. Quite frankly, Pettigrew was lucky to get out of the dorm room alive that night. Both Hedwig and Hissesh were more than slightly inclined to just eat him and have done."

That made the others grin and grimace at the same time. "It's just as well they didn't eat him. He'd likely have given them terrible indigestion." Cedrella commented. "Now, I've laid out tea in the kitchen, and Septimus and I have some things to do in town, so you'll have the house to yourselves for a few hours. You three've got quite a bit to get caught up on."

Harry winced. "You don't ... I mean, it's your house ... " He started, only to have Cedrella smile at him.

"It's quite all right, Harry. I'd do no less for family, and we really do have things we need to do today, so it's hardly an imposition."

Harry relaxed somewhat, though he was still rather unused to the whole 'people looking out for him' thing. He liked it, but it was taking some getting used to.

Septimus and Cedrella left, and Remus, Sirius, and Harry headed for the kitchen and lunch. "Guys, there's something I want to tell you." Harry said, which got their attention.

Harry told them about Hogwarts, and Fawkes, and Shass. He didn't say a word about him actually being a Gryffindor, though that had nothing to do with not trusting them. He was still trying to come to terms with that bit himself. Once he'd got his head wrapped around it, he'd tell Sirius and Remus.

The news thrilled both men, who were grinning like fiends. "My god, Harry. Clearly, the castle likes you if it started talking to you. This could be huge. Beyond huge!" Sirius said with a grin. "I really wish I could see the old goat's face when he finds out his little kingdom isn't really his."

Remus snorted and shook his head at Sirius. "It will make things a lot easier if Voldemort returns." He pointed out. "If the castle is self-aware and willing to help coordinate a defense ... nevermind the shock value of having a basilisk on our side." Then he looked over at Harry. "Have you talked to Shass?"

"No. Hogwarts said she was hibernating, and wouldn't wake until she was summoned. Didn't actually tell me where the entrance to Shass' ... room? ... whatever you want to call it ... is at, but said she would if the need arose. I got the impression that Shass is very much a last-ditch resort."

"She would be." Remus agreed, and Sirius nodded as well. "Given that anyone that claps eyes on her would die instantly. Not a weapon you want to wield unless things are really dire."

"And if you can sweet-talk Fawkes into helping ... " Sirius continued. "That'll have a heck of an impact as well."

"Hedwig's already been talking to him. She says she managed to forge a limited communication bond with him, which ought to make it possible for me to do so as well. I'll worry about that later, though ... maybe come back a couple days early from Christmas break or something." Harry said, reaching up to stroke Hedwig.

/Harry ... your mail./

"Oh! Hedwig just reminded me about the mail, Remus. She can lead you to it."

"I'd forgotten about that." Remus admitted. "With everything else. Has she still been needing to divert things?"

/Yes./ There was no missing Hedwig's ire, as she hissed and clacked her beak.

"I'll take that for a yes. We're going to have to figure out what Dumbledore did and undo it. I'll poke around and see what I can find out." Remus told them.

"Ok, so ... get friendly with Fawkes, get Harry's mail under his control, Jepson is building an iron-clad case against Crouch for me, since Bagnold, may she rot in hell, died a few years back. Am I missing anything?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Not that I can think of offhand." Remus said after a moment. "We'll want to get Harry started on some advanced studies, but that can wait until at least the new year, possibly until summer, so that he's got a few basics under his belt before we start throwing the advanced stuff at him."

"Gee thanks, Remus. So kind of you." Harry teased.

"Unless you don't want to be an Animagus, of course ... " Sirius trailed off, grinning broadly.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I want! But I thought I'd have to be older?"

"Nah, not necessarily. We didn't start until third year because it took us that long to stumble onto a solution to the whole 'wanting to support our friend' problem, and then we had to dig up every bit of information we got on our own. We can get you started early, and it won't be as drawn out, since I'm around to teach you." Sirius started ticking off things on his fingers. "Then there's all the hooplah that goes with being a Potter, you know, learning etiquette and protocol and how to act a proper, snobbish pureblood, even when you're anything but, and teaching you how to manage your estate and finances ... which reminds me, I'm going to have to steal you for a weekend, soon ... maybe the weekend after Halloween ... to open Potter Castle." His expression went serious. "And bring you to Godric Hollow Cemetery."

Harry didn't need an explanation to know what a cemetery meant ... the place his parents had been laid to rest, clearly. "Zartank mentioned the castle. I'll admit I can't really wrap my mind around owning one."

Sirius snickered. "It's a great place, Harry. All three of us." No need to clarify that one. "Lived there summer after sixth year, when I left home, and even before that, we spent most of the summer there. It's a big old place, but built with defense in mind."

"Why didn't my parents ... "

Sirius sighed. "Because Death Eaters had gotten in by floo during a party and trashed the place just a couple months before your mom and dad went into hiding. They killed something like a dozen people that night, including your grandparents. The place was repaired, but James wasn't as confident in the castle's security as he had been, and opted for somewhere else, and the Fidelius." Sirius sighed. "I still haven't figured out how they got in. It never happened before that, or after, yet there were a number of parties with identical security measures when the Death Eaters were about."

"It always bothered me, too." Remus said. "Given everything that followed ... " He shrugged. "I have since wondered if Dumbledore didn't arrange that, somehow. James trusted him, and he had the magical power and knowhow to ... arrange matters. And he knew about the prophecy for a while before he told Lily and Alice about it."

Sirius was looking less than pleased. "As much as I wish I could disagree with that ... I don't think I can." He said with a sigh. "I don't know what Dumbledore's up to, but it's quite evident he's up to something, and has been for a long time."

Harry thought of another question. "Oh, hey, Sirius ... another question. What's the deal with the signet rings? Zartank mentioned something about you not having betrayed your family, and the ring accepting people, or killing them if it doesn't like them?"

"Ahhh, yes, I should tell you about that." Sirius said. "Our signet rings are rather different than others ... for most, it's just a ring with the family crest on it. But for Ancient and Noble families, which means us, since we're the only ones left, there's a lot more to it. Because of the power we wield in the wizarding world, it was necessary to make sure that the Head was ... at least marginally decent. Marginally. Very marginally." Sirius made a face, clearly contemplating the Heads of his own family. "Basically, an Heir or Head cannot break a vow given to family, or kill a family member in cold blood. If they do ... in the case of an Heir, the ring will refuse to go on their finger, and if they try to force the issue, it drains their magic, which tends to kill them. If a Head does that after the ring accepts them, it drains them of magic and then leaves them and appears at Gringotts, to wait to be claimed by the Heir. As protection against thieves and frauds, the rings will also strip the magic out of anyone dumb enough to try to put them on that doesn't have a right to them, which stops people trying to kill the bearer and/or steal them ... not that many have tried that, since they go to Gringotts, but there was at least one attempt, way back when, on one of the rings, when there was more than just Blacks and Potters who had them. Can't remember the details offhand, but the goblins were right irked about the whole mess."

Harry whistled. "Sounds pretty serious."

Sirius nodded. "It is, pup, it is. Because we're who we are, we can pretty much take over the government, if it comes down to that. Well, now we can ... the remaining Ancient and Noble Houses have to be in unanimous agreement that the existing Ministry has gone way beyond the bounds of legality and suchlike ... there's actually a ritual to invoke, and if we're trying to do it just to be shits, we get the shaft but good. No idea how, since it's never been invoked, despite the provision being there. Up until your dad and me, Blacks and Potters have always been on opposite sides of the political fence, so there was no way the Heads would ever have agreed on anything anyway. So the original folks who made the rings tried to do what they could to ensure that the people wearing the rings were at least marginally human, in that they cared for their own. Dunno that they could have done anything more than that, really, given they were trying to make the rings for all time, and way too much other stuff could and has changed over the years."

Harry could see where that could happen. Politics, blood status, and pretty much anything else Harry could think of could change enough to kill the people wearing the Ancient and Noble rings if they had been included in the 'break these provisions and die' list. And tying them to laws, when, apparently, they had the ability to whap the Ministry on the nose like a disobedient puppy if they went too far was entirely useless and stupid.

After that, conversation turned to far more pleasant things, and Harry was kept in stitches as Remus and Sirius told stories and bantered back and forth between themselves about various things. Eventually, Septimus and Cedrella returned, and everyone enjoyed a great dinner, before Harry finally had to return to Hogwarts. If anyone spotted Sirius patting the main doors like you would a friend's shoulder, no one said anything.

Well, except for Hogwarts herself. Startled at the recognition from a source other than Harry, she didn't manage to respond until Sirius was at the gate, at which point one of the statues guarding the gate turned slightly and looked down at him, not saying a word, but nodding and somehow, despite being made of stone, managing to look quite pleased.

Chapter Text

Flying High

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 10-13, 1991

The next morning, Sirius and Remus had made their way to Hogsmeade bright and early, since that was the closest apparation point to where they were eventually going to go that both men knew. They'd brought a good number of boxes and bags to put things into, all shrunken down in their pockets. They'd only barely arrived when Hedwig's distinctive form became visible as she arrowed over the village. She chattered at them as she backwinged and landed neatly on Sirius' outstretched arm. She nibbled at him gently, then at Remus when he reached over to give her a stroke, then took off again and headed towards the cave where she'd stashed Harry's mail.

It took the trio the best part of the morning to get where they were going, as it was a good hike away from both the village and Hogwarts, but eventually they reached their destination. Hedwig landed just outside the cave, a tall but fairly narrow (relatively speaking) crack in the rock that she had to tilt sideways a bit to get into without clipping her wings on the rock.

The narrow opening, however, quickly broadened into an irregularly-shaped chamber that was roughly ten feet wide at its widest, about fifteen feet deep, and over twenty feet tall.

And within that space, piled chest-high to Sirius and covering almost the entire interior of the cave, were hundreds, if not thousands of letters and packages. A few near the entrance had clearly suffered from animal depredations and the weather, though thankfully the cave was situated in such a way that only rain or snow that got blown in at a steep angle could reach the piled mail. Hedwig's constant trips in and out had also kept the smaller vermin to a minimum, wary of getting eaten.

"Sweet Merlin. This is worse than I thought." Sirius sputtered, staring in disbelief at the pile.

"That makes two of us. I hope we have enough containers." Remus said. "Makes me wonder what Dumbledore had intended to do with all this? Burn it? He's not mentioned the few bits of mail he did get to Harry."

"I have no idea. We better check as we go, leave anything malicious here and just burn it when we go." Sirius recommended.

"Sounds like a good plan, Paddy. Let's get cracking."

The two men worked in tandem, floating letters and packages into boxes and scanning them. Remarkably few got set aside to be destroyed, all things considered, which made both men curious.

"Well, maybe Hedwig let those ones through on purpose?" Sirius asked. "If so, I gotta hand it to her, she's got style."

Remus chuckled as they finally got the last of it into the last bag. "There. That's got it. We can go through it all and help Harry decide what to do with it all later."

Since there was no need to hike back to Hogsmeade in order to apparate, they both stepped outside the cave long enough to thank Hedwig (and to realize it was after dark) and headed for the Weasley Cottage with their cargo.

HPHPHP

Tuesday morning, Harry discovered he'd missed an announcement the day before thanks to going to the trial and getting to hang out with Sirius and Remus. This turned out to be something of a bad thing, because both Neville and Hermione were fretting badly, because the announcement had been about flying classes beginning on Thursday. Hermione had evidently spent much of the day reading any and every book about flying she could get her hands on, and had quoted large sections of them to Neville. Neville was pale-faced and terrified, and had listened to Hermione's quotations with grim attention, clearly hoping to pick up enough to manage.

Most of the rest of the school, on the other hand, was boasting their butts off. Malfoy in particular, Harry discovered, as he was treated to at least three different tales about Draco's flying antics, which always seemed to end with him barely evading a helicopter.

"As if he even knows what a helicopter is!" Hermione scoffed. "With the way he is about Muggles! I'll bet he's never flown at all."

Harry snickered. "I want to know where he heard the word from at all, nevermind often enough to be able to pronounce it correctly." He said. Considering that many of the pureblood students had trouble with words like electricity, it was a fair question. "I wouldn't go as far as saying he's never flown, though. He probably has flown, but is just trying to make himself look better than he is, the pathetic git." Then he looked at both Hermione and Neville. "And you two need to relax, honestly. Getting all tense about it's not going to help."

Of course, that was rather the pot calling the kettle black, as Harry was more than a touch nervous himself over the next few days. Oh, he'd seemed to do well enough in classes so far, but really, they'd mostly only been talking, taking notes, and been assigned readings thus far. Hardly surprising given it was the first week of school. Still, it didn't help his confidence any.

/You need to relax, Harry./ Hedwig told him Thursday morning, deliberately parroting his frequently-repeated comment to Hermione and Neville. /You'll do splendidly./

Harry grinned as he settled at the breakfast table and stroked Hedwig's breast feathers.

"Hedwig giving you what-for?" Hermione asked, with a knowing, commiserating look. "Crookshanks has been having at me since the notice went up yesterday morning, trying to get me to calm down." She reached over to scratch behind the big cat's ears, earning herself a rumbling purr.

"Something like that." Harry agreed. "Really, I don't know what I'd do without her."

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Oh, I know. I have no idea what I'd do without Crookshanks."

Hedwig looked entirely too pleased with that comment, and preened Harry's hair affectionately, while Crookshanks just looked insufferably smug and purred hard enough to be mistaken for a motorcycle motor. A few moments later, the mail owls arrived, swooping through the Hall and delivering their letters and packages. Malfoy gave a gloating sneer in the direction of the Gryffindor table as he accepted a box of goodies from an absolutely enormous eagle owl. This had become something of a daily event, as Malfoy got packages just about every day, and made a point of gloating about it. Evidently, he thought it particularly pathetic that Harry wasn't receiving candy by the gross, or something. Malfoy's owl was the first owl Harry'd seen that was bigger than Hedwig, and the only one of that species that had visited Hogwarts so far.

Harry's attention was pulled away from Draco when a tawny owl landed in front of Neville, a small package tied to its leg. Neville removed it, and set it aside for the moment to finish eating before opening it. He passed the owl a bit of bacon which it accepted before flying off.

Harry glanced over at Hermione and frowned slightly, realizing that since Hermione didn't have an owl, she had no way of contacting her parents. /Hedwig ... would you be willing to carry mail for Hermione?/

/Of course! She really shouldn't be cut off from her parents all year./ Hedwig agreed.

"Hey, Hermione ... if you want to send a letter to your folks, Hedwig's willing to take it to them." Harry told her.

Hermione brightened marginally. "Really? Thanks, Hedwig. I appreciate it. I'll probably write them later this week, then."

They finished breakfast (Hedwig chided Harry into eating despite his nerves), and Neville finally opened the box he'd gotten from his grandmother. It turned out to be an odd little ball with gray smoke inside.

"It's a remembrall." Neville said, and Harry thought he heard an odd note in Neville's voice.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"It's something that lets you know if you've forgotten something when you hold it. If you have, the smoke inside turns ... " Neville cut off as the smoke turned red. " ... red." He sighed. "Only problem is, it doesn't tell you what you've forgotten."

Before Harry could think to reply, a pale hand reached past him and snatched the remembrall from Neville's loose grip, earning itself an irritated chatter from Hedwig, who was still perched on Harry's shoulder (though, luckily for the hand's owner, the shoulder on the far side of Nevile). "Hah! A remembrall! Need help remembering to breathe, Longbottom?" Draco drawled.

Harry glared at him. "Give that back, Malfoy." He demanded. Hedwig gave another irritated chatter, and snapped her beak at him.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but before he got a chance to reply, McGonagall swooped down on them from out of nowhere.

"What is going on here?" She demanded, her voice sharp and irritated.

"Malfoy took Neville's remembrall." Harry told her, not taking his eyes off Draco. He didn't quite trust the boy. Hedwig, for her part, was trying to glare a hole in Draco. /He's quite the prat/ She agreed.

"Mr. Malfoy, return Mr. Longbottom's property at once." McGonagall demanded.

"I just wanted to look at it." Draco protested, handing it over somewhat reluctantly.

"Looking, Mr. Malfoy, does not require one's hands." McGonagall pointed out with some asperity. "Now, unless you have legitimate business at the Gryffindor table I suggest you return to your fellow Slytherins."

Draco sneered, but retreated. McGonagall glanced at the five of them (counting Hedwig and Crookshanks). "Mr. Longbottom, I recommend running that up to the Tower if you've time before your first class, so as to avoid further issues."

Neville shook his head. "I'd like to, but I don't think I've got time enough to get from here to the Tower and out to the grounds before flying class starts." He tucked the ball into an inner pocket.

"Well, be sure to inform me if Mr. Malfoy mistakes grabbing for looking again." McGonagall told him, then headed back towards the Head table.

Harry gave a relieved whoosh of breath once she was gone. "What is Malfoy's problem? I mean, really? Is he so poor he can't afford something like that remember all? Or his dad's such a skinflint it's not worth the trouble of asking? He's such a prat."

Neville and Hermione clearly agreed, though neither of them seemed inclined to actually say it. The five of them headed for the grounds for their flying lesson in relative peace. Hedwig removed herself to a convenient bit of rock to watch the lesson, and Crookshanks curled up nearby, watching them with sleepy eyes. Harry and company found a bunch of brooms laying on the ground in two lines. Harry immediately headed for one line, and Neville and Hermione took brooms to either side of him. Harry glanced down at the brooms and frowned. All of them were in fairly sorry shape, and Harry'd heard the twins (and others) complaining about the school brooms.

"Are they supposed to be this raggedy-looking?" He asked.

Neville grimaced. "Not really." He said. "These look pretty old."

The rest of the first year Gryffindors arrived then, dogged by the Slytherins. There was a bit of a scramble for brooms, before Madam Hooch finally arrived. She told them to hold their hands over the brooms and say 'up. Harry was delighted when his broom responded instantly, one of only two or three that did.

/Told you you'd do well./ Hedwig told him. /You'll be a natural at this. Remember, you've got me to help you if nothing else!/

Harry gave a mental laugh. /Somehow, Hedwig, I think flying a broom is vastly different from flying with wings./ He pointed out.

/True, but you'll have an affinity for flying, no matter the form it takes. Remember I told you that you'd likely have a winged animagus form, because of the bond with me? This sort of thing falls under the same rules./

/Oh! Well then!/

To Harry's chagrin, Malfoy's broom was one of the other ones that responded instantly. Hermione and Neville were having no luck, unfortunately. Hermione's broom was rolling around on the ground almost like it was laughing at her, while Neville's steadfastly refused to so much as twitch. Many of the others were having similar problems. Harry wondered, not a little, if the brooms could sense fear, like animals could, since both Hermione and Neville sounded like they'd much rather not experience this part of wizarding travel, thank you kindly.

"Breathe, guys." Harry said quietly. "Calm down. Being all nervous isn't going to help."

Hermione managed it first, actually closing her eyes for a second as she tried to calm herself down. The next time she said 'up', the broom responded, if somewhat reluctantly. It took another minute or so for Neville to get it. He was one of the last ones. Hooch then gave them their directions.

It took less than ten seconds after she finished talking for things to go bad. She hadn't even blown her whistle yet. Neville, astride his broom like the rest of them, abruptly took off. Hooch yelled at him, but within seconds, it became very clear that whatever was going on, it was none of Neville's doing ... the broom was going every which way, thrashing around like a horse trying to rid itself of an unwanted rider.

Harry didn't even stop to think. Already astride his own broom, he kicked off and took off after Neville, so concentrated on trying to help his friend that it barely even registered just how easy flying was, or that Hedwig had launched herself as well, trying to assist him. Harry flattened himself to the broom handle and tried to catch up to the jinking, flailing broom Neville was dangerously close to being thrown from, following its every twist, turn, and jerk.

The three of them raced around, swooping around one of Hogwarts' towers, scraping under an overhang with less than an inch to spare, and avoiding crashing into a wall by a whisker. Harry realized that while he was scared out of his mind, and unable to control the broom, Neville was somehow managing to force it away from things at the last moment, just enough to keep himself in one piece. Unfortunately, there was no way to know how long Neville would manage that successfully.

Hedwig caught up to the broom first, and landed on the handle in front of Neville, wings flared wide as she tried to use her weight and wingstrength to keep the broom on a more even keel, to little effect. Finally, Harry managed to catch up, and clamped a hand on the bristles of Neville's broom. The broom gave an almighty wrench, trying to rip free of Harry's grip, but he hung on doggedly, refusing to turn loose. The broom fought being caught, trying to drag them both into a nearby wall, but Harry instinctively shifted his weight on his own broom, and they curved away from the castle in an almost elegant arc, despite the rogue broom's struggles. Neville gave Harry a wide-eyed, grateful look, but did not loosen his death-grip an iota, nor did he waste air and energy on talking.

Getting down was a lot trickier than going up, Harry discovered, as the rogue broom fought them every inch of the way, trying to wrench free of his grasp and take off again. Somehow, Harry managed to force the thing close enough to the ground for Neville to slide off and drop to the ground without hurting himself. Hooch, her face ghost-white, hustled up and grabbed the broomstick.

"I've got it now, Mr. Potter." She told him, though it was clear that even she was having to keep a strong grip on the broom, as it fought her.

Harry let out a relieved breath and dropped the last foot or two needed to get his feet on the ground and dismounted. Hedwig, looking a little frazzled, joined him, preening his hair. /Whew. That was entirely too close./

/You can say that again, Hedwig!/ Harry told her.

He and Neville were almost instantly surrounded by the rest of the Gryffindors, who alternated between asking what had happened, reassuring themselves that Harry and Neville had taken no hurt, and congratulating Harry and Hedwig on a spectacular save. The Slytherins, thanks be, were staying out of it, which mercy Harry was grateful for. Harry's hand was a raw, scratched and strained from the hard grip he'd had on the bristles, and Neville was still ghost-pale and shaky, but other than that, they'd both come out of the misadventure unharmed.

Hooch called a halt to the day's lesson after that, muttering irritatedly under her breath. Harry didn't catch all of it, but he did catch " ... take a kid getting killed to replace ... " Then, more loudly. "Mr. Potter, you and Mr. Longbottom report to the Infirmary. I imagine both of you could use a bit of a calming draught, if nothing else."

"Thanks for that, Harry." Neville said once things had calmed down somewhat, as they made their way to the infirmary. Despite distinctly watery knees, he was managing to walk to the infirmary under his own power.

"No problem." Harry told him.

"I was so worried! I wonder what happened?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Looked like the broom just went nuts to me." Harry said.

"That tends to happen, with old brooms." Harry blinked, as the comment had come, not from Neville or Hermione, but from Ron. He hadn't even realized Ron'd followed them towards the infirmary.

"Really?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, especially if they're not well-taken-care-of. The bristles get messed up, the stick starts getting cracks, and then the charms start going wonky."

It marked the first time since the discovery of Pettigrew that Ron had actually spoken to Harry ... or much of anyone else, for that matter. Harry nodded at him. "That makes sense ... but why would they have brooms in such bad condition set out for a flying class, if they could go nuts like that with no notice?"

"Dunno, but Hooch didn't sound too happy, did she?" Ron pointed out. "Maybe they've been stalling getting new ones or something?"

/Flying with wings is so much better/ Hedwig couldn't quite resist commenting.

It was a reasonable explanation, Harry decided. "Entirely possible." He said, ignoring Hedwig's comment, though she probably picked up on his amusement. Then, with a sideways look. "You ok?"

Ron didn't try to pretend he didn't understand where the question came from. "Yeah, mostly. I guess, anyway. Still more than slightly creepy, you know?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I can definitely understand that." He agreed.

"I just ... kinda wanted to apologize. I was more than a bit of a prat, that first day." Ron said. "Mum and Dad are always at me to not judge everybody by one person." He shrugged. "Guess I finally figured out what they were on about."

Harry shook his head. "It's all right. I mean, I may not have grown up with all this stuff, but I've heard about the whole 'parseltongue and bad wizards tend to go together' thing. If there hasn't been a good wizard with that ability in a while, I can understand people getting jittery."

Ron looked pleased, and soon sloped off to their next class. Harry and Neville made it to the infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey patched Harry's hand up as good as new in seconds. Neville, though, ended up staying for a while, as he really had needed a calming draught, and Madam Pomfrey didn't want him running around with that in his system. Harry and Hermione promised to take plenty of notes and let Neville know what the assignment was.

Of course, that couldn't possibly be the end of the day, oh no. Malfoy had to try something yet again, at dinner.

It started simply enough. Ron had sat closer to Harry and Hermione (Neville was still in the Infirmary) than he usually did. He wasn't exactly talking to them, but considering he'd gone very quiet since the Pettigrew incident, Harry wasn't taking that at all personally. At any rate, they'd eaten dinner in a companionable silence, until Draco swaggered over.

"Think you're something special, do you, Potter, saving that pathetic squib?" He sneered.

Harry glared, and Hedwig snapped at Draco, who (unfortunately) was staying well out of biting range. "Neville's not a squib, you idiot. If he was a squib, he wouldn't be a student here." Harry growled.

"He's as good as! He's completely pathetic." Draco sneered.

"Take that back." Harry growled.

Draco sneered. "He's utterly pathetic and a waste of space, Potter." He repeated. "A five year old could beat him up."

Harry fought down a growl. "You're a right foul prat, Malfoy, and one of these days you're going to get yours." He snapped.

Malfoy laughed. "And who do you think's going to give it to me, you?"

"Yeah, I think I could!" Harry growled, severely tempted to punch Malfoy in the nose.

/Harry, I think he's trying to set you up for something/

/You're probably right, the evil git. Well, I can let him think he's going to get what he wants./

"Prove it. Wizard's duel ... if you even know what that is!" Draco sneered. "Tonight at midnight in the trophy room. No contact."

/Oh yeah, definitely setting me up for something./ Harry agreed with Hedwig. Before he could say anything, Ron appeared at his elbow.

"I'm his second, who's yours?" He demanded.

Hermione squawked in dismay.

Draco glanced at his two bodyguards, then pointed at Goyle. "Goyle." Then, without another word, he stalked off.

Hermione instantly began to object. "Harry, you can't ... !"

"I don't intend to!" Harry told her. "The trophy room? That's someplace anyone can walk into, even that late at night ... and it's only got the one door, too. He's trying to get me into trouble. I'll bet you any amount of money he never shows tonight, but Filch or Snape does. I'm not about to go. Besides, I've got nothing to prove to that git."

Ron looked more than a little appalled at not going to the duel, but after a bit, he calmed down. "That does sound like something he'd do." He agreed.

Hermione looked deeply relieved, and petted Crookshanks. "Thank goodness. I really didn't want to think about what could have happened otherwise."

Harry snorted. "I won't deny wanting, very badly, to punch the git in the nose, but I'm not about to do something that stupid. C'mon, we've got class. We better get going."

HPHPHP

Severus had spent the second week of school both watching Harry (again) and stalking Quirrell, making the man as nervous as possible. The Cerberus hound (Severus refused to call it by its given name) was in place and, thankfully, an intimidating enough first line of defense for the stone, but Severus was no fool. Something was up with Quirrell, and it really didn't take any great amount of intelligence to realize he wanted the stone. The more nervous the man was, and the more concentrated he was on Severus, the less time he had to plan a way around the existing safeguards. Severus, for his part, had every intention of playing very dirty with his own trap, given the way things had begun to shake out. What Dumbledore never knew, wouldn't hurt him.

Insofar as Harry was concerned, Severus had more or less made his decision even before the boy left the letter on his desk. The letter had just hardened his resolve. He'd never truly been Dumbledore's man, despite what the ancient old goat thought, but he most assuredly was not Voldemort's man either. Knowing what he did of things, Harry would be the one to defeat Voldemort (if for no other reason than Voldemort would not leave the boy alone), and might just take Dumbledore down in the process. Now he just had to convey that message to the boy.

Fortunately, it was now Friday, and the Gryffindor/Slytherin double class, which was bound to provide some opportunity to give the boy a detention. Severus regretted that necessity, but it was the only way he'd be able to speak to the boy without arousing suspicion from any quarter.

Harry's morning, beyond being able to smirk at Draco, started on the best possible footing. McGonagall pulled him aside before breakfast and asked him to meet her on the Quidditch pitch after classes.

"Madam Hooch was quite complimentary as to your flying skills, Harry, and to be frank, we've no one with the skills needed to be Seeker. If you can follow the Snitch half as well as Madam Hooch claims you can fly, the Gryffindor team ought to do well."

The thought of the look on Draco's face if he managed to get on the team may have made Harry's amused smirks just that bit more ... amused ... during breakfast.

"Lookit him." Ron crowed quietly around a mouthful of food. "He's almost as green as the Slytherin banners!"

Harry grinned over at Ron. "Wonderful, isn't it?" He said. "Really glad we didn't go running around last night. Wonder what he'd set up?"

"Probably sent Mr. Filch after you." Hermione guessed. "Or maybe Professor Snape. But more likely Filch."

Harry thought that one over a moment and nodded. "Filch'd be a lot more likely to swallow his line. Snape doesn't strike me as stupid, you know?"

They trooped down to the Potions classroom. This time, Hermione sat with Ron, while Harry stayed with Neville. The class went well enough until they got about midway through brewing that day's potion, when Malfoy somehow managed to flick something ... Harry wasn't sure what ... into Harry and Neville's cauldron, which pretty much instantly started pouring a noxious green smoke. Harry grabbed Neville's collar and hauled the both of them away from the cauldron, half expecting the thing to blow up, and deeply thankful when it didn't. A few seconds later, Snape was there, wand waving as he banished the smoke ... and their potion.

And then he started verbally raking them over the coals. But like in the first and second lessons, Snape's body language and the expression in his eyes wasn't quite matching up to the words and tone coming out of his mouth. And the stuff he was saying! It was almost as if ...

And then the light turned on in Harry's head. Snape was bad-mouthing both their parents in a way that, in the first few moments, had Harry biting his tongue bloody to keep from snapping back. But Snape was going after that rather sore spot as if he wanted nothing more than to get Harry (and Neville, if he could manage it) into detention. If it hadn't been for the letter, or Harry's ability to pick up on body language, he might have assumed Snape was being a ... well, something unprintable. But with those factors, Harry suspected Snape wanted to talk privately.

So he finally cut loose, verbally snarling back, gently elbowing Neville as he did, trying to get him to join in. Given how white-faced Neville had been and how quiet he was normally, Harry hadn't expected him to join in, but Neville evidently took heart from Harry's verbal rampage because after the second sentence, he chimed in with something a lot quieter but no less angry. Two sentences after that, they were both given detention ... and the faintest of nods and pleased looks.

Of course, once they were out of class, the four of them huddled up. "What was going on, Harry?" Hermione wanted to know.

Harry was momentarily distracted as Hedwig swooped in and landed on his arm, then walked up to his shoulder to preen his hair.

"Snape's what's up. I got the distinct impression he wanted to see me or something." Harry told her.

"And he couldn't just ask?"

"With Malfoy right there?" Ron sputtered. "His da's a big supporter of you-know-who. I expect if Snape was being all chummy with Harry, Draco'd squeal. After all, Slytherins're supposed to be on that git's side, right?"

"He nodded, after he gave us detention." Neville offered quietly.

"I wonder what's going on." Hermione mused.

Harry wasn't about to tell her about the letter. That was probably something Snape wouldn't want known by too many people. Hmmm. Speaking of things that needed to be known ... /Hedwig, should I tell them?/

/About Hogwarts, definitely. The rest ... no. The fewer people that know, the better, until it becomes necessary for them to know. The Headmaster could get it out of them./ She advised.

Harry agreed with that thought. "Hey, guys? Meet me in the common room tonight, after everyone's asleep. There's something I want to tell you guys." He wouldn't have time before then, not with heading for the quidditch pitch and then detention.

The other three nodded and then they headed for their next class.

HPHPHP

Quidditch, it turned out, was going to be a lot of fun. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team captain, was nearly in teaqrs of joy within ten minutes, and that was just from Harry soaring around the pitch having fun, Hedwig flying alongside. When Wood and McGonagall both started chucking walnut-sized balls for him to catch ... and he caught every one ... Wood really did break down in tears of glee.

"It's in the bag! I've never seen the like. Even Charlie didn't do this well!" He crowed. "We've got to get him a decent broom, though, Professor. Something better than these broken down things." He nudged the school broom Harry had borrowed disdainfully.

"Indeed, something needs to be done about the brooms in general. I'll come up with something, Mr. Wood." McGonagall agreed, then smiled at Harry. "Your father would be over the moons, Mr. Potter. He was quite the quidditch fan himself, and a more than able chaser."

Tales of his father's quidditch playing hadn't been brought up yet (there'd been entirely too much else to talk about), so Harry was both surprised and very pleased to hear about that. Harry and Hedwig left them to their plotting and planning and headed for the dungeons. For once, Hedwig would be going with Harry. He figured it might be a good idea to introduce her to Snape ... they'd be able to communicate more openly via notes sent with her, after all. Or Snape talking to her, since she could relay verbal messages.

Neville met him partway there, coming from the direction of the Tower, and they headed to Snape's office in silence. Neville was sort of hunched in on himself, like he was expecting trouble. Harry gently bumped shoulders with him and grinned at him, trying to reassure him. Again, Neville seemed to take heart from that and managed to look a bit more confident. At least until they walked into Snape's office.

Snape was waiting for them, parchments on his desk but untouched. The moment they were through the door, he flicked his wand and the door slammed shut. A few more waves, and then Snape eyed both boys.

"First, gentlemen, I wish to express my ... dissatisfaction ... with being forced to use the methods I have in order to speak with you." Snape growled. "Secondly, Mr. Longbottom, it is clear that you are having difficulties with brewing ... I have noticed that Mr. Potter seems to do the bulk of the brewing work. In order to assist you with this, you will be spending a few hours a week with me. I have arranged with Professor Sprout that she will ... encourage ... you to participate in after-school Herbology work, and while this will indeed be true, as she tells me you have a gift for the subject, part of that time will actually be spent with me, here."

Neville looked torn between being horrified at spending time solo with Snape, pleased that he'd be getting help, and ashamed that he needed it. "I dunno that it'll do much ... " He started.

Before Harry could leap in to say something, Snape beat him to it. "Nonsense, boy. There's nothing wrong with you that a bit more confidence won't cure. Private lessons will assist towards that goal."

Neville blushed a bit, and stared at his toes, but didn't argue.

Snape pulled Neville aside and got him started on practicing the different kinds of cuts needed for potions ingredients, leaving exemplars of each type so Neville knew what his was supposed to look like.

Once Neville was absorbed in his task, Snape came back over to talk quietly with Harry.

"The letter was ... appreciated." He said quietly, meaning every word of it. That Lily had still, somehow, thought well of him meant the world. Snape eyed the boy as he leaned back in his chair. "You've accomplished quite a bit since receiving your letter, Mr. Potter."

Harry couldn't quite restrain a grin. "Tell me about it." He said, then sighed. "I wish I hadn't had to, though."

"Indeed. The Headmaster ... " Snape hesitated.

"Has been doing a lot of odd stuff." Harry finished. "Like intercepting my letters. Or trying to, anyway." Harry gave Hedwig a smugly pleased look.

"Intercepting ... " Snape started, then one eyebrow went up when he saw the look Harry was giving Hedwig. "Ahhh, I see. She has been championing your cause, then."

Hedwig bobbed her head. /Since your parents died, Harry./

"She says she has been since my parents died."

Snape's eyebrow headed for his hairline again. "That long?"

/I knew you were my wizard from the time you were a year old, a few months before your parents died. I had planned on bonding to you when you turned five./ Hedwig said. /When I couldn't reach you ... well ... keeping your mail out of his hands was the best I could do./

Harry repeated her comment to Snape, who looked faintly awed. "You did better than you know, Hedwig. The Headmaster is still mystified as to the lack of mail for Mr. Potter."

"You knew about that?" Harry asked.

"Not until fairly recently." Snape told him. "He made an offhand comment about it a couple of years ago. In his defense, it was probably best to have diverted your mail ... in the sense of there were probably quite a few packages with ... less than friendly contents ... over the years. But once the inimical items had been weeded out, and you were old enough to appreciate them, they should have been sent on."

Harry had to admit that Snape had a point. /I let some of the nasty ones through./ Hedwig told him. /Well, the ones I could tell were nasty and were sent by smaller owls, anyway. Mostly, they used big owls that I couldn't outfight, or heavily protected ones./

Snape nodded when Harry passed on the message. "They would have." He agreed. "I will be frank with you, Mr. Potter, and tell you that there is a lot going on. Some of it, you are a bit young to understand ... do not make that face at me!" He snapped when Harry made a disgusted face. "You are eleven, Mr. Potter, and forced maturity thanks to your execrable relatives aside, there are some things that eleven year olds are a bit young to understand." Like political shenaniganry of pretty much any stripe, or complicated subjects like ... well, like pretty much the entirety of Snape's life. There would come a time when the boy would find out, probably sooner rather than later, but just barely eleven and trying to find his feet in the magical world wasn't the time. "These subjects will be brought up and explained when you're a little bit older, and I do mean a little ... as in within the next year or two at the most. You need first to become more knowledgeable of and comfortable in the magical world in general, before more information gets piled on you. I have no intentions of shielding and mollycoddling you. You are free to ask me any question you desire, but if I tell you the answer must wait, you must honor that."

Harry thought that over for a few moments and decided it was fair enough. At least Snape was willing to let him ask, which was better than nothing, and with him having been around the Headmaster for so long, he would probably know stuff that Remus and Sirius couldn't possibly know. "Ok, I can live with that." He said.

Things got a bit awkwardly quiet for a bit, but then Harry perked up and grinned. "Oh! There is something I think I should tell you. Hogwarts is alive."

Snape blinked. "Alive?" He repeated.

So Harry explained about his encounter with her, and how they'd be able to contact her. Snape got the oddest look on his face that Harry'd ever seen. Smugly, almost maliciously pleased and anticipatory best described it. "That is exceedingly valuable information, Mr. Potter, and may well be of great help to us." He made due mental note to at least try to build some sort of rapport with the castle. If he could get her on their side, actively listening in and tattling on the old man ... the help would be incalculable.

Eventually, they headed back over to where Neville was, and after another half hour or so of practice (for both Neville and Harry) they were sent on their way, enjoined to complain about scrubbing cauldrons and evil bats. Fighting tell-tale snickers, both boys high-tailed it to Gryffindor Tower.

Once everyone was in bed, the foursome met down in the common room, and Harry repeated the tale of Hogwarts being alive.

"Wicked." Ron breathed. "The twins're gonna be green when they find out I heard about this before they did." He crowed.

Harry grinned. "I'll tell them later on." He said. "They seem like the type who'd enjoy knowing about that, and Hogwarts would really like to have more people talking to her than just me, I think."

"I wonder how they did it." Hermione asked, looking interested. "Making something alive like that?"

"No idea, and it didn't sound like Hogwarts knew much, either, which makes sense since she wouldn't have been alive until after they did ... whatever ... and she wouldn't have been around to see what it was they did."

For her part, Hogwarts, aware now and paying attention, was well-pleased with her Heir. He had clearly started spreading the word, first with the fellow that had patted her doors a few days ago, now with the Head of Slytherin and some of his agemates. If it were not for the Headmaster, she would be pleased if all and sundry knew, but the longer it took that one to find out, the happier she'd be ... not that she would bow to his wishes, but he could make life ... uncomfortable ... both for her and her Heir.

Chapter Text

Quidditch and Quarrels

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Some folks may have noticed that I've made NO mention thus far of Harry getting headaches in DADA. That is not an accidental omission. He's not getting them. For the purposes of this fic, there is absolutely no mental connection between Voldie and Harry.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

October 5, 1991, Hogwarts

The last half of September had been remarkably quiet. Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron (though the latter with a good bit of grousing, at first) had gone to classes and done their homework. Every Saturday, they spent most of the morning after breakfast at Hagrid's hut, much to the big man's pleasure, and every Sunday, they spent the morning in the Room of Requirement chatting with Hogwarts. Of course, they didn't ignore Hogwarts the rest of the time, but Sundays were set aside for serious gossiping sessions rather than quick comments here and there. Hedwig was hardly idle, as Harry wrote Remus and Sirius every week. Harry had absolutely no idea how she managed to get there and back without being seen, but she'd also been to visit Severus twice, passing messages.

Of course, despite Wood wanting to keep Harry a secret, practically the entire school knew about his making the team within a couple of hours, which amused Harry to no end, even as he made due mental note to never say anything aloud where someone else might overhear. Two days after he'd won the Seeker spot, McGonagall managed to get around the whole 'first years can't have a broom' rule by buying a broom for herself and letting Harry 'borrow' it. With the understanding it'd be his next year when he could legitimately have it. The Nimbus 2000 proved to be an incredibly awesome broom, and Harry enjoyed using it during practices immensely.

Today, of course, the usual weekend plan was, at least somewhat, going to be altered, as it was a game day. Harry was more than a bit nervous, though with Hedwig and Hermione both chivvying him, he did manage to eat a little bit of something, despite a rebellious stomach. It wasn't the flying that bothered Harry, of course ... it was more the actual game, especially since it was against Slytherin. Snape might be livable, but the same could not be said for some of his charges, Malfoy especially. Harry was just grateful Malfoy wasn't on the Quidditch team, though he had no illusions about him managing the feat one way or another next year.

Wood tried to help, but his idea of help wasn't all that comforting, considering he mentioned getting whalloped upside the head with a bludger and not waking up until a week later. The twins were a good bit better at it with their irreverent good humor. Their teasing and goofing around didn't really give Harry much time to obsess about the game itself, lest he fall afoul of the twins' antics. Finally, though, they had to head to the locker room to change.

They swooped out onto the field and Harry grimaced when he saw the Slytherin team for the first time. Every last one of them was half again his size or better. Flint in particular was enormous, and Harry made due mental note to avoid him at all costs. One good slam from him would probably see Harry with broken bones!

Harry nearly laughed when Wood and Flint seemed to try to break each others' hands during the handshake, but very soon after that the balls were released and Harry shot well up above most of the action, which Wood had planned for him to do, in order to spare Harry the worst of the Slytherin team's brutal tactics.

Harry watched from high above as the two teams battled it out. The Gryffindor chasers seemed to work together better than the Slytherins, and were giving every bit as good as they got if not better, despite them being a bit smaller than their Slytherin counterparts. Flint really had evidently gone for size over ability by what Harry was seeing. Harry had to duck bludgers twice, but other than that he was high enough to be out of range of the action. The Slytherin Seeker was essentially leaving him alone, much to Harry's relief, as it allowed him to scan the pitch without being harassed.

About ten minutes into the game, Harry spotted the snitch and dove after it, dimly aware of the Slytherin Seeker, who'd been on the edge of his peripheral vision at the time, racing after him. He was so concentrated on the Snitch fluttering just feet beyond his grasp that he never saw Flint until the two of them collided, hard, sending Harry reeling to one side and almost falling off his broom at the unexpected impact.

Harry managed to right himself while the Gryffindors roared their anger at the deliberate foul. Unfortunately, by the time Harry got himself sorted out, the Snitch was long gone, and by Flint's pleased sneer, that's exactly what he'd wanted. Harry glared at him, and had to restrain the urge to do something exceedingly stupid, given Flint was a fifth year and he a first. Fortunately, the twins took care of things, slamming both bludgers at Flint one after the other. Flint managed to evade the first, but not the second, and took a nasty whallop to the side. It didn't stop him, but it did slow him down for a bit, and had the advantage of being entirely legal.

Harry went back to scanning the pitch again, and evading the odd bludger the Slytherin beaters managed to send his way that Fred and George didn't manage to divert. A couple minutes later, he saw the snitch again, and dove after it. Just when he'd gotten to full speed, the broom suddenly began to jerk.

HPHPHP

Privet Drive and Diagon Alley

Dumbledore sighed as he apparated onto Privet Drive. Petunia Dursley had sent him a letter via Muggle post, which had immediately been diverted to an owl, which had arrived just before breakfast this morning. The letter had been a bit vague and exceedingly accusatory ... something about them having done as he demanded of them and this was how he repaid them. Confused, Dumbledore had decided to visit the Dursleys, worried that the charms he'd applied so long ago had begun to fade or something of the sort.

He knocked on the door, and a few seconds later Petunia's face appeared in a small crack. She got one look at him and practically snarled at him. "Get inside before someone sees you!" She demanded.

Dumbledore did as she bid, and the moment her back turned for a second, he performed a diagnostic charm, and was pleased to see his charms were still there and still in full effect. That was good, though his confusion as to what the problem was had increased. She led him into their living room and Dumbledore nodded to Vernon, who was standing by the plugged-up fireplace, already a bit red in the face and looking more than a bit agitated.

"So this is how we're repaid? We house the freak, feed him and clothe him, and now you've got him, you don't see a need to compensate us for having to have the freak in the house?" Vernon demanded.

Dumbledore frowned in confusion. "I am unaware of what you refer to, Mr. Dursley, I assure you."

Vernon puffed up. "The bloody money, you crackpot! Where is it? Our account's empty, and I'll not have the freak back in the house if we're not paid!"

Dumbledore frowned. "I am unsure as to why the money did not arrive on schedule, but I'll see to the problem right away." He said. Oh, he had an idea as to why the money had been withheld, certainly ... Harry had probably arranged for it. Well, it was easily enough dealt with, as he had the key back. It would be simple enough to prevail upon the boy to reinstate the payments for next month, since Black be damned, Dumbledore fully intended for the boy to spend at least a month, preferably the entire summer break, with the Dursleys. Alone. "I will return shortly with the monthly allowance." Allowance. Hah. The Durselys survived almost solely on the money Dumbledore arranged for them to get every month, and Dumbledore knew it. If they were forced to live on the money Vernon earned at Grunnings, they'd soon be back in the pitiful neighborhood from which Petunia had escaped.

He left Privet drive and apparated to Diagon Alley, then walked into Gringotts and up to one of the tellers. "I would like to make a withdrawal from the Potter trust vault." He told the goblin behind the counter, and presented the key. He missed the change of expression on the goblin's face simply because he'd never taken the time to learn to tell one goblin expression from another.

The goblin, for his part, was doing a gleeful mental dance. There'd been much debate on when Dumbledore would appear and demand access to the Potter trust vault, and who would be the one to field the request. Highmarch was beyond pleased that it had fallen to him. He swiftly debated his options ... pretend the key was legitimate and take Dumbledore below, only to have him refused there, or make a public mockery of him. Highmarch was badly tempted to the latter, but was aware that to do so would probably force a confrontation the goblins were not ready for, nor could they win under existing circumstances. If Dumbledore was brought low in private, he'd be more willing to just go quietly.

"Follow me, please." He said, and headed down the line of teller stations to where wizards boarded the carts. Dumbledore followed him, looking pleased with himself. Highmarch was going to enjoy this.

The trip down to the vault was a short one, and they both climbed out. Highmarch put the false key in the slot, which didn't so much as twitch, of course. He made a show of trying again, and then frowned.

"What is wrong?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"The vault lock is not responding to the key." Highmarch told him.

"Perhaps it is in ill repair?" Dumbledore inquired.

Highmarch had to restrain the urge to slice the old man in half. "It is not." He snarled angrily. "All vaults are maintained in top condition."

"Then whatever could the problem be?" Dumbledore inquired.

Highmarch made a show of examining the key. "It would seem this key is not what it appears to be." He finally said. "It is quite cleverly done."

Dumbledore scowled. "A false key? How is such a thing possible?" He demanded.

"I do not know." Highmarch confessed, glad that he really, actually, didn't know how the goblin Keymaster had done it. "But the metal is goblin-made. Perhaps someone re-formed another item?"

"Perhaps." Dumbledore said slowly. But who? And how? Harry had no such ability, and the key had been returned two days after it had been discovered missing. Remus perhaps? But no, he had no access to anything goblin-made. If he had, it would have been sold long ago in an attempt to keep from starving. It never even occurred to him to suspect the goblins themselves. "I shall leave this with you to be destroyed, then." Dumbledore told Highmarch. He suspected that whatever had happened, Harry had the real key still. It made sense, given that he'd gotten ahold of the Head ring. He'd just demand its return from the boy.

They made their way back to the surface and Dumbledore left Gringotts, heading back to Hogwarts.

HPHPHP

Weasley Cottage

It had been over a hundred years since the last time the Weasley clan had met in force outside of the yearly family get-togethers. Septimus and Cedrella, however, had agreed on the necessity of such a thing, given recent events, so word had gone out. Now, the Cottage was alive with people. Remus and Sirius had made themselves scarce to allow the family to talk amongst themselves.

Septimus' two younger brothers, their wives, children, and their wives, Arthur's two younger brothers, their wives, Bill, Charlie, a grimly silent Percy, Ginny, and a large number of other grandchildren either out of school or too young to attend, were all there. Arthur's brothers had both moved out of England after they'd graduated, finding jobs, and a measure of success, in Europe proper, and their children all attended Beauxbatons. The dining room was unusable when they had nearly five dozen people present, but that was hardly a problem, as the Weasleys had long been rather given to multiple children for several hundred years. Their ancestors had long since arranged the basement of Weasley Cottage to be the meeting place for the family as a whole, and everyone found their places, the youngsters, Ginny's age and younger, removed themselves outside to play while their elders talked.

Septimus got to his feet at the head of the big table. "Thank you, everyone, for coming. I know it's an inconvenience to have arranged to come on such short notice, but I could not, in good conscience, allow matters to go unremarked, or act without the family's approval."

