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Chapter Text

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.

“Don’t we know it,” Fred interrupted Draco after a single sentence, causing the Slytherin to glare at him. Harry was also glaring at Fred.

“Unusual is an understatement,” George added with a grin. Harry threw a pillow at him which he dodged easily.

For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework.

“That’s definitely unusual,” stated Fred.

“He’s got a point there,” Ron agreed.

“It’s not like I actually wanted to do it. Kind of. I wanted the ability to do it, so Snape didn’t have an extra excuse to give me detention,” Harry told them.

“Like he needs an excuse,” Ron snorted.

“Professor Snape,” Molly corrected at the same time.

Unfortunately, he was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. He also happened to be a wizard.

The twins gave identical gasps of fake shock. Percy slapped them both lightly on the back of their heads.

“Enough you two,” he said in exasperation, but his tone was fond, and they both grinned at him.

“Never,” declared Fred.

“Tis our solemn duty –”

“- to keep the mood light,” they said rapidly, one after the other. Sirius, Tonks and Charlie all chuckled.

It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow.

“Ugh!” Ron groaned. “Of all the subjects.”

“Bad idea to do that so late. It’ll put you to sleep,” Fred told Harry.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he shrugged. “And I’m used to not getting much sleep.” They all frowned at that.

Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay on witch burnings in the 14^th century. The quill paused at the top of a likely-looking paragraph. Harry read a passage from the book detailing how true witches and wizards weren’t caught by the muggle burnings as they performed a simple flame-freezing charm.

“Yes, the burnings were pointless because the only people they managed to catch and murder were their own kind who were actually innocent, or muggleborn children who had no control over their magic so couldn’t hide it,” Bill scowled.

Harry put his quill between his teeth and reached underneath his pillow for his ink bottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and very carefully he unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped his quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of his quill on their way to the bathroom, he’d probably find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

Sirius snarled.

“That’s impressive dedication to your homework, but maybe you should prioritize a bit. Leave History of Magic till last as Binns is the least likely to give you detention for not doing it. Or you can do it on the train,” Tonks suggested.

“Yeah. Ones like Potions and Transfiguration should be first and there wasn’t one for Defence that year,” Fred ticked off the subjects.

“I’d done some of my others before doing History,” Harry told them. “And I ended up redoing a lot once I left the Dursleys.”

The Dursley family of number four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Harry never enjoyed his summer holidays. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Harry’s only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic.

A few people shuddered at how accurate that was.

Harry’s dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys’ roof.

Everyone scowled angrily.

For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him.

Most of the adults flinched and muttered angrily under their breath at that.

“I hate those people,” Sirius snarled, spitting the word ‘people’ like it was the worst insult he could think of.

To their fury, they had been unsuccessful.

“They should be grateful they were unsuccessful, or the wrath of the entire wizarding world would fall on their heads,” Emmeline muttered.

“It still might,” Bill said grimly.

“And they would deserve it, for even attempting such a thing and all of the abuse and neglect they put him through,” Charlie scowled.

These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away Harry’s spellbooks, wand, cauldron, and broomstick at the start of the summer break, and forbid him to talk to the neighbours.

“Honestly, those neighbours didn’t notice anything was wrong in over ten years, I doubt they are worth talking to,” Fred muttered angrily.

“Even the woman who was supposed to be keeping an eye on him,” George added, glaring at Dumbledore.

This separation from his spellbooks had been a real problem, because his teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work, including Snape who would love an excuse to give him detention.

Sirius threw Snape a dirty look which he ignored.

Harry had therefore seized his chance in the first week of the holidays when Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon’s new company car in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too.

“Of course they did,” Ted rolled his eyes.

“The rest of the street do the same thing,” Harry shrugged.

“It’s still sad and stupid,” said George. Several people nodded.

While they were busy, Harry had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of his books, and hidden them in his bedroom.

“See, teaching him to pick locks was a good thing,” Fred told his mother triumphantly. She pursed her lips but didn’t disagree which spoke volumes.

As long as he didn’t leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he was studying magic by night.

“They don’t make you do the laundry?” Charlie wondered.

“Only sometimes, but normally Aunt Petunia does that,” Harry told him.

“So, it’s just the higher-risk chores, like cooking, they made you do,” Remus frowned.

“That and the fact that Aunt Petunia can’t cook very well.”

Harry was particularly keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with him, because of a telephone call from Ron. Ron, who had never used a phone before.

“Oh dear,” Bill winced.

“What did you do?” Ted wondered, looking amused.

“I think I wasn’t supposed to shout,” Ron admitted.

“No. You don’t need to shout with a phone. They can hear you just as well as on a floo call,” Ted told him. Ron grimaced, remembering the call.

Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call.

Everyone winced.

Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard Ron’s voice answer. He shouted that he wanted to talk to Harry Potter so loudly Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear.

A few people chuckled.

Veron shouted back, asking who was speaking.

“That won’t help. Now Ron will think he’s using the phone correctly,” Percy shook his head.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. He hadn’t known he did anything wrong as Vernon had replied in kind the whole time. Until he spoke to his dad who suggested not shouting. Hermione had said the same thing, so he had assumed that was correct.

Ron continued the shouting match, saying he was a friend of Harry’s from school.

"That’s not going to go down well,” Remus sighed. “He’ll know he’s talking to a wizard.”

“Honestly, it was over as soon as he said he was a friend of Harry’s,” Kingsley pointed out.

“Probably,” Harry agreed with a sigh.

Uncle Vernon’s small eyes swivelled around to Harry, who was rooted to the spot.

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “Did they take it out on you?” He asked Harry. Several people looked over at him, waiting for the answer and worried about what they might hear.

“It could have been worse. He shouted a lot, but nothing unusual there,” Harry shrugged.

Vernon shouted back that there was no Harry Potter there and never to contact them again. He threw the receiver back onto the phone as if dropping a poisonous spider. A terrible fight followed.

“Just yelling,” Harry said quickly before anyone could ask. He skipped the missed meals and being locked in his room. That was pretty usual after all.

Vernon screamed at Harry for giving their number to people like him. Ron obviously realized that he’d gotten Harry into trouble, because he hadn’t called again.

“To be fair, it was fairly obvious your uncle wasn’t exactly thrilled,” George pointed out.

Harry’s other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn’t been in touch either. Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts.

“Why would I know not to say that?” Hermione frowned. “I mean, I know now, but you never really said much about your relatives before. Not anything I thought was serious anyway. I didn’t know they hated witches and wizards that much.”

“And again, Hermione would have at least said she was your friend which would mean Vernon would know she’s a witch. It’s not like Harry would have other muggle friends thanks to Dudley and his gang,” Tonks pointed out unhappily.

“Yeah. It’s probably a good job you didn’t call,” Harry sighed.

This meant Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one. Although, one improvement was that he had been allowed to let Hedwig out at night after swearing that he wouldn’t use her to send letters to any of his friends.

“That’s good at least,” Charlie said.

“I’m glad Hedwig wasn’t locked up for another summer,” Luna stated. Harry smiled at her.

“Me too.” And not only because Hedwig had gone all the way to France just to get his present from Hermione.

Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time.

“At this point who cares why he does something? At least it was positive for Harry,” Bill sighed.

Harry finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of Dudley. Harry’s eyes were itching with tiredness, and he decided to finish the essay the next night. He replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed; put the flashlight, A History of Magic, his essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed.

“Not the worst hiding spot,” Fred said approvingly. “Especially in that room, not many options.”

Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table. It was one in the morning and Harry realised he’d been thirteen for a whole hour without realizing