He glanced around the room. "As many of you know, young Harry Potter has returned to the Wizarding world. Unfortunately, his return was not as smooth and trouble-free as any of us would have liked, and the things we've discovered since his return are very troubling."

Septimus then went on to outline what they knew of what Dumbledore had done and was doing, in defiance of pretty much every law and sense of decency. Fully half the family had to be restrained from marching on Hogwarts en masse to deal with Dumbledore when they found out what little Septimus knew of Harry's home situation. By far the loudest and angriest was Molly.

"How could he! How dare he! We were all reassured, time and again, that Harry was well and safe and cared for! And now we find out that poor boy was abused for a decade? I'll rip him apart!" Molly snarled. "That boy saved our lives, all of us! And then he did it again just hours after entering Hogwarts for the first time! I don't even want to know what that ... that ... that ... " She sputtered for a moment. "that creature could have, probably would have! done if he'd stayed in our home undetected! I don't know what Dumbledore's playing at, but I'll not have it! If I have to fight that old man myself, barehanded, so help me I will if it means that boy's happiness and safety!"

Pretty much the entirety of the Weasley clan was in agreement, if somewhat less vociferously. "What can we do?" Septimus' brother Bilius asked.

"I don't know, at the moment." Septimus admitted. "We're working blind here, for the most part. You-Know-Who's not been seen or heard from since Harry trounced him, and there's no way of knowing when or if he'll show his ugly face again. In the meantime, all we can do is get ready, and try to give Harry as much a sense of family as he'll let us get away with and help him thwart Dumbledore. I know he's got Sirius and Remus, but knowing he's got more than them in his corner through all of this ... "

There were nods all around the table. Bill spoke after a few moments. "Well, quite a few of us are in careers that might come in handy, when things get dicey again. I can talk to the goblins, and maybe start teaching Harry a few things in a year or two, once he's gotten some of the basics under his belt at Hogwarts. And the good knows that dragons might come in handy." Bill glanced at his younger brother, who grinned.

"Yeah, they'd make for a hell ... sorry mum ... of a deterrent to you-know-who ... if we can figure out how to do it and keep them under control at the same time." Charlie said with a grin.

"I should go back." Percy said quietly. "I ... need to ... anyway. Ron's only Harry's age. He's not ready to cross wands with Dumbledore if something comes up. The twins don't have any authority at all, and would have to resort to pranks to settle things. I can at least put a stop to any student idiocy as a prefect." And yell for help if Dumbledore tried something.

Molly gave Percy a worried look. Percy had taken the whole Pettigrew mess understandably hard, and she wasn't entirely convinced he was truly ready to return to Hogwarts, but if he was determined, there was little she could do to stop him, and he did have a point. "If you're sure, dear."

Percy gave a slightly jerky nod. "I need to, even if supporting Harry wasn't an issue." He said.

"There is something you should know, Percy, that may be of inestimable value to you. Harry told Sirius and Remus about it, and they told me." Septimus said. "It turns out that Hogwarts is alive, and self-aware. She can speak and interact with people, but since the fact she was alive had been forgotten, she eventually stopped trying. She apparently decided she liked Harry and tried to contact him, and he responded."

Percy blinked a bit, but then gave a faint smile. "You know, that's not quite as surprising a discovery as it ought to be." He admitted. "But you're right. Having Hogwarts able to talk and interact is definitely hugely valuable ... and helpful. And if she likes Harry, she's probably already looking out for him."

HPHPHP

Hogwarts

Harry yelped in alarm as the broom bucked like a wild horse under him, and tightened his grip. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. The broom bucked again, harder than the first time. The front end froze in place, acting as a pivot point while the rear end twisted around in almost a half circle and jerked upwards hard and fast all at the same time. Harry came to within a hairsbreadth of being flung clear of the broom by the maneuver, only his white-knuckled grip on the handle saving him from an ugly fall. Unfortunately, he was unable to remain on the broom itself, tumbling forward and wrenching his arms something fierce as he clung to the handle with desperate strength.

/HARRY!/ Hedwig shrieked and took off from her spot on Hermione's shoulder (where she'd been watching the game) and zoomed straight for her beleaguered, endangered wizard. She landed on the broom handle, and, much as she had when Neville's broom had gone insane, flared her wings, fighting to counter the brooms' wild bucking, shrieking in fury and fear.

Her actions drew the attention of everyone in the stands, as well as all the players. The Gryffindor team abandoned any pretense at playing and converged on Harry ... or tried to. Every time they approached, the broom jerked higher into the sky. Desperate and angry, the twins circled wide, then raced up and above before converging again, this time almost directly above Harry's head, preventing the broom from rising any further as the rest of the team tried desperately to get within range of Harry and get him off the broom, to no avail as the thing bucked and twisted and shimmied every which way, always somehow managing to remain out of anyone's grasp, despite their best efforts.

In the stands, a horrified Severus and Minerva had, unknowingly (since Minerva was in the announcer's box and Severus was sitting with the rest of the teachers), combined forces, both of them muttering counter-curses to try to stabilize the bucking, fighting broom. They were having marginally more success than the children on their brooms were, but not by much. Some small part of Severus' mind, not consumed by the need to save Harry, noted that whoever was cursing the broom was damnably strong, and wholly intent on murdering the boy, given the broom was now nearly seventy feet off the ground.

In the Gryffindor section, Hermione was frantically trying to figure out what was going on, and what to do. Hagrid, who'd come up to watch the game just before the snitch's first appearance, was a hairsbreadth away from either crying in fear or tearing whoever was doing this apart, not that Hermione blamed him, since she was in pretty much the same shape. But then, more by chance than anything else, Hermione spotted something through her omnioculars. Quirrell, staring fixedly in Harry's direction, his mouth moving constantly. She'd spotted both McGonagall and Snape doing the same thing on an earlier pass, and ignored them, since there was no way either of them would endanger Harry like this. Oh, Snape certainly liked to act as if he would, but Harry vouched for him, and so did Neville, so she discounted him as the source of the trouble.

She didn't say a word to anyone, just took off running as fast as she could move, ducking under the stands and using the platforms under the seats as her own private walkway as she raced around the circle towards where the teachers sat. It took far, far too long for her liking to reach where Quirrell was sitting. With no time to lose, she spat out the first spell that came to mind that would be distracting enough. "Incendio!", then bolted for the Gryffindor stands again, lest she get caught.

Harry let out a shaky sigh of relief when the broom abruptly stopped bucking. The team instantly converged on him and Wood hauled Harry onto his own broom while the twins corralled the Nimbus carefully. Everyone headed for the ground, where Poppy was waiting anxiously. Harry didn't object as he got hustled off to the infirmary, since he was rather a bit shaky, and his arms and back hurt something fierce from the wrenching he'd taken. Hedwig flew anxious loops just overhead on their way to the infirmary, ignoring her own exhaustion in favor of keeping an eye on her wizard. Once they reached the infirmary, she landed on the headboard of the bed that Harry got tucked into for his examination and treatment.

HPHPHP

Severus was not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination. When Quirrell, who'd been sitting behind him, abruptly burst into flame, followed by Harry's broom almost instantaneously going still, it didn't take more than a half-second for Severus to realize what had happened. He whirled on Quirrell, eyes blazing with rage, but the man had taken advantage of the confusion in the teacher's box and was almost to the stairs. Severus gave chase, or tried to, but the crowds prevented him, and after a few moments, he desisted. He could deal with Quirrell later, at his leisure. Harry was more important. Besides, he wouldn't want to deprive the mutt and the wolf of their pound of flesh, now would he? Quirrell should consider himself lucky if Severus got to him first! Speaking of ...

Severus raced for a quiet spot he knew of, near a statue. "Hogwarts, Harry is threatened. Guard him, and don't let Quirrell anywhere near him!"

The statue jerked slightly, the stone face looking alarmed. "Of course! But who is Quirrell?"

Damn. "He's the DADA professor, has a lot of cloth wrapped around his head." Snape tried.

That, apparently, Hogwarts could identify. "I know him. I will keep him away from Harry." The statue vowed, sounding deeply pissed. Severus headed for his office for the second part of this. A pinch of powder in his fireplace and he called Weasley Cottage. Septimus answered.

"Septimus, tell Remus and Sirius they're needed here as soon as possible. Harry was attacked. He's fine, but they need to be here." Snape told him.

Septimus got a seriously angry look on his face. "I'll send a message, but they're not here right now. I'm sending Arthur and Molly through, and Cedrella and I will follow in a minute."

Severus blinked. Arthur and Molly were at Weasley Cottage? Huh. That was convenient. Severus was just glad his fireplace was connected fully to the floo network, to allow him to get in and out of the castle for ... meetings ... without having to waste time by going to the Headmaster's office first. Seconds later, both Arthur and a vengeful-looking Molly Weasley were in his office.

"What happened, Severus?" Molly demanded, sounding deeply worried.

"Quirrell jinxed Harry's broom mid-flight. The boy was over fifty feet off the ground and came within a hairsbreadth of getting thrown off." Severus told her. "You can be proud of your boys ... they managed to keep the broom from getting any higher than that. Harry's in the infirmary at the moment, but I don't think he took more than a few wrenched muscles from the experience."

"And where is Quirrell?" Molly demanded, sounding like she'd very much like to skin the man alive. Severus mentally adjusted his list of people who'd fight to keep Harry safe, and wished Dumbledore well in his efforts to neutralize Molly Weasley. He'd need all the help he could get and then some.

"I don't know. I tried to go after him, but the stands were in chaos and he managed to slip out ahead of me. At that point, I decided it was more prudent to ensure Harry's supporters found out about the incident."

At that point Septimus and Cedrella arrived. "Remus and Sirius will be arriving via the Three Broomsticks." Septimus told Severus. "They'll be here within five minutes."

Snape glowered, but nodded, and repeated his brief rundown of events to Septimus and Cedrella.

"And where." Septimus wanted to know. "Has Dumbledore been in all of this?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't know. He mentioned that he had business that needed seeing to, and left just after breakfast."

"Well, let's go see the lad, and figure out how to deal with this ... Quirrell." Septimus growled.

The group trooped to the Infirmary. Poppy looked less than pleased at having been invaded thus, especially when the entire Quidditch team was still there and stuck to Harry and Hedwig like glue, but she didn't try to shoo the adults out instead settling for shooing the exceedingly reluctant Gryffindor team out. Molly pulled the twins aside before they left and gave them both hugs.

"I'm so proud of you boys. Professor Snape told me you two were instrumental in keeping Harry from getting pulled higher up."

"Least we could do." Fred said.

"After the rat." George spat the last word like it was a foul curse.

Molly nodded her understanding, as did Arthur, who'd joined them when he realized Molly had pulled the boys aside.

"It was very well done, boys." Arthur agreed. "We'll let you know what happens from here later, all right?" The twins nodded and finally left.

Moments later the door opened again and an exceedingly anxious Remus and Sirius rushed in. Everyone sort of froze for a half-second, as it marked the first time that Severus and Sirius had been in the same room at the same time since their Hogwarts days. Both men eyed each other, but also visibly decided to postpone any antagonism in favor of dealing with the current trouble.

"You ok, pup?" Sirius wanted to know, plopping himself down on the bed next to Harry. Remus sat down on the other side, looking every bit as worried as Sirius did.

"Yeah, I'm ok, Sirius. A little on the sore side, but otherwise fine." Harry told him, then grinned reassuringly at both men.

Sirius clearly didn't believe him, as he gently pulled Harry into a one-armed hug and looked to Poppy for confirmation of Harry's condition.

"He pulled most of the muscles in his arms and back when he nearly got bucked off the broom, but he'll be right as rain by dinnertime." Poppy told them.

Things quieted down for a bit after that, with Sirius and Remus refusing point-blank to leave Harry's side until he was completely healed. Severus, perhaps operating under 'discretion is the better part of valor' did not address Sirius directly or indirectly, and made himself scarce shortly after the two Marauders and the Weasleys made themselves comfortable.

About an hour before lunch, Dumbledore finally returned, looking somewhat less than pleased by his own day's work, and was instantly confronted by Severus, who'd more or less camped out by the stairs to his office. Informed not only of Harry's endangerment but of the fact that he had two generations of Weasleys and the remaining Marauders under his roof, he made his way to the infirmary post haste.

He was met by six outraged adults ... and an exceedingly angry familiar. Hedwig, having recovered from her efforts to stop the broom from killing her wizard, joined the adults in glaring at Dumbledore.

"Just what sort of hiring policy is it you have, Headmaster, that allows you to hire people that try to murder the students in your care?" Septimus demanded angrily.

Dumbledore blinked. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Weasley."

He was duly informed of the day's events, and Quirrell's complicity. "Now, Severus, for all you know, he was trying the counter curse as well." Dumbledore scolded.

"Then why was he afire? Where did he go after, that he didn't come here for treatment of his burns?" Severus wanted to know. He had no idea how that had happened, but however it had occurred, he was grateful it had. Had that been Hogwarts? But she had seemed unaware of his actions outside the castle, so perhaps not. It hadn't been any of the teachers, of that he was certain. He'd have noticed one of them hexing the man sitting directly behind him! A student, perhaps? Possible. Maybe one of the older Gryffindors. Whoever had done it, it was well done indeed.

"That I do not know, but I'm sure we'll find out."

They did too, well, sort of. The doors, still open from Dumbledore's arrival, abruptly slammed closed and locked. Dumbledore whirled around in confusion and frowned. When he approached the doors, he was allowed out, but the second he was through, the doors slammed and locked again. There was a long few moments of silence before Dumbledore came through the doors again, alone. They opened only just enough for him to get through, then slammed and locked again, much to Dumbledore's visible consternation. He went back through, and while he was out of the room, everyone except Poppy shared a look. Hogwarts was clearly defending Harry from danger, and Dumbledore's confusion was highly amusing.

The act was repeated twice more, once with Dumbledore actually taking Quirrell by the hand. That time, the doors slammed to right on Quirrell's arm the second Dumbledore's had was clear. Frustrated, Dumbledore called Poppy out into the hall. There were several more attempts, each as unsuccessful as the last, before Poppy gave up and brought her potions out into the hall lest Quirrell take even more hurt from the recalcitrant doors.

Eventually, Dumbledore came in, telling them some tale that Quirrell had spun, saying he'd been trying to defend Harry. Apparently, both Minerva and Filius had gone after him when they realized he'd been set afire and disappeared, and had brought him to the infirmary to get his burns seen to ... at wandpoint, since neither of them exactly trusted him, given the evidence at hand. Dumbledore had pooh-poohed their concerns as well, evidently.

Septimus and the rest were somewhat less than impressed with Dumbledore's reaction to things, to put it mildly. Arthur had to physically restrain Molly from verbally stripping the flesh from Dumbledore's bones. They'd have a chance later. Now wasn't the time, even though Arthur was badly tempted himself. Hedwig had no such compunctions, and flew at Dumbledore, snatching his hat off his head and taking great pleasure in destroying it whilst eyeing Dumbledore in a way that made it clear the hat was proxy for Dumbledore himself.

Eventually, things died down a bit, and Dumbledore turned to Harry. "While we are discussing the day's events, Harry, there is something I need to talk to you about."

Harry, who knew the Dursleys would have been cut off after last month's payment, had a good idea he knew what was coming next, but played dumb for the audience. "What's that, sir?"

"Why did you see fit to deprive your aunt and uncle of the money they need to care for you properly?" Dumbledore asked.

Hedwig sputtered. /He dares?/

Harry bristled, as did Molly, Remus, and Sirius. "Care for me properly, Headmaster? Really?" Harry asked. "You consider a baby mattress on the floor of the cupboard under the stairs, a single very scant meal a day ... if I was lucky! ... and enough so-called 'chores' to wear a house-elf to a nubbin 'proper care'? Nice to know."

Dumbledore gave a benign, sad smile. "Surely you over exaggerate, Harry. I know they care for you. They may have been strict ... "

Hedwig barked angrily at him, and swooped at him again, making him duck.

"Strict my foot!" Harry burst out in the middle of Hedwig's aerial chastisement. "They bloody well starved me, Headmaster, and worked me from dawn to dusk and beyond every day. I wore Dudley's castoffs, and he's bigger than Crabbe and Goyle put together! I've had precisely one pair of glasses my entire life, and those were broken practically the entire time I had them, held together with spellotape ... and not because I was careless, but because their great whale of a son liked to kick me around, in full view of his parents, and they not only didn't try to stop him, they bloody well encouraged it! They were getting forty galleons a month for my care, and I'll be damned if they spent *one* galleon ... a YEAR ... on me outside of school fees! They're damn lucky I'm not suing them for the difference, or bringing them up on charges of child abuse!"

By this point, Harry was on his feet, red-faced and pretty much nose-to-nose (well, chest) with a stunned and increasingly wary Dumbledore, who made a point of keeping his hands well away from his wand after a glance at an enraged Hedwig. He had no intention of hexing the boy, but Hedwig did not seem to be in the mood to take anything he did as something benign.

"I will not allow them to live on *my* money, headmaster. Especially since I'm never setting foot in that damn house again as long as I live. If they don't like it, that's too damn bad, because I really couldn't care less."

"But you must, Harry." Dumbledore managed to rally after the startlement of Harry more or less getting in his face. He'd not been expecting that at all! "There are wards around the Dursley home meant for your protection, wards that can only be invoked by blood relations. You must return there every summer for at least a month to recharge the wards."

"No." Harry's voice was flat and final. "I will not return to that house. I will be making my home at Potter Castle. The Dursleys can go hang. I'll not subject myself to a month's abuse so that THEY are protected from people who, quite frankly, don't even know they exist!"

/You tell him, Harry-chick!/ Hedwig crackled her approval, then barked at Dumbledore again.

"The Castle is not sufficiently warded, Harry." Dumbledore said in a sad tone. "And the protection is not just for the Dursleys, but for you as well."

"The Castle wasn't sufficiently warded during a *party*, Headmaster. If you think I'm going to even have the floo connected, you're out of your mind. As for the other ... " He glanced over at Septimus and Sirius, both of whom were giving Dumbledore death-glares. "From their expressions, I don't think wards work that way."

"No, Harry, they don't." Sirius said. "I've never in my life heard of a ward that needs recharging like that, every year. And considering my family's ... predilections ... they've forgotten more about wards than most people ever know. And even if they did work that way ... you're here most of the year." He eyed Dumbledore. "In supposedly the most safe place in all Britain, except for Gringotts, so surely you would not be in any danger whatever if the Headmaster was doing his job as he ought." There was more than a slight echo of both accusation and the cultured, snooty tones Sirius had used at Pettigrew's trial, an unsubtle reminder that he was speaking as Lord Black.

"You would condemn them to death?" Dumbledore asked, sounding horrified, then had to duck when Hedwig, in all seriousness, flew straight at his face, talons extended, only to veer off at the last possible second, taking a few hairs with her when she went.

"Considering they were pretty happy with trying to kill me by starvation and overwork, and that if I leave now, no followers of Voldie's will ever even know they exist ... I have no compunctions with leaving them out to dry. If Voldie's followers start nosing around Privet Drive someday, I'll arrange for them to be protected, but I'll not step foot in that house again." Harry said, fighting laughter at Hedwig's antics. She made for a rather effective deterrent.

Dumbledore was very much less than pleased, but there was little he could do, especially with Sirius right there, ready and willing to back Harry, not to mention a nearly homicidal familiar. He gave the boy a long, displeased look before he finally retreated from the Infirmary. There was no point in demanding the key ... he'd never get it, not with the boy that angry at him, and probably not even when the boy calmed down.

Damn it, why did that have to happen today? Why on earth did Quirrell act so openly? Dumbledore was not at all deluded as to who held Quirrell's loyalty, but that particular wizard did not respond well to failure. Not at all. And why had Septimus and Arthur been there? And who had called them and Remus and Sirius? McGonagall? It would be something she might do, thinking the boy would need the reassurance of 'family' after such a frightening event. Worse, he could not take her to task for it, as it was her right to do so both as Head of Gryffindor and as the Deputy Headmaster, since he had been absent when the incident occurred. Damn it, all his plans were falling apart!

Chapter Text

Conversations Discoveries and Confrontations

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

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October 6, 1991, Hogwarts

The next morning found quite a few people in deep thought and/or intense conversation.

Dumbledore sat in his office, contemplating the Harry Potter situation. Oh, he'd known the whole thing was out of control back on the first of September, but he'd not known then what had happened, how bad it was, nothing. Worse, a bit over a month later, he found himself still in the dark. He had a plan that had been shattered into a million pieces, a boy he absolutely had to regain some sort of control over as soon as possible ... and he wasn't going to be able to do it. At least, not with the information ... or lack thereof ... that he had at the moment. Therefore, he would have to make a return visit to the Dursleys as soon as possible and interrogate them regarding Harry, find out as much as he could about the boy.

Meanwhile, Severus, Minerva, and Filius were in Severus' heavily warded office, which now sported even more protections, provided by Hogwarts herself. Severus had gone so far as to locate a suit of armor in a long-unused corridor and relocated it into his office, so that he could speak to Hogwarts directly from his office, which he spent a great deal of time in.

"I do not buy Quirrell's excuses and explanations in the least." Filius grumbled. "There is no sense in them."

"Agreed." Minerva said with a scowl. "And I find Dumbledore's rather blithe dismissal of the matter disturbing."

Severus shook his head. "I told you, he wants control of the boy." He grimaced. "Possibly wishes to kill him, given what we know of things."

Minerva went very pinch-faced. "Dumbledore playing the angles I can understand, deal with, and almost expect, but actively trying to kill Harry? That's a bit of a stretch."

Severus and Filius shared a look. Both of them understood that Minerva was unused to viewing people with suspicion, paranoia, and the expectation that they were up to no good one way or another. That way of thinking had helped keep Severus alive, and had contributed strongly to Filius' many triumphs in duels. That they were talking about Dumbledore, whom they'd been told repeatedly from the moment they entered the wizarding world was an infallible, incredibly powerful leader of the Light ... well, that complicated things greatly. At least for Minerva, who'd never really been given reason to look on Dumbledore with suspicion until now.

"Actually, it's not, Minerva." Filius said. "You just need to look at the evidence without allowing your existing opinion of Dumbledore to color things. You heard Poppy's report on Harry's condition. You saw the people he was sent to. You know no one went there to check on him. And now we have Quirrell acting oddly, and that bloody stone in the school. You've also seen how ... displeased ... Dumbledore has been since Hagrid returned from taking Harry to Diagon Alley."

Minerva sighed. Filius had a point. As much as she didn't like it, the evidence was definitely pointing, at the very least, towards Dumbledore having malicious intentions towards Harry. It was just difficult to shed a lifetime's worth of seeing Dumbledore ... well, the way he wanted to be seen, evidently. "You have a point, Filius, as much as I don't like it." She admitted aloud. "The question quickly becomes ... what do we do?"

"I will keep a close eye on Quirrell." The suit of armor said from its corner. "He will not be allowed to threaten Harry again while the two of them are inside the walls. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to protect him outside the castle."

"We can take care of that, certainly, Hogwarts." Filius said. He'd been in transports since Severus had told him the castle was alive. He very much wanted to figure out what the Founders had done to accomplish it, though he realized his chances of doing so were painfully slim.

"Harry is proving to be a most adept student." There was no mistaking the pride in Minerva's voice. "His essays are rather rough, but I imagine that is simply because he's been unable to write them properly up to now. A few lessons and a few more weeks and they'll likely be up to snuff."

Filius nodded. "He's consistently been but a step behind Miss Granger, who has shown a prodigious talent herself, in performing spells. I dare say we could begin some extra tuition at this point, cover some of the basics he would know if he had grown up in our world."

"He's kept Longbottom from self-destructing in my class, which is a miracle in and of itself." Severus noted. "Though Longbottom is beginning to improve. He has also shown a remarkable perspicacity regarding his situation in the handful of meetings and letters we have exchanged. I agree that extra lessons might be in order. He's bright enough to start getting bored." Severus' tone made it quite clear that the last thing he wanted was a bored Potter. Harry might not be his father, but the boy had a devious, clever mind, and Severus dreaded the thought of what he'd come up with if he got too bored. The Weasley twins were bad enough as it was.

"Agreed." Minerva said. "As is Miss Granger. We should probably include her as well, since I'm willing to bet anything we teach Harry will be passed on to her as a matter of course anyway, as close as those two seem to be. Better she gets the teaching from the source."

That got her an amused look from Filius, and a snort from Severus. "Quite." Severus said.

The meeting in the Gryffindor common room (if you could call it a meeting) was a good deal quieter and calmer. Harry was sitting on one of the couches, with Hissesh curled up on the cushion next to him, head draped over Harry's lap so he could be petted. Hedwig was perched on the back of the couch, while Hermione and Neville were sitting in chairs they'd pulled close to the couch.

"Are you really ok, Harry?" Hermione asked, sounding stressed. Crookshanks left off winding around her ankles and leapt onto her lap, purring like a motorboat as he comforted her. "I was scared out of my mind you'd be killed."

Harry smiled at her. "I'm fine, honest. Pomfrey had me fixed up in nothing flat. Most of the excitement was Sirius, Remus, and the Weasleys showing up ... and Quirrell getting shut out of the Infirmary." Harry couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. "You should have seen it, you two. I don't know what was funnier, the attempts to get Quirrell into the Infirmary or the look on Dumbledore's face."

Both Neville and Hermione snickered. "Wish I'd seen that. I could have used a laugh after the fright I got." Neville admitted. "So what do we do about Quirrell?"

"There's not much we can do. I'll arrive just as the bell rings, sit at the very back, and escape the second the period's over. Hedwig and Hogwarts will keep him away from me outside of class. Hopefully, if Sirius and company have their way, Quirrell won't be around for much longer."

/He better not be, or I'll kill him myself!/ Hedwig raged. /He tried to kill you! I'll not stand for that, not from anyone. And that includes that benighted, half-witted, hairy old goat./

Harry snorted in amusement at Hedwig's choice of words, though he had little doubt she'd back up her threat if she was given an excuse. /Just don't you dare get yourself hurt, or worse, killed, while trying to teach someone a lesson, you hear me? I wouldn't know what to do without you, girl./

Hedwig puffed up happily, and nibbled at Harry's hair. /I'll be careful, Harry-chick./ She promised.

At that point, the door to the Common Room opened, and a quartet of red-heads trooped in. Harry blinked in surprise when he spotted Percy. "Percy! Good to have you back!" He called.

Percy, still looking rather grim-faced, walked over to the trio, the twins and Ron tagging along behind him. "Harry. Good to see you as well." He said somewhat stiffly. "And Hedwig as well, of course." He gave Hissesh a wary look, and didn't include the python in the greeting, but he also wasn't running the other way or trying to hex Hissesh, so Harry counted it as a win, especially given how hard Percy had taken the whole Pettigrew mess. "The Weasleys owe you one."

Harry snorted. "None of that, Percy. I didn't do it so people would owe me favors." Then he gave a laugh. "Heck, I didn't even do it. Hedwig and Hissesh did. I was as much along for the ride as you guys were that night. So no favors owed."

Percy gave him a thin, strained smile. "Nevertheless. If you have any difficulties, whether with students or staff, let me know. I can ... corral ... the students, and pass on the information about the staff to Professor McGonagall, since I see her more often than you will."

Harry nodded. "Fair enough, and thanks for the offer." He said, then glanced over at the twins. "I don't want to know what you're up to, do I?"

"Probably not." One of them admitted.

"Just suffice it to say." The other said.

"That Quirrell's going to find life ... "

"Exceedingly trying." They finished in unison.

They each gave Hissesh a pat, and one of them offered Hissesh a live rat. "Since you didn't get to eat the first one."

Hissesh was quite pleased with the offering, though he'd not be hungry for another couple of days, so the rat got put in a cage to be fed and watered until it became dinner.

Weasley Cottage

Septimus, Cedrella, Sirius and Remus were having an all-out council of war. Having gotten the approval of the clan at large, Septimus and Cedrella were (rather gleefully, it must be said) throwing their weight, such as it was, behind Sirius and Remus.

"Quirrell needs to be dealt with, swiftly and decisively." Cedrella insisted. "He's a danger to Harry at the very least, and possibly to all the children."

"Agreed, but unfortunately, Dumbledore is shielding him." Septimus pointed out. "And while I agree the man needs to be hexed into next week, there's very little we can do unless we get incontrovertible proof that he was cursing that broom."

Sirius sighed in aggravation. "Proof we'll never get. Even if we find out who set him afire, their testimony won't be enough unless they heard him saying the jinx before they lit him up."

"Which is pretty much impossible, given the usual amount of noise at a Quidditch game." Remus said with a sigh. "Unless Quirrell was shouting the jinx at the top of his lungs, even the people sitting next to him wouldn't have heard a thing. For heaven's sake, Snape didn't hear anything, and he was sitting right in front of the bastard."

"Granted, he was also concentrating on keeping the broom from going completely insane." Septimus pointed out. "I don't think anyone concentrating that hard would have heard anything, even if it was shouted into their ear."

"True." Remus admitted. "Especially since the jinx was, evidently, rather strong. Severus mentioned he was struggling to keep the broom as tame as it was."

"I didn't think Quirrell was an especially strong wizard?" Cedrella asked. "I'm sure he was only a few years behind Arthur ... I remember Arthur mentioning him. He never seemed to be top of his classes. While I don't know Snape personally, everything I've ever heard about him points to him being powerful"

"He is." Sirius said with a grimace. "Merlin knows I would know. If Quirrell really wasn't all that strong, and Snape was struggling to stop the curse, then something really bad is going on." Sirius said. "People don't just suddenly gain power without there being a reason ... usually a Dark one." He and Cedrella shared a look. As Blacks, they both had more education in Dark Arts than most. There were ways to gain power through the Dark Arts, but every last one carried a price ... sometimes a very heavy one. If Quirrell was playing about with the Dark Arts, they had a major problem.

"And unfortunately, again, there is nothing we can do unless we can find out what, exactly, he's done. And even then, we may not be able to undo it." Cedrella agreed. "Our only choice at the moment is to trust Hogwarts, Hedwig and the other staff to protect Harry from Quirrell."

That made Sirius chuckle. "I pity anyone stupid enough to attack Harry in Hedwig's presence, I really do. Familiars are brutal when it comes to protecting their Wizards, but Hedwig seems to be taking that part of her duties more seriously than usual, given she's attacked Dumbledore several times now."

That set the other three to chuckling at the memory of Hedwig's antics the day before when dealing with Dumbledore. "And as much as you may not like him, cousin, Snape is every bit as dangerous." Cedrella pointed out.

Sirius made a face. "I still can't believe that greasy bastard is on our side in all this." He sighed. "That said, having experienced how vicious and sneaky Snape can be, you've got a point. Dumbledore better be checking his food and drink for poisons, if he knows what's good for him. I thought for a minute there that Snape was going to hex Dumbledore in the infirmary."

"You're not the only one." Septimus agreed.

"All right, so we can't do anything about Quirrell at the moment, but there are things we can do." Cedrella said. "We've asked Bill to go to Privet Drive and check it ... and the Durselys ... out. See what we can discover about the wards around the place ... if there are any." Her expression said she wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to have been lying through his teeth. "Other than the Fidelius anyway."

"How's he going to be able to check the place if he can't approach it?" Remus wanted to know.

"I have no idea, but he seemed to think he'd be able to. He might get his goblin bosses to give him a hand getting around the Fidelius." Septimus guessed. "Or maybe a house elf or two."

"The other thing we need to deal with is Harry's mail being diverted. We need to fix that." Remus said. "My only problem is I've no idea how."

"It's actually an easy enough fix, just bothersome." Septimus said. "We'll need to have Harry here for a few hours to do it, though, since the diversion spell has to be cast on the person, not the owls."

"Well, I'd planned to steal Harry for the weekend after Halloween, so we could do it then." Sirius said. "Hedwig's been ... reappropriating ... Harry's mail as a matter of course. I'm pretty sure she can keep it up for another couple weeks."

Privet Drive

Unbeknownst just yet to anyone, even Bill ... everything everyone thought they knew was about to be blown out of the water. Bill arrived on Privet Drive with five goblins, all of whom were disillusioned to keep the Muggles from seeing them while they worked.

Dumbledore had made two critical errors with his modified Fidelius charm. The first mistake the goblins and Bill discovered was that he forgot that not all magical beings are created equal. Goblins and house elves both possess magics that wizards do not possess, and have never found a way to circumvent or imitate. Such as the fact that there is not a wizard-created spell in existence that can stop a House Elf from reaching its master, and goblin-made weapons possess capabilities no wizard-made weapon can. Unfortunately, using a house elf would not be possible for this particular job, as the Weasleys did not own one, nor did the goblins, and while Harry did own house-elves, he had yet to 'claim' them. The goblins would have to work a bit harder than an elf would, but they would be able to get around the Fidelius, and bring Bill with them.

But first, they examined the Fidelius itself, carefully poking and prodding the spell-work to see if there was anything hidden. It turned out that there was. Aside from the 'no one magical can come here' part, there was a second spell that would outright kill anyone with a Dark Mark that attempted to cross the land boundary that marked the patch of land owned by the Durselys, even if the Fidelius collapsed. Unless, of course, they spotted the spell and disarmed it.

The goblins, though, nearly laughed themselves sick when they realized Dumbledore's second mistake. Like many wizards, Dumbledore tended to only think in two dimensions ... out and up. The Fidelius and Mark-killing wards had been constructed as great domes over Number Four. Neither one went underground. The original plans, which had included a number of difficult spells, was scrapped for something far simpler for goblins ... they merely headed for the nearest manhole, went underground, and tunneled their way up onto Number Four, within the wards. A rather bemused Bill followed along behind them.

Once within the wards, Bill and the goblins quickly went to work checking the property. They found, of course, no trace of blood wards of any kind, nevermind blood wards that needed to be recharged every year. They found no other spells on the property, though they found trace remnants of the accidental magic Harry had performed in the house over the years. The cupboard under the stairs fairly glowed with it, and when their analysis revealed that pretty much all the accidental magic had evidently been self-defense and healing focused, it was all Bill could do to keep calm.

Fortunately, during all this, the Durselys were not at home. Vernon was at work, and Petunia had gone to visit a neighbor for tea. Dudley, of course, was away at Smeltings. Unfortunately, about the time that Bill and the goblins had swept the entire house for spells, Petunia arrived home to start making dinner for Vernon ... such as it would be, given their abruptly smaller funds. She shrieked like a banshee when she spotted Bill.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my house! Get out! Get out! I'll call the police!"

Bill gave her a very nasty grin. "Oh, please do, Mrs. Dursley. I'd love to see you explain your treatment of your nephew."

That just turned the shrieking to outright screaming. "You ... you're one of them! Freak! Get out! I'll not have ... "

"Be silent, female." One of the goblins snapped. Since he was still disillusioned, it had the effect of a voice coming out of the ether.

Petunia jumped a mile and whipped around, trying to spot the source of the voice even as she backed against a wall in a vain attempt to protect herself. Bill took advantage of her distraction and cast a silencing charm so her caterwauling wouldn't bring the neighbors on the run to find out what was going on. That and it kept him from having to hear her insults and excuses.

Five minutes of running diagnostics spells on her had Bill sitting down in a chair, stunned, overwhelmed, and increasingly enraged. But unlike many of his siblings and relatives, Bill had learned to control the infamous Weasley temper, since blowing up in frustration when you were in the middle of cursebreaking tended to have very lethal consequences. He took a deep breath and stared over at the still-silenced Petunia. If she had been subjected to spells that encouraged her to treat Harry badly, had the other Dursleys? It only made sense, and certainly, Petunia was too thin to have the strength to have perpetrated some of the damage done to Harry ... not that Bill knew specifics, but he'd been able to piece things together from what had been said at the Weasley clan meeting.

He'd have to check Vernon ... and find that school and check Dudley as well, he decided. It'd mean more work, but this ... Bill grimaced. His family was going to go through the roof, his mother especially. And Merlin alone knew just how badly Sirius and Remus would react ... or the teachers that had rallied behind Harry. This was going to get very, very ugly very, very quickly. Dumbledore had a hell of a lot to answer for, and Bill did not envy him the accounting, he really didn't.

Half an hour later, Vernon arrived and was promptly petrified and silenced so that Bill could scan him in peace. That done and spells like the ones on Petunia confirmed, Bill went to work to try to break them. He swiftly discovered that it just wasn't going to happen. The spells were incredibly strong and well-anchored. Bill reluctantly came to the conclusion that the only way the spells would break is if Dumbledore himself lifted them ... or if Dumbledore died. He resolved to not mention the second option to his family. They'd think of it themselves eventually, and Bill really didn't want to encourage them. Hopefully they would think of it once they'd calmed down and would realize just how tricky killing Dumbledore without ending up dead or in Azkaban would be. He released the Dursleys from the silencing and petrifying spells, and then he and the goblins headed back to the tunnel, which the goblins filled in behind them as they left. Soon enough they were back on the street and Bill took a deep breath.

"Thank you for your help, gentlemen. Now I just have to tell everyone what I found."

The goblins nodded and disappeared as one. Bill took one last look in the general direction of Number Four, then apparated back to Weasley Cottage to give his report. This was going to be ... interesting.

Weasley Cottage

Septimus, Cedrella, Sirius and Remus had all taken a break for dinner when Bill arrived. Cedrella got one good look at her eldest grandson's face and looked over at Septimus. "Bill. You look like you've had a long day."

Bill slumped into one of the chairs at the table. "You can say that again. I got into Privet Drive. The idiot either forgot that goblins and house elves can do things wizards can't, or made no provision for it. He didn't even make the wards a bubble, just a dome. The goblins were able to bypass the lot just by tunneling under the place."

All four of the other adults at the table looked properly horrified. "That's ... ridiculous!" Cedrella finally managed.

"Tell me about it. There was a second ward behind the Fidelius that was designed to kill anyone with a Dark Mark that tried to enter the property if the Fidelius broke."

That information made Remus cringe, knowing as he did that Severus had wanted very badly to go to Privet Drive and teach the Dursleys the error of their ways. Thank Merlin he'd not gotten around to it.

"What else did you find?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Half the house was lit up with Harry's magical signature, from accidental magic. Almost all of it self-defensive or healing in nature."

That got a growl from everyone. "Bastards."

Bill took a deep breath. "That wasn't the worst of it. The Dursleys were gone when I first got there with the goblins, but Petunia came home about the time we finished checking the place for spells. We checked her." He took another deep breath. "She had spells on her that ensured she would never treat Harry decently, that she would hate him and abuse him."

There was an instantaneous roar of rage from three male throats. Cedrella was the only hold-out. She opted for turning, aiming out the nearest window, and blasting the crap out of the yard for a minute or two. For a few minutes, there was confusion as all three men vowed vengeance in overlapping voices and ... quite colorful terms. Eventually, they ran out of steam and Bill was able to continue.

"Vernon had the same spells on him when he came home from work. I can only assume that Dudley has them as well. Unfortunately, Dumbledore is damned strong, and I wasn't able to break the spells. He'll have to do it himself."

"He'll do it or he'll find that wand of his crammed where the sun don't shine." Sirius snarled viciously.

Remus, long used to governing his emotions in an attempt to keep the wolf under at least a modicum of control, was the first to be able to think clearly and somewhat calmly, though the wolf was pacing in his mind, snarling angrily at this attack on his pack. "Whatever we do, we can't tell Severus."

"Why the hell not, Remus? That meddlesome bastard would get what he so richly deserves." Sirius wanted to know.

"Severus is Marked, Sirius! You know that! You also know how much he cared for Lily. He'd kill Dumbledore in a heartbeat ... and end up in Azkaban for it if he was lucky." Remus scolded.

That brought Sirius up short. Remus was right. Severus might be a cold, calculating bastard about just about everything in his life, but when it came to Lily ... Severus' considerable Slytherin qualities tended to take a vacation in favor of qualities that were a bit more Gryffindorish, like charging in where angels fear to tread, and hexing the crap out of anything that moved. The Marauders had made the mistake of being nasty to Lily only once. Severus' retribution for that incident had been spectacular, and not something any of them had been eager to see a repeat of. Of course, once Severus had got done with them, Lily'd had a go at them, which had only made the whole thing more memorable.

"So what do we do from here?" Bill wanted to know.

"We let the bastard know that we know." Septimus said immediately. "And tell him that if he wants to remain alive and in one piece, he steps down from the ICW and Wizengamot immediately. If he doesn't ... we tell him we'll tell Severus and let Severus deal with the problem however he sees fit." Septimus gave the others an evil grin. "We won't tell Severus, of course, but the threat of a pissed-off potions master under his roof ought to keep Dumbledore in line. Let his imagination of what Severus would do to him do the work for us."

Cedrella gave Septimus a kiss on the cheek. "I have taught you well, my husband." She said with a cheeky grin.

Septimus grinned right back at her. "Indeed you have, my darling wife. We'll corner the bastard tomorrow."

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Sirius agreed.

October 7, 1991 Hogwarts

In the early hours of the morning, before breakfast was due to be served in the Great Hall, Septimus, Cedrella, Sirius, Remus and Bill stormed into Hogwarts and straight for Dumbledore's office. Hogwarts, recognizing the group, and realizing they were rather ... unhappy ... forced the gargoyle aside without them having to use a password, and the five of them headed up.

So it was that a very startled Dumbledore found himself under seige by five rather irate wizards and witches. "How may I help you?" He asked.

"Shut. Up." Sirius snarled, fighting the urge to hex Dumbledore now they were face to face.

"I had a rather interesting visit to Privet Drive, Headmaster." Bill said, the title getting spat out like it was something especially foul. "A very interesting visit indeed."

Dumbledore mentally began to sweat, realizing the possible implications of that statement, given Bill's chosen career. "Did you now? I suppose you were forced to turn back when you could not find Harry's home?"

"Actually ... No. Quite the opposite. I got in very easily." Bill said with a smirk. He knew the Headmaster would probably try to find out how, but even if he resorted to Legilimency, he'd have no luck. Cursebreakers had to learn Occlumency before they were employed even as apprentices, since many of the things they did were of utmost secrecy. "And discovered some ... shall we say ... interesting spellwork. On the Dursleys."

**Damn. And no chance of Obliviating him, not with four other people in the room, all of them probably knowing what Bill discovered, and ready to hex me within an inch of my life if I go for my wand. Not that they'd stand a chance against me, but I'd rather not hurt them if I can get away with it. Them being injured in my office would be quite difficult to explain to anyone that managed to find out, and things have been reaching outside ears since Harry's arrival.** Dumbledore thought.

Unknown to him, both Hogwarts and Fawkes had braced themselves just in case Dumbledore did attempt to hex, Obliviate, or otherwise harm the five that were confronting him. In addition to that, Hogwarts was seething angrily. Dumbledore's days as Headmaster were over, though he didn't realize it just yet. Hogwarts would never again respond to him.

"Perhaps if you allowed me to explain ... " Dumbledore tried.

"There is no explanation for this, old man." Sirius snarled again. "There is no explanation for making the Dursleys hate and abuse Harry. None at all. You disgust me."

Septimus took over at that point. "This is how it's going to work, Dumbledore. Unless you want the story of how you've betrayed the Boy-Who-Lived on the front page of the Daily Prophet ... which will, incidentally, inform Severus of everything ... you will immediately resign from your posts as Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock. Whether or not you remain as Headmaster ... " Septimus hesitated, knowing Hogwarts held that ultimate decision in its power, now that she was awake. "Well, that we'll leave to the Board. I doubt they'll let you stay very long once they know what you've done." Privately, Septimus was betting on Hogwarts ejecting the bastard before the day was out.

Dumbledore eyed the five of them, measuring their resolve. All five, unfortunately, looked dead set on this course of action, and Dumbledore doubted there was anything he could do to stop them. If he intended to survive this, he'd have to act fast. The backlash of the public finding out what he'd been up to, even in part, would be horrific. However, if he kept it out of the paper for the time being, he could mount a quiet campaign to discredit Harry in the public's eyes, and therefore blunt the impact if the information was leaked to the newspapers. He'd be able to scoff at it as the imaginings of a rebellious, corrupted youth, or some such thing.

"Very well ... as you have me at a disadvantage. I shall come up with an appropriate excuse for my retirement from those positions." He eyed them harshly. "In return, you will not bring this to the Board. I have done nothing against the school's laws, and the Board would not be able to remove me as Headmaster on the strength of actions I have taken outside the school."

All five adults, in the know about Hogwarts, had to fight down anticipatory grins, knowing that Hogwarts would deal with Dumbledore herself. Hopefully very harshly.

"Very well, Dumbledore. We shan't say anything ... yet. But make no mistake, old man. Come anywhere near Harry, say one word against him, make one move against him, and you'll wish we'd gone with our first, impulsive reaction and hexed you ourselves." Septimus warned. "House Weasley is fully prepared to swear a blood feud against you, if it comes to that."

"As is House Black ... and you know you won't survive that, old man, so just ... stay the hells away from my godson." Sirius snarled.

That ... changed the picture quite a bit. Dumbledore swallowed somewhat nervously. Five on one odds he could manage, with the Elder Wand at his side. But there were close to two hundred Weasleys around the world that would rally behind their Head of House if he called a Blood Feud. And if Sirius called one ... that would align something like twenty more people against him, almost all of whom were Dark Wizards of varying strengths, nevermind the political clout the Blacks wielded. He didn't have a prayer against those sorts of odds. He was going to have to be very, very, very careful, whatever he chose to do next.

"Very well, gentlemen. Your points have been made." Dumbledore told them.

With one final, lingering look, the five of them turned and stalked out.

Chapter Text

(In)Justice and Action

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

October 12, 1991, Hogwarts

It had been an excruciatingly long and exceedingly frustrating week for Messrs Quirrell and Dumbledore ... and quite the blast for quite a few people in general and Harry, Sirius, Remus and the twins in particular. Quirrell had found himself locked out of his quarters, office, and classroom every time he left them, yet whenever he summoned someone to fix the problem, the doors would be unlocked by the time he returned. Twice, Quirrell found himself buried under a suit of armor that had inexplicably collapsed just as he was walking past. Worse, he'd had over half a dozen of the things take a swing at him with their weapons. After one incident with the stairs moving just as he was about to step onto them, leading to him nearly falling a couple stories, he became exceedingly careful traveling on them. The house elves, aware of Hogwarts' displeasure with Quirrell, got in on the act as well, ensuring that Quirrell's food and drink was never properly prepared, and his classroom, office and quarters were never cleaned.

If that wasn't bad enough, Quirrell had the twins to contend with. He found himself hounded by nearly every item in the Zonko catalogue, and a vast array of prank products that were the twins' creations. He lost what little respect and authority he had completely in the twins' classes, as they made a practice of playing cards, mocking him, and generally pulling every trick in the book that students the world over pull on substitute teachers, with a fine disregard for lost points and detentions. By the end of the week, all of Quirrell's first through fifth year classes that involved Gryffindors were more or less in open revolt. And just to add insult to injury, the Gryffindors were operating under McGonagall's beneficence, as she never once tried to force them to attend a Quirrell-applied detention, and despite the steady drop of points from Quirrell, Gryffindor somehow managed to stay neck-and-neck with Slytherin points-wise, indicating that McGonagall was rewarding the same amount of points that Quirrell was trying to detract.

Dumbledore had his own problems. He too found himself repeatedly and inexplicably locked out of his office and quarters. The floo system refused to work for him for the better part of the week, and during that time, he swiftly discovered that he could no longer apparate while on Hogwarts' grounds, nor create portkeys that would work on Hogwarts grounds. Fawkes disappeared completely, and the Headmaster/mistress portraits had gone to sleep and refused to wake, no matter how he entreated them. He also found himself falling afoul of every single oddball quirk of Hogwarts, from trick steps to fake doors. He escaped the wrath of the house-elves mostly by dint of having been Headmaster and not yet being publicly stripped of that title, though it was rather clear Hogwarts wanted no part of him.

Dumbledore was also fortunate in that he suffered a bit less of the twins' wrath, as they couldn't get to his office without being seen. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, someone, somewhere (Snape), slipped the twins the location of Dumbledore's living quarters, which they could get to without being seen. He found himself subjected to the same harassment as Quirrell, but with no real idea who the culprit was, as the twins were smart enough to keep their heads down around him, and varied their pranks enough that there was no obvious modus operandi to lead Dumbledore to the perpetrators.

It took Severus explaining the concept of 'keep your friends close but your enemies closer' and something close to a direct, flat order from Harry to get Hogwarts to stop trying to drive both men out of the castle and to re-open the floo for Dumbledore. At first, Harry'd been all for driving them both out, given they were so much trouble, but then he'd talked to Septimus, Severus, Sirius, and Remus. They'd all agreed that to drive both men out of the castle ... especially Dumbledore ... was a bad idea. They were both tagged as trouble, and as long as they were in the castle, Harry and company knew exactly where they were and what they were doing. If they were driven out, things would get more complicated than they really needed to be. Hogwarts hadn't been at all thrilled about leaving them be, despite Severus' explanations, so in the end Harry had to threaten to force the issue via an explicit order to get her to comply with their request. Even at that, she point-blank refused to allow Dumbledore to apparate or create portkeys that worked within her environs.

She might not have been able to back that desire up if it hadn't been for the fact that Dumbledore had no clue how the Hogwarts wards worked ... but then, no Headmaster for the last couple hundred years had known, either. All any of them had ever known was that somehow or other, being appointed as Headmaster allowed you to apparate while on Hogwarts' grounds, and to create portkeys that worked on Hogwarts grounds. To say that Dumbledore was exceedingly confused by Hogwarts' rebellion was to vastly understate the case, as even if the knowledge of Hogwarts being sentient had survived to Dumbledore's reign as Headmaster, he was arrogant and blind enough to not have believed it. He spent the second half of the week trying to figure out why the magic in Hogwarts had suddenly gone so dangerously barmy around both himself and Quirrell, to no effect.

Fawkes may have left Dumbledore, but he took to spending most of his time in Severus' quarters, one of the few places in the castle that Dumbledore couldn't just walk into even before Hogwarts rebelled, thanks to Severus' extensive wards. For his part, Severus was thrilled, mostly because Fawkes seemed to be willing to supply tears and even a pinch of ash for him to experiment with in potions.

Privet Drive

Inconvenience of having to walk to the ward boundaries be damned, Dumbledore still made his planned trip to the Dursleys. He sighed as he appeared on Privet Drive just after dusk, and approached Number Four. It was the work of moments to bring down the modified Fidelius and the Mark-killing ward. Whatever else was going to happen, Dumbledore was intelligent enough to know his chances of getting Harry back in this house for any reason resided somewhere in the negative triple digits, which made the wards completely extraneous. That there remained a slim possibility of a Death Eater discovering the Dursleys had harbored Harry just made bringing the wards down more imperative ... he might just be able to guilt Harry into listening to him if that happened.

Number Four Privet Drive was definitely suffering both from Harry's absence and the sudden dearth of income. The lawn and flower beds, once kept immaculate by dint of Harry's slave labor, now looked ragged, dry, and droopy. Petunia, looking even more pinch-faced and unhappy than usual, answered the door when he rang, and looked like she very much wanted to slam the door in his face when she realized who was at the door. Unfortunately, knowing that he'd been looking into getting their money back stayed her hand, and she settled for snapping at him.

"Get in here before someone sees you."

Dumbledore did as he was bid and followed her into the living room, where Vernon was sitting, glaring at the TV in displeasure. On the coffee table beside him sat not only the original monthly bills, but now there were also past-due notices.

"So where's our money then?" Vernon snarled.

"I am afraid that the money will no longer be forthcoming. Harry has removed himself from your guardianship, and stopped the payments accordingly." Dumbledore said.

"But you said ... " Petunia started, looking torn between pleased at being shut of the boy and upset at losing the money.

"Circumstances have changed. I must admit to being most curious about Harry. He is not what I was expecting." Dumbledore said.

"So that's it then, ten years of feeding, clothing, and housing the freak and it's good riddance?" Vernon sputtered angrily. "You promised us money, and I'll have it or ... "

He got no further than that, as Dumbledore turned his head and stared the man down. It took only a few seconds for Vernon to turn an alarming shade of purple and start squirming. Dumbledore spent the next few hours digging every bit of information out of the two of them about Harry, both verbally and via Legilimency. Having drained them of every scrap of information, he finally got to his feet, and headed for the door. He stopped before leaving as a thought occurred to him, and turned back to the couple, flicking his wand and cancelling the spells he'd put on them, since they too would be of no use in future.

That done, he made a quick trip to speak to Dudley, since the boy saw more of Harry than his parents did, thanks to being in the same grade and classes in school. He cancelled the spells on Dudley as well before he left, then returned to Hogwarts to mull over what he'd discovered.

Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had, of course, badmouthed literally everything about Harry, but thanks to the Legilimency and an ability to read between the lines, Dumbledore had managed to put together what he hoped was a more realistic view of the boy. His first report card, the only one to sport anything other than exceedingly poor grades, indicated a sharp intelligence. The sudden, inexplicable drop in his grades after that, showed a disturbing amount of cunning and conniving, as the Dursleys had reacted very poorly to Harry performing better than Dudley scholastically. It was a mistake that Harry never repeated.

In point of fact, Harry seemed to have a history of learning fast and well, and even of anticipating trouble after a time, given pre-existing patterns. It had only taken one other demonstration of the Dursley's displeasure at Harry excelling over Dudley for Harry to ensure he never again did better than Dudley ... at anything. He'd figured out all the Dursley's emotional patterns as well, demonstrating an ability to evade all three when they were in moods that would be dangerous for Harry's health, and in many cases, proving to be able to ameliorate the worst of their tempers one way or another, lessening the punishment he endured at their hands. Not that he'd been able to escape their abuse entirely, of course. For one thing, he'd not been able to control when he had bouts of accidental magic, which had always ensured a punishment, and as attuned as he'd become to the Dursleys' moods, he wasn't perfect in his ability to tailor his actions and words for the best effect.

So Harry was intelligent, observant, and had more than a dollop of Slytherin cunning and guile, not to mention a stubborn streak a mile wide to survive that hostile environment in as good condition as he'd been in, mentally and emotionally. He would not break ... or, at the very least, not break easily, no matter what Dumbledore might do towards that end. And worse, the boy would doubtlessly spot any inconsistency or insincerity in Dumbledore's words and actions. And if he didn't, the growing group of supporters around him surely would. Given his actions thus far, Harry also had a fine disregard for authority he did not respect, and it was clear that any respect Harry gave had to be earned. He was also highly unconventional, at least as wizards measured such things, and totally unconcerned with how people perceived him. Dumbledore's only relief was that Harry cared not a jot for his fame. And while Harry seemed somewhat aware of the clout he wielded as a Potter, he was either unaware of the full extent (which Dumbledore found unlikely) or disinclined to throwing that clout around.

Reluctantly, Dumbledore scrapped his tentative plans for Harry. Trying to lead the boy to the stone, or even exposing him to the Mirror of Erised, would only do more damage than good. The boy was bright enough to realize it was a setup, and would rightly pinpoint who was behind that setup, further damaging their already damaged relationship. If Dumbledore was to have any chance at regaining a degree of influence and control with the boy, he was going to have to play things straight. Blast and damn, but the boy was proving to be every bit as troublesome as his father.

So, he'd have to be straight-forward and honest, but nothing said he had to be totally honest. He did not have to answer questions that were not asked, after all, nor did he have to reveal the full answer to ... particularly sticky ... questions. He simply had to supply a truthful answer. Good enough. It was, at least, something to begin with. If he could get Harry to tolerate being around him anytime soon.

October 25, 1991 Ministry

The power-vacuum created by Dumbledore stepping down from the Wizengamot didn't take long to fill. Malcolm Davis, current Head of House Davis and grandfather to Tracy Davis, who was a Slytherin yearmate of Harry's, was voted into the Chief Warlock position. Septimus had been well pleased with that appointment, as Malcolm had been neutral during the Voldemort conflict, and, much like Amelia Bones, had a reputation for being fair, open-minded, and nigh-on incorruptible. Better, he wasn't pro-pureblood, as his son and heir had married a muggleborn witch, and Malcolm hadn't so much as batted an eye.

Today would be Malcolm's first real action as Chief Warlock. After two months of footwork, Amelia Bones was finally ready to bring Crouch to justice for his part in Sirius Black's illegal incarceration. Unfortunately for Barty Crouch Senior, the hammer was falling full on him, as the other players in the mess were out of the picture. Bagnold had died a few years back, and while there had been two junior Aurors implicated, they were unavailable. One had brought Sirius to Azkaban, and one who had 'lost' Sirius' belongings and paperwork. They had been acting under orders from both Crouch and Bagnold. Both men had retired shortly thereafter, and one had dropped out of sight, never to be seen again. Amelia had elected to let the remaining man be, as he'd been in a truly untenable situation. Attempting to defy both the Head of the DMLE and the Minister would not have ended well, for either man.

Courtroom Ten was filled to the rafters with everyone who could possibly find an excuse to attend, and probably more than a few who hadn't found an excuse but came anyway. Fudge had (probably wisely, given his own less-than-pristine doings) opted not to be in charge of prosecuting Crouch, though he was still in attendance. Sirius himself was sitting with Jepson, since his testimony would doubtlessly be required at some point in the proceedings. Remus was seated next to Septimus and Cedrella, all three of them glaring at Crouch.

"Order! Order in the court!" Malcolm's voice rang out. Once everyone had settled, he began the proceedings. "Trial, October the twenty-fifth, to ascertain the guilt or innocence of the accused, Bartemious Crouch Senior." Malcolm growled out. "Interrogators, Chief Warlock Malcolm Davis and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones." Then he read out a long list of charges, all related to Sirius getting tossed into Azkaban. The more charges he read, the louder the grumbling from the assembled observers got. Finally, the list of charges wound down, and Malcolm eyed Crouch. "How do you plead?" He asked.

Sirius made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat, fully expecting Crouch to plead not guilty. He wasn't disappointed. The gathered crowd practically howled, both in outrage and deep amusement at Crouch's effrontery. Jepson got a distinctly shark-like grin on his face, fully anticipating taking Crouch apart piece by piece.

The next couple of hours proved themselves to be among the worst of Crouch's life, if not the worst. Jepson had a ton of fun raking the man over the coals, exposing Crouch's corruption for all to see. Crouch's lawyer tried, but even his best attempts at slowing down the avalanche were rather pathetic.

Finally, Jepson wound down, and the Wizengamot members retired to render a verdict. They came back in a remarkably short amount of time ... less than half an hour. One of them spoke briefly with Malcolm, who then turned back to Crouch and the rest of the assemblage.

"Bartemious Crouch Senior. It is the judgement of this court that you are found guilty of all charges. You will be remanded to Azkaban prison immediately, there to spend the rest of your natural life, with no possibility of parole."

Crouch went ghost-pale and started screaming denials. When the Aurors released him from the chair to transport him to the Ministry holding cells prior to sending him to Azkaban, he did his level best to escape or overwhelm them, for all the good it did him. He was swiftly stupefied and petrified before his immobile body was floated out.

"Well, that was a rather unexpected end to the day." Sirius commented to Septimus.

"Indeed. Crouch seemed ... overly put out about his incarceration." Septimus shook his head. "He probably expected to get away with it all, or at the most to get a slap on the wrist."

Sirius couldn't disagree with that. Crouch had certainly not shown any remorse, or even any acknowledgement that what he had done had been illegal as all hell. "I'm just glad the bastard's dealt with. Might visit him in a decade or so, see how he's faring in his new accomodations." he growled.

Septimus snorted quietly, well aware that Sirius would never set foot on Azkaban island again if he had any choice in the matter at all. Though none of them commented on it, Sirius, despite trying his level best, was at least temporarily incapable of producing a patronus, as every potentially useable memory had been tainted. Sirius may have made it out of Azkaban physically whole and sane, but that did not mean he did not carry horrific scars from a decade in that hellhole. In large part, the goofy, irrepressible Gryffindor prankster had been replaced by a vengeful, dangerously clever man who had more in common with Slytherins than Gryffindors, despite managing to retain at least some measure of his old sense of humor.

"Let's get out of here. They're going to want an interview." Septimus said.

Sirius grimaced. "Bleargh. Ah well, if they want a sound bite, they're gonna get one." Septimus grinned in response, looking very nearly as sharkish as Jepson had at the beginning of Crouch's trial. Sirius and Septimus turned and stalked out of the room as one, a highly amused Cedrella on Septimus' arm.

Sure enough, every newshound in the Magical UK was there waiting, yelling questions. Sirius held up a hand and the lot of them went silent almost instantly, many of them all but quivering in their eagerness to hear what Sirius was going to say.

Dressed in his aristocratic best, and exuding the renowned Black 'I rule the world, bow before me' attitude, Sirius made for a rather striking figure as he began to speak.

"Justice has finally been done this day." Sirius said. "It is a sad commentary on the state of affairs of the Ministry that such a miscarriage of justice was able to be perpetrated at all, nevermind being allowed to continue to exist for a decade." He took a breath, then continued. "For centuries, House Black has been synonymous with the sordid underbelly of our world. As of my assumption of the title of Lord Black, this is no longer so. For the first time, House Black and House Potter are in accord in all matters. House Weasley has allied themselves with us as well." Behind him and to his right, Septimus nodded and took a step forward, indicating his agreement with that statement. "Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen, the age of corruption is at an end. Prejudice, bigotry and terrorism will no longer be tolerated. Madame Bones will have our full support to root out the lawbreakers hiding in the midst of the law-abiding public." Here, he half-bowed to Amelia, who was standing off to one side with a few of her Aurors to make sure the newshounds didn't get too unruly. "Any further inquiries may be directed to me via owl. Good day." And Sirius whirled and took off, followed by the Weasleys, while Amelia and her Aurors kept the reporters from following.

The announcement had been a carefully worded, though not too terribly subtle, warning to the Death Eaters and Voldemort (if he was out there and able to 'hear' about the warning) that they were going to be in trouble, and were not going to find the Ministry quite the easy prey they'd otherwise hoped to find them ... at least not if Sirius and Harry had anything to say about it.

Septimus and Sirius had been busy over the last few weeks, contacting and negotiating with pretty much every pureblood House that was either light-side or neutral, hoping to get them aligned behind Harry, if not Sirius. House Black's reputation was not going to be completely reversed in a few weeks or months. Sirius honestly fully expected the Black name to not be fully 'cleaned' within his lifetime, as it was simply impossible to counter more than a millennium of association with the Dark any kind of quickly. Ironically enough, the taint on the Black family name had been of some use with the purportedly 'darker' neutral families, intriguing them enough to at least listen. They were curious as to what had gotten Black to back someone not even close to be associated with the Dark, though not a few of them probably suspected Sirius of manipulating the hell out of a young, vulnerable, and impressionable Harry. Thus far, the only one leaning strongly towards an alliance was Dame Longbottom, though she had not yet officially allied herself and her House with them. It was, however, early days. Given a bit more time, they'd have more supporters and allies.

October 31, 1991, Hogwarts

Harry had never celebrated Halloween. He'd always been locked away in his cupboard, unfed and forbidden to make a sound. Not that the Dursleys had paid any attention to the holiday, to be certain, given its association with 'freaks'. Dudley was fed a surfeit of goodies, not that that was much different than a normal day, except there being, perhaps, a bit more chocolate than the norm, and that was generally the end of any celebrating. Vernon had a habit, however, of complaining, loudly and at great length, about freaks in general and Harry in particular, with great focus on Harry's supposed ingratitude and the supposed sacrifices the Dursleys had been forced to make to house him. It had made Halloween Harry's least favorite holiday ... not even Christmas was as bad. At least then, the Dursleys just ignored his existence. Learning the truth about his parents' death and everything else that had happened around Halloween had just made matters worse.

What Harry couldn't figure out was why in the name of everything a school full of witches and wizards were celebrating Halloween instead of Samhain. There was, he'd learned (mostly thanks to Hermione), quite a distinct difference between the two, though at least England's idea of Halloween was not as egregiously commercial and utterly divorced from the original pagan practices (whether Samhain or a similar celebration) as the American version.

All that in mind, Harry had elected to not attend the Halloween feast at dinnertime, and had instead curled himself up on a chair in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. To his surprise, he had company. Both Hermione and Neville had also decided to give the feast a miss.

The common room was pretty darn quiet for a while ... neither Harry nor Neville (whose parents had been tortured just the day after Halloween, so he wasn't too fond of the holiday either) were much in the mood for talking, and Hermione was curled up with a non-classes related book. Hissesh was curled up at Harry's feet, head on his lap, and Hedwig was perched on his shoulder, quietly preening Harry's hair. Crookshanks was curled up in Hermione's lap, his purring and the crackling of the fire the only real sounds in the room. At some point, alerted by Hogwarts, the house-elves had provided plates of food for the trio, though for the most part it had gone untouched.

Unfortunately, the quiet, introspective mood wasn't going to last. About an hour into their solitude, the set of armor that had 'appeared' in the Gryffindor Tower the day after Quirrell's attack on Harry (Hogwarts was taking NO chances with her Heir's wellbeing, thank you kindly) suddenly came to life.

"Harry! That Quirrell ... " Hogwarts spat the name out like it was something particularly vile " ... is at it again! He just got a troll through the wards and is aiming it towards the castle!"

Harry's head snapped up. "What the hell? You know if anyone else is outside the castle?"

"Everyone is inside, even Hagrid." Hogwarts told him.

"Perfect. Seal all the outer doors and do not let that troll in, no matter what anyone says or does. And tell McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape, if you can manage it without alerting Dumbledore."

"Done, Harry. Now will you let me ... "

"No, Hogwarts. I'm sorry, but Snape and the others were right about that. If we kick him out of the castle, we'll be working blind, with no idea what he's up to or why." Harry still wasn't too happy about it himself, but he did see the necessity of it.

The suit of armor sighed. "Oh, very well. I'll tolerate him for now."

Harry had all he could do to keep from snickering, as Hogwarts managed to sound like a peevish toddler being deprived of a desired treat or toy. "We better let Sirius and them know, too ... they're wanting to be kept up to date on this sort of thing." Harry added, reluctantly nudging Hissesh off his lap. Hedwig stubbornly refused to remove herself from his shoulder until he physically removed her. "Hedwig, I don't think you'd like being taken along for the ride of a floo call."

/I was comfortable!/ Hedwig complained.

Harry snickered, then headed up to his dorm room to get the tin of floo powder Sirius had given him so that Harry could call him if something came up. He came back downstairs and tossed a pinch in the fire. "Weasley Cottage!"

A few moments later, Cedrella's head appeared in the fire. "Harry, dear! Good to see you!" Then she got a good look at Harry's face. "Oh dear. Something tells me this isn't a social call."

"Sorry, but no, it's not. Could you tell Septimus, Sirius and Remus that Quirrell just tried to sneak a troll into the castle? I've had Hogwarts seal all the outer entrances so it won't get in and be a problem, but I figured you guys would want to know."

"And indeed we would." Cedrella confirmed. "I'll let them know. Take care of yourself, you hear me, young man?"

Harry grinned a bit. "Yeah, I hear you."

Fortunately for Hogwarts, Severus was not much of one for parties at the best of times, and Halloween was assuredly anything but the best of times. Fortunately, not even Dumbledore had been stupid enough to require Severus to attend the Halloween feasts beyond the time it took Severus to actually eat, so he generally escaped the revelry within about fifteen to twenty minutes, and spent the rest of the evening stalking about the castle and scaring the crap out of any students fool enough to bring themselves to his attention before curfew. This year, he was even crankier than usual, as having Harry about, not to mention having to deal with Remus again, and seeing Sirius, even though the two of them had yet to speak directly to one another, had rather exacerbated the grief and rage he felt.

"Severus, Quirrell's trying to get a troll in the castle." One of the statues he passed informed him.

Severus glared at the offending statue and snarled wordlessly at it before reining his temper in somewhat. "Where is he?" His tone did not bode well for Quirrell's continued, hex-free existence.

"The entrance by the greenhouses." Hogwarts told him, sounding only too happy to let Severus hex the man into oblivion.

Severus whirled and stormed towards the east side of the castle, wand appearing in his hand within two strides. It was as well there were no students wandering about, as he'd probably have scared them out of a decade's growth, considering the expression on his face was nothing short of murderous.

Of course, by this point, Quirrell would have the time on his hands required to pull something like this. Minerva may have started it with her Lions, but Severus, Filius and Pomona had all been swift to follow the trend, turning a blind eye to any and all hijinks aimed at Quirrell or performed during his classes. They also refused to enforce any detentions given, and ensured that point losses were regained. The end result was that Quirrell's classes had become playtime or (mostly for the sixth and seventh years) independent study time for the students. Filius and Severus had also gone behind both Quirrell and Dumbledores' backs and were holding unofficial DADA classes whenever the opportunity arose, both for their own Houses and anyone from the other two Houses that was interested, which had turned out to be quite a few students. Minerva, unfortunately, had too much on her plate, considering she was Deputy Headmistress (and doing most of Dumbledore's job for him) and could not hold any classes herself, despite being fairly knowledgeable about DADA. Pomona, while as knowledgeable and gifted in her own field as Severus was at potions, had been a fairly miserable DADA student, and was wise enough to direct her Badgers to Severus and Filius.

Quirrell showed he had some shred of intelligence when he spotted Severus. He immediately ducked behind the troll he had been trying to get into the castle, using the creature as an impromptu shield.

"I would very much like to know, Quirrell." Severus growled. "What, precisely, it is you think you are doing. Unless I am much mistaken, your ... contribution ... to the mutual defense of a certain ... item ... is already in place. So unless you are endeavoring to breed the beasts ... ?"

Severus let the question hang, wand pointed dead at Quirrell. He was unconcerned about the troll ... that he could despatch in mere moments. Quirrell was the real threat here.

Quirrell stammered and stuttered for a moment, but at that point, distracted as he was, the troll ceased to be ... amenable ... and started to take a swing at both men with its club. Severus rolled his eyes before taking the thing down with a deliberately overpowered (to contend with the beast's tough hide) Sectumsempra. For a long moment, he debated the pros and cons of just having done and taking Quirrell down, but eventually, reluctantly decided the 'keep enemies closer' clause still needed to be in play. He gave Quirrell a death-glare and whirled on his heel before stalking back into the castle, a disdainful "Do clean up the mess, Quirrell." floating back to the turbaned menace.

Severus headed straight for the Main Hall and Dumbledore, who was, as usual, presiding over the Halloween celebration. He gathered both Filius and Minerva with a look and a sharp jerk of the head as he stalked the length of the Head table towards Dumbledore.

"Headmaster." There was more than a tinge of amused malice in his voice at the title. "A word in your office. Now." His tone brooked no refusal.

The four of them made their way to the Headmaster's office. Filius and Minerva made themselves comfortable while Dumbledore settled behind his desk. Severus prowled back and forth for a few moments.

"I have just caught Quirrell red-handed attempting to coerce a troll into the castle. Tell me, Headmaster ... did the original one come down ill or die?" Severus' voice was entirely too mild and conversational for the comfort of anyone that knew him at all well. It was a dead giveaway that he was about ten seconds from hexing someone into a pile of goo. Filius and Minerva shared irate looks.

"Not that I am aware." Dumbledore offered.

"Is there any possible legitimate reason for bringing a second troll into the castle?" Severus wanted to know, still in that overly-nice tone.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No."

"You will, then, censure the man, I presume? Or is this too to be swept under the rug?" Snape demanded, a hint of a snarl finally leaking into his voice.

Much to his later private amusement, Dumbledore's floo flared to life at that moment, the irate faces of Sirius and Remus crammed into the fire side by side.

"DUMBLEDORE! What the hell kind of school are you running?" Sirius fairly roared.

Remus was a tad quieter, but every bit as emphatic. "What the hell is this about Quirrell and a troll?" The two men's voices overlapped as they spoke at the same time.

Dumbledore got a pained look on his face before he looked over at the fire. "Do come through, gentlemen. Severus was just informing me of this security breach."

Both men tumbled through a few seconds later. "Security breach my ass." Sirius snarled, so focused on Dumbledore he didn't even bother to give Severus' presence a second thought. "That damn troll shouldn't even have made it past the wards, old man ... unless you deliberately changed the wards so it could get through."

Remus reached over and grabbed Sirius' arm. "Sirius, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation." He offered in a calm, quiet voice, playing the straight man, as he always did.

James and Sirius had always been the front-men of the Marauders, while Remus had been the seemingly quiet, sensible one. It had, quite frequently, led to people making the critical error of assuming Remus was 'safe'. Only a rare few people had realized that Remus was the brains behind the Marauders. Sirius was the innovative, irrepressible one, coming up with off-the-wall ideas and doing the bulk of the set-ups for pranks. James had been the charismatic one that, more often than not, got them out of trouble if they got caught. He'd also been the one that pulled Sirius' wild ideas into workable, possible plans. Remus was the one that figured out how to make some of the wilder notions possible.

Dumbledore eyed them, and sighed. "I do not know how or why the troll got through the wards, but I assure you all, I had nothing to do with it. I'll have to check the wards in the morning. As for Professor Quirrell, I will question him in the morning as well. I take it the troll has been dealt with?" That question was aimed at Severus.

"Yes." Severus growled. He didn't much like that things were being put off, but knowing that Hogwarts would keep things safe, he let it be.

"I'll be picking Harry up immediately after his last class of the day tomorrow, Dumbledore." Sirius said, changing the subject entirely. "We'll be spending the weekend ... elsewhere."

Dumbledore grimaced, greatly displeased with this idea but unable to do anything about it. "Very well. See that Harry is returned before curfew Sunday night."

That seemed to break up the party, as the Heads of House filed out. For a moment, Sirius looked like he might go after them, but then seemed to change his mind. He gave Dumbledore one last dirty look before he grabbed some floo powder and he an Remus flooed back to the Cottage.

October 31, 1991 Somewhere near London

Barty Crouch Sr.'s home had, of course, been searched assiduously after his incarceration. Unfortunately for the searchers, the sole remaining house elf was successful in keeping hidden the Crouch home's greatest secret.

In a quiet, dusty, forgotten corner of the attic, an apparently empty patch of floor shimmered and shook. After a few moments, the slight movement became more pronounced, and a foot appeared out of nowhere. Slowly, over the next hour or so, the stiff, jerky movements became smoother and more controlled, and eventually, the man hidden under the invisibility cloak sat up, blinking as he peered around the attic and got his bearings.

It was a testament to the willpower of Barty Crouch Sr. that it had taken nearly a week solid of exposure to dementors for his concentration on and control of the Imperious curse controlling his son to falter, allowing the man to break free. Now, Barty Crouch Junior had but one goal in mind. To find and aid his Lord and Master, Voldemort.

Slowly, he got to his feet and began to search the house for a wand, completely ignoring the distressed elf that watched, teary-eyed and torn, as her charge defied her standing orders from her Master and ignored her pleadings.

It took an hour for Barty Junior to find his wand and pack supplies for an extended trip. The house, he knew, would not be safe ... it was supposed to be abandoned now, and any activity here would be reported immediately. He would have to find another base of operations before he could begin the search for his Lord.

Chapter Text

Home and Hearth

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

November 1, 1991 Potter Castle, Sound of Sleat, Scotland

Sirius had been looking forward to this day for two months solid. Some of the best memories of his life had taken place in Potter Castle, and he was eager to see the place again. That they'd also be paying their respects at Godric's Hollow didn't, actually, put a dent in the anticipation, though knowing they'd be visiting James and Lily's graves was a different sort of anticipation than that of seeing Potter Castle again ... and seeing Harry see the place for the first time. He couldn't seem to sit still as the last few hours wound down before they could head to Hogwarts and get Harry for the weekend.

Remus watched Sirius' bouncing and pacing with patient amusement and no small amount of pleasure. It marked the first time since Sirius' release from Azkaban that anything approaching the goofy, happy, eager boy he remembered had made an appearance, and it was something of a relief. Remus had begun to worry that a decade in Azkaban and all the betrayal and shenaniganry going on had completely destroyed Sirius' sense of humor and joi de vivre. It was really a relief to see Sirius anxiously anticipating something other than kicking certain people where it hurt the most ... not that said people didn't deserve the kicking, mind, but having nothing on your mind but revenge couldn't be good for a person.

Finally, it was time to go, and the two men Apparated to Hogsmeade, then headed up to the castle, both of them offering quiet greetings to Hogwarts herself as they passed through the main doors. They didn't get much further than that, and Remus had to laugh ... as did Sirius ... when a visibly eager Harry came into view, his bookbag over one shoulder, Hedwig perched on the other, and Hissesh slithering along beside him.

"A bit eager there, Harry?" Sirius asked with a grin.

Harry grinned right back. "Just a bit."

Hedwig hooted a greeting to both men and then lifted off from Harry's shoulder, which allowed Sirius and then Remus to gather Harry into a hug without squishing her into the bargain. Harry even managed to not stiffen up at all, which he was privately pleased with. He knew that Sirius and Remus would rather cut their own arms off than hurt him, but knowing that and convincing his body it didn't need to stiffen up or flinch away had been two entirely different things there for a while. Finally, the hugging was over and they headed out. Once they were beyond Hogwarts' wards, Remus hefted Hissesh (or part of him anyway) into his arms.

"Mind asking him to coil the rest of him close, Harry? Don't want to accidentally leave his tail behind." Remus asked.

Harry nodded and quickly passed on the request. [[Tuck your tail close to Remus, Hissesh ... and brace yourself. Apparating isn't much fun.]] He warned. Hissesh immediately curled his tail loosely around Remus' feet, and then Sirius wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and they were off.

When they first arrived, Harry thought that maybe Remus and Sirius had goofed. They were out in the middle of nowhere. They were on a low rise that looked rather like a hill that had got its top knocked off somehow, surrounded by grass, rock, and the odd, low, scrubby brush. There wasn't a tree in sight, and Harry could smell the ocean, even if he couldn't see it from here. There also wasn't a building of any sort anywhere in sight.

Sirius grinned at Harry's apparent confusion. "We're in the right place, pup. The Castle just shut itself up tight when your dad died, to wait for you to come back. C'mon ... it's just over here."

"It?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, the doorbell, so to speak." Sirius explained. "A way to let the people in the Castle ... if there was anyone there ... know they had guests who weren't on the Floo list, and to open the wards if the place shut down in the absence of Potters."

Sirius headed for a waist-high rock that, when Harry joined him, he realized had a number of deeply carved runes on it.

"Right. Bad news is, you're going to have to prick your hand, pup ... it'll need the blood to confirm you are who you say you are." Sirius told him. "Good news is, it only needs like a drop or two, so you don't have to do yourself serious damage. Just put your hand here on the flat bit and say 'I am Harry James Potter'." He offered Harry a small switchblade, with a commiserating grimace.

Harry grimaced as well, but took the switchblade. He was just glad he didn't have to slice his hand up for this. A quick flick dug the tip of the blade deep enough into his palm to make blood well, and he immediately clapped his hand onto the flat spot Sirius had indicated. "I am Harry James Potter." He said.

Almost instantly, he felt a faint tingle in his hand, and then a second later, there was a shimmer in the air about three inches from his face ... and suddenly there was a great deal more on that sheared-off hilltop than grass, rock, and scrub.

"Whoah." Harry breathed, then tore his eyes off the Castle to look over at Sirius and Remus. "You guys weren't kidding about the fortress comment you made a while back."

Sirius laughed. "Yeah, I know, pup, I know. It doesn't look like all that much from the outside, but it's a nice place inside."

A thirty-foot-tall stone wall stood about ten feet in front of them. Thick enough to have a walkway at the top, with ... Harry mentally counted ... six towers scattered here and there. There was a gatehouse, complete with portcullis and heavy, iron doors about three feet to the right.

/Holy ... can you believe this, Hedwig?/ Harry asked.

/It's quite impressive./ She agreed.

Harry headed for the gatehouse. The portcullis rose up and the doors opened on their own, and Harry stepped into an enormous area that had, at one time, probably been full of buildings for crafters and the like. Certainly there was enough space here to fit a small village. Now, though, it had been turned into a series of gardens, all neatly kept. Beyond the gardens was another thirty foot stone wall, as thick as the outer, this one with four towers. The second portcullis and set of iron doors also opened of their own accord.

"There's a quidditch pitch on the other side of the castle." Sirius told him. "Can't see it from here, but I can point it out later."

Harry barely heard him. Within the second wall, there was a much smaller yard, this one given over to a food and herb garden and a small orchard, if the neat rank of trees he could just see off to one side were any indication. He could also hear ... and smell ... chickens and pigs, probably hidden around the back of the castle. At the center was the castle proper. It had roughly a quarter of Hogwarts' floor space, being a single, squarish block that had five floors, judging by the windows. All the windows he could see were narrow arrow-slit windows, even the ones on the uppermost story.

"How on earth do owls get in?" He wanted to know.

"There's a slightly wider window on the second floor ... wide enough for an owl to fly into if they're careful ... that leads straight into an office." Sirius told him.

/We'll have to find that one, so you know where it is. And ensure the door stays open./ Harry told Hedwig.

"There's also an owlery on the roof, which has direct access to the fifth floor, and from there the rest of the Castle. I'll show you later today." Sirius told him. "Don't worry. Hedwig will be able to reach you, no matter where you are in the Castle."

Harry grinned, and then headed for the wide, heavy wood door that bore the Potter crest. This set of doors, however, didn't open on their own. Harry pushed the door open onto a wide foyer. There were two suits of armor, about a half dozen portraits, each with a (currently dozing) subject in them, candelabras scattered on the walls and candles suspended overhead much like in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The moment they stepped inside, the candles all lit with a whoosh, and the people in the portraits startled awake at the sudden light.

"I say!" One of the men closest to them sputtered. "Good gracious! Visitors!" Then he seemed to peer closer at them. "Do my eyes deceive me or do I see a grown-up Remus Lupin and Sirius Black before me?" Then the brown eyes landed on Harry, and the man inhaled sharply. "I do say! Goodness me! Young Master Harry, at last! Missy! Toker! Mallie! Jinks! Get down here!"

Whoever the man was, his identification of the triad had set off a storm of excitement and gossip among the other foyer portraits, one of whom had promptly run off, probably to tell whatever other portraits were in the Castle. A second later, there were a series of overlapping pops, and four house-elves appeared.

Two of them were quite old, if the wrinkles were an indication of age. All four were neatly dressed in white pillowcases that bore the Potter crest on the chest. All four of them proceeded to dogpile Harry, clinging to him and gibbering in joy and excitement. It took a good five minutes for them to calm down enough to realize Remus and Sirius were there, and then both men found themselves getting dogpiled as well. It was one of the older ones that finally called the others to order.

"We is so happy to being seeing yous again, Master Remus, Master Sirius! We's is even happier to being seeing Young Master Harry sir." The little guy smiled up at Harry. "Wes is taking very good care of the Castle while yous is gone, Master Harry sir."

"It's good to see you too, Toker." Sirius said, giving the elf a fond smile. He turned to Harry to explain. "Toker here is the head Potter elf. Has been since shortly after your granddad was born." He pointed to one of the two younger elves. "Jinks there had the unenviable job of trying to keep up with your dad, and then the three of us during the summers. We never did tell your granddad that Jinks was as likely to join in as not." That got a mischievous grin both from Sirius and from Jinks. "This one's Missy." He pointed to the second older elf. "She's in charge of keeping the roof, fourth and fifth floors clean ... the fourth and fifth floors haven't been used in a long time, and according to your dad, it's been tradition to have the older elves keep those areas up, as it's just simple dusting, compared to cleaning up after people's messes and keeping the gardens neat ... lets them work and feel useful without overworking them." He pointed to the fourth elf. "And that's Mallie. She, Jinks and Toker share cleaning, stocking and cooking duties in the basement, first, second, and third floors, as well as maintaining the grounds."

Harry whistled mentally. That was a lot of stuff to do, just having seen the outside. But clearly, the four house-elves were not suffering for the work. Though he wondered just how old Missy was, if she was considered too old to be working in the main part of the Castle, but Toker wasn't. Finally, he decided to ask. "Ummm, just how long do house-elves live?"

Remus chuckled. "They live about four or five hundred years ... if they're treated well, that is. Some folks who have them treat them really badly, which shortens their lives considerably. And to answer the other question I can hear rattling around in your head, Missy's three hundred and fifty years old, Toker's two hundred and sixty-five, Mallie's ... " He stopped to think. "Seventy, and Jinks is forty."

"No wonder he got the job of keeping track of you three." Harry said with a laugh. "He's the only one young enough to keep up!"

That got a laugh out of Sirius. "Well, I think a tour's in order, don't you?" And then some dinner." That last comment scattered the four elves, who took Harry, Sirius, and Remus' bags as they went.

"Now, first floor's kind of the 'company' floor. Mostly fancy stuff, except for the kitchen and family dining room." Sirius told Harry as they moved through the foyer ... and into a room nearly as big as Hogwarts' Great Hall, which surprised Harry, given the overall size of the castle. The main room was more square than rectangular, chopping about ten or twenty feet off the length, but that wasn't saying all that much, considering. The ceiling was almost ten feet over Harry's head, and like at Hogwarts, there were who knew how many candles floating about five feet above everyone's heads that all came to life as they stepped into the room. Directly across from them was a wide staircase leading to the upper floors and basement.

"Doesn't look like much at the moment." Sirius said, his voice echoing in the big, empty room. "But it's quite the place during a party." He grinned down at Harry. "Let's explore, shall we?"

And explore they did, for most of the rest of the evening. There was a basement, with an enormous potions lab that would probably have had Snape drooling, if he could ever bring himself to come anywhere near the Castle, a huge wine cellar, an old dungeon cell that had been refitted for Remus' use during full moons over summers and holidays, and what Harry was fairly sure was a millennium's worth of junk that hadn't been considered valuable enough to transfer to the vault. The other floors were all set up on the same blueprint ... a huge central space nearly the same size as the Hogwarts Great Hall, surrounded by rooms. The first floor was given over to mostly 'company' space, just as Sirius had said. There were four different parlors, a meeting room and formal dining room, in addition to kitchen, pantry, two enormous bathrooms that could handle six people each at a time, a huge storage closet that held Quidditch equipment and various sundries needed for parties, and the 'family' dining room.

The second floor's main area held an enormous library, filled with books Hogwarts only wished it had, and that would have Hermione camping out here until she was old and gray once she found out about it. There were two rooms of family portraits (for the portraits that hadn't been placed in every other room in the basement and first three floors), a music room, a craft room, two rooms filled with records relating to the Potters, an office, an armory filled with every portable wizarding and muggle weapon imaginable, up to and including a couple older guns, a room used as house-elf quarters, two more enormous bathrooms designed for six each like the ones on the first floor, and an dueling chamber.

The third floor's main space had been turned into an enormous, comfortable area for the family to hang out together, with groups of seats and tables and low bookshelves scattered everywhere. Most of the rooms here were bedrooms, eight in all. There was also a nursery, a large indoor playroom, as well as two bathrooms, these designed just for one person each. The fourth and fifth floors had been set up along the same lines, but it was clear from the furnishings they'd not been used in centuries. The third floor's furnishings were all far more modern. A good half-century out of date at this point, but much better than the thirteenth or fourteenth century gaudy monstrosities on the fourth and fifth floors.

Hedwig adored the high ceilings, and they quickly found the 'owl friendly' window in the office on the second floor. There was also four or five boxes on the floor in there that made Harry more than a bit curious, but he'd continued on with the exploration/tour. Hissesh rather thoroughly approved of the Castle as well, commenting that he could smell all sorts of small prey. That necessitated a discussion to keep Hissesh from making meals of the chickens and pigs Harry had heard but not seen thus far.

Eventually, they headed back down to the first floor and piled into the family dining room for a late dinner. Harry's head was spinning more than a little. It was all rather a bit to take in, much like that second trip to Gringott's had been. Heck, the first trip too. To his mind, the best part was the portraits that were everywhere. Over a millennium of Potters, immortalized forever, and most of them were quite chatty, and pleased to see the three of them. Harry wondered, with more than a little bit of a mental giggle, if there wasn't a portrait of Godric around here somewhere, with no one the wiser as to who he really was. He'd have to find out sometime.

It was a testament to just how overwhelmed Harry had gotten that it wasn't until that thought drifted across his mind that the possible existence of a portrait far more important to him on a personal level occurred to him. His eyes went wide.

"Sirius ... Remus ... did my parents ... " He motioned to the nearest portrait. "Did they ever get one done?"

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, startled, then Sirius looked back at Harry. "I'd forgotten. I know they sat for one for their wedding. It's practically a law for both Blacks and Potters ... must have a portrait done. But ... "

Remus picked up from there. "I don't remember either of them saying anything about picking the portrait up ... but given everything that was going on at the time, they may well have, but didn't mention it. It's certainly not here at the Castle. We'll check the Potter vault this weekend, and if we come up dry there, we can contact the portraitist. I know they're still around, so if James and Lily never picked the portrait up, they'd still have it somewhere." Then he grinned. "And while we're on the subject of things to do this weekend, remember those boxes in the office? That's all the mail Hedwig rescued." Hedwig gave a pleased cackle. "We need to go through at least some of it this weekend, and now we've got you both here, we can do the mail-rerouting spell. Break Dumbledore's casting and put our own on you, so you don't get swamped by fanmail every morning."

"Yeah, that definitely sounds like a good idea." Harry agreed. "I think Hedwig'd go spare, trying to keep them away from me."

That got a crackling hoot out of Hedwig. /It'd be fun trying, though!/ She told him, which made Harry laugh as he relayed the comment.

"Bloodthirsty little thing, isn't she?" Sirius said. "Not that that's bad, under the circumstances, and the good knows we've gotten some real laughs out of her reactions to Dumbledore, but I'm glad she's yours and not mine!"

Harry grinned over at Hedwig, who'd perched herself on the back of a spare chair during the meal. "So'm I." He said, grinning at Hedwig's pleasure. "She's completely brilliant."

They headed to the second-floor office after dinner, to do some of the mail. Sirius and Remus floated the boxes into the big family room on the third floor.

"More room to sprawl out." Sirius told him. "We're going to need it."

Remus brought what looked like half a ton of parchment with them, along with quill and ink. "So we can keep track of who to send notes to, and about what." He told Harry. "And it'll also make for a damn good way of knowing who's leaning in what direction when it comes to you."

They spent the next two hours opening envelopes and reading. It wasn't at all boring, as Sirius kept up a non-stop stream of goofy comments and stories, some of them about the people who wrote the letters, some about Lily and the Marauders. Most of the letters they opened that night were 'thank you' letters, though there were two that had clearly been written more recently, by young kids who'd been hearing 'Harry Potter' stories from their parents.

"It's going to take forever to get through all of these, isn't it?" Harry asked, eyeing the open box as well as the unopened ones.

"Probably, kiddo." Sirius said. "There were a lot of letters and packages."

"What if you guys previewed like a dozen a week or something, to make sure they're not anything bad, and then sent them to me at school to respond to?" Harry asked. "Otherwise, this won't get done until the end of next summer, if then!"

"That's definitely an idea. And we could set up a template letter ... you know 'thank you for writing, yadda yadda, Harry Potter' ... and copy it a bunch of times, so all you'd have to do is personalize it with their name and a comment or two, then send it out, so you wouldn't be taking a bunch of time away from studying." Sirius said with a nod.

"That works for me." Harry said. "And we answer the new ones right away, with something like 'sorry I haven't replied before, just got all my mail', or whatever."

Sirius nodded. "Definitely."

They went back to reading letters after that. Well, for a while anyway. At some point, Harry dozed off without even realizing it, slumping over against Sirius.

"Either he was so tired he couldn't see straight, or he actually trusts us." Remus murmured quietly. "Don't think he'd do that around just any adults."

Sirius carefully wrapped an arm around Harry, expression torn between affection and anger. "I hate him so much." No need to clarify who. "He robbed us ... all of us. I could almost ... almost ... tolerate what he did to me and you, but Harry was a baby, damnit. It makes me sick to my stomach to think what those bastards might've done to him."

Remus gave a thin smile. "We'll just have to spoil him rotten from here on out. Not that you didn't anyway, right from the first."

Sirius snorted in amusement. He'd adored Harry right from the start, and had spent as much time with his godson as he possibly could. To the point that Lily had joked about Harry having two dads. "You could've too, you know." He pointed out quietly.

Remus sighed. He'd drifted away from James and Sirius a bit after Hogwarts. They'd been pack, would always be pack, but his self-esteem issues had reared their ugly heads, convincing him that tolerating the werewolf roomie in school was one thing, but associating with him as adults would be quite another, especially given James and Sirius' social stations. He should've known better, but he'd been young, unsure of himself, and rather painfully aware of the stigma and prejudice aimed at werewolves. "Yeah, I know." He told Sirius. "What can I say, I was being stupid."

"Well, you can make up for it now, I think. He's going to need every scrap of affection everyone can give him to counter the bullshit he grew up dealing with." Sirius told him with a sad smile. The good knew, he had a fair idea what it took to counter a childhood of abuse, even if what he'd had to deal with had been solely verbal. Charlus and Dorea, James' parents, had been more his parents than Walburga and Orion ever had been, bless them. They'd welcomed him into their home, and hearts, with open arms.

Harry woke from his doze about an hour later, feeling, for the first time in his life, safe and content. It took him a moment to realize where he was at, and then he blushed crimson and tried to bolt away from Sirius. "Oh god, I'm sorry ... " He started to say, only to realize he hadn't exactly managed to bolt, since Sirius' arm was still around him.

"Hey, it's ok, Harry. I didn't mind in the least." Sirius told him, his voice gentle. "We were just about to haul you to bed and tuck you in."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the idea of being tucked in. "I'm not a little kid, Sirius." He pointed out, though a quiet corner of his mind told him he'd not mind having that done.

/They'd be happy to, you know./ Hedwig told him, speaking up for the first time in a while. /They both love you, quite a lot. They were talking while you were asleep, and evidently, you were more or less considered the Marauders' kid, not just your parents'./ Ok, so it was stretching the truth just a tiny bit, but Hedwig had been able to tell that if Remus hadn't let his werewolf issues get in his way, he'dve been right there with Sirius in spoiling Harry rotten, so it still counted.

/Really?/

/Yes, my silly chick. Just because your aunt and uncle were complete bastards doesn't mean you're unlovable./

"Hedwig telling you what-for?" Sirius asked, sounding amused.

"Something like that. How'd you know?" Harry asked.

"You get an odd look in your eyes whenever you're talking to her." Remus told him.

Sirius made as if to pick Harry up, which had Harry swatting at him. "Sirius! I can walk!"

Sirius ignored his protests, and the next thing Harry knew, he'd been thrown over Sirius' shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Remus! Help!"

Remus, who was snickering, decided to take Harry's plea rather differently than Harry intended it. "All right." And he got to his feet and helped keep the squirming eleven year old on Sirius' shoulder.

"Hey!" Harry squawked, but by then he was laughing as Sirius hauled him to his room. Sirius and Remus had taken the rooms to either side of his.

Once in the room, Remus quickly pulled the bedclothes back, whilst Sirius tossed Harry into the bed, shoes and all, and started 'tucking him in'. The resultant wrestling match slash tickle fight soon had the room ringing with laughter, with Remus alternating between being on Sirius' 'side' and Harry's. Eventually, breathless, they all collapsed on the bed, grinning broadly.

"All right. Seriously this time." Sirius said, which got him a gimlet stare from Remus, in an attempt to silence the almost inevitable joke about Serious/Sirius. "Bedtime. It's late, and we've got quite a day tomorrow."

November 2, 1991

The next morning, the mood was more somber. The first thing Remus and Sirius did after breakfast was to undo Dumbledore's mail redirect and apply their own, allowing only Gringotts, themselves, Septimus, Cedrella, Hermione and Neville to send mail to Harry directly for the moment, though they'd probably end up expanding the list over time.

That done, they apparated to the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. It was a sleepy little village with little more than a handful of shops in the village square and perhaps thirty or so homes on a bare handful of streets. Harry was so busy checking out the view ahead of them that he didn't really notice the homes closest to them until Sirius inhaled sharply. He glanced around, and inhaled sharply himself. Directly to their right was ... well, what was left of the place where ...

It might have, at one time, been a nice little cottage. Two floors, nice-sized, with a fair-sized patch of land around it, with a fence separating it from its closest neighbors to either side. Unfortunately, it was definitely no longer a nice place to live. Almost the entirety of the second floor had been blasted to bits. From where Harry was standing, it looked like all but one small corner of roof was missing, along with at least two entire outer walls, and the top half of the front wall had been taken off as well. Weirdly, the fence looked like it was covered in graffiti.

Harry felt his stomach clench as that old wisp of memory roared to the front of his mind. The high-pitched laugh, a woman's scream, and a flash of brilliant green followed by blazing pain.

/Are you all right, Harry-chick?/ Hedwig demanded to know. She hadn't gone with them, but that didn't stop her from being aware of Harry's mood.

/Sort of. I guess. I always used to wonder about that ... well, I used to think it was a dream, you know? Now I ... well, it's a lot less likely that it's just my imagination running amok, from what I've heard about what happened, and now I'm standing here looking at the place, and I'm really wondering how in the name of everything I survived, between getting hit with a spell and having what looks like half the house falling on my head./

"You ok, pup?" Sirius' voice was shaking a bit with suppressed emotion.

Harry glanced over. Sirius's face was bloodless, and he had a good grip on Remus' shoulder. Poor Remus looked like someone had just sucker punched him. He shrugged. "I dunno. I just ... how did I survive that?" He waved at the house.

"Hell if we know, pup." Sirius said. "I don't think anyone really knows the answer to that, not even Dumbledore, for all his supposed wisdom."

"Remus?" Harry asked.

Remus took a deep breath and pulled himself together. "I've ... never been here." He said, his voice even shakier than Sirius'. "Not since it happened." He'd had a hard enough time staying sane as it was. Coming here and seeing this, visiting their graves, would have been the end of him. "Let's just ... " He motioned towards the village square, just visible at the end of the street. "Let's just go."

So they went. Harry had noticed the odd obelisk at the center of the square earlier, but didn't pay it any real attention until they got close to it, at which point it changed into a statue of two people. Well, three, really, but two adults holding a baby. Harry frowned at it.

"They put up a statue?" He asked, his voice somewhere between disbelief and horror.

"'Fraid so, pup." Sirius' voice was still choked, though he too was frowning. "Doesn't look all that much like them, to be honest."

"It's probably that it's made of stone, Pads." Remus pointed out. "Doesn't allow for that much in the way of expression."

"And it also doesn't help that the only time James had that dozy look on his face was the day Harry was born." Sirius seemed to be recovering somewhat, something like humor in his tone. "Remember that, Remus?"

Remus managed a hollow laugh. "How could I forget? James was hysterically funny that day." He gave his head a fond shake.

"Why do you say that?" Harry wanted to know, eager for more tales of his parents.

"James was a bit over the top when he found out he was going to be a dad. I swear, Lily had to hex him at least once a week for being so goofy." Remus told him. "He'd alternate between wanting to wrap Lily in cotton batting and forbid her from so much as snapping her fingers, to wanting to buy out every toy store in the country, to making these wildly grandiose plans for your future. He panicked every time Lily so much as looked less than well thanks to morning sickness. Pads and I spent a lot of time laughing ourselves sick at him, and mocking him mercilessly. Of course, I got double the fun, because half the time, Sirius was joining James in the silliness."

"Oh, and you never did? I distinctly remember a time or three when you got in on the fun. " Sirius said, sounding amused.

Remus snorted in amusement. "I wasn't as bad as the two of you, though. Anyway, when Lily went into labor, James completely lost his head. Panicked, big time, and paced and flailed around like a fish on dry land. Only reason he didn't get hexed six ways from Sunday was because the midwife took Lily's wand. And then when you were born and the midwife put you in his arms ... " Remus shook his head, grinning. "Merlin, the look on his face. I know I've got a picture, somewhere. I'll have to find it. Anyway, the midwife practically had to prise you out of his arms so Lily could feed you. He was completely smitten." Remus waved at Sirius. "And this one was no better."

"Neither were you, Moony. I remember you holding him that day, and being as reluctant to turn him loose as James and I were." Sirius said, then glanced at Harry. "He likes to pretend he's the level-headed one of the bunch. Don't believe a word he says. He just hides it better than James and I ever did."

Harry grinned. The story had helped all of their moods, so they weren't as ... distraught ... when they made their way across the square to the little fenced-off graveyard beside the church. Once inside, it took them a minute or two to find the grave, as none of them had been there before. Eventually, they found it, and Harry found himself grateful that there wasn't some huge, gaudy mausoleum, monument or statue here. Just a simple gravestone, with their names, dates of birth and death, and an odd little quote.

**The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death?** Harry's mental voice was a bit hysterical. **I'm guessing that was Dumbledore's idea.**

He found it ... almost offensive. Ok, more than almost. It was stupid, and impersonal, and he was having to restrain the urge to find someone to redo the stone with something more ... appropriate. And then go hex the crap out of the ruddy old goat.

Without really realizing it, the three of them had huddled into each other, Remus and Sirius leaning a shoulder on each other. Both men had a hand on Harry's shoulders, while he leaned back into them. They stood there, completely silent, for who knew how long before they finally stirred, and Sirius reached a shaking hand out to rest on the stone.

"We're back together." He all but growled. "Turned out you guys were more right than you knew, and things went horribly wrong, but we're back together, and nothing on this earth is going to tear us apart again." The hand still on Harry's shoulder tightened briefly. "And Merlin as my witness, no matter what it takes, they're going to pay for what they've done, all of them. Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it. Nobody."

Harry felt Remus shift slightly, probably to try to offer some sort of comfort to Sirius. Mentally, he was echoing Sirius. No one was going to force him away from Sirius and Remus, and the guilty were going to pay, because Harry wasn't going to tolerate anyone hurting his family, newfound as it may have been. He had no clue how he'd take down Voldemort, but he'd figure it out, and trust Sirius to figure out how to deal with the so-called law-abiding citizens that had screwed them all over.

After a moment or two of continued silence, they made their way out, and apparated back to the Castle for some lunch. It took a while to shake off the somber mood, but eventually, Sirius suggested they head for Gringotts, to see if James and Lily's wedding portrait was in the main Potter vault. Harry didn't remember seeing a portrait of any kind, but he also knew he'd been pretty overwhelmed when he'd gone in there, and hadn't looked all that closely or investigated every corner, so he could easily have missed it.

Despite the somber start to the day, once they were in the vault, they started having more than a little fun, with Sirius and Remus explaining what several of the odder items were, and exclaiming over several of the finds. It took nearly two hours, though, to finally find what they were looking for. In the corner furthest from the door, hidden behind a half-dozen rolled-up tapestries and rugs, was a four-foot-tall, two-foot-wide portrait of James and Lily in their wedding robes. If the background was any indication, they were in one of the gardens at the Castle, since a familiar, tall wall was visible behind them, along with the various flowers and shrubs. Weirdly, they seemed to be frozen in place. Harry stared at the portrait for a long moment. Remus had shown him a few pictures, but they'd all been older, done in black and white, not color, so this was the first time he'd gotten to really see what they looked like. It took him a few moments to realize something was wrong.

"How come they're not moving?" Harry asked.

"They need to be hung on a wall for the portrait to become active." Sirius explained. "They'll wake and start moving once we've got them up in the castle. We just need to figure out where to put them."

"Somewhere in the third floor family room." Was Harry's immediate vote. "We'll spend most of our time there, right?"

Remus nodded. "Good idea. We can put them on the wall by our rooms, since we'll likely use the seating arrangements there the most."

Sirius nodded. "Definitely a plan. Might have to shift a few portraits, but I don't think they'll mind overmuch, given the circumstances." He glanced around. "Did you see anything you wanted to bring with us?"

Harry shook his head. "Only the books, but without knowing what books are already in the library at the Castle ... "

"There's a ledger in the Records room that has all the books in it. We can bring that here some other time, and collect any books that aren't duplicates." Sirius told him.

They headed back to the Castle, and immediately began scouting the best spot to put the large portrait. There was a nice gap on the wall between Remus and Harry's rooms, where they'd only have to shift one portrait to make room for James and Lily. The person in the smaller portrait was only too happy to cooperate, and was relocated to the wall between Harry and Sirius' rooms, where there was just enough room for it.

There was a flare of white light and a pulse of magic the moment the portrait was flush to the wall. Harry blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, giving his head a shake.

"Damn, I forgot they did that." Sirius sounded mildly irked at himself.

"Padfoot? Moony?" That ... was not a voice Harry knew, and when the dazzles finally cleared from his eyes, he saw that James and Lily were moving now, mostly blinking and turning their heads to see what was going on. It had been James that had spoken. "How long ... " Then he broke off as he spotted Harry. "Harry." His voice was choked with emotion. Lily was just staring at him, tears in her eyes, apparently incapable of getting her voice to work at the moment.

Harry had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. He'd not thought that his parents would know who he was, given that this was their wedding portrait. He'd not been born for a couple years afterwards, after all. " ... dad? But ... how ... ?" He sounded every bit as choked as James did.

"Portraits' memories can be updated, pup." Sirius' voice was shaking. "They must've ... "

"Updated the same time we left the emergency stuff in the vault." James finished. "We also hid the portrait, just in case Dumbledore found a way to get into the vault." He glanced at Lily, who seemed to have finally got herself together again. "By then, there wasn't much we were willing to put past the bastard."

"It's as well you planned ahead." Remus admitted. "Things pretty much went as badly as they possibly could."

They spent the next hour or so catching James and Lily up on everything that had happened. Harry sort of wished they were still alive, because the thought of what the two of them'd do to Dumbledore amused the heck out of him. He swiftly discovered that his mother had quite the temper. Not that James was all that far behind her.

It felt ... strange, having the portrait. Like his mom and dad weren't really dead, in a way. Oh, he knew they were, he wasn't stupid or delusional, but the portrait ... well, with those, no one ever really, truly died in the wizarding world, if they had one. Not in the truest sense of the word, anyway. There was always a part of them still here, still laughing and talking and ... living, for lack of a better word for it. It was oddly comforting. Despite them all being dead, he still had his family, could hear all the sorts of stories kids usually heard from parents and grandparents.

They spent the rest of Saturday just hanging out and talking with each other, James and Lily. Sunday was given over to much of the same, though they dealt with more letters and packages while they talked. Harry didn't really want to go back to Hogwarts that evening, despite knowing he had to. He consoled himself with the thought of two solid weeks here, come Christmastime, and two months over the summer.

November 3, 1991 Hogwarts

The past having been much on Sirius' mind the last week, he had finally decided that, for good or ill, there was one last dragon to be confronted in its lair. To that end, having seen Harry to the safety of Gryffindor Tower, he made his way to the dungeons, and Snape's office.

Snape was in residence, busily marking up some hapless student's essay with a veritable sea of caustic red-inked commentary. While Sirius had no doubt that Snape had some sort of alert on his door and was, therefore, aware he had a visitor, Snape's apparent industry allowed him a moment to study the man.

It was amazing, considering how little Snape had changed, how little he resembled the boy he'd once been. He was still greasy and ugly, and from all reports, even more acid-tongued, defensive and vindictive. Yet, where once those very attributes had invited antagonism, Snape had grown into a man with whom Sirius, even if he were at the top of his game, would hesitate to cross wands. Sirius supposed it was the fact that somewhere along the line, Snape had figured out how to take full advantage of his height and had learned how to make a lasting impression without actually having to say or do much of anything.

Snape finally looked up, and abruptly, there was tension thick enough to cut coloring the air of the room. The dozen or so feet between the door and the desk may as well have been a bottomless chasm as the two men stared at one another, old antagonism blazing as the ghosts of the past crowded around them.

"What the hells do you want, Black?" Severus snarled.

Sirius took a deep breath, stepped fully into the room and closed the door. "To bury the hatchet." He said. "Or at least try to." He took another breath. "I don't like you. Never will. But that didn't ... I was a complete idiot, and a right berk to you, and I didn't need to be. My only excuse is that my ... upbringing ... made me hate anything that even hinted at being Dark." And Severus had been proud of his Dark Arts knowledge, proud to be a Slytherin. He'd also been very solitary, which had made him a far easier target than the rest of that House. "Things got way out of hand." It hadn't helped that Severus had been so close to Lily, and that James had fancied her from the start.

Severus stared at him silently for a long minute before he finally spoke, having to mentally censor the first dozen or so things that wanted to come out of his mouth. He hated Black. Probably always would. But for Lily's sake ... for Harry's sake, he was going to have to learn to tolerate the man's existence. He could not help Harry without coming into contact with Black, and fairly frequently at that. "For your godson's sake, I will ... attempt ... to leave the past in the past. He is going to need every bit of help he can get, to survive what's coming, and having the two of us sniping at each other is not going to help." He couldn't keep the loathing out of his voice ... not that Sirius had sounded any more thrilled than he was about burying the hatchet.

It was the best they were going to get. There was too much history, all of it painful, between them for a true truce, nevermind forgiveness and understanding and a clean, new start. But not actively trying to kill each other or verbally eviscerate each other was definitely better than the ugly fights they'd gotten into during their schooldays, which would very likely be child's play compared to what could, would happen now, if they didn't at least try to get along.

Chapter Text

Christmas Cheer

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

December 24, 1991 Potter Castle

Harry rolled over and blinked sleepily at the ceiling of his bedroom at Potter Castle. His room. He couldn't quite restrain a thoroughly goofy grin. He had his own room, for the first time in his life. Dudley's second bedroom didn't count. Not when it'd still had so much of Dudley's crap in there, and he'd only had it for a bit under a month.

The bed was going to take some getting used to ... it was enormous. Big enough that Hissesh was able to curl up at the foot of the bed without crowding Harry. Hedwig was perched on the headboard. Both stirred when he moved.

[[Good morning, Harry]] Hissesh greeted, his head comin up off the mattress as he slithered forward. Harry reached down to caress the big snake. He sounded very sleepy. While Hissesh hadn't precisely been hibernating since winter set in thanks to being in climate-controlled surroundings, he had been sleeping more.

[[Good morning, Hissesh.]] He returned the greeting.

Hedwig hopped down onto Harry's chest a moment later. /You're in a good mood!/ She commented, sounding quite pleased.

/What's not to be in a good mood about?/ Harry wanted to know with another silly grin. /Life is, right here and now, quite splendid./

He sat up and pushed the heavy drapes around his bed aside, then glanced over at the wide window covered in heavy drapes. He'd been surprised, last month, to see how different the windows of the Castle were on the inside compared to the outside. He had no idea how it'd been accomplished, but from the inside, the windows were as different from arrow-slit windows as you could get. They were wide and tall and let in floods of light. Many of them, especially on the first floor, looked like stained-glass windows. If the amount of light peeking around the drapes was any indication, the weather in no way matched his mood.

He grinned again and stretched, then rubbed at achy legs. The last ... almost two months at this point ... had been shockingly quiet, at least for him. There'd been classes, and homework, and the additional studies that McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape all encouraged him to work on and which he, to his surprise, thoroughly enjoyed. There'd also been pranks as he'd not been able to resist joining in on the ongoing prank-war the twins and half the rest of the shool were waging against Quirrell, and that the twins alone were perpetrating against Dumbledore.

Better still, the potions Snape had been pouring down his gullet since early September were finally having an effect, and about a week ago he'd started a much-desired growth spurt. Hopefully, by the end of January, he'd no longer be the shortest kid in the castle ... well, almost. There were one or two first year girls shorter than he was, but that was it. Of course, Hermione had taken to pretending (playfully) that she didn't know him at mealtimes, as his food consumption had gone from 'average' to rivaling Ron, though he was more polite about it. Best of all, he now had a week and a half solid of Sirius and Remus to look forward to.

Before Harry could actually climb fully out of bed, Sirius, grinning broadly and bouncing on the balls of his feet, exploded into the room. The last two months had been good to him, as well. He'd filled out fully, and if you didn't look in his eyes, there was no real difference between Sirius now and the Sirius in the old photos Harry had seen. The eyes, though, gave the lie to the similarity. Except for times like now, when Sirius was in a blazing good mood and anticipating something.

"Rise and shine, kiddo! We have a lot to do today. Shopping, finding and decorating a tree, wrapping presents ... Maybe some flying, if we can con Moony into it." Sirius said, looking like he was but a moment from hauling Harry out of bed by main force.

Harry had discovered that Remus was nearly as fond of flying as Hermione was ... which was to say, not at all, thank you kindly. "Yeah, and maybe Hermione will make the Gryffindor team, Sirius." He pointed out, clambering out of bed with a yawn. "G'wan so I can get dressed. I'm up, I promise."

Sirius eyed him for half a moment, almost looking disappointed he didn't have an opportunity to pull something silly on Harry, then grinned and left, closing the door behind him.

Harry shook his head and gave Hissesh and Hedwig both another pat before he got to his feet. He headed over to the window and pulled the drapes back, letting the morning light flood the room. Ok, maybe not flood, since the sky was a depressing steel gray and sleet was rattling against the glass, but there was still light. This high up, the window was actually of some use ... Harry could see over both of the protective walls, and could see a bit of the outer yard. Mostly the tallest stuff closest to the outside wall, but it was something, and a darn sight better than the view of stone wall the first two floors got from their windows. He turned to head for his wardrobe.

His room was quite large, something like twenty feet square, maybe a bit more, with the enormous, heavy four-poster canopied bed, his trunk and two nightstands against the wall to the right of the door, a roll-top desk and chair on the left side of the door and a huge wardrobe on the right. The wall to the left of the door was covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books. Harry had swiftly discovered that while the bulk of the Potter Library was contained in the library on the second floor, darn near every other room in the castle had at least one bookcase full of books. Thank goodness there was a ledger in the main library with a list of books in the castle, and Toker knew where every last one of them was at. The three walls not covered in bookcases had several portraits each on them. The furniture was all a heavy, dark wood with a vine-and-flower motif, and the drapes around the bed and over the window were a deep royal blue, as were the rugs scattered over the floor.

Harry crossed over to the wardrobe and pulled out some clothes, then padded out the door and into the closer of the two bathrooms. Fifteen minutes later, washed and dressed, he came back out, and grinned when he spotted Remus and Sirius sitting in nearby chairs, clearly waiting for him so they could walk down to the dining room together. Both men gave him a good-morning hug, which Harry quietly reveled in. It would be a long, long time ... maybe never ... before he started taking such things for granted. They all greeted the portrait of James and Lily before Hedwig swooped out of Harry's room and settled on his shoulder for the trip downstairs to breakfast.

The elves put on quite a spread, considering it was Christmas Eve. Breakfast was spent in planning the day and more than a little playful banter. At one point, it was only Toker's sad expression that prevented a food fight, they got to being so silly. Eventually, however, they were fed and bundled into heavy, rainproof cloaks, and then they all headed for Inverness to find a tree.

The Dursleys had always had a fake tree, so even if Harry had been a part of their family, he'd never have gotten a chance to pick a Christmas tree. The sheer array of sizes and types of tree stunned him. They spent a good hour wandering the muggle tree farm that they'd gone to before they finally settled on a nearly fifteen foot tall monster that was nearly as big as some of the ones Harry had seen Hagrid dragging into the Great Hall at Hogwarts. They paid for the tree, and when the farm's owner was distracted by the arrival of several new customers, Toker and Mallie popped in to take the tree to the Castle.

From there, they went to Diagon Alley to shop for presents. Harry had quite the time of it finding what he wanted. The crowds were incredible, but he was determined. He'd managed to get a few things via owl order in the weeks before Christmas, but he'd been struggling with the whole thing, as he'd never had to buy presents before, and so hadn't managed to find something for everyone on his list. Hagrid had been the easiest to get a present for, with Hermione and Neville tied for second. Hagrid would have been pleased with most anything, Harry knew, and books and plants were the really obvious choices for Hermione and Neville.

Sirius and Remus were harder, mostly because neither man had a blatantly obvious hobby or interest he could use for ideas of what to get. About the only thing that Harry had been able to think of right off was a supply of wolfsbane for Remus, but Sirius was already buying that every month, so there went that idea. That he was going to have to sneak the purchase of their Christmas presents past the two men just made it that bit harder.

Harry was also wanting to get some small token for McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape. Not anything big, but all three had been spending some of their scarce free time to teach him privately, so he felt it only fair, especially in Snape's case. He was all too aware that Snape was not best pleased to be having to deal with Sirius and Remus for any reason. Septimus and Cedrella were also on his list, and again, very difficult.

Sirius was like a kid in a candy store as they made their way down Diagon Alley, pointing out a number of things in the various windows and exclaiming excitedly. It was a reaction that Harry blessed, as it gave him several ideas on what to get him. Remus was quieter, but there were a couple times Harry noticed him eyeballing something with a longing look in his eye. Despite being under Sirius' protection, Remus still had a tendency to fight tooth and nail whenever Sirius wanted to buy him things, much to Sirius and Harry's continued exasperated amusement.

In the end, Harry found something for everyone, including gag gifts for both Sirius and Remus. Sirius' had been inspired by Sirius wanting to get some catnip mice for McGonagall. Harry had wondered privately ... and Remus had wondered aloud ... if Sirius had a death wish. Harry'd promptly gotten Sirius a collar, leash, and dog bed when the man's back was turned (Remus provided the distraction) as well as a couple squeaky toys. He'd snuck into Zonkos for some prank writing equipment for Remus.

They returned just an hour or so before lunch, triumphant, and immediately sat down in the main room on the third floor to wrap the presents for people other than each other, so they could be shrunk and sent out to a mail-owl service for delivery that night. That done, they took a break for a truly splendid lunch, then it was time to trim the tree.

Harry had never been permitted to participate in any of the 'familial' activities at Privet Drive if there'd been any other option, so this was the first time he was getting to help decorate the tree. They set it up close to their rooms in the third floor main room, and Sirius and Remus kept Harry in stitches with their antics. They mock-argued over the placement of every ornament, and more than once, one of them went behind the other and moved an ornament to a different location ... only for the other to spot the moved ornament and move it back.

While they were decorating the tree, the elves were popping in and out repeatedly on the first, second, and third floors, bringing in swags of live holly and pine boughs, and doing something to the candles overhead so their flames glowed a multitude of colors, giving the rooms a festive glow.

Tree decorated, it was time for an enormous dinner. After that, they separated for an hour or so to wrap their presents to each other. That done, the three of them curled up on couches in the third floor main room for a bit of mail-sorting, some hot chocolate, and a bunch of stories. It was, by far, the best Christmas Eve Harry could remember having. His contentment was such that he ended up falling asleep with his head in Sirius' lap and was carried to bed.

December 25, 1991 Hogwarts

Other than Christmas Dinner, the Hogwarts staff had the day to themselves. The handful or so of children that stayed over the holidays tended to stay in or near their common rooms on Christmas Day.

Minerva and Filius had long had a habit of enjoying the day together, talking quietly, remarking on, and chuckling at the presents that their students gave them. Mostly, the chuckling was aimed at the presents from the Weasley twins ... after the presents had been suitably poked and prodded for hidden pranks.

Normally, Severus spent the day alone. He rarely got more than two or three presents ... from Dumbledore, Filius and Hagrid, the latter of which was always potions ingredients gathered from the forest residents. He'd been surprised to see more than the usual number, this year. Minerva and Filius also invited him to their usual gathering, and after a bit of debate, he'd decided to go, presents tucked under one arm, since Minerva had mentioned that they opened their presents together.

This year's meeting also had a dual purpose, aside from presents and adult company. As had become the norm when the three of them gathered together, certain students and a certain ex-Headmaster and ex-teacher (though they still thought they had their jobs, for now) came up.

"I am surprised that Quirrell has not admitted defeat and left the castle." Minerva said, poking at the twins' present with her wand warily as she spoke. "I don't think anyone but a handful of Filius' more studious Ravenclaws are still taking his class at all seriously."

"Not even them, my dear." Filius said, in the midst of unwrapping a gift from one of his Ravens. "I don't think anyone has paid any mind to him in close to a month, now."

Severus gave an amused snort. "He's here for the Stone." He said. "So of course he won't leave."

"Speaking of that, Dumbledore intends to move the Mirror into place tomorrow. He mentioned as much to me." Minerva said, giving the twins' gift one last poke before warily beginning to open it.

"I don't know about the two of you, but I fully intend to play very dirty with my ... trap." Severus said.

Filius nodded. "I had much the same thing in mind myself, Severus. With Hogwarts' assistance into the bargain, no one will get anywhere near the Stone."

Severus snorted in amusement. "About that ... I have an idea."

That got both of his colleagues' attention. "Oh? Do tell, Severus." Minerva encouraged.

"We all know how the Mirror works. I propose that once Dumbledore has ... embedded the Stone in it, one of us get it out and return it to Flamel, and replace it with a facsimile."

Filius grinned broadly. "So that even if, by some miracle, someone makes it through to the Mirror and gets the Stone out, it will all be for naught. I like it."

Minerva did as well, nodding her agreement. "And no one will be the wiser, especially if you can convince Fawkes to deliver the stone back to Flamel."

Severus nodded. "Quite so." He finally began to open his own presents, saving the 'extra' presents for last. He almost didn't want to open Dumbledore's, and was, frankly, surprised the man had sent him something this year, given his siding with Harry. But Dumbledore was nothing if not manipulative, and Severus ran a few precautionary spells over that present. Nothing came up, but it was immediately obvious that Dumbledore was attempting to sweeten him up, as once open, the present was revealed to be an extremely rare and very expensive tome on ancient potions that Severus had been wanting to get his hands on for years. Most of the potions in the tome had long since fallen out of use, Severus knew, but they might still be of some worth, or he could tweak them to optimize their effects. And even if that was not the case, it was still invaluable as a resource for the evolution of potion-making.

They were quiet for a few minutes as they worked through the rest of their presents. Minerva turned out to be the source of one of the 'extra' presents, a set of four pots of red ink, with a teasing note about him needing as much as he could get. Given that he did have a tendency to write entire screeds of notes on his students' work, she was right.

The other two ... proved to be from Harry and Hermione, much to his surprise. They had both given him a journal, spelled to be impervious to most liquids and damage, and to only open at the owner's touch. Severus had an entire shelf of similar journals, almost all of them filled to capacity, that he used for notes on his potions experiments.

Minerva and Filius had gotten journals as well, though theirs probably lacked the anti-damage spells. Minerva's journal from Harry also came with a note that made her burst out laughing.

"Dare I ask as to the source of your hilarity?" Severus asked.

Minerva snickered and handed the note over.

'Professor, you owe Remus and I a favor. Sirius wanted to buy you some catnip toys. We stopped him because we both kind of want him alive.'

Severus gave an amused snort. He almost wished Black had managed to get and send the toys ... the results would have been immensely amusing. "Alas, and here I was, hoping for some excitement." He sighed in mock sadness.

"We'll get enough of that tomorrow." Minerva pointed out.

"Quite." Severus agreed.

"While we're on the subject of Harry ... is he ready to begin advanced training?" Filius asked. They'd been concentrating, thus far, on things like teaching him how to write a proper essay, a more comprehensive and interesting look at history than Binns provided, and spells that, while within a first-year's power level, generally weren't taught at Hogwarts, most of them used around the house if one didn't own a house-elf.

Minerva and Severus both looked at each other before nodding. "I believe so." Severus said. "He's completely caught up on the basics of potion making. At this point, even Neville is a candidate for advanced training." A couple of months of patient work with the boy had transformed him from a shaking, nervous wreck of a disaster waiting to happen to quite a competent potion-maker. Neville's gift with Herbology stood him in good stead, as he was able to spot plant materials that were either low quality or past their prime usefulness at a glance. The boy hadn't spoiled a potion in over a month now, nevermind melted or exploded a cauldron.

"His essays have improved enormously." Minerva agreed, then sighed. "I could wish for more students like him, to be honest. He's eager to learn and picks up on things so fast!"

"Practical things." Severus qualified. "He does not do anywhere near as well with the theoretical and written portions of learning. That said, he does manage actual spellcasting with amazing ease. Miss Granger manages to stay ahead of him in most classes, but she does it by dint of a lot of hard work."

Filius nodded. "Though I suspect she has an advantage in that memory of hers. I swear she's eidetic. She can quote entire paragraphs verbatim."

Severus had noticed the same thing, himself, and so had Minerva, if her nodding was any indication. "So we are agreed." Severus said. "We'll begin introducing more advanced spells after the break? I'm curious to see how far those two can go."

"As am I." Filius agreed. "But we're going to have to be careful to ensure we only teach things they won't otherwise learn here, or they're going to be bored out of their minds in a few years."

Minerva nodded. "Agreed, but there's plenty of spells that don't get taught simply because there's not enough time in the world to teach every spell that's still in common use, nevermind the older ones that have fallen out of use."

"On a different note entirely, the Twins approached me the day before break." Severus said, sounding both mildly alarmed and amused. "To ask for additional potions tutelage. Evidently, they've begun to experiment on their own, and had a few mishaps, so were hoping for a bit of assistance."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Oh dear. That's going to be interesting. I don't envy you, if you agree to it."

Severus snorted in amusement. "I agreed to a one-month trial with them, after break. If they take it seriously, and obey my rules, we'll see about continuing. Given it's the twins we're talking about, I sincerely doubt they'll last the month."

Minerva gave an amused snort of agreement.

December 25, 1991 Potter Castle

Harry was buried under his blankets, having a very nice dream when he suddenly got pounced and slobbered on by something enormous. He let out a yelp and flailed madly, clobbering whatever it was more by accident than by design as he was three-quarters asleep and had his glasses off. It wasn't until he actually got his eyes open and spotted the big, fuzzy black thing that he realized what had happened. Evidently, Sirius had decided to wake Harry Padfoot style.

"Ack! Sirius!" He pushed the drapes aside, grabbed his glasses, and then stared at the window. There was not a scrap of light leaking around the edges of the drapes. "Is it even dawn yet?" And then he turned to Hedwig, who was wide awake and laughing her butt off. "And you! I thought you were supposed to protect me!" He scolded, though he didn't sound angry.

/Protect you from what? An affectionate dog?/ Hedwig wanted to know.

/Brat/

Sirius, having got what he wanted, shifted back to human form and grinned at his godson. "C'mon, pup. It's Christmas morning. Time to rise and shine and open presents and have a lot of fun!"

Harry shook his head in mock dismay. "Sirius, did you ever, you know, grow up?" He asked.

Sirius shot him a look of mock horror. "Grow up? Me? Perish the thought!" He draped an arm over Harry's shoulders. "Now c'mon, we got presents to open!"

Remus, looking as bleary-eyed as Harry felt, got dragged out of his room by Sirius once Harry was settled on the couch nearest the tree. There was laughter from the direction of James and Lily's portrait. "I take it that Sirius hasn't changed a bit?" James asked.

"No. No he hasn't." Remus said around a massive yawn.

"Merry Christmas, son." James continued. Lily echoed him with a "Merry Christmas, Harry."

Harry grinned at the portrait. "Merry Christmas to you too." He said. Hedwig joined them at that point, and settled on the back of one of the couches to watch the proceedings.

Some strong tea and breakfast later (served on the third floor), and Remus and Harry were finally awake enough to open presents. The three of them gathered around the tree and divvied up the presents, taking them to various seats around the tree so they'd each have room to spread out without worrying about getting presents confused.

Harry came away with quite the haul ... a bunch of clothes both muggle and wizarding, much needed as the stuff he'd bought after his second trip to Gringotts back in August didn't have enough excess length to handle the growth spurts he'd be dealing with from now to June as his body caught up to where it was supposed to be. He also got his own chess set, gobstones, and Exploding Snap deck, along with a bunch of chocolate frog cards ... copies, evidently, from both Sirius and Remus' sets, to give him a good start on getting his own collection going. There was also a new set of Quidditch balls, since the ones already at the Castle had been purchased when his dad had been about five, according to Sirius and Remus, and the Quaffle especially was looking rather pathetic. Hermione had gotten him books ... Hogwarts a History, and Quidditch Through the Ages. Hagrid had sent him a hand-carved wooden flute that sounded quite a bit like an owl. Septimus and Cedrella sent him a very old dragon-hide trunk that was yards above the one he'd bought for school initially, as it had several size-expanded compartments ... one for clothes, one for books and other school gear, and one of which was designed to hold Quidditch gear, including a broom. From the look of it, it'd been in the Weasley family a long time, and Harry was touched by the gesture. Molly sent him a hand-knit sweater in emerald green and an enormous box of homemade biscuits that the three of them fell on like ravening wolves.

Sirius laughed himself silly when he opened Harry's prank present, then proceeded to put the dog bed near the couch the three of them usually ended up using. "So I have somewhere to curl up as a dog." He'd said with a wink. This morning's wake-up call aside, he'd not really used his dog form much since leaving Azkaban behind.

"Like you wouldn't just sprawl out on the couches anyway!" Harry said with a snicker.

Remus was well-pleased with his presents, and much to Harry's delight, did not immediately identify the prank quill and parchment as such. Harry anticipated his reaction when he finally used them. It was at that point, when all the presents had been unwrapped, that they got a heck of a surprise. Fawkes flamed in, singing gaily, talons clamped around what looked like a big wad of cloth, and swooped over to Harry. Fawkes dropped the wad of cloth in Harry's lap, and promptly flamed back out again.

Harry blinked down at the wad of cloth in confusion, then glanced up at Sirius and Remus. It wasn't until then that he realized they were both staring at the cloth in what looked like disbelief and delight.

"I'll be damned. I wondered what happened to it." Remus breathed, staring at the cloth.

"You're not the only one." Sirius said.

"What happened to what? What is this?" Harry said, picking up a fold of the material, only to blink at the odd, slippery feel of it.

"That, pup, is an invisibility cloak." Sirius said, his tone one of great glee. "It belonged to your dad. Merlin, we used that thing so much at Hogwarts! Even more than we used the Map, but then, we had to make the map before we could use it, so we didn't have that until fifth year, and even then, it was just a skeleton model."

"If Dumbledore had that, we'd best check it for trouble." Remus said.

Sirius shook his head. "No need. There's not a spell in existence that can stick to that thing. Trust me, James tried. It's not like any other invisibility cloak I've ever seen."

"Hmmm. Still, best to check." Remus said, and promptly did so. It took only a few moments to ascertain that there were no spells on the cloak.

Harry sighed in relief, then grinned hugely. "I'm going to enjoy having this thing, aren't I?" He asked, somewhat redundantly.

"Oh yeah." Sirius said. "I just wish the map was still around."

While the cloak hadn't come up in their stories, the map had a couple times, and Harry had asked what had happened to it. Evidently, it had gotten confiscated 'accidentally on purpose' at the end of their seventh year, as they had no further purpose for the map, but future pranksters would ... all they'd have to do was find it in Filch's office. Harry wondered what the chances were of the twins having found it at some point.

They spent the rest of the day lazing about before eating a truly enormous dinner, then lazing about some more. Harry enjoyed himself rather thoroughly, as they played chess and gobstones and even exploding snap at various points, as well as reading for the fun of it, and exploring the castle in more detail, mostly the basement, since it was crammed full of stuff for the most part. Sirius and Remus also, as had become the norm, told stories about their younger days.

December 26, 1991 Hogwarts

Much to the teachers' relief, Dumbledore departed from the trap maze after he'd deposited the Stone in the Mirror. Once he was gone, Severus, Minerva and Filius held a quick conference with Pomona, who was only too happy to alter her original plans.

"I've had my doubts about this whole thing from the start." She told them. "Don't worry ... I have a few plants in mind that will serve the purpose well. I'm just glad Quirrell's contribution is already in place."

To keep from arousing suspicion, Severus, Minerva and Filius had brought the props for their original, far-too-easy traps, lest Dumbledore get suspicious. But from such humble beginnings came a truly lethal set of protections.

Severus had retained the logic puzzle, and the seven vials of potions, but all seven vials were opaque, concealing the draughts within. No matter what choice someone made, they were going to be in trouble. By far the kindest brew among them was Draught of Living Death. The other six were all extremely lethal poisons, two of which were strong enough to kill before the drinker had managed to swallow the entire mouthful. The other four killed in extremely nasty ways, but all took less than five minutes.

Minerva still set up her chess set, but the pieces were all charmed to attack and kill anyone that came in the room, whether they attempted to play a game or not. Filius' keys and broom were similarly charmed to be utterly lethal to anyone who got into his room. Further, none of the keys in the room actually unlocked the door. Pomona brought not only the Devil's Snare she'd originally been requested to use, but several other highly lethal plants that liked the dark.

Every door except the one leading to Fluffy's room was sealed with the strongest spells the four of them knew, as an additional security measure. The door to Fluffy they charmed so that only Hagrid would be able to open it without having to resort to lockbreaking spells, since the dog still needed to be fed. Their spells, of course, were on top of Hogwarts' ability to seal the doors herself. The troll they killed and removed, putting two suits of armor in its place.

It was Minerva who retrieved the Stone from the Mirror. Severus point-blank refused to go near the thing, entirely too leery of being ensnared by it. Fawkes was quite happy to return the Stone to its rightful owner with a short note. Secure in the knowledge that no matter what, nothing bad would happen, the four Heads of House returned to their offices and quarters to enjoy the remainder of Christmas Break.

Chapter Text

New Year New Plan

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

January 1, 1992 Potter Castle

The rest of the Christmas break had been as fun and lackadaisical as the start of it, except for an afternoon that Harry spent ensuring his homework was done.

New Year's Eve, however, was an entirely different sort of affair. They had been invited to attend the Weasley family's party, and had accepted.

They arrived a little after six in the evening, and Harry did a double take. Oh, he knew the current generation of Weasleys accounted for seven kids, and he knew, sort of generally, that the family tended towards multiple children, but he hadn't exactly extrapolated that into the mass of redheads that had taken over Weasley Cottage. The red came in every shade, from the flaming red sported by Ron and his siblings, to strawberry red and something that was almost brown. The variations, of course, were due to the spouses, whose black, brown, or blonde hair stood out in the crowd. The scary part was that this wasn't even all of them. Both Bill and Charlie were absent, attending to their jobs, and several others who'd not been able to get out of work due to having to arrange for days off for the emergency meeting a while back had missed as well.

Without exception, they were an enthusiastic bunch, full of energy, life, and good humor. They welcomed Sirius, Remus, and Harry into the fold like they had been born Weasleys, and the three were included in the mayhem. Harry found himself repeatedly hugged, patted, and otherwise doted on, especially by Molly, though she was hardly the only culprit. It definitely took a bit of getting used to, but despite his initial discomfort with the physical displays of affection, it was thoroughly enjoyable.

The evening was spent in playing games ... which most of the adults participated in as readily as the kids did. One corner of the big basement had quite the audience, as Ron was embroiled in a vicious chess battle with one of his older relatives (Harry had no idea what degree of relation they were). This was, apparently, something of a highlight to the family gatherings the last two years, as the same relative had been teaching Ron to play since he was old enough to understand the movement restrictions of each piece. The man still, apparently, won all their matches, but the last two years had become long, protracted battles as Ron advanced in skill. From the looks of things, it wouldn't be long at all before Ron was able to defeat his relative.

Games of exploding snap, gobstones, and several other wizarding games Harry hadn't seen before were being played all over the room, and a good chunk of the kids were outside playing a pickup game of quidditch. A few of the children (particularly the twins, though they had cohorts) were playing pranks ... or attempting to do so ... on everyone. Sometimes the pranks worked, other times they failed rather spectacularly.

The most noteworthy failure, of course, was when the twins targeted Sirius and Remus. Those two hadn't been Marauders in their youth for nothing, and they spotted the prank before the trap was sprung. Still holding the plate of food that one of the twins had offered, Sirius glanced over at Remus.

"Moony old pal, I do believe these two think we were born yesterday." He said.

Remus grinned. "I'm getting that feeling too, Padfoot. You think they have any idea who they're dealing with?"

"They can't possibly, can they? Or they wouldn't have dared." Sirius pointed out, grinning broadly.

The twins had frozen into place the moment 'Moony' had come out of Sirius' mouth, and their mouths dropped open when Remus called Sirius Padfoot. They stared from one to the other for several long moments, long enough for both Sirius and Remus to notice their reactions before one of them finally managed to speak.

"Did you just ... " The twin faltered. "I mean ... "

"Moony? Padfoot?" The other squeaked, his voice hopeful.

Sirius glanced at Remus. "Yeah, that's us. Why?"

The twins looked at each other, huge Cheshire-cat grins taking over their faces. "Who's Prongs? And Wormtail?"

That made Sirius and Remus glance at each other again. "How do you know about us?" Remus wanted to know.

"The map!" One twin exclaimed.

"We nicked it from Filch first year." The other explained.

"Took us three months to figure out how it worked."

Sirius grinned widely. "Ahhhh, yes. We'd hoped a future generation of pranksters would find it and get it to work ." He said. "As for the other ... Prongs was James Potter."

That made the twins swivel to stare at Harry, stunned to have been hanging about with the son of a Marauder without them having a clue. Harry, for his part, was grinning like a fiend. The twins had never mentioned the Marauders around him, so he'd not known they had the map, but given their proclivity for pranks, he'd half-suspected them of having it, so this was highly amusing for him.

"So who was ... " one of the twins started to ask, only to get cut off by Sirius.

"Wormtail has been stricken from the Marauders." He said, fighting to keep from snapping the twins' heads off. It wasn't like they knew, after all. "For treachery and betrayal of the Marauders, and his Marauder name has been stricken." Neither he nor Remus referred to the rat by that name, nor would they ever again.

The twins, despite all their pranking and their lackadaisical attitude to scholastics, were nowhere near stupid. There was only one person they knew of who had betrayed a now-known Marauder ... a man who could transform into a rat, which might account for the fourth Marauder name. Their expressions went black.

"We should have fed him the fireworks that time, mum's threats be damned." one of the twins fairly snarled.

"Agreed, oh twin of mine, agreed. We should have fed him some of our experiments as well." The other said, sounding every bit as pissed off.

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, somewhat surprised the twins had jumped to the correct conclusion. "It's over and done, boys, and he's paid the ultimate price for his treachery. Obsessing about the cowardly bastard grants him more importance than he's worth. Just forget he ever existed. We intend to." Sirius advised.

"Actually, if you bring us the map, we can alter it so he's completely stricken from the Marauders." Remus said. He knew the spells that would remove Wormtail's name from the Map, as well as his contributions to the map's defenses.

Fred and George nodded at each other. "We'll send it to you after we return to school ... we left it in Fred's trunk." George told them.

Fred grinned. "And then you can give it to Harry. We really don't need it anymore ... we've pretty much memorized it ... and it really belongs to him anyway."

After that, the twins remained in close conference with Sirius and Remus for hours, much to Harry's amusement and alarm.

Eventually, they returned to the Castle in the wee hours of the morning. Sirius and Remus promptly collapsed into sleep. Despite wanting to do the same, Harry opted not to. He'd been looking for an opportunity to do something all break, and this looked like it would be his best chance, since Sirius and Remus were likely to sleep like the dead until nearly noon.

He snuck down to the second floor and crossed the library to the room filled with older family portraits. The room had been considerably altered from its original form. Floor-to-ceiling walls had been built at intervals, leaving only narrow paths for a person to walk. All the wall surfaces thus provided were crammed with portraits. Most were no larger than two feet by two feet. Most of them showed various parts of the Castle in the background, several of which showed the wide outer yard before it had become one massive garden, instead showing various thatched-roof buildings and animal pens.

The portraits varied in sophistication, with those furthest from the door being the most primitive, as they dated from the days when personality-imprinted portraits were a brand-new idea. Almost all of the subjects were asleep, though a few peered at Harry from half-closed eyes as he wandered through the room. Eventually, Harry spotted a man in some sort of armor who looked wide awake, and approached him.

"Forgive me, sir, but I was wondering if there is a portrait of Godric here?" He asked quietly.

His question seemed to electrify the portrait's subject. He hurried closer to Harry until his face was all that was visible in the portrait-frame, peering at Harry with keen, dark eyes. "Godric ye say, lad? Been long and long since any's asked of him. How d'ye be knowing of him then?"

Harry grinned a little. "Hogwarts told me." He lifted his hand, showing the man his Head of House ring. "I had this on when I first arrived, and she managed to get me alone to talk."

The man looked well pleased. "Aye, that'd do it then, lad. Ye'll find Godric in the corner by the window. I'll go and wake him." The man backed up and walked out of his portrait, heading up towards the ceiling. Harry followed him, but lost track of him as he went around the corner towards the window.

He got the shock of his life, because it wasn't just Godric that slid into a portrait at eye level (swiftly vacated by its more than willing original occupant) a minute or so later. He had another man and two women with him as well. Harry realized in an instant who they were.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, when it came to Godric, nevermind the other Founders, but it certainly wasn't what he got. Both men, if the parlor fireplace behind them was anything to go by, were quite short by modern standards, barely over five feet tall apiece. One was red haired and green eyed, and powerfully built, with heavy pads of muscle everywhere. The other, who was an inch or so taller, was black haired and gray eyed, with a long, lean face. He reminded Harry a bit of Snape in build, being far leaner than the other male Founder. One of the women was red haired and blue eyed, the other black haired and dark eyed. All four of them were grinning like fiends at Harry.

Probably because Harry was staring at the four, completely gobsmacked. He'd been somewhat prepared to possibly meet Godric. Meeting all four of the Founders was something else entirely.

"How in the name of Merlin did my latest ancestors ever believe the four of you were all Potters?" Was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

That made all four Founders laugh. "I like this one, Godric." The black haired woman said, then gave Harry a curtsey. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young sir. I am Rowena."

"And I am Helga." The other woman said, also curtseying.

"I'd be Salazar." The taller, black-haired man said.

"Which leaves me as Godric." The shorter man said, bowing slightly to Harry.

"I'm Harry." Harry introduced himself. "It's an honor to meet all of you." Then he grinned. "Hermione would go spare if she knew about this." She really would, as she'd love a chance to meet and talk to the Founders. Sadly, there were no surviving portraits of the Founders anywhere in Hogwarts. He'd asked. There had been a portrait of the four there at one time, but Hogwarts had no idea what had happened to it, as it had disappeared sometime after she had gone to 'sleep'. Harry wondered how this portrait had come to be. It couldn't be the one that had once been in Hogwarts, since only a Headmaster could move or remove portraits, and no Potter had been Headmaster since Hogwarts went to sleep. If there had been, she'dve woken up to try to contact the person.

"And who might Hermione be?" Salazar wanted to know.

"One of my best friends. She's really, really smart ... I tease her sometimes that she really ought to have got Sorted into Ravenclaw." Harry explained.

"I suppose she's another one Godric managed to suborn?" Rowena asked, sounding amused.

Harry grinned a bit. "Yeah."

The four Founders got themselves comfortable on couches in the parlor the painting they were borrowing for the discussion had been painted in. "Now lad, you were wanting to talk to me?" Godric asked.

"Yeah. I ... well, I found out about, well, you, a few months ago." Along with a whole crap-ton of other things. "I've sort of been trying to get my head around it since."

Godric nodded. "We've heard bits and pieces of your circumstances, lad." He said. "Not all of it, but portraits gossip something fierce."

Harry snickered, then started talking, filling them in on everything. Once he'd wound down, he glanced at Godric. "I know only the Head of House is supposed to know about, well, you, but ... I really need all the help I can get."

"And you're wanting to tell someone?" Godric asked.

"Yeah. Just Sirius and Remus for now. My friends, later. If it's even possible to tell them."

"You'll need to make sure your friends can protect the knowledge, lad." Salazar pointed out. "The knowledge can be forced out of them a number of ways. Your godfather and Remus are safer ... they're older and fully trained ... but your friends and yourself are going to need help keeping the secret. It's a miracle you've managed to keep it this long, if Dumbledore's as bad as you're saying."

"I've been avoiding him like the plague." Harry pointed out. "So he really hasn't had much of a chance to do anything to me. And Fawkes has been helping us."

"Aye, he would." Helga said with a smile. "What you'll be needing most lad, is protection from potions, and Legilimency."

"What's Legilimency?" Harry asked.

"It's a way to read a person's mind, lad. I've no idea if Dumbledore knows the skill, but he certainly sounds the type to learn it." Godric explained. "All that aside, there is no magical restraint on who you tell. Keeping it between Head and Heir was more a custom than enforced by magic."

Harry gave a nod, then grinned. "Snape can help with the potions problem for sure." He said, which got a nod of agreement from the Founders. "Not so sure who to go to about the Legilimency problem." He was relieved he'd be able to tell Sirius and Remus.

"There's a defense against it you can learn, lad, called Occlumency. If worst comes to worst, you can return here during the summer and we'll assist you, as all four of us know that skill." Helga told him.

"I see no problem with you telling Sirius and Remus." Godric finished. "I remember both of them from their summers here, and both of them were completely loyal to James. Unless things have changed radically, I can't imagine them not extending that same loyalty to you."

Harry had to grin a bit, knowing that, if anything, Remus and Sirius had become more loyal in the face of Pettigrew's betrayal and their resultant losses. "Ok. I'll bring it up later today, after they've had a chance to wake up and eat." Harry told them. He was looking forward to this. Sirius was going to spaz, and Remus was going to go into geek overload, he just knew it.

Harry yawned unexpectedly, and gave the Founders a grin. "I better head off." He told them. "I need a little sleep at least."

"Quite so, lad. We'll see you later." Godric said.

Harry waved goodbye and then headed for his room.

January 1, 1992 Outskirts of London

It had taken him months to get back into any kind of useful shape, catch up on all the news he'd missed in the last decade, and find someplace safe from which to launch his campaign to return his Lord to life so that He might rule the world as was His right. He'd found the abandoned warehouse he now used as a base just last week, and had spent the last few days making it livable and warding it to a fare-thee-well.

Now, however, he had a roof over his head, and as much knowledge of the last decade's events as he'd be able to gather without resorting to torture. Oh, that was definitely on the menu, but Barty was intelligent enough to realize that until he knew the lay of the land, announcing his existence in such a way was never going to end well.

He had found himself disgusted. Well over half his Lord's servants had renounced Him. How dare they? His Lord's wrath would be incandescent when He returned, Barty knew. Some few of his Lord's most loyal had remained true to Him, and now graced Azkaban with their presence. Though Barty was much tempted to release them from the island, to do so now was premature in the extreme, as well as simply unfeasible for one man. He had first to express some small shred of his Lord's displeasure with the unfaithful, and remind them where their loyalty must lie. Then, once they had thus been reminded, he would gather them to himself, and free the loyal. After that, they would seek out their Lord and return Him to His full glory, and all would be as it should be shortly thereafter.

Lucius, that cowardly, conniving bastard, was to be Barty's first target. He was, by far, the most influential of the betrayers, and, once reminded of his rightful place, would bring many of the other betrayers with him. That Lucius apparently controlled the Minister was of great additional benefit. Lucius would be able to use that silvered tongue of his to blind the Minister to the truth, thus allowing the renewed Death Eaters freer rein.

Lucius' reminder would have to be a sharp one. To that end, Barty planned, not to target Lucius himself, but the one thing Barty knew Lucius held more dear than his loyalty to his rightful Lord ... his family. He knew that Lucius had a son ... and that son would serve well to bring Lucius to heel. Barty had only to decide what, exactly, he would do. Kidnapping was, while effective when successfully carried out, unpredictable. He did not know the brat's level of competence, nor how the brat would react to being kidnapped, nor did he have totally secure premises in which to incarcerate him at this time. An obscure potion might be a better option, but Barty would have to be very sure it had no antidote, if he went that route, as that cur Snape was an accomplished potioneer, and Lucius would doubtless beg the man's expertise on bended knee, if that's what it took to save his son. An obscure, unbreakable spell might be the better course, and Barty knew of a few that might suit. Better, it would be far easier to apply a spell than it would a potion ... he had but to aim and shoot, compared to gaining control of the boy and forcing a potion down his throat.

The boy would doubtlessly have gone home for Christmas, so all Barty had to do was conceal himself on Platform 9 3/4 in two day's time, and hex the brat when he saw him. Simple enough, and it had the added benefit of Lucius neither seeing nor knowing his brat had been hexed by an unknown agency for six or seven hours at the very least. He would have to wait and see who else Lucius brought with him before he could make plans to bring others to heel, but the same general plan would doubtlessly work on any that had offspring. He'd only have to think up something else for the ones that hadn't bred in the intervening years.

Now if only he could discern some sign as to his Lord's fate. Barty did not doubt for a second that his Lord still lived, but where he might be, and in what state, Barty didn't know, and had been unable to discover so much as a shred of information in that regard in the last few months. Still, he was but one man. Once he'd brought the others to heel, there would be a greater chance of discovering his Lord. Barty gave a pleased smile, knowing he would be richly rewarded when his Lord returned.

January 1, 1992 Hogwarts

Dumbledore set his quill down and perused the letter he'd just written carefully, to ensure it had the proper tone and appearance. He gave a pleased nod, and waved his wand to dry the ink before folding the letter and addressing it. He sighed as he summoned a house-elf and told them to bring an owl. He would much preferred to have used Fawkes to deliver the letter, as yet another subtle layer in his manipulations, but he hadn't seen the phoenix in months now.

Fawkes' continued absence was troubling. Dumbledore wondered, not for the first time, if the phoenix had abandoned him. If he had, Dumbledore was going to be in a lot of trouble when people figured it out, because it would raise extremely uncomfortable questions. After all, phoenixes were loyal to their chosen companions, and would only leave them for one reason ... if said companion turned Dark.

The phoenix had aided immeasurably in Dumbledore's presentation as both a great wizard and a purely Light one. The creatures were so rare, and so finicky as to their associations that to be graced with the presence of one, even temporarily, was to be seen in a whole new light by the common masses. To have one as a familiar ... well, in the eyes of most, Dumbledore may as well have been Merlin reborn. Of course, it never ceased to amuse him that people who really should have known better assumed Fawkes was his familiar. Every pureblood worth their salt knew that while familiars were at least half-breed magical creatures, such as the Granger chit's half-kneazle, familiars were never from species that could be considered immortal, and that included phoenixes, along with two or three other species.

It had taken some time for Dumbledore to settle on a new course of action as regarded Black and the boy. He knew that he could not move against either of them overtly politically ... to do so was almost literal suicide. He also could not, at this juncture, bring the boy to his side and induce the boy to trust him with any of his usual ploys ... the boy was far too perceptive, and what he missed, Black surely would not. That had left Dumbledore with far less palatable, and far more indirect means. He had finally settled on a subtle, ongoing influencing of how certain key figures perceived Black and the boy. To that end, he had written a series of letters, the one he'd just finished being the last. In them were subtle reminders of both the questionable politics, magical affiliations, and sanity levels of Blacks in general. If these were well-received, and they ought to be, such missives would continue, slowly bringing up more and more unpalatable incidences and truths, and even more slowly focusing in on the current Lord Black. With any luck, before Dumbledore had to get blatant about it, people would begin to seriously question Black's level of sanity and competence to brush his own teeth, nevermind anything more complex. With a bit more luck, someone might just call for the boy's removal from a 'dangerous situation', at which point Dumbledore could step in.

But that was months, perhaps as much as a year, into the future. Dumbledore knew he would have to move slowly and carefully, lest Black get wind of what he was doing before the damage could be done. If that happened, Dumbledore was going to have all new problems on his hands. In the meantime. He only wished such a campaign would work on the boy as well. Unfortunately, the Potter name was unassailable, at least in the same manner as he was attempting to attack Black. He was going to have to settle for gaining control of the boy via indirect means.

In his well-warded office, Quirrell was making plans. Actually, at this point, it was more correct to say that Voldemort was making plans, for very little remained of the man known as Quirinus Quirrell.

Unicorn blood had been easy enough to obtain, and would continue to be so, with the Forest at his doorstep. It would be enough to sustain him until he could obtain the Stone. He had only to discover how to get past that damnable Cerberus and all would be well. Unfortunately, the only thing known about the creatures, other than the fact that they made for highly effective and intimidating guard animals, was the fact that they were almost completely immune to magic. Which was better than half the reason they were so prized as guard animals. Avada Kedavra might work, but it was not guaranteed to, and any lesser spell would be shrugged off. That left him with the unenviable task of duping the creature, removing it, or somehow physically overcoming it. But Voldemort was not one to take blind chances. The Cerberus had been in that gullible oaf's care for quite some time prior to its placement on the third floor, so if there was a viable way to control the beast, the oaf would know. The problem with that was that Hagrid, gullible, naive and unintelligent as he was, would not tell 'Quirrell' straight out how to get 'round the beast. Therefore, he had to trick the information out of the oaf. To that end, he had spent Christmas Break away from the castle, so as to obtain something he knew Hagrid would wish to obtain. He had only to engineer Hagrid's acquisition of the item. Fortunately, that would be easy enough, as the oaf made regular visits to the Hog's Head. It ought to be easy enough to engage the idiot in a game of chance, and arrange to lose the obtained item. With a tiny bit of luck, some carefully directed conversation would get him the information he desired.

He knew, of course, what the others had been asked to put into place. Dumbledore, the great fool, had assigned them their 'protections' in a meeting. A plant, a chess game, a key, a troll and a logic puzzle would be no challenge to him. Not for the first time did Voldemort give a mental snicker. He was not blind, and knew that the chosen defenses were such that with a bit of care, they could be gotten around by a child. Dumbledore was clearly of a mind to 'train' the Potter brat.

And oh, the Potter brat was a curiosity to Voldemort, now more than ever! The boy was a parselmouth! And had a familiar. Intriguing in the extreme. The boy had some shred of intelligence and discernment, as well. Until the boy's arrival at the castle, Voldemort had wondered if there would be anything to the boy. He was not fool enough to think a year-old child, no matter how powerful a wizard he would become, had the power to turn aside the Killing Curse. Not even Merlin was that powerful. No, the boy's mudblood mother, or more likely, his father, had done something to protect the boy. Voldemort knew of no less than a dozen potions, spells, and rituals that would provide protection against mortal danger for a child. Which method had employed was the question. Unfortunately, he suspected one of the methods that was activated upon the willing sacrifice of a parent. If that was so, there was very little, if anything, that Voldemort could do to neutralize the boy's protection. Still, just because he couldn't attack the boy directly didn't mean the boy couldn't be dealt with. It would just take time and thought.

January 1, 1992 Weasley Cottage

Septimus smiled as his owl landed on his arm, several letters attached to his leg. Thus far, the campaign to bring families into alliance with them seemed to be doing well. Augusta Longbottom, after a bit of thought, had thrown her weight behind them, as had the Lovegoods, Diggorys, and Browns. Five other families were considering the options, at varying levels of intensity. It wasn't a half-bad start.

Wooing the various families took a great deal of effort. Now more than ever before, Septimus was grateful that he had Cedrella at his side. She was a natural at the sort of shenanigans that consolidating alliances required, and even after all these years, Septimus had to work at it.

He smirked as he remembered their union. Septimus had been severely displeased with his father when he discovered that a marriage had been arranged for him at all. The infamous Weasley temper had ensured that the discovery that he was to wed a Black, among the darkest of the Dark families, had been a spectacular row of epic proportions. To this day, Septimus wondered how his father had been convinced to allow the match.

Of course, things had not worked out quite how Septimus imagined the Blacks thought it would. He and Cedrella had had some spectacular rows that first year. Most, he was honest enough to admit, caused by his inability to believe she was anything but a Dark-hearted, conniving bitch who would kill him, did he turn his back on her. Hells, they hadn't even slept in the same room, nevermind the same bed that first year, he'd been that leery of her. It hadn't been until she'd purchased some Veritaserum, for him to use on her, that he realized she had no evil designs on him. He hadn't even used the stuff on her. Just the fact she'd bought it and offered to take it had been enough.

After that incident, they'd begun to learn to trust each other. Cedrella had begun to teach him all she knew about politics, and with her assistance, despite the chronic lack of wealth, the Weasley name had become respected, and his voice one to be listened to. By the time they'd been married five years and Arthur had been born, Septimus hadn't been able to imagine his life without her.

He opened the first letter, and smiled in pleasure. It was from his heir, Arthur's eldest, William. Arthur had been honest enough, as a young adult, to admit to Septimus what Septimus had already known ... that Arthur would be an exceedingly poor choice of heir. Arthur had not inherited even a shred of the cunning and wariness that was essential for success in the political realm. He was a good man, and Septimus was by no means disappointed in him, but he was just not a fit choice for successor. Thankfully, William seemed to have inherited Arthur's share of cunning as well as his own. How that boy had managed to get Sorted into Gryffindor, Septimus didn't know. It took a truly devious mind to become a successful curse-breaker, as you had to outthink the people who'd first applied the spells you were trying to break, and figure out ways around spells that hadn't been used in centuries, and generally weren't even recorded anywhere.

Septimus's pleased grin widened considerably as he perused William's letter. Evidently, the goblins were palpably eager to be of assistance, and only required notification of when their unique abilities and services would be required. From the tone of William's letter, he was as surprised by this as Septimus was. Goblins were not known for their willingness to join forces with Wizards. William strongly suspected there was something going on that he was unaware of, but equally certain that whatever it was, it was not something nefarious. Septimus agreed with him. Goblins were remarkably unsubtle about expressing their dislike of and displeasure with Wizards.

The next letter proved to be from Charlie, who had returned to the Romanian preserve just yesterday. Evidently, after talking it over with his coworkers, it had been decided that attempting to actually train the beasts rather than just trying to keep them out of trouble, was going to be attempted. Charlie had no idea if they would meet with any success, but since the spring mating season wasn't far off, they could (and would) start from the very beginning with newborn dragons, as well as attempting something with the older ones.

Two of the other letters were from foreign branches of the Weasley family, reporting successes in bringing politically-active (and strong) families into alliance with them. Septimus was pleased to see a number of names he knew to be purebloods in the European family's report. Europe was, unfortunately, only a bit behind England herself in blood-purity prejudice, so gaining the support of pureblood families there was quite the coup.

The American and Asian contingents had far fewer pureblood names in their reports, but then again, neither area accounted blood purity as important. At least, not the version of it that England and Europe touted. The Chinese and Japanese certainly turned their noses up at non-natives, and marrying outside the nationality was as much a crime among some circles as marrying a muggleborn was among certain circles here in England, but they didn't care if that person was magical or not. The Americans (both from the States, Canada, and Mexico) didn't care, period. Septimus was, to be honest, surprised they had anyone who could be considered a pureblood by English standards, aside from English expatriates.

So, if it came to that, they had allies beyond the borders of England. Septimus was fairly sure that those allies would be needed at some point. The good knew they'd needed all the help they could get the first time 'round. This time was going to be even worse, since they were launching a campaign with two fronts.

January 1, 1992 Potter Castle

It was nearly noon before Harry woke. Fortunately, both Sirius and Remus were only just beginning to stir themselves after their long night. Harry petted a still-sleeping Hissesh, then greeted Hedwig with a grin when she settled herself on the covers over his legs.

"Hello, Hedwig. Have a nice evening?" He asked.

/Not quite as good a one as I think you had, Harry./ Hedwig sounded highly amused. /But definitely pleasant enough. So there was a portrait of Godric here then?/ She'd known he wanted to go looking for one, and success in finding it would explain the mood he was in.

"Yep. Only it wasn't just him. It was all four of them. You know, I almost dread the day I'm able to tell Hermione about all of this. She's going to kill me."

/All four? Well that's certainly unexpected./ Hedwig said. /So what're they like?/

"Almost nothing like you'd expect. The one that was closest to peoples' preconceived notions was Helga, who was really sweet and nice, rather a lot like Professor Sprout, actually. The other three were nothing like their stereotypes, especially not Salazar, but that one kind of goes without saying, you know?" Harry said with a grin. "They were all pretty nice, and agreed to let me tell Sirius and Remus. I can't wait to see their faces, I really can't." It was a tossup as to who would be the most entertaining.

Harry got up and grabbed some clean clothes. "I figure we can sit down and have the talk after breakfast, up here in the family room. That way Dad and Mom can take part in it, since I know dad didn't know."

/You definitely inherited your fathers' mischievous streak, didn't you?/ Hedwig asked somewhat rhetorically, sounding amused.

"Hey, Sirius and Remus are bad influences." Harry objected, trying to look innocent.

/You need to work on that look, Harry. You don't do false innocence well./ Hedwig pointed out.

Harry huffed. "Fine, I see how you are. I'm going to go take a shower." And he flounced out, nose in the air and trying not to ruin his exit by cracking up.

An hour and a half later, Harry, Sirius, Remus, Hedwig and Hissesh had convened in the third floor family room. Remus and Sirius had planned to go through more of Harry's backlog of mail (they were, miracle of miracles, beginning to make a dent in it), but Harry of course had something else planned.

"Sirius? Remus? There's something I kinda need to tell you guys." Harry said. His uncertain tone immediately got both mens' attention.

"What's that, pup?" Sirius asked.

"Y'remember when I told you about Hogwarts? Well ... I kind of didn't tell you everything. Mostly because I was still trying to get my head wrapped around it at the time." He snorted. "Not that I've made that much progress, to be honest, but ... I sort of wanted to doublecheck with someone whether or not it'd be ok to tell you, since it's sort of a family secret." He glanced over at James and Lily's portrait. "One that sort of got lost, a long time ago, and I found out about when Hogwarts was talking to me."

"Oh, this sounds interesting." James said. "Do tell!"

"We're not really Potters. Y'see, shortly after Hogwarts was built and Salazar junior went off the deep edge, he started trying to wipe out the other Founders and their families, so that he alone could control Hogwarts. One of the Founders managed to escape the slaughter, and hid their family with magic." Ok, so that's not precisely how it went, but close enough for the moment. Godric himself could give all the nitty-gritty details. "Wiped out all evidence of their name except themself, so their grandkids and so on would have a shot at surviving. They did. As Potters."

"So ... you're related to one of the Founders?" Sirius asked, eyes wide and glittering. Remus looked every bit as startled.

"Direct descendant and heir of, actually, with a bit of blood from two of the others tossed in for good measure. Rowena's the only one who never had any descendants. Her only daughter died childless, and before Rowena did."

"So you're either Hufflepuff, Slytherin, or Gryffindor." Remus said. "Hufflepuff is out, since I know that passed from daughter to daughter."

"And Slytherin is unlikely as hell because for one, Junior was the heir, and crazy as a rat, and two, the Slytherin line never actually disappeared, it just died out." Sirius said. "The last known direct descendants were the Gaunts, and the last of them died some fifty or sixty years ago. And they were only a side-line, not heirs.

"The only one whose line disappeared into the mists ... " Remus said. "Was Godric's. He apparently came from nowhere, and as far as anyone knows, he either had no kids, or they died childless. Which makes him the best bet."

"Well reasoned, lad." Godric said from the portrait nearest James and Lily's, where he'd snuck in while Harry and the two men were talking. "And quite correct. I could not allow Hogwarts to fall into the control of one of ... Junior's, as you seem to have dubbed him, which is as good an appellation as any ... progeny. Several of Helga's children and grandchildren had been slaughtered by then, as had several of my own, though thankfully not my heir or his heir. Rowena had died by then, of course, but Salazar, Helga and myself arranged for the survival of my line. Helga's, we thought, would be fairly safe, as it passed from daughter to daughter, and thus none of them carried the name Hufflepuff. Within a few generations, it would be impossible to track them. Gryffindor, however, would be a rather large target."

"Unfortunately, we miscalculated somewhat." Helga admitted. "I believe it took only about six generations before there were no daughters born to my heir's line, thus wiping it out, though there were still many with my blood in their veins. That left only Salazar's descendants, most of whom were, unfortunately, rather questionable on the sanity front, either from inheriting it from Junior or through severe inbreeding, or worse, both. And then one of the Potters died before he could pass the knowledge of who they truly were to his heir, and ... well, for a long time, we had feared that all was lost."

"Why didn't you tell someone?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Alas, we are only portraits ... as such, we are governed by the rules laid down for the protection of Godric's line." Salazar said. "We could not speak of the truth to any who did not know it. Godric could give his blessing to pass the information on to someone other than an heir, but he first had to be consulted about it, which, given the knowledge had been lost, was impossible. And Godric's blessing for disseminating the truth is not required to do so, though I don't think Harry knew that."

Harry shook his head. "I mostly wanted to know if Godric thought it was a good idea, and whether or not it would even be possible, since I didn't know what sort of spells you guys had put on the knowledge."

Sirius rubbed his hands together. "Overall, in the short term, it doesn't change much." He said. "But long-term, it just might." He sighed. "And it might explain some of Dumbledore's obsession, if he somehow figured it out. I wouldn't put it past him."

"Indeed. We've no idea if he knows, but certainly, he's fixated on young Harry." Godric said. "And we can assist you in certain matters regarding Hogwarts. I imagine that, after all this time, her wards are a mess, among other problems. She cannot control them herself, unfortunately. That was left to the Headmasters, and who knows how long it's been since one of them did anything with the wards."

The three living members of the discussion nodded. "What else is there?" Harry wanted to know.

"Not too much other than that, really." Godric said. "Though we will probably need to arrange for you to get into Hogwarts' storage vault. Absolutely nothing furniture or book-wise can be completely removed from Hogwarts. Anything that gets removed disappears into the vault until it's brought out again. By this time, there's probably quite the collection of library books tucked away, and any number of other items that got 'removed' for whatever reasons."

Chapter Text

Castles and Kings

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Vindico Quod Rectus = Punish And Correct. Or, well, so says my online translator.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

January 3, 1992 King's Cross

It had taken the better part of a day for Remus and Sirius to truly comprehend the fact that Harry was, in fact, a Gryffindor. Once they had, Sirius gleefully contemplated the expressions on a variety of peoples' faces if they were informed of this fact, especially Dumbledore's, though he was far from being the only one that Sirius contemplated. While neither man had any intentions of informing anyone of Harry's true lineage, they did have a great deal of fun contemplating different ways to do so, and how people would react.

Godric, Salazar, Rowena and Helga told him how to adjust the school's wards, which proved to be a ridiculously simple procedure. The Founders had actually deliberately made it a simple procedure so that there was less of a chance of people forgetting how to do it, or being unable to due to the complexity or power requirements of the job. The timing of things was fortunate, as well. Since they were returning on a Friday, Harry had all weekend to go and get it done.

Finally, it was time to return to school, and Remus and Sirius apparated to King's Cross with Harry, Hedwig, Hissesh, and of course, Harry's school trunk. The platform, of course, was swarming with people. They'd been there less than five minutes when Hermione arrived through the gate to the muggle world. Neville and his grandmother arrived seconds later, and after a brief greeting to each other and in Harry and Neville's cases, farewells to their guardians, the threesome clambered aboard the train to find a compartment for themselves.

Once out of the rush and noise, Harry grinned over at his two friends. "So, how was your Christmas?" He asked.

"Good." Hermione said. "I had a lot of fun with my parents, and catching them up on things."

Harry snorted. "You know you can borrow Hedwig anytime, Hermione." Hedwig, perched on his shoulder, bobbed her head in agreement.

"I know, but she is your familiar ... it'd be terribly rude to expect her to play mail owl for me all the time." Hermione said.

Harry just rolled his eyes. They'd had this argument before. While Hermione had sent a few letters via Hedwig, she'd refused to do so more than two or three times since the beginning of September, despite both Harry and Hedwig's reassurances that Hedwig didn't mind a bit.

Barty had arrived at the platform in the wee hours of the morning, all the better to find the best possible place from which to both watch for the arrival of the Malfoy family and to be able to hex Draco. Disillusioned and under his father's invisibility cloak, he went completely undetected by the harried parents and myriad of children that began to arrive as early as ten o'clock.

The Malfoys arrived at about ten thirty, and Barty watched them carefully from his spot atop the roof of one of the train cars. He sneered as he watched the traitor send his heir off, and once Draco had separated from his parents and approached the luggage car of the train, Barty dropped to the ground soundlessly nearby. It took him a minute to get close enough, but then a whisper, completely lost in the racket of so many people, and a colorless spell impacted with Draco's back.

Draco never realized what had happened. Without a distinctive flash of light, and in such crowded quarters, he assumed someone had bumped into him, and glared at everyone in his general vicinity. Barty, his self-appointed task completed, edged away, and once well clear, apparated out, the sound lost among several other pops from arriving and departing parents.

Barty had chosen his spell well. The spell he had chosen was one that his Lord used as part of the magics in his followers' Dark Marks, which allowed him to punish them from a distance. It had, at one time, been a spell used on slaves, to ensure their obedience to their Master. Once cast, nothing could remove the spell save the death of the caster ... but any and all attempts by either the person under the spell's power to kill their Master resulted in immediate and extremely painful reprisals. The fact that the caster of the spell could trigger the spell from anywhere in the world to bring the slave to their knees (or even their death, if they were kept under it long enough), kept family and friends from attempting to move against the Master either. Better still, because the spell had long ago fallen out of use until his Lord had rediscovered it and incorporated it into the Dark Marks, there were no detection spells that would discover it, nor had any research been done in close to a millennium on how to counter it, not that anyone had discovered a counter when there had been research being done. Lucius was well and truly caught.

January 4, 1992 Hogwarts

The twins, true to their word, sent the Map to the Marauders so it could be adjusted to disinclude a certain rat as soon as they returned to their dorm at Hogwarts.

That Saturday morning, Harry slipped out of the dorm very early, and headed down to the common room. He walked over to the suit of armor and gave the wall beside it a friendly pat.

"I found a portrait of the Founders, Hogwarts. And told Remus and Sirius." Told them what, he didn't say, reluctant to say it aloud where curious ears could hear, but Hogwarts knew what he meant. "I need your help ... they want me to do something about the wards."

"I can lead you to where you need to go, Harry." Hogwarts told him. "Just follow where the suits point you."

Harry did as he was bid, and soon found himself in the dungeons. Various suits led him on a very confusing, very long journey through the depths of the dungeons, leading him ever deeper into the bowels of Hogwarts. The last suit of armor jumped down off its plinth in order to lead Harry to where he needed to go beyond that point. Harry soon found himself before a thick steel door with a portrait to either side of it.

"This is as far as I go, Harry. There's a long staircase on the other side of the door, leading down, and only one place to go down there."

Harry nodded and put his hand on the door. There was a brief flash of light, and the door popped open. Harry slipped through the narrow opening and the door closed behind him.

Hogwarts hadn't been kidding about the long staircase. Harry had no idea how far down he was going, but it was a long, long way. The entire stairwell was lit by a glow, dimly at first, but the further down he went, the brighter it was, until it was every bit as bright as the brightest summer day. Eventually, Harry finally came to the bottom of the staircase, and stared at what he'd found in awe.

The cavern was immense, easily three hundred feet wide, and the ceiling was some twelve or fifteen feet above his head. The wall and ceiling surfaces had all been smoothed to a near-mirror finish, all the better to reflect what lay at the center of the cavern.

About five feet beyond the staircase landing, there was a ten or fifteen foot wide and very, very deep carved crevasse that served as a moat around a center island. Here, merged with the bedrock far beneath Hogwarts, was an immense, highly polished stone nearly as tall as Harry was and some fifty feet long and fifty feet wide. Its surface was covered in runes, gathered into clusters. Whatever the original color of the stone may have been, it now glowed blue-white with power.

There was a sturdy bridge that crossed the 'moat', and Harry walked across it. He'd asked about why the setup for the wardstone was the way it was, and had been surprised by the answer. It turned out that, while the magic that had made Hogwarts 'alive' was self-sustaining, there would have been a long period where she was young and weak enough that she'd be vulnerable if there was an attack.

The wardstone was powered initially by deliberately cast magic from the Founders, which had been just enough to 'turn on' the wards. Beyond that point, the wards were sustained by ambient magic, which was absorbed by the wardstone. If Hogwarts had been connected to the wardstone in any way for the first few hundred years of the school's existence, and there had been an attack, the drain and strain on the wards would have resulted in the stone pulling power from Hogwarts herself, and thus potentially 'killing' her. By this point though, the ambient magic available in the castle was such that the wards could be under continuous attack for decades without putting Hogwarts herself in danger of being drained. A millennium of kids with little magical control and still learning to conserve magical power while casting produced an incalculable amount of 'waste' magic that the wardstone could absorb at need. The huge cavern served as a reservoir, collecting all the ambient magic available and holding it against need.

The vast majority of the rune clusters had never been activated. The Founders had provided wards for varying levels of need, the strongest and most lethal of which had never been called into service. The reason the wards were so comprehensive was because the Founders had conceived of Hogwarts being not only a school, but at need, a fortress to protect magicals from muggle violence. Back then, the forest had not been forbidden ... it had been a simple forest, with no Dark creatures within it to threaten the population of the castle. The forest had supplied some fruits, vegetables, and of course fungi, as well as potions ingredients. The land all around the school and within its wards had been divided into various fields for plants and pastures for animals, and the lake had been a source of fresh water. If it had come down to it, the entire population of magical Britain, Scotland, and Wales at the time could have hunkered down inside Hogwarts, activated the wards, and survived at the school indefinitely, as it had, back then, been completely self-sustaining.

Over the years, the wards had been turned off or adjusted one by one, until now, pretty much the only wards still working at full capacity were the muggle-repelling and anti-apparation wards. Everything else had been monkeyed with to the point where Quirrell had been able to bring a troll on the grounds without any problems. That weakness was about to end.

Harry pulled the parchment out of his pocket that had the drawing of the runes he needed to activate on it, then began looking for them. One by one, he re-strengthened the anti-portkey wards and the anti-creature wards that kept dangerous magical creatures from entering the grounds. Of course, that one didn't do them all that much good these days, with the Forest being so infested, but at least nothing else would be able to get in, now. Harry also activated the animagus-detection wards, which would ensure that no one could sneak onto the grounds in animal form undetected. All it took was touching each rune and saying 'activate'. The background hum, which had been so low that it had initially escaped Harry's detection, became loud enough to be heard as more of the reserve ambient magic was diverted to the wardstone. Finished, Harry walked back across the bridge and began the long trek back up to the dungeons. Once back on the surface, he gave the waiting suit of armor a grin.

"Done. The wards should all be back the way they ought to be, now." He told Hogwarts.

"That's a relief. Hopefully, it will mean no more trouble from here on out." Hogwarts said as she led him back towards the main part of the dungeon. "I do not want another troll, or something even worse, getting anywhere near the students. We're going to have to figure out how to clean up the Forest at some point, as well ... I'm not too happy with so many Dark creatures so close to defenseless children."

"I second that, but I'm afraid cleaning the Forest out will be a long-term goal." Harry told her.

The suit nodded, then passed him onto another suit before retreating back to its appointed plinth. "Very true." She admitted.

January 3, Malfoy Manor

Lucius Malfoy sighed as he settled into the wingback chair in front of the fireplace, a good book in one hand and a glass of a fine wine in the other. It had been a busy day. He'd first had to drop his son and heir off at King's Cross with Narcissa, then had gone to the Ministry to coddle that simpleton Fudge.

His mind turned to his son. He loved the boy ... how could he not? ... and was honest enough with himself to acknowledge that Draco had been horribly spoiled. It was, he supposed, a natural consequence of the circumstances of Draco's birth. Narcissa had been pregnant three times before Draco, but unable to carry to term. The miscarriages had been rather traumatic for both Lucius and Narcissa, especially since, despite the fact their marriage had been arranged, they'd been among the lucky ones that genuinely liked each other even before they were to wed. On top of that, Draco's birth had been a difficult one, with the end result being that Narcissa would never be able to have another child.

Unfortunately, while Draco was much beloved and admittedly spoiled and coddled, he was also something of a disappointment to Lucius. To be outstripped academically by a mudblood and a half-blood? It was shameful. Had he not brought in the best of tutors for Draco since he could talk? Had Draco not had every possible advantage in his schooling and upbringing? Did he not have an unassailable advantage in the purity of his blood? How then could the boy not manage to surpass a filthy little mudblood? That hateful, conniving little half-blood Potter, Lucius could almost understand. Potter's mother may have been a mudblood, but Potter himself had been pureblood, with more than one Black in his lineage, among other fine pureblood families, and despite the taint of the mother, some measure of that had clearly been passed down to the boy, given the events that had occurred since September first.

Lucius allowed a small smile to cross his face. He hated the Potter brat on sheer principle, thanks to his status as a halfblood, nevermind his defeat of the Dark Lord. That said, he had to admire the boy just a little bit. Black's incarceration had been something of an in-joke amongst the Death Eaters. To a man, they knew Black was innocent ... how could they not? Black had made a point of keeping as far from any Dark family as he could possibly get from the moment he entered Hogwarts. He'd made no bones as to his disgust and disagreement with pureblood beliefs, hadn't hesitated to back his words up in duels, and had crossed wands with the Dark Lord himself on one occasion. That such a man would turn around and become a Death Eater, that a Black would betray their family (and Black considered Potter to be family) ... was so laughable it was ridiculous. Not that they'd been about to say anything, of course. Lucius himself, as well as a handful of others, had also been very much aware of the fact that Pettigrew had become a Death Eater. While Lucius had not known for sure that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, he'd long suspected it, given the events of that night.

Lucius' musings were disrupted by the appearance of Dobby, holding an envelope.

"This comes for you, Master Malfoy sir."

Lucius took the envelope from the elf and slapped at it by way of dismissal before turning his attention to the envelope. He did not recognize the handwriting, which was highly unusual, since Lucius could recognize the handwriting of most of the people who sent him missives. He broke the seal and pulled out a piece of parchment. Five seconds later, his face had gone gray and his expression horrified.

"Dobby!"

The second the elf appeared, he snapped at it. "Bring Narcissa to me at once!"

Dobby popped away, and a few seconds later returned with a highly irritated Narcissa, who kicked the elf away before turning her irritated expression on Lucius. He didn't give her a chance to start scolding, he just thrust the parchment at her. She took it and began to read.

Malfoy

You disappoint, Malfoy. Denying our Lord? How foolish of you. Did you really think you'd get away with it? It would seem that you are in dire need of a lesson, and I have provided it. Know that I have cast Vindico Quod Rectus on Draco. To assure you this is not a hoax, be expecting a call from Hogwarts tomorrow morning informing you Draco is in the infirmary. Once you have been assured of my bona fides in this matter, you will do the following.

You will contact all free Death Eaters and inform them their days of leisure are over. They, and you, will be attending a meeting in two week's time, at a place of my choosing ... you will be further informed as to the particulars closer to the time of the meeting. You, and they, will donate whatever monies and items to the cause as are required to return our Lord to us. You will control Fudge so that we may pursue our goals unhindered.

Any attempts to deny me, or to ... silence ... me, will result in you watching your son die slowly and in agony. Rebellion and incompetence will result in your son's suffering.

Barty Crouch Junior

Narcissa was shaking in rage from the moment she read the name of the curse. Once she had finished reading the letter, she lifted her head. For the first time in his life, Lucius found himself completely terrified of his wife. The expression on her face boded extremely ill for Crouch, his threats be damned. Not that Lucius was feeling any less angry or minded to revolt, but ... the Blacks were dangerous. It was not mere coincidence or madness that had made Bellatrix so formidable. You crossed that family at your peril ... a fact that Crouch seemed to have forgotten, and was about to rediscover.

"You will do as he commands." Narcissa's voice was a poisonous hiss. "I will contact Lord Black and inform him of the situation. He may be a damn fool muggle lover, but he is still a Black, and will do whatever he must to protect his kin." She immediately turned towards the desk to write Sirius.

Lucius gave a stiff nod, and eyed her. He was not fool enough to think that contacting Black was Narcissa's sole idea of how to deal with this. She doubtlessly had something particularly vindictive and cruel rumbling around in her mind. Lucius considered the options open to himself, and immediately headed for the dining room and the secret room under the floor there.

Stepping into the room, filled to the brim with Dark items, was a comfort. So many possibilities here for vengeance, balm for his anger. Poisons and cursed objects of every description, books of spells and rituals so horrifying they'd been stricken from general knowledge ... it was difficult to decide where to start.

January 3, 1992 Longbottom Manor

Augusta Longbottom was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a happy woman. Hadn't been for months.

It had been quite the rude surprise when Minerva had showed up on her doorstep the first weekend after Neville left for Hogwarts ... and proceeded to read Augusta the riot act about Neville.

Augusta had long been friends with Minerva ... they'd been but a year apart in school, and in the same House. Neither of them being the flighty, giggly sort, they'd gravitated to each other in the face of a legion of flighty, giggly yearmates. They'd been of like mind about a great many things. They were each among the few the other trusted.

So to hear Minerva raking her over the coals for ... abusing ... her grandson had been ... quite the shock. She'd done no such thing! Or so she'd thought, and claimed, at the time ... until Minerva had pointed out specific incidents. At the time the incidents had occurred, it had all seemed so logical ...

Minerva had left, and Augusta had sat down to do a great deal of thinking ... only to find herself reluctantly agreeing with her longtime friend. Neville had been abused. It was rather a horrifying thing to admit to having done, and Augusta spent a long time trying to figure out why she had done, and had allowed the rest of the family to join in as well, particularly her brother. Neville was Frank's son and heir, so why in the name of all that was magic had she ... had they ... ? It just didn't make sense. She had loved her son, had loved her grandson as a babe, so what had changed? Certainly, she didn't blame the boy for his parents' current state. She knew precisely who was to blame for that, and if she ever got her hands on any of them, they would rue the day they'd crossed Family Longbottom.

It had taken a lot of time, and a lot of thought, but she finally traced the change in her actions and reactions to Neville to about a year, maybe a bit more, after his parents had been struck down. It took her a while longer to figure out why, though ... until she remembered that Dumbledore had been in close contact with her all that year. He'd commented quite frequently about Neville, all subtly, of course, and always negatively.

Given information she'd become privy to in the last few months, the question had swiftly become 'had he done that on purpose ... and worse, had he done something other than just talk?'. She'd promptly visited a Healer she trusted, and hadn't quite known whether or not to be thankful that the answer turned out to be 'he just talked'. There were no unknown spells active on her, nor Neville, since Poppy had done a thorough check on her grandson. No, Albus had been content to poison her, and destroy Neville, with carefully couched commentary.

To say she'd been enraged was to vastly understate the case. She'd been hard-put to refrain from going to Hogwarts and hexing the man's bits off. When she had been approached shortly thereafter by Septimus and Black, looking for an alliance, and they admitted to wanting to make a stand against Dumbledore, she'd fairly jumped at the chance.

Thankfully, Dumbledore was clearly unaware of the maneuvering going on behind his back, as he'd sent her a missive, as was his usual habit. The letter showed no sign of his realizing her change of mind. That said, there was something slightly different about this letter. She studied it for several long minutes before she finally caught it. There were references in the letter to the past, not unusual for Dumbledore, as he regularly touched on what had happened to her son, probably to keep her riled up ... but this time they were slightly more pointed references, and all slanted towards that bitch Bellatrix.

It took several minutes' contemplation before she figured out what Dumbledore was up to. Black was a sizeable thorn in Dumbledore's side at the moment. He had custody of Harry, had claimed his Lordship and begun to start making waves politically. Dumbledore would want to neutralize the man in any way he could. He'd evidently decided to try to tar Black with the familial brush, which unfortunately would not be all that hard to do, given his family's long history. Dumbledore knew the Lestranges were an extreme sore spot with both Augusta and Neville, and Bellatrix had been a Black before she married. By reminding Augusta of her, Dumbledore was probably hoping to lay the groundwork for poisoning Augusta against Black. Augusta wondered just how many other people Dumbledore was trying the same sort of thing with. She'd better contact Black and warn him.

January 3, 1992 Potter Manor

It was proving to be a most ... unfortunate day, Sirius decided. First off, he'd had to send Harry off to school, which he really didn't like. One, he'd enjoyed spending time with his godson, and missed him terribly. Two, he was sending him into Dumbledore's clutches, which did not make him a happy man. Third, the twins had sent them the map, and the reminder of Pettigrew as they altered the map grated.

About an hour after he and Remus had returned to the Manor and before the arrival of the map, Augusta had sent them a note, and a copy of a letter she'd gotten from Dumbledore. Sirius found himself agreeing with the conclusions that Augusta had drawn. Dumbledore was starting to move against him, though quietly and subtly. Fortunately, Sirius had started moving before Dumbledore had, and already had a few allies in his corner, so damage control would be far simpler and easier to accomplish than it would have been otherwise.

And then, just to make his day worse, he'd just gotten a letter from Narcissa of all people. He recognized her handwriting. He and Remus were sitting in the family room, and he was staring at the unopened envelope sitting on the coffee table in front of him warily. It wasn't booby-trapped, at least ... otherwise it never would have gotten through the wards, but Sirius was highly reluctant to have anything to do with Narcissa.

"You're going to have to open it sooner or later." Remus pointed out from his spot across the table.

Sirius sighed and gave him a disgusted look, but didn't argue. He poked at the letter one last time, and then finally opened it.

My Lord Black,

I am aware that you must find correspondence with myself distasteful in the extreme, and I assure you the feeling is wholly mutual, but unfortunately, circumstances demand that I contact you. Less than an hour ago, my husband received a missive from an entirely unexpected and wholly undesired source.

The letter purported to be from Barty Crouch Junior, though how this is possible, I do not know, as he died in Azkaban many years ago. The person then went on to claim they had cast Vindico Quod Rectus on Draco, and gave instruction to contact certain ... persons ... and to inform them that their days of leisure were at an end, and that a meeting was to take place in two weeks, at a currently undisclosed location and time. They further when on to say that proof of their claim of having cast Vindico Quod Rectus would be provided tomorrow morning.

My Lord, I know that our politics do not, and probably never will, agree, but Draco is my son. You know the circumstances surrounding his birth, and why he is so precious to me, to both of us. We will do whatever it takes to ensure Draco's safety and continued living. We cannot, will not, allow anyone to threaten him. If it proves true that he is under that foul curse, we cannot act against whoever it is that has cast it ourselves, for fear of reprisals against our son.

I must, therefore, humbly beg my Lord Black's assistance in this matter. If it proves true ... my Lord, we will do anything that is required of us, up to and including Unbreakable Vows of anything you require.

Your Humble Servant,

Narcissa Malfoy nee Black

Sirius stared at the letter for a long moment, frowning severely. While Narcissa had never been as rabid as Bellatrix about the Black family politics, she had been a staunch supporter of the pureblood agenda her entire life. As a consequence, she'd thoroughly despised him when they were younger, and had never wanted anything to do with him. The feeling, of course, had been completely mutual. When she'd married Lucius, things had only gotten worse.

There was no question in his mind, therefore, that this situation was for real. Narcissa would never think to contact Lord Black (even if it hadn't been him) with something like this and have it be a hoax or prank. Blacks took family deadly seriously, after all. For Narcissa to contact him, the situation had to be truly dire.

He'd been several years behind Narcissa, but old enough to know and remember the fact that she'd been pregnant a few times before she had Draco, and had miscarried each time. Though he'd never spent much time with her, word had gotten through the Black family grapevine that the losses had hit her hard, as they would any woman. That she had managed to carry Draco to term would have made the boy more precious to her than a child normally was to the Blacks, and she'd respond accordingly to any threat to him.

Whoever it truly was that had sent that letter ... had no idea what they'd just done. If it was a hoax letter, Narcissa would hunt the perpetrator down and make them beg for the privilege of dying. Sirius shuddered at the thought of what she'd do to someone like that. If the letter wasn't a hoax ... well ... she may not be able to move against the bastard herself due to the threat to Draco, but who better to appeal to than him? Despite the Black reputation for backing family to the hilt, and being damned dangerous in defense of said family, it would never cross anyone's mind that Sirius would come to Narcissa's aid, thanks to their wildly different politics.

And people consistently made the mistake of assuming that just because Sirius was on the side of the Light, that he was absolutely nothing like the rest of the Blacks. Hah! He'd been raised with their beliefs all his life. He may have rejected, rather violently, their politics, but that was the only part of Family Black he'd rejected out of hand. The vindictive, vicious, inventively cruel vengeful streak that they learned at their mothers' knees, the loyalty to family ... that, Sirius had absorbed, and retained ... and someone, somewhere, was about to get a rather sharp lesson in why you never, ever crossed a Black.

He grabbed parchment and ink and wrote Narcissa back.

Lady Malfoy

We are agreed that correspondence is unfortunate and undesired. However, you are indeed correct in that your situation requires it. At this particular moment, however, there is little to be done.

I will be at Weasley Cottage all day tomorrow, starting at dawn. Floo me from Hogwarts immediately if anything happens to Draco. If you have not flooed by nightfall, I will assume the letter was a hoax, and allow you to trace the perpetrator and do to them as you will. If, however, it is not a hoax, your husband, you and I will meet immediately after Draco is secured and arrangements will be made.

Lord Black

January 3, 1992 Malfoy Manor

Narcissa was surprised at the speed with which the owl returned. She'd half expected Sirius to stall for hours or days. Better, the owl was returning with a letter. She perused it briefly and sighed in relief. He'd help them. She'd been fairly sure he would, but it was still a relief to see it in writing. Now, all they could do was wait.

January 4, 1992 Hogwarts

Almost the entire population of Hogwarts was in the Great Hall eating breakfast when, out of nowhere, Draco suddenly cried out in pain. The usual racket of chatter died down considerably in surprise ... a surprise that swiftly graduated to alarm. Between one breath and the next, a suddenly terrified-looking Draco abruptly seemed to suffer what looked like a seizure, his entire body quaking and thrashing. The only sign that all was not as it seemed was the fact that he was howling in agony the entire time.

For a moment, complete silence reigned as everyone froze in shock. Poppy was the first to recover, literally vaulting the Head Table and rushing towards Draco. Severus and, to Severus' surprise, Dumbledore were only seconds behind her. They converged on Draco and Poppy started throwing every diagnostic spell she knew at Draco ... to little avail. The only thing she discovered was that his nervous system was lit up like a Christmas tree. Severus had slid to his knees, using his own body as a shield between Draco and the stone floor to keep Draco from dashing his brains out as he thrashed around.

"Poppy! Would petrifying him damage him?" Dumbledore wanted to know. She shook her head, and Dumbledore immediately petrified Draco. That done, Draco was levitated, and the three adults raced out of the room, headed for the infirmary.

Chapter Text

Masters and Meetings

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. All the people mentioned in the meeting at the Tonks' are living Blacks or their children as of January 1992. All I did was give Arthur's two brothers first names.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

January 4, 1992 Hogwarts

Harry's adjustment to the wards had taken long enough that he'd missed the start of breakfast. Hogwarts had only just led him to parts of the dungeon he recognized when the statue with him snapped to alert.

"Harry, something's wrong. Poppy, Severus, and the ex-Headmaster just tore out of the Great Hall, floating that blonde you don't like ... Draco, was it? ... with them, running at top speed for the infirmary. There's something very wrong with him."

Harry sped up. He didn't manage to get to the main floor before the odd group had left, but he could still hear Draco's screams echoing against the walls. What the heck had happened? He loathed Draco, thought he was a bigoted, big-mouthed bully, but he still couldn't help but wince in sympathy. Whatever had happened, it was clear Draco was in agony.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"No idea. He was just sitting there one second, and flailing around screaming in agony the second. No spells of any kind were cast."

"Something in his food maybe?" Harry offered. "I mean, the house elves wouldn't do it, but it might be possible to sneak something in once stuff's on his plate."

"True. Hopefully the staff will investigate once things calm down a little. I'll have the house-elves put everything he touched aside just in case."

Up in the infirmary, Poppy and Severus were working frantically, trying to ease Draco's symptoms and find the cause, while Dumbledore, for once, did something right and kept a spell on Draco to keep him from thrashing around. They weren't having much luck. Finally, in sheer desperation, Severus dosed Draco with a potion normally used during the rare few surgical procedures performed in the magical world, which worked like anesthesia. It didn't stop Draco's nervous system from going haywire, but at least Draco was no longer awake to suffer.

"Call his parents." Poppy said in a shaky voice. "And St. Mungo's. Whatever this is, I can't find it, and I can't stop it. And we can't keep him anesthetized forever."

Dumbledore looked every year of his age and then some as he called for a house-elf to bring him to his office, to do as Poppy commanded.

January 4, 1992 Malfoy Manor

Lucius and Narcissa had woken well before dawn, and had promptly set up camp in their entry parlor. Lucius paced the perimeter of the room while Narcissa contented herself with a sotto voce recitation of the Darkest curses she knew, mentally debating which she wanted to use on 'Barty' first, when she got her hands on him, whether or not Draco was endangered. Did she want to skin him alive first, or fill his belly with acid? Of course, she'd have to ensure she had the strongest healing potions made on hand, but surely Snape would be amenable? The bone-splintering hex had much to recommend it, as did the one that filled the victim's lungs with liquid. Of course, you couldn't hold that hex on someone for long, or the fun would end too soon, but it would be amusing to see the look on 'Barty's' face when he started to drown while on dry land.

Any hope the whole thing was a vicious, poorly-conceived hoax died when the floo flared to life, and Dumbledore's head appeared.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy? I'm afraid I must ask you to come to Hogwarts at once. Please step through. Headmaster's Office." And then his head disappeared.

Lucius and Narcissa shared a look. Narcissa immediately used the floo to call Sirius, then the two of them flooed to the Headmaster's office. Lucius gave Dumbledore a cold look the moment he stepped free of the fireplace. "Where is my son, Headmaster?" He demanded.

Dumbledore regarded him for a second, the usual twinkle absent from his eyes. "The infirmary. Something is very wrong with him, I'm afraid. I hope you can make your way there unaided? I must make another call."

Lucius and Narcissa said no more to Dumbledore, simply heading for the door and quick-marching towards the infirmary. The moment they were gone, Dumbledore made his second call, to St. Mungo's, asking for additional healers. Moments later, he headed back towards the infirmary at a fast walk, leading four of St. Mungo's best healers.

Lucius and Narcissa were standing off to one side, both of them looking extremely angry and more than a bit worried as Poppy and Severus continued to try to figure out what was going on with Draco. Shortly after that, the St. Mungo's group joined them, and Dumbledore watched quietly as they worked over the boy.

Abruptly, about ten minutes, maybe a bit more, after Draco first succumbed to ... whatever had been done to him ... it stopped. Completely. This baffled the healers to no end. And Dumbledore as well. He'd never seen the like. But he had not been alive for over a century, and manipulating people to his own ends for much of that time, to miss Lucius and Narcissa's reactions. The sheer rage in their eyes made him curious. Worry and fear made sense, but both of them were on the edge of being homicidal, unless he badly missed his guess. And they were far too calm and contained. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had many faults, but they adored their son, and ought to be frantic right about now. Of course, they were both Slytherins, so it was possible they were merely masking their agitation, much as Severus and most other Slytherins of his acquaintance did.

Poppy was ... displeased. To put it mildly. She did not like it at all when a student was struck down by something that she couldn't fix. That the St. Mungo's team was as clueless as she was made it both better and worse ... at least she wasn't alone in her bafflement, but they ought to have been able to fix this, blast it!

It was all Lucius and Narcissa could do to remain calm while Poppy and the St. Mungo's healers worked on Draco, trying to figure out what was wrong and fix it. It never once entered either of their minds to tell any of them what was going on ... not with Dumbledore in the room. Neither Malfoy trusted Dumbledore as far as they could physically throw him, and neither was in the mood for his twinkling reassurances. No, they were going to have to depend on themselves and Lord Black to deal with this.

January 4, 1992 Weasley Cottage

The look on Sirius' face when Narcissa floo-called him made Remus shudder. Someone, somewhere, was about to find out that Sirius was, despite his wildly different politics, every millimeter a Black, and Remus did not envy them the discovery. It took well over an hour for Narcissa to contact them again, her face drawn and pale and eyes glittering in homicidal rage. Sirius told her where to meet him. They would not be using Weasley Cottage for the meeting, since the Weasleys (aside from Cedrella) were not part of Family Black, and on top of that, trying to get Lucius and Septimus in the same building at the same time without either of them trying to hex the other was asking for a miracle. Sirius had no idea why the two men hated each other so virulently, but it reminded him more than a little of the situation between himself, James, and Sniv ... er, Snape.

Late that night, Sirius headed for the meeting place. Five minutes later, Lucius and Narcissa arrived, and Sirius motioned them to take a seat.

"I'm going to make this fast. I don't trust you, either of you. I know exactly where your loyalties and politics lie, and I also know exactly how Blacks are raised." Sirius stared at Narcissa. "That said, Draco is an innocent in this mess, and doesn't deserve what's been done to him, and on the strength of that, I will help you, but I'm going to require some reassurances from both of you." Reassurances meaning Wizard's Oaths at the very least, Unbreakable Vows if he could manage it. "Firstly, that you will not disclose in any way to anyone outside of myself, Cedrella, Andromeda, Nymphadora and each other anything that you learn when we meet without my express permission." That would keep them from talking, writing, or otherwise communicating anything damning they learned when he met up with them. "And secondly, that you will neither lie to me nor withhold the truth about your meetings with Death Eaters and whoever's hexed Draco when I ask you about the meetings." He couldn't exactly extract vows to not act against Family Black (or their supporters) given that Lucius at the least was going to have to play along with whoever had hexed Draco to keep Draco from being killed.

Lucius and Narcissa glanced at each other. They'd been expecting something of this sort. Not telling anyone anything and not lying about what they discovered when asked was not too high a price to pay, and it left them a lot of room to maneuver. "We are willing to give you our Oaths." Narcissa said. At Sirius' accepting nod, she drew her wand. "I solemnly swear on my life and magic to never communicate in any way, to anyone other than Lucius Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Cedrella Weasley or Sirius Black the contents of any discussion held with them without their express permission. I also swear to never lie or withhold the truth about any discussions with Death Eaters from Sirius Black when he asks about said meetings, so mote it be."

Lucius echoed Narcissa's vow, looking a lot less pleased to be forced into such a thing, but knowing good and well that Sirius had them over a barrel. At least they had wiggle room, if they needed it. After all, Sirius had to ask about Death Eater meetings to be told about it, and Lucius ought to be able to keep correspondence secret. It also only covered meetings of the Black and Malfoy families, not correspondence, or anything they discovered about Sirius and company outside of meetings.

Vows taken care of, Sirius looked at them. "Do you have the letter?" He asked.

Narcissa nodded and pulled the letter out of a pocket, handing it over to Sirius. He accepted it, giving it a foul look. "I'll get this checked out over the next couple of days ... might be able to figure out who sent it if we're lucky. If not, Lucius will be finding out in two weeks. Speaking of two weeks, Lucius, how are you planning on handling contacting your ... associates?" Sirius' face crumpled up in distaste, referring to Death Eaters.

"The simplest method is the most direct one ... I plan to have a small party at the Manor next week, invite everyone involved." Lucius said. He also fully planned to make it sound like a Death Eater gathering the week following was entirely his idea. He refused to deal with anyone from a position of weakness.

Sirius nodded. "Simple enough. There's very little we can do until we figure out who's doing this and where they're hiding out ... you two can't attack him directly without endangering Draco, and I won't be able to get at him until I know what I'm dealing with." Then he glanced at Narcissa. "Considering the situation, I've called a family meeting for two days from now. I'd like you to attend. At the very least, you need to start trying to patch things back together between you and Andromeda."

Narcissa looked like she couldn't quite decide whether to be quite pleased with the prospect or horrified. As the youngest sister to both Bellatrix and Andromeda, she'd felt more than a bit caught between their wildly different worldviews, and had often been put in quite uncomfortable spots during their disagreements. She'd found it ... expedient ... to agree with Bellatrix every time, as even as a child, Bellatrix had been ... well, to put it nicely, cruel. Not that she had actually ever been a muggle-lover, mind, but there'd been more than a few times when Andromeda had brought up a telling point that Narcissa hadn't felt safe agreeing with, lest Bellatrix do something ... rash. It might be pleasant to see Andromeda again, without Bellatrix's poisonous presence. Then again ... it might not.

January 6, 1992 Tonks Family Home

Andromeda was, to put it bluntly, nervous as all hell. Also, terrified.

She, like Sirius, had always been something of a rebel. She'd been one of a very small handful of Blacks (of whom only Cedrella and herself were still living) that had cheered Sirius' youthful rebellion on, and had laughed for days when he'd been Sorted into Gryffindor ... the first Black in she didn't even know how long to be sorted anywhere but Slytherin. Even she had been in Slytherin!

She had never once believed that Sirius could or would betray James. Those two had been close as brothers from the moment they met, and Andromeda had often teased Sirius that if it hadn't been for the fact that defying the family the way he had called for massive amounts of courage, he'dve been a Hufflepuff for sure. He certainly had the loyalty that Hufflepuff so prized in spades, and unlike most of her relatives, who hadn't worked ... after all, they were Blacks, and working was so ... pedestrian! ... he'd not even considered sitting on his butt, even after he'd become inheritor of Alphard's money at sixteen. Despite the tomfoolery he, James and Remus had got up to, he'd gotten the NEWTS necessary to become an Auror, and had, along with James, gone into training straight out of school and had been a full Auror for about six months when disaster struck.

Unfortunately, since Andromeda had been officially disowned, there had been absolutely nothing she could do to help Sirius. She had no claim anymore to the Black family name, money, or political clout. She hadn't even had the option of appealing to Arcturus, Sirius' grandfather and ex-Lord Black before he'd stepped down in favor of his son, when he was still alive.

She'd been thrilled when Sirius had been pulled out of Azkaban and proved innocent. One of the first things he'd done, after properly claiming his position as Lord Black, had been to write her and offer to bring her back into the family. As he'd put it 'We rebels need to stick together'. She'd talked it over with Ted, and had accepted. Not that it would really change all that much ... too many people knew she had been disowned, and would continue to pretend she didn't exist despite her change in circumstances, but she'd have the backup of family now if something happened.

Of course, family backup was a double-edged sword. The living members of the family were ... with the exception of Cedrella and Sirius ... blood bigots that would sneer at both her husband and her daughter. And Sirius had asked if they could use her home for a family meeting, as Black Manor was in unlivable condition. She'd been in a dither since Sirius had asked. She'd not even seen most of the family since her marriage, except for glimpses of Narcissa on Diagon Alley a few times.

Ted was sitting in his chair near the fireplace, watching her with a faintly amused expression on his face. "Relax, Andy. They're going to be too interested in trying to get the measure of Sirius to pay you any mind."

Well, he did have a point, Andromeda thought with a smile. "You know, I almost can't wait to see how it goes, in a way. Most of them are going to be horrified."

Ted snickered. "True enough." He agreed. "Will Nymphadora be here for it?"

"Yes." Andromeda said. "I know she got the day off for this." All adult children of female Blacks not declared heir to the Head of their father's House were eligible to attend family meetings like this. Since Ted was Muggleborn, he didn't have a family, at least not in the pureblood sense, and thus Nymphadora couldn't be Head of House when Ted passed on.

Then the floo flared to life, and Sirius' face appeared in the flames. "Hallo the house! Ahhh, Andy, Ted, good to see you. All right if I come through?" He asked.

"Of course, Sirius. Come on through." Andromeda agreed.

Moments later, Sirius stepped out of the fireplace. Sirius grinned widely at Andromeda and gave her a hug. "It's good to see you again, Andy." He said.

"Good to see you again too, Sirius." Andy said.

A few moments later, the floo flared to life again, and Cedrella, followed by her two younger sons, Marcus and Phillip, stepped out of the fireplace. Greetings were exchanged all around, and then a few moments later, Nymphadora fell out of the fireplace. She promptly swarmed Sirius, literally squealing in joy as she hugged him tight enough to threaten his ribs. Sirius had been fourteen when she was born, and had babysat her frequently during the summer from the time he was sixteen until ... well, until things had gone to hell. Sirius had taken a great deal of pleasure in egging on her ebullient personality, and he'd swiftly become her favorite person aside from her parents. She, alongside Andromeda, had never once believed Sirius capable of what he'd been accused of, and was enormously pleased that her favorite cousin was free. She was followed swiftly by Callidora Longbottom and her two children, Alphie and Enid. Cassiopeia Black and Lucretia Prewett were the next to arrive. As she and Sirius had planned, Narcissa was the very last to arrive, looking stiff and uncomfortable.

Once everyone had arrived and greetings were exchanged, Ted made himself scarce, and everyone else gathered around the enlarged dining room table.

Sirius eyed everyone off, mentally bracing himself one last time to deal with the lot of them. While no one here was a Voldemort supporter (not even Narcissa ... she had entirely too much pride to kiss anyone's butt), half of the attendees were pureblood bigots. Heck, Alphie had damn near killed Neville, from what Sirius had heard, trying to force Neville to exhibit magic, accusing the poor boy of being a squib. Squibs being seen as worse than 'mudbloods' in 'proper' pureblood circles.

"I hereby call this emergency meeting of Family Black to order." Sirius called out, silencing everyone. "I'll get right down to brass tacks. For anyone here who hasn't heard, Andromeda and her daughter have been fully reinstated to Family Black." He told everyone. "But that is not the true subject of today's meeting. We're here to discuss a direct threat to a member of Family Black. Narcissa?"

Narcissa took the meeting from there, explaining the arrival of the letter and the confirmation that Draco had, indeed, been attacked. The enraged explosion of sound that resulted from that revelation rocked Sirius back on his metaphorical heels for a moment. Lucretia had almost instantly leaned over to consult with Cedrella, as their families were quite closely linked (Arthur having married Lucretia's niece). Sirius let them get the worst of it out of their systems before he called them back to order.

"Now, steps must needs be taken, obviously. At this time, we're not sure who, exactly, is threatening Narcissa and Draco. While the possibility does exist of it truly being Barty Crouch Junior, the possibility is very, very slim. Lucius will be confirming the identity of our target in a little less than two weeks. At that time, we'll know who to target and can figure out how. Until then, those of you with extended families, get in touch with anyone you think would be sympathetic ... whoever this is, I want to hit them so hard no one will ever even dream of touching Family Black ever again."

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone. Sirius fought down a grin. This attack would serve so many purposes. One, it was reuniting a previously divided House. Two ... well, all the allies the various members had gathered to themselves would now be flying under one banner, which they hadn't done since before Orion had taken up the mantle of Head of House, just prior to Sirius' birth. The bad news there was that more than one of said allies were pureblood bigots at best, and Voldemort supporters at worst. Sirius would have his hands full controlling the lot of them. But he'd known that going in, and was determined to pull it off. With any luck at all, he'd severely hamstring Voldemort by taking some of his supporters out from under him. Having Harry in his corner could only help. Harry's status as both a Potter and the Boy-Who-Lived would sway a lot of people to their cause.

January 4, 1992 Weasley Cottage

Later that evening, Sirius had yet another, quieter meeting with Septimus and Augusta, as fellow Heads of House. The Draco problem was not brought up. Both of them already knew about it by then. No, this was a tactical meeting to iron out what they were going to do at the upcoming spring session of the Wizengamot. They didn't quite have a majority voting block yet, but that didn't stop them from laying the groundwork. With any luck at all, they'd be ready to roll by the summer session.

"We need to feel out Amelia." Septimus said. "She's notorious for not taking sides politically, but I think if we assure her of the funds she desperately needs to train and equip more DMLE and Auror agents, she might be amenable to at least voting with us when she agrees with us." Which was about as close to gaining Amelia as an ally that they were going to get. That one marched to her own drum, and damn what anyone else thought of her for it. "It will have the side benefit of being something that needs to be done anyway, and something I imagine you'd be willing to do without being bribed, considering the situation."

Sirius agreed with that completely. He'd never be an Auror again himself ... he didn't trust the Ministry as far as he could throw it, and Harry needed him too much for Sirius to commit himself to something that would consume so much of his time ... but they needed as many Aurors as they could possibly get, as quickly as possible. He'd discovered that Nym ... errr, Tonks, had been the only graduate in her year to be picked up by the Auror corps, and no one had been picked up in the five years previous to that. Which was damn scary, and just shy of criminal, given how much of the Auror corps had either perished or been permanently sidelined by injuries in the first war with Voldemort. Though she was at least being trained by Moody. That old bastard might have been paranoid as hell ten years ago, nevermind now, but he was, hands down, the best Auror in living memory.

"Greengrass might also be amenable." Augusta said. "At least to opening talks. He's been a fence-sitter since the beginning, but I've always gotten the impression that the only reason he sat the fence was because he didn't want to become a target for Voldemort." Which he would have, if he'd openly sided with Dumbledore. "That and he possibly didn't like Dumbledore, which we certainly can't blame him for. Having a third option, and the protection of the Blacks and Potters might just get him off the fence."

Sirius nodded. "And he'd bring a lot of the neutral families with him ... he's always been at the head of that contingent." If Malcolm Davis had been a bit less like Amelia in his beliefs, he'dve been the Neutral leader, but he, like Bones, had always marched to his own drum. It had made him a fantastic choice as Chief Warlock, but a very poor leader and voice for a rather disparate group.

"There's something else brewing that's going to be needing dealt with." Augusta said, then handed Sirius the letter she'd gotten from Dumbledore. "He's up to tricks. Again. I am pretty sure he's building up to undermining you and your influence. Painting you Dark so people will hesitate to follow you, or question your motives. I almost didn't catch what he was up to, to be honest."

Sirius read through the letter, and his eyebrows headed for his hairline. Augusta was right ... Dumbledore was definitely up to tricks. Sneaky bastard, too ... unless you knew he was up to no good beforehand, or were exceptionally paranoid ala Moody, you'd never see it. But then, Dumbledore had always been frighteningly good with words, knowing what to say and when to say it. Sirius had never been able to decide if it was a natural consequence of being a Legilimens or just some (unfortunate, in this case) quirk of genetics or personality or something of the sort.

Augusta was glaring at the letter in Sirius' hand like it was Voldemort himself. "I will never forgive either him or myself for what he pulled with me. Turning me against my own grandson." Augusta's voice vibrated with rage.

Sirius reached over and gripped her forearm, and Septimus did the same. "Do not blame yourself too harshly, Augusta." Septimus said. "He took advantage of your grief and rage at what your son had been reduced to thanks to that blackhearted bitch and her friends. And he's fooled the entirety of the Wizarding world for a very long time. If no one else caught on, why should you have?"

January 4, 1992 Hogwarts

Harry was sitting on the ledge of his dorm window, with Hedwig in his lap, petting her as the sun went down, staring out at the school grounds.

/Something big is going down, Hedwig./

/Yes. But not even Hogwarts is sure what. All we know is that Draco is involved. Possible health issues?/

Harry shook his head. /No ... nothing I've ever heard of hits like that, or that hard. Granted I don't know anything about magical illnesses, but the 'Muggle' ones? There'dve been some sign long before now. And the looks on the Malfoys' faces ... / He hadn't seen that personally, but it paid to have Hogwarts on his side ... she could and did see everything that happened within her walls. /Hogwarts said they were both raging mad. That doesn't fit with their son being struck down by a disease./

/True enough./ Hedwig replied. /We will have to wait to find out, I suppose ... either from Hogwarts eavesdropping or from Sirius. I can't see him withholding something like this from you./

/Me either. Whatever it is, it's way too big for him to keep me in the dark./ And Harry was deeply grateful that Sirius did have a tendency to treat him as being older than he physically was ... it was nice, being treated like he was a capable human being, after a lifetime of being treated like unwanted trash.

/Tomorrow's going to be a long day./ Hedwig said. /You've got the meeting with McGonagall and Snape, not to mention the usual Sunday visit with Hagrid. You should get to sleep./

Harry gave a muffled snicker. /Hedwig, it's barely dark out! Which means, what, seven o'clock at the latest, this time of year? I'm not that tired, nor looking at that long a day./

/And here I thought you were gullible./

/Nah, not hardly./

Hedwig nipped at his fingers gently, then gave an affectionate, amused-sounding crackle. /Looking forward to whatever the staff's got cooked up for you next?/ She asked.

/Yeah, actually. It's been fun so far, and only looks to be getting better from here. It's nice to be able to stretch myself, you know?/

/Yes, I imagine it is. And you're covering a great deal of ground. You've got quite a gift, my Harry./

Harry snorted. /Says you./ He still had a hard time really believing he was ordinary, nevermind anything special. After a lifetime of being belittled, his self-confidence was more or less nil, and would take a long time to build to where it should be.

/Yes, says me, Harry-chick. Just how many of the kids do you see who can manage first-year spells the same day they're introduced?/

/Well, Hermione for starters./ Harry pointed out immediately. /And these days, Neville's not far behind me. I give it a month before he's completely caught up. He's not even floundering in Potions anymore./

/And Hermione works hard to get as far as she does. You've seen how much she studies. Neville has it a bit easier, I'll admit, but it's still not all that common. Three of you, out of less than fifty yearmates. And out of less than four hundred kids in total at the school, there's probably about ten kids with anything like your ability. You barely even have to think about it to be able to do the spells you've done so far, nevermind studying the theory and such. You just ... understand it./

Which was true, Harry had to admit. He always seemed to instinctively understand and be able to perform spells, no matter what type they were. Of course, that instinctive understanding and ability was a double-edged sword, because he never seemed to be able to explain what he knew, whether verbally or in essays. His frustration with that had led to an understanding commiseration with, of all people, Snape ... who apparently had much the same problem when it came to potions.

Harry didn't truly believe was that he was anything special, despite the fact he was keeping up with both regular assignments and the special tutoring. He, Hermione, and Neville all were. All three of them were more powerful than their age-mates, though of the three of them, Hermione was the weakest. She simply made up for it in sheer dogged determination, managing to keep up with the boys thanks to extensive researching and constant practice. She'd long since stopped trying to study ahead ... at first because of Crookshanks and his insistence on her not studying too much, then more and more because she needed the time she'd originally used to study ahead to keep pace with the boys.

Two boys who had been touched by prophecy. True, the prophecy had passed Neville by, but he'd been born the same day ... and thus, had been born with a nearly identical potential to Harry's. It had been Voldemort's fateful choice just over a year after their births that had put Harry in the position of 'Chosen One'. Two boys with immense potential, now being pushed and challenged to meet and extend that potential ... by the time the Hogwarts staff was done with the pair, they'd both be incredibly formidable ... magical powerhouses the likes of which hadn't been seen since the Founders. And neither of them had the faintest clue they had that much potential, that much power.

It was that potential that had driven Dumbledore to manipulate Augusta. He could not, would not tolerate someone with the power to completely overshadow himself and his accomplishments within his lifetime. Harry, he had to tolerate for a time due to the prophecy and his political status as a Potter, and had originally planned to control and manipulate the boy into being his puppet. Neville, however, had been entirely disposable in his eyes, and he'd done all he could to see the boy's potential stamped out or ruined. Unfortunately for him, he'd been no more successful with Neville than he had been with Harry.

/Whether you want to admit it or not, Harry-chick, you're special./ Hedwig insisted. /And not because of some silly prophecy./ She nuzzled his cheek briefly. /After all, you have me, don't you?/

That did it. Harry burst out laughing at Hedwig's smug cheek. "You're a brat, Hedwig." He said aloud. "But I wouldn't want you any other way."

Chapter Text

Fate or Choice

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

January 11, 1992 Hogwarts

Severus somewhat amusedly contemplated the turn his life had taken over the last half-year. He'd gone from being almost wholly isolated, and the hated 'bat of the dungeons', to gaining several … well, he didn't quite consider them friends, but they were more than acquaintances, so allies would have to do. That one of said allies was Black was an irony that Severus didn't care to contemplate too much.

And now, it would seem, he had found worthy successors to his gifts in the most unbelievable and unlikeliest of places. The Weasley twins had turned out to be quite far from what Severus had expected them to be, at their first extracurricular potions lesson. Severus had fully expected a pair of idiots with delusions of grandeur.

What he'd gotten had been a pair of incredibly intelligent, ambitious, sneaky and cunning boys with an instinctive gift for potions that nearly equaled his own. It had been a very, very long time since Severus had so badly misjudged someone. And at this point, he'd come to the decision that the Sorting Hat was completely senile, to have sorted that pair anywhere but Slytherin.

If their second meeting went the same as the first, Severus had a feeling he'd just stumbled into a challenge worthy of his skills. To mold those boys into the adults they could become … Severus allowed himself a small smile. It would be interesting, that was for certain. He tapped long fingers against the armrest of his favorite chair, contemplating the idea that had begun to manifest itself that night.

If the twins continued to exhibit the promise they'd showed the other evening, they would benefit from a more concentrated tutelage. The apprentice system that had been in use since time immemorial had largely fallen out of use in the last century, but the provisos for it were still in the law books. The apprentice system had several advantages for the boys. Severus would take up the responsibility for their care and education, which meant the expenses for their education, supplies and clothing would become his responsibility. This would not only take some of the fiscal pressure off of the Weasleys, but would give the twins access to far better materials, in far larger quantities, than they would otherwise have been able to afford. Severus would become their guardian, and they would become his assistants. At this point, that would largely be limited to shelving prepared ingredients or assisting with the preparation of simple, no dangerous materials, but as they got older and more experienced, they'd largely take over ingredient preparation and eventually brewing most of the simpler potions that Severus prepared for Poppy, freeing a great deal of time for Severus to attend to other matters. If Severus arranged the traditional seven-year apprenticeship, it would carry the boys two years beyond their graduation from Hogwarts as well, giving them time to accrue such things as they would need to live on their own successfully.

But that was only a half-baked plan for the moment. He had still to ensure that their first lesson hadn't been a one-off, and that the twins would be interested in such an arrangement. Severus sighed, then cast a quick tempus and nodded when he saw the time. Filius had asked his assistance with today's lesson for Harry, Hermione, and Neville, as Filius intended to introduce them to dueling, now they knew a range of spells. True, most of the spells they now knew were not used in duels, but that was down mostly to arrogance, Severus knew. It was the rare wizard who thought First Year spells had any use … most wizards never used more than 'Lumos', 'Nox', and 'Wingardium Leviosa' past Fifth Year or so.

But both Filius and Severus (who, while he hadn't participated in the dueling circuit, was no slouch at defending himself) knew that any spell, even a simple First Year spell, could be used to devastating effect by the devious mind. The sooner that trio learned this, the better. Their chances of survival would triple if they could learn to be completely unpredictable.

HPHPHP

Harry was looking forward to the day's lesson, as he, Hermione, and Neville trotted towards the room that they'd been using for the extra-curricular lessons. While he knew that dueling would be very, very serious when it happened in real life, it also sounded immensely interesting and like a lot of fun to learn.

He was slightly surprised to see not only Professor Flitwick, but Professor Snape as well. Then he laughed at himself, because dueling was between two or more people, and obviously Flitwick would need an assistant for demonstration purposes!

Hedwig, who'd been on his shoulder, cackled in amusement over their bond. /Don't beat yourself up too badly, Harry. Sometimes, things that are that obvious simply slip one's mind./

Harry supposed that was true, and reached up to stroke Hedwig's breast feathers. She nibbled on his fingers affectionately in response.

"Welcome!" Flitwick chirped. "We'd best get started, as we've a lot to cover this evening." The room had been cleared of any obstacles, so the trio simple came to a halt and stood a few feet from the two teachers. "Now, dueling comes in two general forms, formal and free-for-all. Unfortunately, you'll not run into formal duels too often, but I'm still going to go over the basics of it with you, so that if you ever do encounter a situation where someone calls for one, you know what to do." Flitwick looked over at Harry. "There are additional concerns for you, consequent of your rank, but you'll learn about those from your godfather over the summer, I'd imagine. I am unfamiliar with most of the particulars there."

Harry made a bit of a face, but nodded in understanding. Of course there would be additional rules and regulations for him. **Probably exceptions to the existing rules.** he thought, torn between bitterness and amusement that rank meant so much to the magical world. On the one hand, he was grateful for it, as it did things like protect Remus from persecution, on the other hand, it was annoying as hell.

"There are three levels of formal duel." Flitwick continued after a moment. "The first is duels conducted on the dueling circuit, and I'll not tell you much about that, as I doubt any of you will have any interest in that as a pasttime. All you really need to know is that such duels are tightly controlled, governed by a myriad of rules, and don't have any real effect outside of the dueling circuit other than putting everyone on notice that you're formidable at defending yourself if you win regularly."

That got a grin from the trio, as Flitwick was a champion of the dueling circuit. While Flitwick had not won the championship in some time, it had nothing to do with declining skill, and everything to do with the fact that Filius was unable to attend the number of duels he would have to in order to be considered to be in contention for the championship, as he was really only able to indulge in dueling during the summer, and the circuit ran all year long.

"The second level is the one you'll see the most of … which isn't really saying much, these days, as formal dueling has somewhat fallen out of popular use." Flitwick said. "This level is called a dispute duel, and was, for quite a long time, a way for two parties to settle a dispute on some matter that they did not wish to bring to the attention of anyone higher in the ranks than themselves. Each party names a second, whose responsibility it is to tend their contestant at the end of the fight, which mostly meant either reversing spells or getting them to St. Mungo's. These duels continue until one side is unable to continue, either because they've been knocked unconscious or disarmed. Maiming or killing is forbidden, which limits such duels to milder spells. The winner of the duel is declared the winner of the dispute. This has mostly gone by the wayside in favor of court rulings."

Flitwick took a deep breath and then continued. "The third form, and rarest even when dueling was far more common, is the honor duel. This duel was the most serious, and has the weight of law behind it even today. Unlike with dispute duels, the results of an honor duel cannot be contested in court. An honor duel is called when one party's honor, rank, or family is insulted or abused by someone else. Seconds are chosen, as with dispute duels, but these duels are watched over by a judge, a neutral third party with sufficient knowledge of dueling to be able to keep things under control. The person whose honor has been called into question then declares the Blood, which I'll explain in a moment, and both sides decide the terms of winning."

"Blood refers to the extent of the severity of the duel. First Blood puts the duel essentially on the level of a dispute duel, with knockout or disarming declaring the win, and no maiming or killing allowed. Second Blood allows for maiming, and Third Blood, only ever used for the most grievous insults, allows for death." Flitwick grimaced. "Dark Arts spells are strictly forbidden at all three levels. The terms of winning obviously depend on what insult was given, but as an example, let's say that someone decided to attack Remus because he's a werewolf. As he's a servant of House Black, Sirius would be well within his rights to call an honor duel for the insult of attacking a trusted servant of his House, and indeed a duel would be expected under those circumstances. He could decide it to be a First Blood duel, with the consequences for the guilty party being a full, formal apology and a monetary fine, if he won the duel."

Well, that was clear and simple enough, Harry thought, and with something like that, he could well imagine that, yes, there'd be additional stuff for him to learn or deal with. Like being able to recognize when someone gave a duel-worthy insult to someone under his protection, probably, and just how bad any given insult is, so that he could call the correct level of duel. Sometimes, being part of the elite was a pain in the ass. He was just glad he had Sirius around to explain all of that. He didn't want to think about how badly things would have gone without that assistance. If he'd ever known about being an elite at all, given Dumbledore's manipulations.

"Free-form dueling, on the other hand." Flitwick said. "I'm afraid you'll see a lot more of, if things start getting ugly with Voldemort's followers, or if Voldemort himself finds a way to return."

Sirius had told Harry what had happened to Draco two days after Harry had found out about Draco being hauled to the Infirmary in agony. Harry felt really badly for Draco, because while he'd been a right arse, no one deserved the situation Draco was in now. Draco had changed considerably in the last week. As far as Harry knew, Draco hadn't spoken in public at all, not in the Great Hall, not in the corridors, and not in classes. He also seemed to have pulled away from his usual cohorts in Slytherin.

At this point, trouble with the Death Eaters was inevitable. The only question was when and where the trouble would occur. The sooner Harry was able to at least attempt to defend himself, the better, and that went double for Hermione, who would be an especially juicy target for the Death Eaters, as both a Muggleborn and Harry's friend. They'd already had a … discussion … about that, and Hermione had made it plain that she intended to remain Harry's friend, and any attempts to 'spare' her would get Harry in a world and a half of trouble.

"Free form duels are … pretty much how they sound. There are no seconds, or bowing, or any such. They're not even required to be between only two people. The winner is generally the one that's still alive, as such duels are almost always deadly, and when not deadly, result in quite severe maiming. No spells are considered taboo, either, and in fact, given who is most likely to be your opponents, you should fully expect both the Unforgivables and the nastiest of the Dark Arts spells." Flitwick told them. "Now, Severus and I will give you a brief demonstration of a formal duel, so if you'd stand over by the door?" Flitwick asked.

The trio immediately scooted over to the area indicated, exchanging anticipatory looks, wondering how a duel between the two men would go. Even if they weren't giving it their all, as it was a simple demonstration duel, it ought to be interesting.

It turned out to be a good bit more than interesting, as Flitwick and Snape had evidently decided to put on a real display, rather than a short but sweet demonstration.

Snape reminded Harry of nothing quite so much as a panther, all liquid grace and deadly accuracy and skill. It was rather a bit of a surprise, as normally Snape seemed to have a steel rod for a spine, and did not really give the impression of being at all flexible … which he was. And while both men were sticking to simpler spells, Snape clearly favored the more devastating spells in the repertoire they were using. His rate of fire was positively snail-like compared to Flitwick's, but he compensated by choosing his moments and targets with incredible accuracy, always managing to aim a spell at a weak point in Flitwick's defenses … not that there were all that many, but still. Harry had the feeling that in a real duel, Snape favored heavy-hitting spells that really only needed to be cast once to end a duel decisively in his favor, while either dodging or shielding from incoming spells while he waited for an opening.

Flitwick, on the other hand, reminded Harry of a demented frog on crack. Or something. He was everywhere, bouncing all over the room and firing spells so fast Harry wondered how the heck he had time to so much as think the appropriate words for the spells, never mind anything else. He also never shielded even once, but Harry had a feeling that had a bit more to do with the difference in the two mens' fighting styles than anything else, though he was willing to bet Flitwick only shielded as a last resort, depending almost entirely on dodging to get away from incoming spells.

The two men called a mutual halt to the duel at the five-minute mark, at which point Harry was finally able to pay attention to Hermione and Neville, and was gratified to see both of them looking as stunned and awed as he felt.

"Wicked." Neville breathed.

Hermione looked like she wanted nothing more than to pin Flitwick down and demand he teach her every spell he knew. Harry barely managed to restrain an amused snort.

Flitwick and Snape both started working with the three of them, and about an hour later, all three were able to attempt a trial duel, not that any of them expected to have anything even close to success. That would only come with time. For now, they were dueling more to get the feel for the movements and timing of a duel.

It quickly became apparent that Hermione had a tendency to choke under pressure, but given even a moment to gather her wits, was able to bring her growing repertoire of spells to bear without any further issues. Neville, while initially hesitant, quickly got over it and threw himself into the duel with a will.

As for himself, Harry (and everyone else) got a bit of a surprise when, halfway through his duel with Snape, at a point when Harry had long since left off consciously thinking and was acting almost entirely on instinct, he threw 'Expelliarmus' at Snape.

And when it managed to hit Snape (Harry was later fairly sure that Snape allowed the hit, rather than being caught unawares by it), instead of just sending Snape's wand flying, it sent both the wand and Snape himself flying. Thankfully, not all that hard … Snape got knocked backwards a few feet and landed on his butt, doing more damage to his pride than his body.

Everybody froze for half a minute in startled surprise, before Harry managed to recover somewhat, and, assuming he'd managed to screw the spell up somehow, started to apologize profusely. Snape got to his feet, dusted himself off, and waved aside Harry's apologies.

"You did nothing wrong, Harry. I should have realized. According to that prophecy, you're supposed to be Voldemort's equal … which would, one assumes, mean magical power. We will merely have to teach you how to conserve your magical strength so you don't accidentally overpower a spell at the wrong time or target." Snape told him.

Snape's matter-of-fact acceptance went a long way to relieving Harry's concerns, so he let it be, and the lesson continued. Shortly after that, they were dismissed and sent to their dorms.

January 11, 1992 Potter Castle

Potter Castle had been something of a beehive of activity over the last week. Sirius had been working nonstop to pull in every Black Family ally that he could. Unfortunately, many were Death Eaters or avid supporters, but there were a number of families who had married into the Black Family one way or another that had been on the fence over Voldemort, or had verbally supported him out of necessity due to House Black's politics at the time. The Blishwicks, Burkes, and Gamps had been quite willing to throw their support behind the new Lord Black and his position against Voldemort, having seen the end results for the man's supporters last time around. The Bulstrodes had been a harder sell, but by the end of the week, they had committed themselves to supporting House Black, which was no small feat.

Both Septimus and Cedrella had been in and out, bearing news from their extensive House. Through their efforts, several traditionally Light Houses that would not have responded to Sirius' overtures had been won over to support of House Black, including the Brown, Davis, MacDougal and Macmillian Houses. Bones had been approached and was apparently thinking things over, as were Moody and two other Houses.

Malfoy would be their only 'in' with the Death Eaters and supporters, but quite frankly, Sirius wasn't expecting much from that quarter. Most of the remaining Death Eaters had been hard-core followers and highly unlikely to change their minds about their allegiances.

Even better, thanks to the Weasleys, they were beginning to gain support abroad as well. The Romanian dragon preserve had committed their resources to the effort, and had begun to attempt to train the existing adult dragons. They would also begin training the dragonets who would begin hatching in April or May, after the breeding season that would begin in a week or so. And the goblins were clearly on their side, even if, at this juncture, there was no official word on it. Just the fact that they'd been willing to allow Harry to get Sirius the Head of House ring was proof of that. At this point, however, Sirius didn't have any idea of how to use that particular resource, though it might be possible to tighten the purse-strings of the Death Eaters in some manner. He'd have to talk to Bill later and find out what was possible and what wasn't.

All in all, they were in a good position at the moment, despite Dumbledore's manipulations over the last decade or so. Several of the people now on the Black Family's side had admitted to being contacted by Dumbledore via letter, which in all cases wasn't that unusual, but the newest letters all contained clever, veiled criticism of House Black, much as Augusta's letter had. More than one person had noticed this, and brought it to his attention. It had lost Dumbledore more support than it had gained him, at least in the pureblood circles, where rank, honor, and family held more weight than any other factors. In two of those three factors, Sirius had a serious advantage, as he had far more rank than Dumbledore ever would, and a far more extensive family, which accorded him a lot more leeway and a lot more allies he could count on simply on the strength of them being family, where Dumbledore would have to win his adherents over via rhetoric, which was always harder.

Of course, that good position could change, depending on the events yet to come. A lot was going to balance on how Malfoy handled both the 'get together' with his fellow Death Eaters and the meeting next week with the bastard that had attacked Draco. If Malfoy continued to be the sneaky bastard he'd been over the last decade, they'd be in good shape, but if he allowed the danger to his son to affect how he did things, they could be in a lot of trouble very quickly.

January 11, 1992 Malfoy Manor

It had been a very difficult week for Lucius Malfoy. It had been a challenge greater than any other he had faced, to balance the need to protect his son against the price Black was requiring for his assistance and Malfoy's own desires and plans and the required posturing amongst his … fellows.

Lucius had by no means set aside his beliefs and ambitions regarding purebloods and their place in wizarding society, despite his promise to Black. The vow required of them would complicate matters greatly, but Lucius liked to think himself able to the task before him, of both furthing the pureblood agenda yet not actively working against Black.

It had been a solid week of challenging discussions and encounters with his fellow Death Eaters, reminding them of times gone by, of his high station in the Dark Lord's esteem, and his belief that they ought not to put aside the Dark Lord's purpose. Their positions now were not so precarious as they had been a decade ago. Each of them now was simply a member of the community, some, like himself, with higher station and greater power than others, but none now considered a threat to the public safety. Now then, was the time to begin the search the Dark Lord out, to continue his aims in anonymity, now that they had more secure footing from which to launch that campaign.

Many had readily answered to that call, willing to meet with their fellows once more to speak of things to come, and what they should do. Tonight would be the first time in a decade that two or more Death Eaters met with the purpose of furthering their agenda.

Crabbe and Goyle, the seniors as loyal to the Malfoy family as the juniors, were the first to arrive, followed swiftly by Flint, Nott, and Macnair. Parkinson arrived a few minutes later. Six families who had answered the first call. Not a bad showing, if he said so himself. The Carrows, Yaxley, Gibbon, and Evan Rosier's illegitimate son, only just barely of age, were playing a 'wait and see' game, not because their devotion to the Dark Lord was any less, but because they wished to see the strength of Malfoy's resolve. Little did they know the truth of it, and Malfoy intended for them never to know. They would only discover that which he wanted them to see, on this he was resolved.

The seven men sat themselves around the table in the parlor Lucius had decided to use for this meeting, and Lucius let them sit in silence for a minute or two, allowing them to get the measure of each other after so many years. Finally, when the silence threatened to become dangerous, he spoke.

"Old friends. It has been long since we have met thus. Yet, I think it is now time for us to resume that which our honored Lord started, and remind those lesser creatures of their true place in our world." Lucius said. "We here, now, can strike from strength, while the enemy is yet ignorant of our aims and purpose, and with that advantage, we can easily strike a winning blow for our missing Lord."

Nott, by far the smartest and canniest of the attendees, eyed Lucius. "And what of our Lord? Surely our first task is to find Him, to bring Him back to the fullness of His glory."

Lucius regarded Nott for a moment. "You have then, knowledge that I do not? For I have sought assiduously, all these years, for some trace of our Lord's fate and whereabouts, and discovered naught."

That shut Nott up, because Lucius knew damn well Nott hadn't looked, and even if he had, Nott didn't have the monetary resources or the contacts that the Malfoy family had. If Malfoy had searched, and found nothing, no one would, short of possibly Dumbledore himself, but that old fool wouldn't have the faintest idea what to look for. Not that Lucius had any idea what to look for either, but he at least had some familiarity with the Dark Arts to know what was possible, where Dumbledore was almost wholly ignorant of the Dark Arts.

"We will not cease to seek Him." Lucius assured the group. "But to do that at the cost of all else is folly. If we act carefully, we can convince the creatures that our Lord has returned, even though he has not. We have but to imitate our Lord's style closely enough to incite panic."

That idea clearly appealed to everyone at the table. If they imitated the Dark Lord's rather inimitable style when it came to raids and such, people would assume the worst, even if not everything matched.

Shortly after that, they were all talking, discussing possible targets and actions. They did not come to a consensus that night, and Lucius recommended another meeting in a week's time. "I will contact you with the exact date and time shortly before, so that none may anticipate our meeting and attempt to interrupt it." He told them. And with any luck at all, he'd be able to introduce 'Barty', whoever they were, as a simple new arrival. The followers who had elected not to attend tonight would be encouraged to attend the next meeting, both by Lucius and by the reports they would doubtless receive of tonight from the men at the table, so that would help in concealing the importance of 'Barty' to Lucius, unless 'Barty' made the situation known, an eventuality Lucius could not ignore. If that happened, all his maneuvering would be for naught, and he'd never be able to work himself into a tenable position if everyone knew he was only there under threat of his son's life. He would just have to hope 'Barty' kept their silence on the matter.

January 18, 1992 Location Unknown

Lucius had received word the day before as to the date and time of the meeting with 'Barty', as well as the exact number of portkeys he required to get everyone where they were going, which told him that 'Barty' was very well aware of his work in reforming the Death Eaters. By then, he had received word from those Death Eaters who had elected not to attend the first meeting that they would be attending the second, which meant that there would be eleven men and one woman attending tonight's meeting, alongside 'Barty'.

'Barty' had arranged for Lucius' portkey to bring him to the meeting site fifteen minutes ahead of the rest, fifteen minutes that would test Lucius to the limits, he was sure. The temptation to hex whoever had attacked his son was immense, despite the knowledge that Draco would pay dearly for such folly. A few minutes before the portkey was due to whisk him away, he donned the old cloak. Before he put the mask on, Narcissa approached him and cupped his cheek in her hand, her eyes intent.

"You will triumph tonight." She told him. It was a simple, quiet statement. Not a demand, command, or question. Just a quiet, sure belief that Lucius would manage to prevail in the situation he was heading into.

Lucius allowed himself a quiet smile, and cupped Narcissa's face in turn. She would always be his greatest treasure, even moreso than his son and heir. He could not have got as far as he had without her by his side. "Of course." He told her, as if there was never any doubt.

They released one another and Narcissa stepped back, allowing Lucius to don the mask. Narcissa turned smartly and walked away, disappearing into the next room before the portkey could trigger. And then it did, and Lucius found himself in what looked like an otherwise abandoned warehouse, completely empty and echoing with the noise of his arrival.

A few moments later, a man in cloak and mask appeared on the stairs that led up to what Lucius assumed was an office area, and stood, leaning carelessly on the railing.

"And so you have come." Definitely a male voice, Lucius decided. No female had a voice that deep. "Tail between your legs like the beaten cur you are. And yet you have proven of use to me thus far, and for that I will spare your son any pain tonight. I did not expect you to get all twelve, cowardly curs that they are."

"We have remained loyal to our Lord, despite your misapprehensions." Lucius told the man. "It would have done our Lord little good for all His followers to languish in jail. When our Lord returns, I will have the gift of considerable political influence to give Him, and the others are placed where they can do great damage before anyone is the wiser." Indeed, most of them had access to the Ministry, at one level or another, which would permit them to influence or control pretty much the entire Ministry if they so chose.

'Barty' seemed to consider this for a moment. "This is true." He admitted after a moment. "And will make the search for our Lord the easier, while we make what chaos we can amongst the masses. Yet your loyalty will be for our Lord to discover and decide. Until that time, I shall merely keep watch."

Silence fell between them and was not broken until shortly before the others began to arrive, at which time 'Barty' moved down from his spot on the stairs to the main level. Once everyone had arrived, he kept his silence. Lucius began to lead the meeting, tension tightening his gut, but 'Barty' made no demur. Once Lucius had begun, 'Barty' was quick to join in the discussion, and without discussion between them, Lucius ensured that he supported 'Barty's' position on any matter brought forth.

'Barty' thought the angle of perpetrating attacks with a style as close to their Lord's as was possible inspired, and between him and Lucius, a rough order of importance of targets was worked out. They would begin with targets of little importance, but that would have been the sort of thing to tempt their Lord to strike early in his reign. They wanted to start with a whisper, not a bang. Eventually, everything was worked out, and everyone had their assignments. 'Barty' arranged that they would meet again, the time and place of which would be divulged closer to the meeting itself, and the meeting broke up, everyone re-making the temporary portkeys to return them home.

Lucius was both pleased and frustrated. Pleased that 'Barty' was allowing Lucius to retain a high position in the group, and frustrated that he had virtually nothing with which to identify the man, except that he was, indeed, a man. Provided he had not used Polyjuice, but Lucius doubted that, as he had not seen 'Barty' consume anything during the meeting, and it had lasted several hours.

Narcissa greeted him mere moments after his arrival, and they spent the remainder of the evening dissecting the meeting in every detail several times over before Lucius sent word to Black that he had returned, and would report in the morning. No word had come from Hogwarts, which meant, much to Lucius' relief, that Draco had indeed not suffered an attack tonight. For that mercy, Lucius was deeply grateful. He was walking an incredibly thin line in this whole mess. After that, he finally felt able to relax a bit with some fine wine before following Narcissa to bed.

January 19, 1992 Grimmauld Place

Grimmauld Place, Sirius had decided, was to become the headquarters for any meetings with people he didn't trust, which was pretty much everyone outside of Remus, Harry, the Weasleys and Augusta Longbottom. He'd asked Jinks for his assistance in getting the place livable, since Kreacher was doing nothing except slinking about spouting vile language. It had taken Jinks several days to get the place in any kind of shape to receive visitors on a regular basis, and even then most of the house beyond the ground floor was a wreck.

It was into this partially cleaned hellhole that Lucius Malfoy stepped for his meeting with Black the next morning. Sirius greeted the blonde with as much civility as he could muster, which wasn't much, to be honest. He didn't like Lucius, and never would. In his opinion, the man was a slimy bastard far worse than Snape had ever dreamed of being. Being forced to work with the man due to the situation with Draco was … uncomfortable, to say the least.

Sirius hadn't expected for them to get anything solid as to the identity of the bastard that had hexed Draco, and he wasn't disappointed. The fact the person was male really didn't thin down their choices any, given that there had been less than a half dozen women in the Death Eaters that Sirius knew of, of whom only two remained alive.

As per the Vow, Malfoy told him all the details of the meeting, and Sirius wrote it all down, having to fight the urge to squash the lot. He might not have much experience with the whole 'running a vigilante group' thing, but he knew enough to know that stomping all over every single planned incident would put 'Barty' on alert that there was a spy in his midst. Still, they ought to be able to manage to thwart at least one planned attack, if they worked it right. He'd have to talk over the details with Septimus, Cedrella, Augusta and Remus.

Lucius took his leave after telling Sirius what Sirius wanted to know, and sighed in relief that Sirius had not though to ask any truly penetrating questions that Lucius would be unable to answer dishonestly. Small favor, that, having a Gryffindor holding one end of his leash. Gryffindors as a whole had little grasp of the subtleties of life in general, never mind the subtleties of dealing with an enemy one was forced to make into an ally. It left Lucius with a lot more room to maneuver than he otherwise would have had.

Now, all he had to do was figure out what to do and how to do it … and with any luck, he'd come out of this mess better off than either Black or 'Barty', which would suit his purposes quite well indeed.

Chapter Text

Making Moves

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Some folks may get twitchy at the implications of one of the sections of this chapter. I am using Harry's canon power levels. He chased off a hundred dementors at the age of thirteen, and per canon, most adults can't manage a corporeal patronus at all, let alone one that strong.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

March 21, 1992 The Burrow

As Severus apparated to the Burrow for an appointment with Arthur and Molly, he idly wondered what capricious gods had decided he deserved this fate.

After two full months of working with the twins, it had become blatantly obvious that they had a skill with potions that very nearly equaled Severus' own. It had also become clear that whatever their supposed personalities and proclivities, they were entirely capable of being serious, devoted students when properly motivated. They'd spent the last two months happily soaking up every scrap of knowledge Severus had been willing to impart, and begging for more. All with no trace of the jocular, pranking irreverence that had marked their scholastic efforts up to this point … and still marked their efforts outside of the extra lessons from Severus, though to a somewhat lesser extent at his behest.

Severus had little doubt that they would eventually use the information he imparted in … highly unorthodox … ways, and ways he did not approve of (given that he despised pranks with a rare passion), but that would be some seven years in the future, if Arthur and Molly approved of them becoming Severus' apprentices.

The Burrow's front door opened before he could even knock, Arthur framed in the opening. "Welcome, Severus, please come in." Arthur greeted him.

Severus stepped inside, nodding a silent greeting to Arthur. Molly was at the stove, just finishing brewing some tea. She gave Severus a distinctly maternal (and distinctly disturbing, on his behalf) smile. "Severus, welcome. Would you like some tea?" She wanted to know. "And I don't know if you stopped for breakfast, but if you didn't, we've got plenty of extra … "

Severus gave a mental snort as he raised a hand to cut off Molly's offer. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, but I've already eaten. A cup of tea, however, would be welcome. Plain, if you please."

Molly quickly served Severus, and they all seated themselves at the scarred kitchen table. Severus took a sip of the tea, then spoke. "I wish first to say that I did not ask to meet with you in order to discuss an episode of malfeasance on the part of any of your offspring." He told them.

The good knew, McGonagall had had to speak to them both a number times regarding one or another of their children, especially the twins. Both of them visibly relaxed at this reassurance.

"Your sons Fred and George came to me shortly before the holiday break." Severus told them. "And confessed that they had begun to experiment with potions for their various … enterprises." He couldn't quite prevent a look of distaste. "They had suffered a few rather unfortunate episodes thanks to their experimentations, and had finally decided to come to me for advice and guidance."

Molly looked like she wanted to march to Hogwarts and pin Fred and George's ears back. Or better yet, send them a Howler to end all Howlers. Severus, rightly assuming she was about to start ranting, raised his hand again to stop her. "In the process of their confession, they described a few of their experiments to me, and it became clear to me that the sole reason behind their misfortunes was a simple lack of knowledge. They had attempted, and successfully completed, several experiments that were well beyond their year level, in among the failures. It was enough to intrigue me as to their full capabilities in my craft, so I agreed to tutor them, with the understanding that their pranks, except where two particular individuals were concerned, would cease."

Molly looked dumbfounded. "You … permitted them to continue pranking certain people?" She sputtered.

Severus gave her a distinctly evil smile. "Considering these people were Quirrell and Dumbledore, I do not think you would object." He told her. To which Molly had to admit she agreed. Severus continued. "We have met twice weekly for the last two months, and the twins have impressed me with their facility. It has become readily apparent that they have been deliberately playing dumb in their classes." Severus told them. "To what end, I do not know, but they are a great deal more intelligent than their grades would attest. Particularly in Potions. I have not seen students with such skill in my craft in my entire term as teacher at Hogwarts." Oh, there'd been a few very talented students over the years, who had earned recommendations from him when they went on to apprentice to other Masters, but none of them had possessed the level of instinct for potions that Severus had seen in the twins … those others had all had to work to earn their ability in potions, rather than having it come naturally.

He leaned his elbows on the table, fingers tented in front of his face, just touching his chin as he continued. "Which brings us to why I asked to speak to the two of you. After working with them for the last two months, I have decided to offer the twins an apprenticeship. They have expressed their … rather eager acceptance of the idea."

Molly and Arthur looked at each other in mild surprise. Apprenticeships, up until about a century ago, had been quite common for children the twins' age, but over time, it had become more common for apprenticeships to be the purview of older teens, those who had completed their general schooling at Hogwarts, and then went on to learn the particulars and secrets of their chosen profession from an accredited Master. These days, apprenticing before having completed Hogwarts was quite rare.

"Not to sound disinterested or ungrateful, Severus, but why are you offering this now?" Arthur asked.

Severus didn't take offense. "For two reasons. Firstly, as I said, I haven't seen any students with their skill in the last decade. Indeed, they very nearly equal my own skill at the same age, and given a bit of time and instruction, could very well surpass my own accomplishments. I would be worse than a fool to let such skill lie idle for the next five years while they complete their general schooling. Secondly, I believe that the twins will benefit from concentrated individual attention. They are very bright, and need to be challenged … and unfortunately, up to now, they have not had any such challenges, which has allowed them to funnel their energies into less than acceptable venues. As my apprentices, I will be able to keep a closer eye on them, and tailor their lessons far more than would be possible otherwise."

The third, unstated reason … that his taking the twins on would relieve the Weasleys of a considerable fiscal burden, went unmentioned. While apprenticeships came with a price tag, Severus planned to ask only the barest of sums, less than a year's tuition at Hogwarts for one of the boys, for both twins' entire apprenticeships.

Molly was torn. On the one hand, being asked to hand over two of her babies long before they would naturally leave the nest was anathema. On the other hand, she realized what a compliment Severus was paying the twins. Severus' ability with potions was very well known … it wasn't often that one became the youngest Master of record, after all, nor was such an honor bestowed on someone who was an idiot or an incompetent. While Molly had elected to be a house-mother, and had not pursued a Mastery, she was well aware of the general requirements for attaining one, whatever the field. After a few minutes' silent debate, she nodded to Arthur.

The three of them then began to work out the terms of the apprenticeship, and by lunchtime (which Severus partook of with them), they'd got the whole of it ironed out, signed and sealed. The twins were now officially Severus' apprentices.

Severus took his leave shortly thereafter, mentally looking forward to the next few years, and already going over what he planned on doing with and for the twins. First on his considerable list was ascertaining just how far their abilities went in fields other than potions. He was aware they were a lot smarter than their grades thus far indicated, but just how much, he wasn't sure.

March 21, 1992 Romania

The dragon preserve hadn't been this active in a long time. Several teams of tamers had begun to work with several different, young dragons over the last couple months. Charlie and his team had picked a two-year-old male Welsh Green, one of the gentler dragons, to work with.

To Charlie's surprise, they were actually having a measure of success. After two months of work, the Green, now dubbed Seren, permitted any of the six-man team that had begun working with him to approach without trying to burn them to ash. Considering that normally, a dragon had to be hit with powerful stunners from several people before anyone could get within range of its fire blasts, this was a huge step forward. The other teams were having varying amounts of success, as several different breeds of dragon had been chosen for the attempts to tame and train. If Seren was anything to go by, their best bet was going to end up being the Greens, as Charlie and his team were able to get within touching range of Seren before he started getting twitchy, an accomplishment that none of the other teams had managed yet, though all of them could at least be within flaming distance without getting barbecued.

Charlie was currently sitting on a rock near Seren's nose, chatting at the big guy like he could understand what Charlie was saying. Which, Charlie had to admit, was entirely possible, given how many magical creatures could understand human speech. And that suspicion wasn't a new one, either. Charlie had suspected it since shortly after he'd begun to work with dragons as a wet-behind-the-ears apprentice.

Jeffery, a quiet Welshman who was pushing sixty, a surprisingly elderly age for a still-active dragon tamer, came into view as he climbed the small hill that was Seren's sleeping area, and came to sit down next to Charlie, grunting as he settled. "You notice he's been spending a lot more time hanging out here, the last couple weeks?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, I had, actually." At first, they'd only been able to work on approaching Seren late in the evening and early in the morning before Seren left his sleeping spot to go hunt or just fly around. But over the last couple weeks, Seren had been spending more and more time at his sleeping spot, watching them, letting them talk to him and approach him. Nobody'd quite had the guts to try touching Seren yet, but Charlie had a feeling they were getting close to that stage.

"Got to be a good sign. Have to say, this whole idea's been fun as hell. And more excitement than we've seen around here in a while." Jeff said, eyeing Seren. "Going to get even more interesting if this young pup lets us start handling him."

"No kidding." Charlie said. The debates as to what to do if and when the dragons permitted them to touch without getting fried had been rather energetic over the last couple months, with more than one of them waxing poetic about the possibility of managing to train a dragon to the point one could be ridden. Charlie'd been one of the most vocal about that possibility, because quite frankly, the idea thrilled his soul. The mental image of himself flying with Seren was enough to turn him into a giddy schoolboy if he wasn't careful.

"Well, off with you. My watch." Jeff nudged Charlie's shoulder, and Charlie got to his feet.

"See you later, Jeff. You too, Seren." Charlie said, waving at man and dragon before he headed down the hill towards the camp the handlers lived in. He'd not gotten very far before Jeff's voice stopped him.

"Charlie. Look behind you."

Jeff's voice was quiet, but Charlie could hear the startlement, so he turned, and his jaw dropped. Seren had lifted his head, and was watching Charlie. It wasn't something Charlie had seen the Green do before. Up to now, Seren had seemed to more or less ignore the comings and goings of his training team. He couldn't have prevented the shit-eating grin that broke over his face if he'd been paid to.

"Don't worry, Seren. I'll be back in the morning." He called, still not sure if Seren understood, but willing to give it a go. Seren didn't stop watching him, however, and Charlie damn near fell flat on his face three different times, as he tried to walk down the hill and watch Seren at the same time. He didn't stop glancing over his shoulder until the path curved enough to take Seren out of sight. "Hot damn. This just might work. I'm going to have to write Sirius!"

March 21, 1992 Hogwarts

The 'extracurricular' class had expanded somewhat in the last two months. Ron, after a bit of thought and a lot of waffling, had finally asked to join them, and the twins had been following Severus around like ducklings after their mother, and had been included in the lessons as well.

Harry had found the twins' near-worship of Severus hysterically funny, for a number of reasons. The first being that Severus didn't quite seem to know what to do with having someone around who thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. Secondly, the twins were inveterate pranksters, and worshipped the ground the Marauders walked on.

That second thing could have ended up being a problem, but interestingly enough, it had begun to be an asset. Harry hadn't been blind to the fact that Severus avoided both Remus and Sirius at all costs, only interacting with them when circumstances forced him to, which had amounted to a whopping three times in the last six months. Harry still didn't know the story behind it, but given the clues he had to work with, he'd been able to guess that at least some of it involved the Marauders having pranked Severus when they were in school. He was pretty sure there was more to it than that, though. Either that or the Marauders had been really, really nasty when it came to so-called pranks.

The twins, astute observers that they were, had figured out that there was tension between their idols, and had begun to act as go-betweens and buffers, passing ideas and commentary back and forth between the three adults. It was working. Both sides got to pretend the communications came from the twins and were able to respond accordingly, minus the antagonistic, tense interactions Harry had seen or heard about the three times Severus and Remus and Sirius had been in the same room together.

Beyond the addition of the twins and Ron to the extra curricular lessons, there'd been a second surprise, about a month ago. During yet another dueling practice, Neville had hit Flitwick with a very overpowered spell by accident much the same way Harry had nailed Severus. That event had been enough for McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape to sit down and test both Harry and Neville thoroughly. The results had been stunning.

Both of them had roughly five times the magical power of the average eleven-year-old. They both had power levels comparable to an adult's, which had rather scary implications for their power levels once they'd stopped growing, since Severus had told them that normally, a child's magical power grew and matured along with their physical body. Harry's levels were just slightly higher than Neville's, but not by much. The only reason it'd taken a month for Neville to overpower a spell was because he still tended towards shy and unsure, despite having improved a great deal over the year, and it'd taken him a bit longer to relax into the whole dueling his teachers thing.

The discovery had changed the lesson plans for both boys, focusing now on control and precision, since the possibility for a truly catastrophic accident was very real. All it would take was for them to get over-excited or highly stressed, and throw a spell. They'd been lucky thus far because the three teachers had been limiting the lessons to first-year level spells, not a one of which had much in the way of capability to do large amounts of physical damage.

Flitwick and McGonagall both had been teaching them how to work as a team, to compensate for the fact that they were, in fact, children, insanely powerful or not, and simply didn't have the spell repertoire or experience to prevail against an adult alone. Working together, whether it was just two of them or more than that, would increase their chances of surviving until help arrived exponentially.

Their individual styles had continued to develop. Hermione had begun to develop a list of extremely esoteric spells to use, spells that their teachers had introduced to them during the extra lessons. These spells were largely not used anymore, and thus would be completely unexpected, or so Hermione hoped. She was still managing to keep up with Harry an Neville, but it was by sheer dint of hard work, and even she had no illusions that she would keep up with them for long once they all started working with more powerful spells, as unlike Harry and Neville, her power levels were completely normal for an eleven year old.

While they were virtually identical when it came to power levels, Harry and Neville couldn't have been more different when it came to dueling if they'd tried. Harry's style of fighting bore a close resemblance to Flitwick's, at least in the whole 'don't stand still and let things hit you' arena, anyway. He didn't have a prayer of equaling Flitwick's ability to evade spellfire, but he instinctively ducked whenever a spell came at him. And instinct seemed to largely sum up Harry's fighting style. He stopped thinking consciously when spells started flying, and just … acted. All three teachers were working with him on that, as at this point, his instincts tended to get him into trouble as often as they got him out of it. None of the three teachers fought the way Harry did, but they quickly realized (after three separate attempts) that at least at this stage, Harry wasn't able to fight and consciously think at the same time. If he tried to think, he stopped fighting. So they worked on honing his instincts to where they wouldn't be a liability.

Neville, on the other hand, tended to dig in to one spot and start hammering the crap out of whoever he was fighting against, depending almost entirely on shields to keep him from getting hurt. It pretty much took an act of god to get Neville to move one he'd hunkered down in his chosen spot. He copied Severus' heavy-hitting style rather extensively, waiting out his opponent with almost inexhaustible amounts of patience until they gave him an opening, and then laying them flat with one or two well-chosen spells.

Ron, the weakest of them magically speaking (which wasn't saying all that much as he was only a little behind Hermione in that regard), was slowly beginning to make up for the gap created by several months of no extra training and a slightly weaker power level. Ron had also been working extensively with Flitwick since he'd begun attending the lessons, as his ability with chess was fairly well known in the school by that point, and Flitwick had wanted to see if he could expand Ron's tactical genius in chess onto the real world. Evidently, they were meeting with a surprising degree of success, even if Flitwick was still having to compare real-world tactics to chess gambits so that Ron could get in the right frame of mind. Ron tended to stick close to Hermione during dueling practice, providing her with cover fire or shields so she could get the second or two she needed to gather her wits and begin to go on the offensive.

The twins? Were frightening. While they were completely normal in regards to power, it was never more clear that they were essentially one mind in two bodies than when they were fighting. They traded off who was firing spells and who was shielding insanely fast, and moved around each other in complete concert without ever tripping each other up, always seeming to know where they needed to be in relation to each other at any given moment. They depended heavily on what anyone with sense would consider prank spells. Silly, goofy things that really oughtn't to have any effect in a fight, and weren't even dangerous to the target's health or continued living on their own, but that the twins used to consistently devastating effect as distractions and even as offensive spells.

Today, Harry and Neville were taking on McGonagall. Harry both loved and hated dueling her. You literally could not turn your back on anything for even a second when she was fighting, because if you did, that fist-sized piece of junk behind you would abruptly turn into … well, any of a number of things … and grab or poke you.

Hermione and Ron had the unenviable task of tangling with Flitwick, while the twins and Severus were hunkered down in a far corner. Harry wasn't sure if they were going to practice dueling or work on potions stuff today, as it varied.

Soon the room was full of moving bodies. The six kids, having conferred privately, had agreed to something devious for today. Tired of constantly getting defeated, they had all six agreed … to cheat like mad. And thus it was that at a pre-arranged, almost invisible signal, one member of each two-man team turned and fired off hexes at a teacher that wasn't their 'permitted' target, while the second member focused on a spell to bring their assigned teacher down.

Under normal circumstances, it never would have worked. If they'd been even a month or two further along in their training, the teachers would have fully expected something of this sort, as it was only a matter of time before the kids started actively plotting against them to win, but despite knowing that both Harry and Neville were … unusual … in their abilities, McGonagall and Flitwick in particular had made the mistake of getting complacent. After all, they were only first years! It's not like they had a prayer of winning against someone of their skill levels. Snape, at least, hadn't gotten complacent … he just had the misfortune of having to deal with the twins in a fight, which took pretty much every scrap of his attention, as they were every bit as devious as the worst Slytherin.

In a matter of six seconds, all three teachers were flat on their backs … at which point Harry and company made their own error. They decided to celebrate their victory. Ten seconds after they'd stopped paying attention to the teachers, the six of them were flat on their backs, glowering at their teachers grumpily.

"Lesson One." Snape said, smirking down at the lot of them. "Never take your eyes off the enemy. Not even if you've confirmed that they are very dead." After all, there were spells out there that would allow a person to use a dead body in any of a number of ways in a fight … and not all of them were Dark Arts spells. After all, Banishing a dead body at an opponent worked as well as Banishing a chunk of stone at them, if not better.

March 21, 1992 Hogsmeade, late evening

Hagrid had been relaxing at the Hog's Head, drinking and enjoying a card game or two. Or maybe three. He was doing fairly well at the cards. Surprisingly so, actually. Normally he ended up losing quite a bit during card games (his complete inability to prevaricate tended to work against him), but this time he had a good-sized pile of coins in front of him, and he was down to one opponent, the others having drifted away at various points. His last opponent seemed determined to win back his money.

"I do believe I finally have a winning hand." The cloaked man fairly purred. "Sadly, I do not have any more coin to bet with. I do, however, have a particularly interesting, and valuable item I might be willing to use as collateral. However, I would like to ensure that you would know what to do with it if you by some miracle managed to win it." He stirred, leaning down, and produced a large black egg from somewhere, putting it on the table.

Hagrid, well on his way to being three sheets to the wind though he may have been, wasn't anywhere near drunk enough to not be able to identify that egg. He wasn't sure which species it was, but that was simply because he'd not exactly seen even pictures of dragon eggs.

He and the cloaked man soon fell into quite an amiable conversation, with Hagrid boasting about the myriad of creatures he had managed to tame over his lifetime. Drunk as he was, he didn't pick up on the … malicious … interest the cloaked man took in his revelations about a certain three-headed dog.

Eventually, they got around to the hand of cards itself, and Hagrid could not even begin to restrain his glee at winning it. He cradled the egg, petting and patting it, as he made his wobbly, drunken way back to his hut. He'd have to do some reading in the mor … **Oh, wait, th' kids'll be stopping' by** Hagrid thought muzzily, if happily. It'd been a good many years since anyone outside of Dumbledore had taken much of an interest in Hagrid, except for what he could do for them. Harry and his friends hadn't missed a Sunday at his hut except for Halloween and Christmas, and the only price he'd had to pay was a bit of meat for Hissesh during the long, cold winter, and Hagrid certainly wasn't about to let a beast as fine as that starve, now, was he? **I'll check th' library Mond'y. Gon' havta hide th' egg from the kids til then**

Not even Hagrid realized that he was well on his way to transferring the unshakable loyalty he'd given to Dumbledore for so many years to Harry. Hagrid … was not as simple as many folks thought him, but unfortunately for him, Dumbledore had got his hooks into Hagrid at a very vulnerable time in Hagrid's life. His father had died the year before, Aragog was the only companion he had in all the world, as pretty much everyone avoided the overly tall, loud kid with more strength than he knew what to do with. Hagrid hadn't had anyone in his corner when the whole Chamber mess happened, and no money to get legal counsel even if he'd thought it would have done any good. Dumbledore had been the only one to speak on his behalf, who had shown Hagrid anything like mercy, and Hagrid, young and gullible, had given Dumbledore his all without a thought.

But he was older now, and wiser, and while he was not privy to the information that Lily and James Potter had left behind, he had eyes. Eyes that had been opened fully when he met eleven-year-old Harry. Hagrid had wondered, all those years ago, why he'd been sent to Godric's Hollow, to take Harry from his rightful guardian. The events that had followed so shortly after that had convinced him that Dumbledore had known of Sirius' treachery, though, and he'd thought no more of it.

The events at the beginning of the school year, however, had blown that surety all to hell and back. Sirius had been innocent. Hadn't even been given a trial. Which was something that Hagrid knew Dumbledore could have fought for, given his positions and power in the government. It'd been enough to make Hagrid wonder, to look at past events with more … cynical … eyes. He hadn't liked what he'd seen, and the happenings of the school year thus far had just solidified that dislike. Still, at this point, he was actively refusing to turn those cynical eyes on the events that had seen him expelled. Some part of him knew he would not like what he saw if he did look. That part, small and quiet but growing, knew he'd been used and thrown aside, had continued to be used, with Dumbledore asking things of him continually. Which would explain why Hagrid had come to prize the friendship growing between himself and Harry's group, despite the vast difference in ages. Not a one of them asked anything of him, aside from meat for Hissesh, which was hardly an imposition as he had to hunt regularly to feed the thestral herd anyway. They came and spent fully half their Sunday with him, just talking or playing games. Hagrid hadn't realized until lately just how lonely he'd been for such undemanding company. Oh, there'd been other kids over the years, but all of them'd been angling for something whenever they hung out with Hagrid, usually information on the Forbidden Forest. So it was refreshing to not have ulterior motives to worry about.

Hagrid put the egg near the fire to keep it warm overnight, patting it gently, and crawled into bed. He was asleep before he stopped moving.

March 21, 1992 Grimmauld Place

To anyone with sense, the fact that the Death Eaters had been able to strike with impunity over the last two months, and it never got reported in the Daily Prophet, would be deeply frightening. But the sad fact was that the British Ministry for Magic had long ago made the Prophet a mouthpiece that only printed what the Ministry wanted printed.

In this case, it also helped that the strikes were small, with modest aims … and every last one was aimed at the families of Muggleborns who were too young to be invited to Hogwarts yet. It doubly helped that there had not yet been any deaths, just theft and terrorization, which could very easily have been explained away via mundane means.

That did not mean that the growing … misfortunes … had not been noticed. Sirius was no fool, and having lived through this once, had made a point of subscribing to as many Muggle papers as he could manage, by whatever underhanded means he had to use, since some of the papers had very limited circulations that did not include Potter Manor on their route. Remus was earning every knut Sirius paid him and then some, scanning the papers for anything that might fit in the 'trouble brewing' category. It'd taken a month, and a consultation with McGonagall and the Hogwarts attendance book to confirm that Muggleborns were coming under attack.

With that knowledge confirmed, the first dead-serious meeting of the Black/Potter Alliance had been called at Grimmauld Place, and as people began to arrive, the place got full, fast. McGonagall was attending as the Hogwarts representative. Augusta represented the Longbottoms. Lucretia arrived to represent the Prewetts, with Andromeda representing the Tonks'. The most startling attendee was Griphook, who was representing the Goblin Nation. All the other families sent their Heads of House, for a grand total of seventeen people and twenty Houses represented, as Sirius was representing both House Black and House Potter for now), and McGonagall was representing herself and all three of her fellow Heads of House at Hogwarts. Bulstrode was, rather understandably, sticking very close to Sirius, as he represented a House normally considered Dark, and was a wee bit twitchy being in a room full of Light-aligned Houses.

Sometimes, Sirius wondered if Dumbledore realized that he'd lost practically all the Pureblood families that had previously rallied to his cause. The only holdout remaining was Moody, and Sirius knew that Moody wasn't holding out because he believed in Dumbledore, but because he was inherently paranoid and exceedingly wary of jumping into anything without having all possible information first. The good news was that Nymphadora was on their side, which meant that Moody would follow. He'd come out of retirement to train her, after all, so he'd tag along behind her at some point just to make sure his protégé hadn't bitten off more than she could chew.

"Thank you everyone for coming, and I apologize for making you all rearrange your schedules, but this can't wait." Sirius said, getting to his feet at the head of the table where everyone was sitting. "I'm afraid that the Death Eaters are on the move once more."

That caused a lot of commentary for a few moments, before Blishwick spoke over the rest of them. "What makes you so sure, Black? There's been nothing in the Prophet."

"Nor will there ever be, while the Ministry maintains control." Black pointed out. "I've been reading the Muggle papers, looking for anything resembling the stuff he and his minions pulled last time. And it's happening again. I've confirmed it with McGonagall. Over the last two months, no less than three dozen families of Muggleborns who're too young yet to be invited to Hogwarts have suffered major theft and vandalism to their homes, or been threatened in some way or other. There haven't been any injuries or deaths yet, but it's only a matter of time."

That had everyone looking grim. "Not that I doubt you, Black." Thurkell said. "But y'mind showing us these papers?"

Sirius shook his head. "Not a problem." He turned and snapped his fingers, and Jinks appeared with a thick stack of newspapers. Sirius took them, and Jinks blinked out. Sirius passed the papers around. "The articles I spotted are circled in red." He told them.

For a few moments, everyone glanced through the papers, growing more and more worried. Sirius had the right of it … Muggleborns were under attack.

"Right, so what the hell do we do about this?" Andromeda wanted to know.

Sirius snorted. "We deprive the bastards of their targets as much as we can. Most of the folks at this table have house elves that don't have anywhere near enough to do."

There were quite a few nods, especially from McGonagall. Hogwarts had well over a hundred house-elves, and many of them had to content themselves with make-work. She grinned as she began to perceive Sirius' plan.

"You want us to have the house-elves keep an eye on Muggleborn families." She said.

Sirius grinned at her. "Got it in one, Minerva. House elves are powerful little blighters, not to mention inventive. They'd be able to keep an eye on folks we don't have a prayer in hell of protecting twenty-four hours a day by any other means, and would be able to get to their protectees instantly if something happened."

"Which would negate the time it would take to assemble a team of human defenders and get everyone to wherever they need to be entirely." Gamp growled. "I like it. I'll check with my elves yet tonight, and send you a note with which ones will be available for this."

Everyone else at the table who had house elves was nodding in agreement.

"Unfortunately, this is only a temporary fix. Sooner or later they're going to get tired of being thwarted, and try for something else, but at least we can keep people who don't even know there's trouble brewing safe." Sirius said. "We're going to have to figure out how to deal with whatever they try next when it comes up. In the meantime, I want everyone working on becoming combat-ready. These assholes are not going to content themselves with defenseless children for long. I'd like them to deeply regret choosing more challenging targets."

There were grim nods from everyone at the table.

"One other thing. I know a couple of you worked with Dumbledore last time. I don't play by his rules. The Death Eaters play for keeps. They're going to be trying to kill you and your families and destroy everything you love. Take them down, hard. I don't want to see Unforgivables, or true Dark Arts, but I'm damn well not going to tell you to stun only. Do whatever you have to do to protect yourselves and your families. If some idiot in the Ministry kicks up a fuss." Sirius gave them all a feral, predatory grin. "Well, I'll have a lot of fun ruining their day. I will always have your backs, people. I know some of you aren't entirely certain about that yet, but you will be before this is all said and done."

He glanced over at Griphook. "Griphook, I need you to talk to your people. Anything and everything we can do to cut these bastards off from funding will help immensely. You need cash to fight a war."

Griphook nodded. "I will speak to our leaders on the matter, and see what we can do within the constraints of the treaty we work under." He agreed. At the absolute least, they'd be able to stall and drag their feet over giving the Death Eaters money for days at a time, which would allow them to forewarn Black and his cohorts that a withdrawal was being made, even if they didn't know what the money was going towards.

Chapter Text

Springing Traps

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

March 22, 1992 Hogwarts

Harry knew something fishy was going on when Hagrid, normally so eager and happy to see them on Sundays, actually hesitated to let them into his hut. It really didn't help that the place was baking. It felt like an oven in there, with a huge fire roaring in the fireplace.

/Hedwig … why do I have the feeling that Hagrid's up to something?/

/Because the hut's as hot as an oven, and he looks guilty?/ Hedwig replied, her tone as sarcastic as Harry's had been.

"Ok, Hagrid. Out with it. What's going on?" Harry asked. It wasn't the most polite way to say it, but Hagrid didn't really seem to even recognize when someone was beating around the bush about something … you had to be rather blunt with what you were saying.

Hagrid grumbled into his beard. "T'ain't nothing, Harry. Nothin' at all."

Yeah, and Harry was a monkey's uncle. Still, he decided to let it go for the moment. They'd finagle it out of Hagrid soon enough. Of course, just about the time Harry thought that, Neville spotted Hagrid's biggest pot over the fire and headed over to see what it was Hagrid was cooking. The startled look on his face when he lifted the lid, combined with Hagrid's sudden move in that direction when he realized what Neville was up to was very not reassuring.

"What is that, Hagrid?" Neville asked. Harry was deeply tempted to go over and look himself, and from the looks on everyone else's faces, they were too.

Hagrid looked both sheepish and shifty for a long moment, and didn't answer immediately. That did it. Harry led the charge as they all headed over to the fire and the pot. There was a great honking black egg in the pot. Bigger even than an ostrich egg. It was Ron that identified the huge egg for what it was.

"That's a dragon egg, that is! Where'd you get it?" Ron wanted to know, looking at Hagrid wide-eyed. He wasn't the only one.

So Hagrid told them about the night before, and the stranger. All four kids shared dark, uneasy looks. Hagrid was a touch slower to realize the problem, but when he ran what he'd told the man through his head a second time, he got it.

"Blimey." Hagrid breathed, more than slightly alarmed.

"Hagrid … whoever that was, I'll bet they're trying to get into the Third Floor." Hermione finally said.

Hagrid nodded, looking horrified. "Whata' we do 'bout it then?"

"Let Professor Snape know, and Hogwarts, and then sit back and watch the show when he tries to get to the Stone." Harry said, his tone grim. "Trust me, that whole area's pretty much impenetrable, from what we've heard the Professors muttering about." As well as the comments made by Hogwarts about that whole area.

"What we really have to do is figure out what to do with the dragon once it hatches." Hermione said.

"It can't survive on its own." Hagrid objected, clearly thinking they wanted to ditch it somewhere.

"Well, it can't stay in here, that's for sure … fire and wood don't mix." Ron said.

Hagrid sighed, but couldn't deny Ron had a point.

"We could … send it to Charlie?" Neville offered.

"If it comes down to that, yeah." Harry agreed. "But I kind of like the idea of having a dragon here, especially if we can get it to play nicely. The handlers in Romania have been working on that, and evidently they're starting to have some success with the grown up dragons. Just imagine what we could accomplish with a newborn."

Hagrid smiled widely, clearly thrilled at the idea of raising a dragon. "I c'n build a pen in the Forest, once it's big enough to be able to fend fer itself." He said. "Don't nobody go in there but me, an' Professor Snape from time to time."

"We'll help all we can, Hagrid." Hermione vowed, with the rest of them nodding agreement.

March 28, 1992 Hogwarts

They were as good as their promise. They built an enormous stone building big enough to hold a fully-grown Norwegian Ridgeback, which is what the soon-to-hatch dragon was. Most of the stones were of a size that only Hagrid could physically lift, but the kids could move them magically, and got a lot of practice with Wingardium Leviosa. Most of the building was done after dark, after dinner and extra lessons and homework, which meant all of them spent the week in a state of exhaustion. But eventually, the building, complete with a big stone door to keep the dragon in once put there, was finished.

A number of letters had gone back and forth from Hogwarts to Romania as well, as Hagrid conferred with Charlie as to the best care regimen for his new pet. Originally, they'd all taken a look in the library, but Harry got as far as 'feed the dragon a mix of brandy and chicken blood' and called bullshit. Firstly, alcohol could not be good for any growing creature, and secondly, there was no way on earth that a wild dragon would have access to such a thing to feed its young. So they wrote Charlie, and sure enough, brandy was bad news. Harry, relaxing for once now that the building was built, snickered mentally as he remembered Charlie's first letter.

Regarding how to hatch it and raise it, putting it over the fire is definitely the right thing to do … mother dragons flame rocks until they're glowing and put their eggs on them. The feeding regimen you mentioned, though, is complete hogwash. The first two days, definitely stick to blood, but it doesn't have to be chicken. Any blood will do. And no brandy! Or any other alcohol, for that matter. After that, your tyke will be big enough to start eating meat. You'll have to chop it into bite-sized pieces at first, but by the end of the first week, it'll be big and strong enough to gnaw on a carcass unassisted. Let it have as much meat as it wants … I've never yet seen a dragon eat more than it needs.

The letters that had followed after that one had dealt mostly with issues unique to Norwegian Ridgebacks, like the fact their bite was poisonous, along with other tidbits of advice. Charlie had even tried to find out where the egg had come from, and eventually decided it was from a wild dragon, since evidently, there would have been no hiding that an egg got stolen from any of the preserves scattered around the globe. Dragon mothers were exceedingly violently protective of their clutches, and in the event of the loss of an egg, they tended to make their displeasure VERY clear. It had happened in the past, and according to Charlie, the deprived mothers had gone on rather memorable rampages that had resulted in a lot of damage and even lost lives, both dragon and human. Nothing of that sort had happened in the last few weeks, which marked the start of the draconic breeding period, and no egg survived a breeding season unhatched, not even the duds, which were rare, and evidently ended up getting crushed underfoot after the other babies hatched.

It was a measure of just how distracted everyone was that no one noticed there was something odd going on with Hagrid, and that Harry and his group were in on it. Though Harry and company were being as careful as they possibly could, which helped. It probably also helped that Snape was keeping a close eye on the third floor corridor and waiting for someone to be stupid … and suicidal … enough to try to get in there. If someone did, Harry really, really didn't envy them, as they'd since learned what, exactly, the protections were. Even if Hogwarts wasn't in on the protections, any invader was going to get dead very quickly. It doubly helped that Malfoy had been sidelined, even if Harry didn't like how Malfoy had got sidelined. Without him, the first-year Slytherins didn't seem to want to bother with the Gryffindors, and the older Slytherins thought first years of any House save their own so beneath them as to be invisible.

March 28, 1992 Location Unknown

Barty was immensely displeased. In the last week, three different excursions had been thoroughly thwarted. Barty himself would scout a target, then signal everyone to gather, and when they went to attack, either the live target would be nowhere to be found, or the house they intended to wreck would suddenly be lit up and full of people, which was not the sort of target they were ready to tackle yet. In a few more weeks, yes, once everyone had gotten back into the swing of things and brushed up on their wandwork, but not yet.

The worst thing was, there was absolutely no one to blame. No one ever knew until mere moments before they took off where they were going. Somehow, and Barty didn't have the faintest idea how, someone had figured out what was going on and was working to stop it. Worse, it wasn't Dumbledore. If that old fart had been involved, his people would have been in plain sight all over the place … they knew nothing of subtlety. No, this was someone else's work.

Who, though, was a bit of a mystery. Barty had any number of potential choices, ranging from Lord Black, to Madame Bones, to that crazy old codger Moody, and a few others besides. All had the intelligence to watch the Muggle world for Death Eater activity even in these quiet times, all had the ability to figure out patterns and do something about it. But until he figured out who he was dealing with, he would not be able to form an effective counter strategy.

Barty finally decided to break from the pattern that he had decided on, and choose a victim completely at random. Then they'd see if the protector managed to thwart them again. And it might just give him a needed clue to his opponent's identity.

March 28, 1992 Potter Castle

Sirius was thoroughly pleased. The House Elves, clever buggers that they were, had been wholly enthusiastic about protecting the defenseless Muggleborns. Their chosen method of defense thus far had necessitated informing a few people of the magical world far earlier than normal, as the house elves simply popped them out of the danger zone if Death Eaters came calling, but Sirius sort of counted that as a win, as the people had thus far been deeply grateful for the protection they'd gotten from the Idiot Squad. Sirius was smart enough to realize that sooner or later that luck would run out, but he fully intended to enjoy it while it lasted, and worry about enraged parents and pissed-off Ministry officials when it happened, though he did have a few contingency plans in mind.

It had taken a bit of ingenuity and trickery to arrange for the safety of the Muggleborns' homes, but with a combination of Muggle and Magical methods, they managed to make it look like the homes were heavily populated, if they got more than a few minutes' warning. It was amazing … and hysterically funny to Sirius … what a few cardboard cutouts, a recording of people chattering at a big party, and a bit of house-elf magical trickery could pull off. It was the single biggest prank the Marauders had ever pulled, and Sirius loved it.

Unfortunately, he knew it was only a matter of time before 'Barty' changed his targets, or the Death Eaters got up the nerve to attack a seemingly heavily populated home and realized they'd been royally had. Still, it was buying them time they desperately needed.

The members of the Black/Potter Alliance were gearing up for war. As Sirius had predicted, Moody joined them three days after the first war council. He, Tonks, Bill Weasley and a couple of others with extra training had been kept busy the last week, going from family to family and reviewing their ward schemes, escape plans, and fighting trim. For the most part, they were in good shape, largely because the group was almost entirely purebloods. That meant that most of them lived in homes whose ward schemes had been put in place many decades or even hundreds of years ago, and added to over time by succeeding generations, which made most pureblood homes nigh impregnable. And most purebloods had had extensive training in self-defense and offense, though most of their group didn't use that training anymore. Fortunately, they only seemed to need reminding and a few training sessions to get back into the swing of things. With a little bit of luck, if the Death Eaters hit someplace unexpected, they'd be ready.

By far the most fun was the political front. The Heads of House of the Alliance had spent the last week going over everything that was going to be brought up in the upcoming summer session, as well as anything they'd heard rumored to be brought up. Some of the more dedicated members had also begun the positively Herculean task of going through the laws that had been passed in the last fifteen years, looking for ones that went against the Crown, and laws that were, while not precisely against the Crown's decrees, just plain stupid and needed changing. Getting those repealed and amended would be a rather long, painful process … unless things got really dire. Sirius was holding THAT option in reserve, only to be used if people just plain wouldn't listen.

March 28, 1992 Hogwarts

Dumbledore was … angry. He had completely lost control of his school. He was continually being pranked, and all attempts to curb such reprehensible behavior had failed utterly. Worse, he strongly suspected that the house elves were assisting, and possibly even originating, some of the pranks. There was no other possible explanation for how some of the pranks managed to get pulled off, as normally his quarters and his office were sacrosanct. He got only the smallest comfort from the fact that Quirrell faced circumstances even more dire than his own. The man literally could not move for being pranked by someone.

To make matters worse, only some half-dozen of the people he'd written over the last months had responded positively to his subtle letter campaign against Sirius. And he was relatively sure that at least one of them had responded positively out of a perceived need to humor the eccentric old man, rather than any real belief in the continuing corruption of the Black family. Doubly worse, Dumbledore strongly suspected Black was rallying people to his cause. How, Dumbledore was unsure, as many of the people he'd seen beginning to orbit Black were Light families, who ought to have viewed any of Black's advances with suspicion.

Dumbledore was beginning to fear that Harry was wholly beyond his ability to influence or control, a state of affairs that was not to be borne. Not after everything he'd done to see the boy neutralized. More than once lately, he'd begun to wonder where, exactly, his plans had gone awry, and had begun to suspect they'd gone awry before he'd even made the plans, somehow.

And Fawkes had still not returned from wherever he had gone. Dumbledore feared that he wouldn't ever return. And how he was going to hide Fawkes' defection, he really didn't know, though he had plenty of time before anyone suspected. Fawkes was seldom seen, save by those few who came to his office. It would be easy enough to cease allowing meetings here for a time. But sooner or later the brighter folks would get suspicious, and then he'd have a real problem on his hands, because that would be when people began to figure out he wasn't exactly the icon for the Light they supposed him to be, thanks to Fawkes' presence. The very brightest and most knowledgeable would (rightly) wonder just how far Dumbledore had fallen, to have a phoenix quit his company. Not a good situation at all.

And as if all of that wasn't bad enough, it was becoming clear he was losing his stranglehold on Severus. He still couldn't believe that Severus had attached apprentices without consulting him first, as he ought. That said apprentices were the Weasley twins … Dumbledore truly did not know what to think of that development, other than nothing good would ever come of it. Losing control of Severus was dangerous. Literally. Dumbledore had seen, and acknowledged the fact that Severus was dangerous when he was a First Year. Seldom had Dumbledore seen such a keen and analytical mind. That it was coupled with, at best, loose and negotiable morals, and a cruel, vicious streak a mile wide … Dumbledore just thanked whatever gods had seen fit to not gift the boy with megolamania, or they'd have had one hell of a Dark Lord on their hands, fit to make Voldemort seem like a tame pussycat in comparison. Severus' sole saving grace, in Dumbledore's eyes, was the fact that Severus also had a deep, unbreakable streak of loyalty in him. Dumbledore had unashamedly taken brutal advantage of that loyalty to bring the boy, and the man he'd grown into, to heel under his control. The thought of Severus breaking that loyalty and turning it elsewhere, of him joining forces with the Weasley twins, who were, if anything, worse than the Marauders had ever been, in the inventiveness department, made Dumbledore cold all over.

How Dumbledore was going to fix all this … he didn't know. He was beginning to realize that he maybe couldn't. It was not a comforting thought.

April 4, 1992 Romania

Charlie was verging on hyper as he headed for Seren's sleeping spot. Over the last two weeks, Seren had begun to pay attention to his team's comings and goings. It was to the point now that whoever was sitting with him got advance notice when a teammate was arriving for their shift, as Seren inevitably noticed their approach long before human senses picked up on them, and reacted. Most interestingly, though, was the fact that Seren also reacted negatively to the approach of anyone not on his team. They'd found that one out by accident a week ago, when Calvin tripped, fell, and broke his ankle. Jeffrey, Calvin's replacement, had yelled for assistance and one of the other trainers who'd been in yelling distance had made the mistake of attempting to approach to help … and had almost got themselves flambé'd for their efforts. Nobody was quite sure what had been the cause of it, either, and it had been the root of some spirited debate since then, as Seren had stood directly over both Jeffrey and Calvin, as if protecting them. They all wondered if it was just that Seren had come to tolerate them, but no other humans, or if the erstwhile helper's rapid approach that was the problem. Seren's team had made it a point to not run when they were in his line of sight, so as to minimize any prey-response issues, which meant that someone running could have been the problem. There was also the possibility that Seren had, actually, been protecting both men from the 'intruder'. Rather understandably, nobody was willing to test any of their theories, at least not at this stage of things. Maybe later on, if their relationship with Seren continued to improve, it would be worth the risk.

Even better, over the last few days, Seren had been … well, if Seren was a crup, Charlie would have been tempted to say he'd been begging for petting. Sadly, Seren was not a crup, and Charlie wasn't about to ascribe that sentiment to Seren's behavior, however similar it might be to a crup's. In short, Seren had been sneaking closer and closer to his team, such that over the last day or two, they'd all been lucky if there was a hands breadth between themselves and Seren's head. The temptation to touch had been insanely enormous, but the decision had been made that if that's what Seren actually wanted, he'd have to make the final move, as none of them wanted to assume, and end up accidentally screwing this up if they got it wrong.

But more than ever, Charlie swore up and down that Seren understood them, at least on some level. He might not understand all human speech, but Charlie just had a gut feeling that Seren understood some of it, rather like a bright crup. He certainly seemed to recognize his name, at the very least, and responded to it with increasing frequency.

As soon as he topped the slight rise of Seren's sleeping spot, he waved. "Hallo, Seren. Jeffrey." He called. Seren, as had become normal, had his head up, watching Charlie's approach silently. Once he was closer,, he grinned at Jeffrey. "How's he been?"

"All but climbing in my lap." Jeffrey said, sounding both amused and delighted. "And I swear the big lug moved himself so he formed a windbreak when it got gusty overnight."

"Yeah, he's been getting more and more … "

At that point, both men froze and went silent, as a big nose pressed very gently against them both, as they were standing within two feet of each other. Some corner of Charlie's brain acknowledged the amusement factor of the moment, and wondered whose eyes were bigger, his or Jeffrey's, as both of them struggled to contain their shock, delight, and startled glee.

Seren was touching them. Of his own free will. There were not words enough anywhere to describe how thoroughly incredible, and completely unprecedented, such a thing was. Insofar as Charlie knew, no dragon ever had touched a human on their own initiative without malice. Tolerated a human's touch … yes. It was insanely rare, but occasionally a very sick dragon would not protest treatment. That was about the only time they tolerated being touched without complaint. But to actually initiate touch without the intent to harm (or eat) the human in question? Unheard of.

He was going to bounce off the walls for months. Later. Away from Seren. In a few hours. He'd get his chance to hoot and holler and dance in triumph. He sort of envied Jeffrey that imminent freedom.

Almost in unison, they both, very, very slowly, lifted their hands and rested them, tentatively, on Seren's scaled nose. Seren just blinked at them complacently. The part of Charlie's brain that was not gibbering in demented glee or frozen in shock strongly suspected that Seren was amused at them both.

"Well hello there, big fellow." Jeffrey finally managed. Charlie was envious. He was still having trouble getting his vocal chords to work. "Looking for a bit of attention, are you?"

The slow, warm whuffle of breath and the gentle forward nudge was as clear a 'yes' as Charlie had ever conceived of. It finally broke his frozen surprise. "No worries there, Seren. We'll all of us be entirely too happy to spoil you rotten, believe me." He finally managed to say, grinning at Jeffrey for the vast understatement. Their team would be over the moon.

April 4, 1992 Hogwarts

Harry leaned against the wall beside Neville, both of them gasping for breath and sweating. He thumped his head against the wall.

"I hate target practice day." He ground out.

Neville nodded emphatically.

On the face of it, target practice really oughtn't to be that draining, right? Not if you've got three of the most devious, sadistic teachers ever.

First, there was the sawhorse. It started life as a normal Muggle sawhorse. Then McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape got hold of it. Harry's not quite sure which of them is responsible for what, but … yeesh. First, they put the crosspiece on screws, so it could rotate, then painted tiny red dots about the size of a bronze farthing along the very center of the board. Hit the dots, it wouldn't rotate. Miss the dots, it rotated. Then they put a series of glasses along the top, attaching them VERY loosely with sticking charms. Which meant that if you missed, you made a lot of noise and everyone knew you'd missed. Worse, in Harry and Neville's cases, if they got overenthusiastic and hit the board too hard, the glasses would fall and break. And then things got really interesting, because the legs of the sawhorse would lengthen and shrink unpredictably, raising and lowering the crosspiece and the targets.

After that, there was the dogfights. Those, at least, were kind of fun. Kind of. As another exercise in precision and control, they'd be asked to 'fly' various objects around the room, and 'tag' someone else's flying object without losing control of their own or crashing into anyone or anything else in the room. Or one of the teachers would call out a direction or command for their objects to follow, and they'd have to direct them.

After that came the practice dummies, each decorated with red dots like the sawhorse, which the teachers controlled and moved around the room, and they had to hit them … and hit them hard enough to knock them down, without destroying them. Though Harry would say this much, the teachers knew how to motivate them. At the end of the day, whoever did the best won points. Not House Points, since this was extracurricular, but they earned 'points' towards other things, like special books, in Hermione's case, or a rare plant in Neville's, or whatever.

By the end of the day, Harry and Neville were inevitably exhausted, however well they managed to do. Learning to control the strength of their spells when they had so much more magic available than the average eleven year old was exhausting. Harry was just grateful they were beginning to see results.

The others were never quite as tired by the end, and despite not having the control issues Harry and Neville did, they benefited hugely from the precision drills. It also helped them to become so familiar with certain spells that it took no time or effort to call them to mind.

On top of all that, all three teachers had begun to try to teach them to cast silently. The idea made a lot of sense to Harry, since yelling the spell told your target exactly what you were up to, but they weren't getting anywhere with that part yet. And might not for a long time to come. None of the teachers was entirely sure if it would be possible for kids so young to learn to cast silently, which was normally a skill not taught until fifth or sixth year.

Crookshanks and Hedwig, having spent the last couple hours perched on a table by the teachers, took off to join their respective humans. Crookshanks wound himself around Hermione's ankles, and Hedwig swooped over and landed gently on Harry's shoulder. /It will get easier, Harry-chick./ She told him.

/Yeah, I know. It's already starting to, a little. It just happens to suck, in the meantime./ He got a wordless snicker in reply.

"We are going to have to figure out how to include Hedwig and Crookshanks in these practices." Snape said, making Harry blink in surprise.

/That's easy. Just point me at whoever's trying to hurt my human and stand back./ Hedwig snapped her beak menacingly. From his spot at Hermione's feet, Crookshanks gave the deep-chested rowl he'd greeted the discovery of Pettigrew with, staring Snape down like he was a tasty tidbit that Crookshanks wanted to munch on.

Harry snorted in amusement at both of them. "She said that's easy, just point her at whoever's trying to hurt me and get out of her way."

Hermione snickered. "Crookshanks said almost the same thing." She admitted.

Flitwick outright grinned at that, while both McGonagall and Snape were more restrained in their amusement (if, indeed, Snape was amused).

"Perhaps a small test, with color-changing spells, with Hedwig?" Snape did not look like he liked the idea, but Harry didn't much blame him. While he'd yet to see it in action, he'd heard, repeatedly, that familiars were violently protective of their people. Yes, this was a test, but deliberately provoking a familiar's protective response couldn't be a comfortable thought. "Crookshanks will be fairly easy to incorporate, as he's small and close to the ground, and will therefore be somewhat less noticeable."

Harry had to admit that Snape had a point there. Hedwig was rather visible. Still, having seen her try to take Dumbledore's head off on several occasions, he knew good and well that Severus was asking for trouble. The only question was whether someone would be able to hit her with a spell before she made them very sorry they attacked Harry, or Hedwig herself. /Go easy on him, Hedwig./

/This time/

And no, that wasn't ominous at all. Harry didn't envy Snape if he tried this a second time.

Snape pulled his wand, and aimed it at Harry. Hedwig took off so fast she nearly bloodied Harry's shoulder. Only the fact he'd taken to using a heavy-duty leather pad on his shoulders saved him. Snape immediately changed his aim, obviously attempting to hit Hedwig. Not that it was working. Harry'd had no clue that owls could be that agile in the air. Two spells went wide, and that was all that Snape had time for before Hedwig was in his face, talons carefully curled in, wings thundering around his head for a half-second but not hitting him before she landed on his shoulder and proceeded to stare him down.

"Right." One of the twins said.

"Don't mess with Hedwig. Or Harry." The other said.

"Duly noted." The first one said, nodding seriously.

"I do apologize, Hedwig, but it had to be at least attempted, so we could be sure you'd be all right." Snape said, still eyeing her warily.

/I know. I will not allow Harry to be harmed. My being hurt would harm him./ Hedwig gently nibbled at Snape's hair a moment, making it clear she forgave him, then flew back to Harry, looking exceedingly smug.

April 4, 1992 Potter Castle

Sirius was … pissed. 'Barty' had gone and changed his plans. Oh, Sirius had known that would happen, but it still got him angry. There was no way now to know when and where the bastard would hit, as he was still keeping to the 'tell everyone where we're going three seconds before we go there' plan, which meant Lucius was no help in stopping the attacks. Sirius was just grateful they hadn't escalated to physical violence yet, though he knew that was coming. According to Lucius, they were planning on imitating Voldemort's style during the early days of his rise to power, with a view to making people think Voldemort was back.

Which wouldn't be a lie for long, if that lot had their way. Barty was evidently doing everything he could think of to find Voldemort. Sirius was just grateful that no one, not even Dumbledore (or, at least, if that old goat knew, he wasn't telling) what the heck had happened to Voldemort that night, or how to bring him back. Unfortunately, the question of how to end the bastard for good was just as much a mystery. Alongside the exact hows, whys, and wherefores of Voldemort not dying in the first place. All of it things they needed answers to, as fast as possible.

The only good news about Barty's plan for the attacks was that sooner or later he'd do something blatant enough to make it clear to everyone there was trouble brewing. At which point people would either freak out or get ready to kick ass and take names, as their personalities and abilities dictated. Sirius already knew which way Fudge would go, the spineless coward, and had contingency plans in mind for that inevitability. The only remaining wild card in his plans was Bones. He had no doubt that she would be one of the ones to get ready to kick ass, but the question of what, exactly, she would do, and whether or not she'd tolerate the existence of the Alliance (and the Order, if Dumbledore reactivated that bunch, though Sirius knew Dumbledore would have less than half the members he thought he did), when they were planning to do whatever it took to get rid of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, laws be damned.

For now, all they could do was prepare. War was coming. It was just a question of when the first true blow would be struck.

Chapter Text

Strike and Counter

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Credit to S-Wanderer999 for reminding me of the mirrors and their potential uses, which I'd completely forgotten about in my mad-genius cackling about damn near every other thing in canon.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

April 14, 1992 Hogwarts

It would have to be a Tuesday when the egg decided to hatch, Harry thought as he hustled towards Hagrid's cabin with Hermione, Neville, and Ron in tow. The twins were following at a slower rate and on a bit of an angle, to make it look less like they were tagging along with Harry and company, which would have aroused the teachers' curiosity. And since none of them except Snape had any idea the dragon egg existed, that would have been bad news. And even Snape didn't know there was an egg, he just suspected something was up. Harry had known they wouldn't be able to fool Snape for long … the man was entirely too observant to miss a gaggle of kids acting oddly, even when he was distracted by keeping an eye on the third floor corridor. So far, no attempt had been made at it. Which did not make any of them happy, as they were wondering what the perpetrator was waiting for.

Everyone crowded inside of Hagrid's hut. Hagrid had a metal plate on his table, mostly to protect it from the burning-hot egg that was now sitting on the table, rocking and rolling back and forth as the dragon inside fought to get free. Hagrid was practically dancing from foot to foot, his hands reaching towards the egg more than once before he snatched them back at the last moment.

Fifteen minutes after they arrived, the egg finally split open and the dragon pushed out. At that point, Hagrid gave in to the desire to touch, and gently broke off bits of egg to allow the little guy freer movement. Once the dragon was all the way out, they all took turns touching and petting, which the dragon accepted with surprising equanimity, given the general consensus on a Norwegian Ridgeback's temperament. Which was rated as only slightly better than a Hungarian Horntail, which was the most notoriously vicious dragon in existence. They took turns feeding the little guy, and Hagrid, as the dragon's primary caretaker since none of the kids would be at Hogwarts over the summer, decided to name him Norbert. They put him in a roomy stone crate by the fire where he'd be kept warm once he fell asleep.

"Ok, you know … he's kind of cute." Neville said once the little guy was asleep and they were all able to relax. "In that ugly-cute way, though."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Now we just see what happens over the next couple months."

"At least now we know they can be tamed, at least to a degree." Ron said. "Charlie's been over the moon the last couple weeks."

That got a laugh from all of them, as they'd gotten a lot of letters from an ecstatic Charlie detailing the goings-on with his dragon, Seren. Harry sort of wondered if Charlie was ever going to calm down, he seemed to be so excited.

At that point, Hermione dug a book out of her book bag. "Hagrid, I found this in the library. It's a book on runes, and it has some in it that are usually used to protect a house against fire. I thought we could put them on your house. It wouldn't stop even a half-grown dragon's flame, but it ought to keep things safe until he gets too big to fit in here with you and we have to transfer him to the stone hut."

They all huddled around the book while Hermione pointed out the runes she'd found. Unfortunately for them, while the book described the runes, what they did and where they went in a house in detail, didn't go into how to put the runes up.

"We could ask Professor Babbling." Neville said when this problem was discovered. "She wouldn't mind a bit."

So it was decided that Hermione would approach Professor Babbling. Hermione and the Weasleys were the ones in the group who would likely have to find their own homes when they were of age, which would mean knowing household protection runes and how to add them. While the Weasleys had Weasley Cottage and the Burrow, unless an unthinkable tragedy occurred, Ron and the twins wouldn't inherit either of them, as there were three other sons ahead of them. That said, they would, as adults, have access to the family grimoire, which detailed many things, among them what runes were put on family houses and how, so them asking would look a bit odd.

April 14, 1992 Black Manor

Sirius felt like an idiot. He'd been stewing for weeks on how to curtail Barty's latest forays into misery and terror and come up with nothing. There hadn't seemed to be a way to do anything about it, not with the Death Eaters not finding out where they were going and what they were doing until about two minutes before they went there. They couldn't do preemptive strikes on Death Eater homes, either. At least, not at this point. That would definitely end up happening if Sirius had his way, but at this point, next to no one realized there was a problem brewing, nevermind thought that said problem needed fixing, so things like raids on Death Eater homes would have to wait.

Then Remus, bless him, reminded Sirius of certain artifacts from their school days. Namely, a pair of mirrors that (mostly) he and James had used to communicate and coordinate their efforts when they were separated by half a school for one reason or another. It took a few hours of hunting to find them, but eventually Sirius was successful. Usually because of detentions that Remus had been clever enough to avoid getting.

Which was why he was in Black Manor. He'd called Lucius, in order to give him one of the mirrors. He'd banished Kreacher to a far room, forbidding him to leave it for any reason until Sirius called for him. Sirius had long since forbidden Kreacher to communicate with anyone in any way unless specifically permitted by himself. It was pretty much the only way to keep the insane, hateful elf under control and prevented from telling … less than savory persons … what happened in the house. Still, having to deal with Kreacher was better than letting Death Eaters and other untrustworthy individuals into Potter Castle.

Lucius arrived via floo a few minutes later, looking a touch haggard and worn. The last few months had not been easy on him, playing a delicate balancing game between Sirius, Barty, and his own aims. It really didn't help that Barty had been both clever and careful, never appearing without his mask on and the hood of his cloak up, so that Lucius couldn't confirm the man's identity through the usual means. Tracking charms and suchlike things were entirely too risky ... the chances that Barty would detect the charms and divine their source was entirely too high. He'd made a list of people it could be, but that list was nearly a dozen long.

"Lord Black." Lucius greeted Sirius. "You called me?"

Sirius nodded, then handed over a mirror. "I finally figured out a way to get around not knowing where to go to stop the attacks without resorting to tracking or eavesdropping charms that might be detected. When you're called, tap this and say my name. I'll be able to hear everything that is said. No one will be able to detect the mirror is anything other than a mirror, even if they look at it while it's active. Only the authorized person on each end can hear or see anything through the mirror. We made sure of that, since we used these when we were in school, and getting caught talking to each other would have resulted in even more detentions."

Lucius accepted the mirror with a nod. "Clever." He'd not seen anything like it before.

Sirius nodded. "They came in handy. A lot. Any luck figuring out who the bastard is and where he hangs out when he's not bossing you lot around?"

Lucius grimaced. "None. He is being exceedingly careful, and I dare not seem too interested in him."

Sirius shook his head. "No, that's definitely not a good idea." Not when it would end up with Draco paying the price for it. Sirius might think Lucius deserved every bit of payback he got and then some, but Draco was just a child, and didn't deserve to pay for his fathers' mistakes. "You'd better head back." The less time Lucius had that was unaccounted for, the better.

Lucius nodded and headed for the fireplace. Once he was gone, Sirius sent a patronus-message to Septimus, who would spread the word to certain Alliance members that they would be getting called on in the near future to kick Death Eater ass.

Sirius had decided to take a page out of Barty's book and imitate Dumbledore's style of leadership and defense … at least at first. Which was why only certain members of the Alliance were being forewarned. All of them had worked for Dumbledore in the first Voldemort war. If they went running about, doing things much the way they had the first go-round, Barty would assume that Dumbledore had reactivated the Order and act accordingly … which would allow Sirius and the Alliance to pull shenanigans in places Barty wouldn't be looking because it wasn't something Dumbledore would do. With any luck, it would be legal Death Eater hunting season before Barty figured out he wasn't up against Dumbledore, since Dumbledore had never used the political arena as a fighting ground.

April 14, 1992 Malfoy Manor

Later that evening, Lucius sat in front of the fire in the library, turning the small mirror over in his hands. He'd wondered if Sirius would come up with a solution to the problem they'd had. He hadn't anticipated the answer would come from something the man'd created with his best friend while still in school. A communication method on par with patronus messages, in that they were wholly secure ... and better in that the mirror could not be detected, where a patronus could be.

"Never underestimate a Black." He said quietly, with some small measure of humor. "Now, if the bastard would just slip up and give some hint as to where he hides between raids … " He grumbled. Oh, he knew it would happen eventually. No one could be that careful forever. It was just trying on his patience to wait for the inevitable slip-up.

He got to his feet and pocketed the mirror, deciding to keep it on himself at all times so he didn't have to remember to look for it when he was contacted about a meeting. Speaking of meeting, he'd have to meet with the Heads of House soon ... the summer Wizengamot session was rapidly approaching, and they'd need to get organized for that. He knew they had several pieces of legislation that they were hoping to push through to further the pureblood agenda. It would be interesting to see what Black had up his sleeve to deal with that eventuality.

Lucius was nowhere near dumb enough to think Black wasn't gearing up to play the political game. The summer session was going to be interesting as hell, because it'd been over a decade since there'd been a Black or a Potter in the Wizengamot, and there had never been a time when both Black and Potter were on the same side of most issues. While Lucius planned to try to push the pureblood-friendly legislation through, he knew full well he'd be unlikely to succeed. He was fairly sure, however, that most folks hadn't factored Black and Potter into their plans for the summer session, and were going to be in for some rude shocks. It had the potential to be very, very entertaining.

Having reminded himself of the necessity of a meeting, he headed for his desk and wrote out the invitations. He'd have to remind himself to speak with Barty, to see what, if anything, the man planned to do politically. Hopefully the man wouldn't interfere too much, and simply allow Lucius to do what he did best. While the Malfoy family wasn't the oldest family that had rallied to Voldemort's cause, they were by far the richest and most influential politically... well, once Regulus had proved himself a traitor and been killed for it, anyway. And accomplishing anything under the interference of someone who didn't know the political realm as well as he did would be impossible, even if Black and Potter weren't a factor.

April 18, 1992 Romania

The last two weeks had been unbelievably intense, in the best of ways. Seren, having finally made that first move to touch his handlers, had become, much to the team's delight, an attention hog. They spent much of the day petting, scratching, and otherwise making much of him.

And Charlie's suspicion that the dragons were intelligent and communicated among themselves had been proven beyond any shadow of a doubt. In the days immediately after Seren had sought out their attention, every single dragon being worked with had begun to seek out touch from their handlers, like a row of dominoes falling one after the other. Even the crankier of the dragons, who'd been keeping their teams at more of a distance than Seren had been permitting, had suddenly begun to crowd close to their handlers and spend more time with them.

The entire camp was in a frenzy of excitement. The vast majority of handlers had gotten involved in this career because dragons fascinated them. So being able to touch, handle, and otherwise interact with a dragon without fear of getting barbecued or mauled was a universal cause for rather epic amounts of glee. The debates about riding, and how to accomplish it had gotten fiercer than ever, now that it was beginning to look like it might actually be possible.

For his part, Charlie planned to drag Harry to the preserve over the summer. He had no idea if dragons had a spoken language at all, nevermind it being parseltongue, but it was worth a shot. Besides, Harry might get a kick out of hanging out with so many different breeds of dragon.

What had really startled everyone was the fact that the oldest dragons, which normally couldn't be approached except for when they were close to death or already dead, had begun to come in closer to the part of the preserve where the humans had set up camp. None of them were permitting humans in flaming range yet, but the fact they were letting humans get within a mile of them was definitely progress.

With the adult dragons finally 'tamed' (for a certain value of tamed), the tamers who hadn't chosen to work with an adult were starting to work with the babies, now that eggs were beginning to hatch. And that had proven that dragons had at least a partial understanding of human speech, as even the most violently protective mama had permitted a human within reach of her babies, though they were watched exceedingly closely. Charlie wasn't sure how much they understood, but they had to understand at least something to get that the trainers meant their babies no harm, something that had been discussed quite frequently well within the hearing range of multiple dragons.

As everyone had suspected, the babies were proving a lot easier to work with and tame than the adults. They didn't have years of suspicion, hostility or even bad treatment behind them to color their perceptions of humans. Not that anyone who worked at a preserve would treat a dragon badly, but not all of the adult dragons had been born in a preserve.

Charlie was currently leaning against Seren's neck just behind his jaw, petting the big lug's head. Seren had his eyes closed, and Charlie had the distinct impression that if he was a cat, he'd be purring like mad. As it was, he was letting out deep, huffy sighs of contentment.

And that was another change that had happened over the last couple weeks. Seren had begun to get more and more vocal, and the team was beginning to learn which sound meant what ... and that Seren had quite a range of possible sounds he could make, aside from the well-known roar of a pissed-off dragon. He had a variety of grunts, groans, grumbles, growls, rumbles and sighs that seemed to be reserved for close-quarters attempts at communication as they were quiet ... relatively speaking, and two different louder sounds ... one that was best described as a bark, and another a trumpet, that Seren seemed to use for long-range attempts. He probably had more sounds for long-range, but that hadn't come up as much as the close-range stuff. Interestingly, from what they'd pieced together thus far, there was only one growl and one sigh that were warnings or threats.

While most of the dragons didn't seem to have a problem with people other than their assigned trainers approaching them, nor fussed if 'their' teams worked with another dragon, it had become very clear over the last couple weeks that Seren and a couple of others were exceedingly proprietary of 'their' teams, and did not like to share. The first time it had happened with Seren, Jeffrey had gone to work with another dragon because two of that dragon's team had gotten sick and they needed an extra hand for a bit. Seren had thrown a fit when he realized what was going on. He'd flown over to where the other dragon was lounging and pushed his way between Jeffrey and the other dragon. Once Jeffrey was clear, Seren turned on the other dragon, puffed up, growled, and gave a hissing sigh that was accompanied by a curl of smoke from his mouth. He had then promptly turned and tried to herd Jeffrey away from the other dragon. The second time had been caused by an overly curious younger dragon who'd decided to land by Seren to check out the humans, and very nearly got bit for its pains before it could get clear, accompanied by the same growl and sigh. Two other teams had encountered similar difficulties with their chosen dragons as well, so the word had gone out to stick to one dragon just to be on the safe side. They didn't want the dragons getting into fights over their handlers.

The only downside of the whole 'dragons can be tamed' thing was that harvesting the dragons that died had rather abruptly gotten exponentially harder. Skinning and dissecting something that was just a 'resource' was vastly different from doing the same to something that you saw as almost a pet. Charlie was just deeply grateful they'd stopped 'harvesting' living dragons for parts a couple hundred years ago, because there was no way in hell any of them would have been able to do that now. He was also deeply grateful that Seren and the other young dragons that were being worked with would outlive their current trainers by a hundred years or so, because Charlie didn't think any of them would be able to harvest any of this first lot. Hopefully, two hundred years from now, the trainers wouldn't be quite as invested in their 'tame' draconic charges, or there'd be a team of people who only harvested, and never interacted with living dragons, or something.

April 20, 1992 Multiple Locations

Barty would wait a week between raids just when a method to track the raids was found. Lucius swallowed hard when the owl arrived, and immediately tapped the mirror hidden in his pocket. "Sirius." He muttered, then went to the owl and took the envelope from its claws. There was no writing ... but then, there never was. Just a small, lightweight item inside that had been made into a portkey. Lucius grabbed his cloak and mask and put them on before opening the envelope and reaching inside, little caring what it was he'd be grabbing.

Moments later, he arrived at yet another abandoned Muggle warehouse. A swift glance out the nearest dingy, broken mirror presented Lucius with the unmistakable view of the Thames. So they were in London. For this part, anyway. They could end up anywhere in the country for the next part. Barty wasn't dumb enough to have the gathering point very close to the chosen attack site. Unfortunately.

Within two minutes, everyone had arrived. Used to the pattern by now, they all got into a rough circle around Barty to hear what they'd be doing.

Barty had been clever ... and careful ... in his slow assumption of the position of group leader. Aware enough of the fact that, despite his opinion of him, Lucius was incredibly valuable to his aims for a number of reasons, and would cease to be if the rest of the Death Eaters smelled trouble, he'd orchestrated his assumption of leadership so that Lucius did not lose face with the rest of the group. At this point, it had largely been decided by the Death Eaters, without a word being said among them about it, that Barty was leader and Lucius his second in command. And all of this without anyone knowing for sure exactly who Barty was, as he made sure to keep his hood up, mask on, and a minor spell to camouflage his voice active at all times. While he'd not been around any of these people for a decade, he wasn't taking any chances on being recognized for now. He was well aware that Lucius would at least try to free his son from Barty's control. The less Lucius knew about him, the harder it would be to accomplish.

"This is tonight's target." Barty told them, naming a fair-sized town. "There is an orphanage there." The Dark Lord had had a ... thing ... about destroying orphanages. Barty had no idea why and didn't really care. He was just going along with the Dark Lord's earliest targets, during the first war. "There will be no maiming, no killing. That is for later. Your only goal is to terrify and traumatize. Anyone who does otherwise will not survive the night." He'd said the same basic thing every time they gathered to go cause trouble somewhere. He named off the three 'teams', then handed the two other groups their portkeys, so they would arrive at three separate points.

HPHPHPHP

Sirius hadn't quite expected it to take this long for Barty to go on another raid, so he got rather startled when the mirror in his pocket called out his name in Lucius' voice. He promptly dug it out and activated it, listening avidly. The moment the target town (and the fact they were going after an orphanage) came out of Barty's mouth, Sirius yelled for Jinks and told him to spread the word. It was times like this that Sirius hated the fact he couldn't produce a patronus anymore, and was thus deprived of a fast, secure communication method that could go multiple places at once. He was working on it ... had been since his release ... but there was a good chance he'd never be able to do one again, thanks to the effects of long-term exposure to dementors.

He headed for the library, where Remus was buried in some old tomes. "They're on the move." He told Remus.

Remus immediately put the book he'd been reading aside, knowing Sirius well enough to realize he'd need to distract Sirius until the confrontation was over and done with, to keep him from going there to help and thus inadvertently giving away the fact that Dumbledore wasn't actually the one running the resistance.

HPHPHPHP

What happened next was a carefully choreographed exercise in bullshitting and chicanery. On both sides.

Barty and the Death Eaters arrived first, in a loose semi-circle in front of the orphanage. They started blowing out windows, as a prelude to greater destruction and to scare the occupants into running.

Unfortunately for them, they didn't get very far before Alastor Moody and about a dozen other people, all older adults known to have fought beside Dumbledore in the first war, popped in. There was a moment's hesitation as the Death Eaters registered their presence, and then spells started flying.

What the Death Eaters never knew was that while they were being thoroughly distracted, something like thirty house-elves popped in. Some of them scattered to chase after fleeing and screaming children, while some stationed themselves between roomfuls of children and further danger. Six of them stayed put at the front of the building, working together to protect their charges while the trio of humans they'd brought with them worked as fast as they could to put permanent fire suppression and spell dispersal wards up. There was a spell tied into the spell dispersal wards that had originally been designed to alert the homeowner of an attack against their home if they were asleep or not home at the time of the attack to notice it. This alert spell got attached to a pretty silver bell that would be housed at Potter Manor, and watched over by Missy, just in case the place got hit a second time.

The fight, if you really insisted on calling it that, was surprisingly short and not at all in earnest on either side. The Death eaters knew they were not yet ready to tangle with any group of defenders, even what they thought was the Order of the Phoenix. And the Alliance defenders weren't willing to blow the secret that they weren't, in fact, playing by Order rules unless there was no choice. So there was a brief, two minute scramble with a dozen or so spells tossed back and forth before the Death Eaters retreated.

Once they were gone, the Alliance members went to work repairing the building, which fortunately meant fixing some windows and that was it, and soothing the very ruffled feathers of the inhabitants. That one was a bit harder, as they weren't simply obliviating everyone in sight and moving on. Certainly, any accidental witnesses got obliviated, but the children and the orphanage staff were talked to briefly, to see if any of them had seen anything odd in the previous week or so. In order to get that information, they had to calm everybody down first, so it took a little bit. Eventually, they got it done, with a pleasant surprise. One of the children, a ten year old who'd been recently orphaned and was, as a result, still rather traumatized and tended to spend time alone away from anyone, had spotted a brown-haired man lurking about the block that week. The child had taken note of the man mostly because he never seemed to actually go anywhere, walking up and down the street at odd intervals, and slipping into alleys, but reappearing out of the alley five or ten minutes later, only to walk the street again. The description wasn't much to go on ... brown hair, average height and build, but it at least confirmed that Barty, whoever he really was, was doing the preliminary work of choosing targets and watching the comings and goings so as to best time an attack himself. It was just too damn bad that memories couldn't be extracted from muggles.

With the orphanage repaired and warded against a second attack, all the children confirmed as being present, and all memories of the attack obliviated, the Alliance team apparated away to meet with Sirius and discuss their next steps.

HPHPHP

Sirius had been fully aware of the irony when he'd chosen the silver bell. After all, Dumbledore had a table full of pretty little trinkets that Sirius had little doubt were monitoring something, or someone. Possibly Harry, in most cases. At least, prior to this year, anyway. It pleased Sirius no end to think that many of those monitors might now be completely useless. And that the roomful of monitors there would eventually be in Potter Manor would be used for far less nefarious purposes.

Weasley Cottage, which had been chosen as the usual meeting place, since the basement meeting room was more than big enough to hold them all, became a hive of activity the moment the alert about the attack went out. Cedrella got busy preparing food for the returning defenders while Septimus made sure emergency healer supplies were ready, just in case. They oughtn't to need them, not this early in the game, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Shortly after they began getting things in place, the 'all clear' announcing the end of the attack arrived. The cleanup, of course, took a great deal longer. Sirius arrived within minutes of the all clear to help Cedrella cook so he could do something constructive with the pent-up tension that was a result of not going to kick Death Eater ass himself. Remus tagged along, looking more than a little amused at Sirius' agitation. The defenders didn't return until nearly four hours after the attack began, thanks to questioning the orphanage residents. It was a step Dumbledore had never taken. Victims of attacks were obliviated the first moment possible, no exceptions, and never interviewed. The thought of the potentially huge reams of information that had thus been lost irritated Sirius to no end.

Once everyone was settled, they discussed the attack. The identities of several of the Death Eaters were confirmed based on distinctive voices and in one case (Lucius'), hair color. That white-blonde hair was damn hard to hide. The person who'd spotted him confirmed that Lucius had been hanging back as much as he could manage without being obvious about it.

That done, they discussed what to do next.

"We should get all the orphanages we can equipped with fire and spell suppression wards." Moody growled. "They were a favorite target of his, even towards the end, there."

There was a general rumble of agreement with that sentiment. "And possibly group foster homes. Orphanages are being phased out, well, at least they're not being called that. Group homes, though if you ask me, it's pretty much the same thing, just a different name." Tonks piped up. Since she'd grown up half in the Muggle world thanks to her muggleborn father, who'd rather understandably wanted to stay in contact with his muggle family, she had the most up-to-date information on the Muggle world of the group. "They might start going after those for a lack of targets readily carrying the name 'orphanage'."

There were nods around the room, as well as more vocal sounds of agreement. Sirius gave a firm nod. "Right, so, the warding team will start tracking down and warding these places." He glanced over at said warding team. "And if you run yourselves ragged trying to get them all done in a week, I will have no compunction about siccing Molly on you."

That got a round of laughter, even from Molly (who was present), as everyone knew just how fiercely maternal she was.

"We'll have to hope the information system works, because Barty will start choosing different targets again when he realizes the orphanages are being protected." Sirius said. "Because unfortunately, this trick won't work with Muggleborn homes." For one, there were way, way, way too many homes under threat. For two, most of those homes were being monitored for magic by the Ministry, and putting wards up around watched locations would bring their actions to notice and get them in trouble, since they were doing something that wasn't exactly permitted. After all, Voldemort was dead and the Death Eaters jailed and otherwise disbanded, so there was no reason to be mucking about with Muggle homes and risking exposing the magical world.

Sometimes, Sirius hated the oblivious idiots that had been running the Magical world lately.

Chapter Text

School's End

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
**Private Thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

May 10, 1992 Hogwarts

Quirrell ... or, rather, Voldemort, finally decided to make his move on the Philosopher's Stone on a Sunday evening. By then, most of the kids were in their common rooms, and the teachers off in their offices or quarters preparing for the resumption of classes the next day.

Hogwarts let him into Fluffy's room. And let him get into the next room, with Professor Sprout's lethal collection of plants. She even let him into the flying keys room when he solved the problem of the plants by lighting the place on fire.

After all ... if he was that deep into the traps, it meant his chances of somehow blasting his way back out were minimal. She did, however, alert Severus to the intrusion.

"Severus, Quirrell has gone into the traps." The suit of armor in his office told him.

Severus, in the middle of doing the last of the grading from Fridays' turned in assignments, took a moment to respond, but once he'd finished grading the parchment he was working on he looked up. "Has he, indeed. There was something ... fishy ... about him."

"Given that he was trying to kill Harry earlier this year? That is an understatement." Hogwarts said.

"Quite." Severus agreed, mouth twitching in suppressed amusement. "Do me the favor of ... commentating? I could use the amusing diversion after the grading."

"I suppose there's no harm in it." Hogwarts agreed. "I decided to let him as far into the traps as possible, so as to ensure he doesn't manage to escape by some means." She admitted. "He got past Fluffy with a harp ... I rather think he's the one that bribed Hagrid."

Severus frowned slightly. "Yes, that would fit. Hagrid's told no one else how to soothe that beast."

"And the plants were dealt with with a high level fire spell." Hogwarts told him. "I had half expected that, to be honest."

"I think Pomona expected that as well." Severus said.

"He's just walked into Filius' room." Hogwarts said, sounding amused. "And he is not a happy man, at the moment. He has managed to put up a shield that's deflecting the keys, but he got nailed by three or four of them before he managed that, and now he's trying to figure out how to keep the shield up and get through the door at the same time."

Severus gave an amused snort. "I should imagine that would present a challenge. Especially since Filius ensured the keys would be as nasty as possible. Has the Headmaster any idea the protections have been breached?"

"Are you kidding? He didn't even set so much as a proximity alarm on the corridor." Hogwarts said, sounding irate. "He's in the Headmaster's office, happily munching his sweets and plotting who knows what."

"And are you ... entertaining ... the other Heads with a byplay?" Severus wanted to know.

"Filius and Minerva, yes, but Pomona's currently in the Sett." Hogwarts said, using the term the Hufflepuffs used for their dormitory as a whole. She had caught up on the identities of all the current students and teachers, now, and what most of them preferred to be called, as well as things like nicknames for dorms or other parts of the castle. "Doing her monthly check-in with her charges. I'll have to fill her in later. She'll be disappointed to have missed the play-by-play."

"She is far more bloodthirsty than many would give her credit for." Severus said. Hufflepuff might have a reputation as being the House for near-Squibs, idiots, and the dregs of magic-kind, but Severus had long since learned the truth of the matter. Hufflepuffs were every bit as dangerous as Slytherins when provoked. They were simply more difficult to provoke.

Hogwarts laughed. "Helga was much the same way, from what I remember of her. I don't understand why people think that House is for the weak and worthless."

"Probably because of that whole 'I'll teach the rest' mindset, in conjunction with the other three Houses looking for specific qualities." Severus said.

"Ohhh, he conjured a wall to hide behind and has started blasting at the keys." Hogwarts told him. "I think he twigged to the fact that none of the keys would help him. And there goes the last one. Should I let him into the next room or hold him there?"

Severus considered. "He'd just blast the chess pieces to bits much the same way. Hold him there."

"You got it." Hogwarts said. A few moments later, Severus could have sworn he saw the suit of armor flinch. "Oh, he is so very unhappy right now. I'm learning words I didn't know existed." Then, a minute or two later, Hogwarts spoke again, in a completely different, horrified tone. "Severus ... he ... wasn't alone."

"What do you mean?" Severus demanded.

"I mean that just a few seconds ago, a black mist rose from under that turban Quirrell's been wearing all year, and Quirrell slumped to the ground. I think he's dead. But before that, a second voice spoke over Quirrell's. Coming from under the turban. Quirrel kept saying 'my lord' when he responded to it."

Severus's jaw twitched and he glanced at his left arm. There was only one being he knew of that might possibly still be alive and demand to be called 'my lord'. "Voldemort." He said quietly.

"I'm afraid so. There's certainly no one else who could possibly qualify that I know of." Hogwarts agreed.

Severus got up and headed over to the fireplace, throwing some floo powder in. "Weasley Cottage!" He barked. When Septimus' face appeared in the flames, Severus gave him a dark look. "Septimus ... we have a problem. Voldemort's survival is confirmed ... and he's been in the castle all year."

"WHAT!" Septimus barked. "How? I thought the wards ... "

"They're not foolproof." Severus told him. "And Quirrell was already inside the wards when Harry put them back the way they belonged. None of the dark creatures in the section of the forest included under the wards have been forced out."

Septimus grimaced. "Damn. Wait ... Quirrell? That bastard was ... "

"Hosting Voldemort's spirit." Severus said. "He went for the Stone a little bit ago, and Hogwarts was narrating his attempts to get through the traps. When he got to a certain point, she barricaded him in. When he realized he would get no further, Voldemort ditched Quirrell and took off. Hogwarts had no way to stop him." Severus sighed. "We always knew Quirrell was after the stone. Now we know why."

"Damn, this is really bad. I'll let the others know, and tell them to step up their efforts. We're going to have to plan on Barty tracking the spirit, or vice versa. Voldemort could be back fully a whole lot faster than we'd expected." Septimus said, and cut off the call.

Severus wasted no time, and hustled to his private potions lab. He had known, when he defected from Voldemort's camp all those years ago, that if Voldemort ever figured out that Severus had switched sides, Severus was going to be in a world of hurt and then dead rather quickly, even if Voldemort couldn't get to him in person. Fortunately, Voldemort had gotten blasted out of his body, giving Severus a decade free and clear to try to figure something out to keep himself alive if Voldemort came back and his treachery was discovered.

And since Severus had not been invited to the Death Eater meetings by Barty, and had no intention of attending if summoned by Voldemort, his treachery was going to be discovered fairly quickly at this point. Thankfully, Severus wasn't a frighteningly clever bastard and the youngest Potions Master ever for nothing.

"Hogwarts, would you be so kind as to let the twins know I require their assistance?" Severus asked as he passed the suit of armor in his office.

"Of course, Severus ... but what are you doing?" Hogwarts wanted to know.

"Ensuring I live through the next few years, or however long it takes to bring Voldemort down permanently." Severus told her shortly. Then he had another thought. "And see if Harry is available. He might be able to assist, since he is a parselmouth and Voldemort is as well."

"And Voldemort might have done the spells in parseltongue." Hogwarts said, understanding where Severus was going with that thought. "I'll ask him."

The twins and Harry arrived less than a minute later, holding hands with a house elf bearing the Potter Family crest on its pillowcase-clad chest.

"Hogwarts said it was important, so I figured this way would be quicker." Harry explained. "This is Mallie." He introduced the little elf to Severus.

Severus nodded at the little creature. "Thank you for such a prompt arrival. Hogwarts was correct. This is quite important." To himself, if no one else.

"Thanks Mallie. I'll call you when we're done."

"I's be listening, Master Potter sir." Mallie said, then popped back out.

"So what's going on?" Fred asked.

"Hogwarts didn't say much." George said.

"Just that you needed the three of us." Harry said, grinning impishly.

Severus gave them a jaundiced glare for their little stunt, quite sure they'd done that on purpose. "I am afraid I have grave news to impart. Quirrell tried for the stone just a bit ago."

All three kids winced. "Oh, ouch. That can't have gone well for him." Harry said after a moment.

"Indeed it did not. Unfortunately, we discovered there was a larger problem with Quirrell than we thought." Severus told them. "It seems he was playing host to Voldemort."

The three boys' eyes went wide. "Oh, shit. Not good." Fred breathed.

"Quite." Severus said in his driest voice. "As we now know Voldemort is nearby and active, albeit in a ghost-like state ... which will be a very temporary problem if the Death Eaters find him ... our preparations must be stepped up. There are a number of potions that will need to be made, for which I will need extra hands." Severus nodded to the twins. "And there is something you might be able to assist with as well, Harry. For now, Fred, George, get the two largest cauldrons, my copy of Moste Potente Potions, and these ingredients." He handed them a rather long list, as he planned to brew not just what he needed to protect himself but a few other things as well. Plus, the long list had the benefit of getting the twins out of the way long enough for him to speak to Harry more privately.

Once the two boys had headed off to fetch what he'd requested, Severus turned to Harry. "There is something you may well be able to assist with, that no one else can." Severus unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled it up, exposing the dull gray Mark.

Harry, not being all that dumb, had started having suspicions months ago. Severus seemed entirely too well informed as to how Death Eaters fought and acted and thought. Harry'd begun to have his suspicions about that pretty early on.

"I told you near the beginning of the year that there would come a time when things would be explained to you, that the information was merely being set aside until you had acclimated to your new situation." Severus said. "That time has come. I had originally planned to have this discussion with you this summer, but circumstances have forced it to be held a bit earlier than planned."

"You were a death eater." Harry said, his voice quite calm. "I'd sort of ... begun to suspect, a while back. You're too familiar with them and how they act and think." And Harry was rapidly putting the rest of the pieces together, now. "And ... that ... is something Voldemort did to his followers?"

"It is called the Dark Mark." Severus said, more surprised than he'd ever be willing to admit at Harry's calm acceptance of this. "I do not know its precise makeup fully, though I've been able to figure out much of it. I am hoping you might be able to unravel a bit more of it, as Voldemort is a parselmouth."

"And he might have used that to build the things." Harry said, understanding where Severus was going with that. "Especially since it looks like there's a snake in the design."

"Quite." Severus said. "I have created potions that will ... cut off ... any attempts to manipulate the Mark by Voldemort." Or so he hoped, but he wasn't about to admit to uncertainty. "But if a way could be found to remove this entirely ... "

Harry nodded. "Yeah. That's better than having to live with the thing." He agreed.

Severus heard the twins returning and rolled his sleeve back down. "We'll discuss this, and work on it, later in private." He told Harry. "For now, your assistance with the potions would be appreciated. Quite a few hands will be needed."

May 14, 1992 Hogwarts

A month after hatching, and Norbert was now too large to fit safely into Hagrid's hut anymore, which meant they had to transfer him to the stone hut they'd prepared for him in the forest. Hagrid was ... somewhat less than happy about the situation, to put it mildly. He'd been sniffling almost all day.

Norbert seemed to be aware that something was up, and was dogging Hagrid's heels, refusing to be more than a foot or two away from him. The young dragon had gone from 'ugly cute', as Neville had put it, to 'ugly-cute-endearingly-awkward'. Basically, Norbert was growing so fast he hadn't really been able to learn anything even remotely resembling coordination, and had a tendency to fall over his own feet, nose, wings, and had even been known to trip over thin air. All of them had choked on laughter more than once, trying not to laugh at the gangly little dragon. Fortunately, if Norbert was aware he was being laughed at, he didn't seem to care.

Norbert very definitely had his favorites in the group, too. Unsurprisingly, given that he lived in his hut, saw him all the time, and got spoiled rotten by him, Hagrid seemed to be Norberts' absolute favorite. Interestingly enough, Hermione was his second favorite, with Harry and Neville tied for third. They'd been able to teach Norbert not to belch fire ... at least, not on purpose, anyway. He did still do it accidentally every now and again, as he was only a baby, and didn't exactly have that ability under firm control. Fortunately for the continued existence of Hagrid's home, they had been able to talk Professor Babbling into telling them the wheres, whys, and hows of applying runes to a home, and had gotten the fireproofing runes onto Hagrid's home within a week of Norbert hatching.

Once full dark settled, they all gathered to walk Norbert out to his new accommodations. Hagrid planned to spend his nights out there for a little while, to ease Norbert into living there on his own, and had a big roll of blankets and furs over one shoulder as they headed into the forest.

Norbert walked so close to Hagrid that he was in serious danger of tripping Hagrid, making a high-pitched whine they'd learned meant Norbert was not a happy camper, though they weren't sure if it signaled simple anxiety or outright fear, yet. Harry, Hermione and Neville were carrying Norbert's bedding, some food, and the few toys that Hagrid had managed to make that had survived Norbert's playing.

They spent about an hour in the stone hut, petting and reassuring Norbert once everything was set up. He still whined when they went to leave, but they really had no choice. They were going to have to use Harry's cloak as it was to get back in without being seen.

May 16, Hogwarts

Harry had put aside the entire weekend to ... well, figure out Severus' Mark. He had no idea how he was going to do that, but he was determined to try. The twins were already in Severus' private lab by the time Harry headed to Severus' quarters Saturday morning after breakfast. They'd been in that lab every moment they could spare after the school day was done all week, grimly aware that Severus' time could run out any moment. Fortunately, the first batches of all the requisite potions had been finished Tuesday night, allowing them all to breathe a touch easier, and a second batch decanted Friday morning. The third batch would be done sometime tomorrow, providing Severus with enough potion for his needs for several months.

Severus and Harry had decided to do this in the comfort of Severus' quarters, just in case. For one, Severus' private lab was there, along with his private storeroom of finished potions and potion ingredients. For two ... well, Severus wasn't exactly wanting anyone to know he was trying to get rid of the Mark, because word could leak to the wrong ears. Down in his own quarters, the chances of that happening were nil.

Severus being who he was, rumors and speculation about his quarters were rife. Amusingly so, as far as Harry was concerned. He'd known Severus long enough now to not think the man slept in a coffin or that his quarters were kitted out like a torture chamber awaiting a victim. That said, he hadn't had a clue of what to actually expect. Hedwig, whom he'd brought with him as a matter of course, was amused by his interest in Severus' quarters.

/What? It's not like I came down here expecting the place to be a torture chamber or anything. I'm just curious about him./ Harry thought to her. Because truly, all told, Harry did not know much about Severus. The man kept most things close to the vest.

/I know that./ Hedwig told him. /It's just that even if you swore on your magic this is what his quarters were like, most of Gryffindor would not believe you, they are so firmly convinced he's an evil bat./

Harry couldn't argue with that ... or the fact that Severus' quarters were, at least from a Gryffindor perspective, disappointingly devoid of anything controversial or evil.

The sitting room was good-sized ... and rather cosy, with pretty much every scrap of wall space taken up by crammed-full bookshelves, except for over the fireplace. Two overstuffed brown wingback chairs bracketed the fireplace, a small side table between them. A desk, evidently used solely for Severus' private purposes, was overflowing with scraps of parchment, Muggle-style notebooks, quills in varying states of disrepair and at least four bottles of ink that Harry could see, as well as two vials of ... well, Harry wasn't entirely sure what, but they looked like ingredients, rather than actual potions, as well as several books, some opened to specific pages, others with numerous bookmarks stuffed in them. The stone floor was covered by thick, multi-color rugs that had simple geometric designs in creams and browns. The one thing Harry noticed was that there wasn't anything truly personal anywhere to be seen. No photographs or old school mementos or anything of that nature.

To the right there was a fairly small area that was more cubby than actual room, with several cabinets, a sink, and a small stove with a teapot on it. On the left was a short hallway with several doors, which Harry presumed led to Severus' bedroom, bathroom, lab and storeroom, though he had no idea which door led to what. Or, he didn't until one of them opened and Severus walked out, giving Harry a glimpse of the lab in the process.

"Harry, you've good timing. I've just gotten the twins settled with their assignment for the morning." Severus told him. "And good morning to you as well, Hedwig."

Hedwig barked at him in greeting, then flew to the back of one of the chairs to watch the proceedings from, so she didn't hinder Harry.

"I really have no idea what I'm doing." Harry admitted. He pulled parchment, quill, and ink out of his pocket. "I brought this, just in case. It's a dictaquill. I use it in History." Because there really wasn't any need for him to pay attention in that class, as Binns read them the book, verbatim. Harry used the time to work on his homework from his other classes. Neville had been quick to follow his lead on that. Hermione had taken a lot more convincing, but had eventually begun using a dictaquill in that class as well.

"A wise precaution." Severus said, taking a seat and rolling up his sleeve. "As for what you are doing ... try speaking to the snake."

Harry eyed Severus a moment before shrugging. Well, he might as well try it. Who knew.

[[Hello?]] Harry tried.

There was no response. Harry sighed. "Well, there goes that idea." He said. "Either there's a password to get it to respond, or it's not responsive enough to talk back."

Severus grimaced slightly. He'd been afraid of that, but it had been worth the attempt. "Well, it was better to try than not."

"Yeah, no argument there." Harry agreed. "Can I see the notes you made about it?"

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think ... " He started.

Harry grinned at him. "Like you wouldn't have?" He asked.

Severus gave an amused snort. Harry had clearly gotten to know him fairly well by this point. "You may not be able to understand some of it." He pointed out. After all, the notes had been made by a fully trained adult, not a child just starting their magical education.

"I can get Hermione to help, or look stuff up." Harry said.

"True enough. Very well. But you are to guard the parchments closely. If they fall into anyone else's hands ... "

"No worries there, Professor." Harry said.

May 20, Romania

Incredible progress was being made. And being in the middle of it was really more or less making Charlie's decade. They'd been working with Seren for the last month, trying to teach him to respond to ... well, not commands, so much as polite requests, given that Seren could eat them in a few bites or barbecue them if they annoyed him. They'd met with an incredible amount of success, too.

Seren now willingly lifted or moved head, feet, tail and wings when asked. Granted, they kept the requests simple, using up, down, left, and right in conjunction with the part in question, usually accompanied by a brief touch on the part concerned to ensure Seren knew what they were talking about. He also let them clamber up on his back without fussing. Mostly he watched them as they asked these things of him, looking as curious as a dragon was capable of, given their faces weren't expressive the way a human's face was.

Nor was he the only dragon to have progressed that far. Granted, so far, it was mostly the Welsh Greens and other more mild-tempered dragons that had progressed that far, but even the exceedingly temperamental Hungarian Horntails had gotten to the point of allowing their respective teams to touch them with impunity now.

Given how well things were going, more than a few plans were floating around the camp for ways to ride the dragons in flight. Figuring out a way to sit on a dragon comfortably and safely, without restricting the movement of wings or neck and without causing the dragon pain was proving to be fairly tricky. Several of the dragon breeds had ridges all down their spines, and others had horns on their heads that had to be taken into account. It meant that no one design would work for all dragon breeds

Charlie grinned as he came around the curve that hid Seren's chosen sleeping spot from general view. "Hey Seren. How're you today?" He called.

Seren chuffed at him, and, as soon as he got in range, gently nudged Charlie with his nose. Charlie patted the big green nose affectionately before turning to Calvin, who'd had the shift before his today.

"Anything come up?" He asked.

"Nah. All quiet today." Calvin told him. "Worked with Seren a bit on the cues we've been teaching him, and got the distinct impression he was humoring me."

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, there's been a lot of that going around, from the teams that have gotten this far with their dragons. Now if we can just get a design worked out that will allow us to sit on him safely when we try to get him to fly, we'll be set."

Calvin's eyes glittered. "I cannot even begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to that." He said.

"Tell me about it ... and if we can figure out how to get them to flame when we ask, and aim it properly ... "

The two men shared glassy-eyed looks of anticipatory awe. That particular day, though, would be a good while into the future yet. It was one thing to teach a dragon to lift and move various body parts when asked, and something else entirely to teach it to fly and flame on request, and not a one of them was entirely sure the latter could be taught. Getting a dragon to flame wasn't the real problem. Getting them to flame specific targets and not flame anything else ... that was going to be the real challenge, and might prove impossible.

May 25, 1992 Location Unknown

Barty Crouch was ... peeved. To put it mildly. How the attacks were being anticipated, he still hadn't figured out, but they were. Every damn time the Death Eaters went out, within moments the Order showed up. Dumbledore, blast him, had got clever in his old age. Barty was beginning to see why the Dark Lord had respected the old coot.

If, that is, it was actually Dumbledore in charge. There was something ... different ... about how things were happening. Something Barty couldn't quite put his finger on, but that made him suspect there might be someone else in charge of the defenders, despite them all being old Order members.

Which, actually, had been his first clue that something was up. Because it had only been old Order members. No new ones. And surely Dumbledore would have recruited from the new generation! But then again, the old man was known for being both manipulative and willfully blind about a great many things, so it was entirely possible that he hadn't done any recruiting in the intervening years. Even Dumbledore stepping down from the ICW and the Wizengamot was ... interpretable, because it was equally plausible that he had done so to concentrate on the looming battle with the Dark Lord's forces as it was that someone, somehow, had forced him to step down.

All Barty knew for sure was that house elves were not involved in spying on them. He had called Winky and forced her to guard both his private hideout and their gathering places against house elf incursions. Nor was anyone sporting tracking spells of any kind ... he always ensured that at every meeting.

The two parties had had a number of skirmishes over the last few weeks. Barty's only comfort was that the Order seemed to be sticking to old Order tactics ... another point in favor of Dumbledore being in charge. Except for the fact that Barty had gotten the distinct impression the lot of them were holding back from doing far more deadly spells by dint of sheer willpower ... as if they were waiting for the order to strike back hard. An order that Dumbledore would never have given.

At any rate, Barty had decided to scale back their attacks for now, and concentrate on getting everyone fully battle-ready for summer, at which point they'd begin to search for their Lord in earnest and begin hitting harder targets. He just had to find a way to do that without the other side finding out about it.

June 1, 1992 Potter Castle

Sirius did not like the fact that the Death Eaters had gone quiet. Especially not when, according to Lucius, Barty had been all but frothing at the mouth about the information leak. Sirius wondered if the clever bastard had figured it out at first, but quickly decided he had not ... if he had figure it out, Draco would be dead by now ... or dearly wishing he was.

The breather did, at least, allow him to make some much-needed plans. The news from Hogwarts about Voldemort had not been good news at all. While Sirius had known they were working with limited time, because Voldemort would, eventually, return, that 'eventually' had suddenly become 'at any time'.

The summer session of the Wizengamot was, now, more important than ever. Sirius needed to get the groundwork that would, hopefully, deprive Voldemort of followers, and make Death Eater activities illegal, in place as soon as possible, so that the Death Eaters didn't have a chance to get entrenched in the wizarding world as an active force again. Fortunately, his list of allies had grown since September, and he had enough people on his side to get what he wanted, even if he hadn't been a Black, and Harry a Potter, which gave their votes more weight than any other single vote.

Even better, a myriad of smaller, lesser families from around the Empire had joined the Alliance. For the first time, Sirius found himself grateful for the fact that, insofar as the wizarding world was concerned, the British Empire had never fallen. Only two out of the vast network of colonies and protectorates the Empire had collected had declared and enforced their independence from the Empire in both the muggle and magical worlds ... the United States and Australia. Given that the one had started life as a penal colony and the other had become home to a large number of folks displeased with British rule for one reason or another, it was hardly surprising they'd cut all ties.

While none of the smaller families had a presence in the Wizengamot, they formed the backbone of wizarding industry, being the ones that grew and collected a disproportionate amount of the raw materials used in wizard-made items of all descriptions. Promising to speak for them in the Wizengamot in exchange for their support had been the easiest decision Sirius had made, as he'd always planned on giving the 'common laborers' a much-needed voice on the Wizengamot. He actually fully intended on wrangling them their own representative, separate from himself, if he could manage it.

But there was one decision he'd had to make that had not been an easy one. Because it involved Severus. Sirius was not comfortable leaving the man ... and the twins ... in the castle over the summer, essentially alone with Dumbledore. It was just asking for trouble, Severus' competence in self-defense and Hogwarts' assistance be damned.

He had no idea if Severus had a place of his own outside of the school, but given what little he knew of the man, any place he did have was likely to be meant for a single person, not something remarkably close to a family unit. And it wasn't like there wasn't space to spare in Potter Castle, not to mention the huge potions lab in the basement.

The only question was ... could he and Severus live in the same place and not kill each other? Granted, they'd declared a truce of sorts with each other, but they'd also not had to be in each other's company for extended periods, either. In the end, Sirius had decided to just make the offer, and let Severus decide as he willed. To that end, he'd sent a letter inviting the three of them to stay at the castle over the summer nearly a week ago.

He smiled when Hedwig swooped into the room and settled on the back of his chair.

"Hello girl. Letter from Harry?" He asked.

Hedwig nodded, and held out her leg. On which was not one, but two scrolls. Curious, Sirius untied them both and fished an owl treat out of his pocket (he'd taken to keeping them there all the time). "Thanks girl. I wonder ... oh."

Because Severus' unique scrawl was visible on one of the scrolls. "Well then. I guess I have my answer now." Sirius said. He decided to open Severus' first. It was brief and to the point, accepting the invitation to stay at the castle.

"Well, that's a surprise. I figured he'd say no." Sirius muttered. "Still, it's a good idea to have everyone in close contact. Now we just need to manage not to kill each other before summer's over."

Hedwig let out an amused cackle.

"Hush you. Now, let's see what Harry has to say."

Harry's letter turned out to mostly be about Norbert, and Hagrid, and a little worry about Severus ... apparently, Harry had found out the git had been a Death Eater, and was worried Voldie would off the git. Their dislike of each other aside, Sirius could sympathize with Harry on that one, because not even Severus deserved to die the way Voldemort would likely kill him if he found out Severus was no longer loyal to him.

June 30, 1992 Potter Castle

School was finally over with for the year. Harry was looking forward to spending the summer at Potter Castle with Sirius and Remus ... and, apparently, Severus. That was going to be ... interesting. And potentially explosive. Hopefully it wouldn't backfire.

The compartment was packed to the gills on the way home, what with Harry, Hedwig, Hissesh, Hermione, Crookshanks, Neville and the twins all crammed in. Plans were made to visit each other, though they were tentative in nature, seeing as they didn't have their respective guardians or parents there to confirm whether a date would work or not.

Harry was just glad to be away from Dumbledore, even if that meant leaving Hogwarts to her own devices for a few months. She'd reassured Harry that she didn't mind ... after all, she had them around for ten months of the year. She could handle two months without them. And besides, she fully intended to antagonize Dumbledore, just to really confuse the hell out of him about how and why he was still getting pranked.

Both McGonagall and Flitwick had promised to continue their tutoring over the summer, much to the groups' general glee. The twins were looking forward to an extended period of uninterrupted brewing. Hermione was more than slightly put out that she'd miss most of the fun, but made them promise to keep good notes so that she could catch up when she met back up with them.

Sirius and Remus were waiting for them when they got to King's Cross, and Sirius hugged Harry hard enough to threaten his ribs. "Look at you, pup. You've shot up half a foot since I saw you last!"

Harry grinned widely against Sirius' chest before pulling back so he could talk. "Seven inches, actually." He crowed happily. "I'm one of the taller ones in my year, now. Though Ron's still got a couple inches on me, and so do a couple others." He snickered. "I think Ron's going to pass the twins out height-wise before too long." The twins were both on the short and stocky side, while Ron was threatening to turn into the Jolly Green Giant, even at the age of twelve. "It's nice not looking everyone in the knees anymore."

"I bet." Sirius said, ruffling Harry's unmanageable hair affectionately. "Let's get your stuff and head home, shall we? Severus said he'd be arriving tomorrow ... he needs to clean up and close down his classroom, office, and quarters." He even managed to say that without wrinkling his nose in distaste. Progress, of a sort.

"I'm kind of surprised he agreed to this, actually." Harry said, then eyed Sirius. "You did tell him about mom and dad's portrait, right?"

" ... no? Didn't cross my mind that I'd need to." Sirius admitted.

Remus snorted in amusement before collecting his own hug. "I warned him." He said. "Didn't want him to get sideswiped unexpectedly. He tends not to react well to surprises."

"Understatement of the decade." Sirius griped. "Well, let's go."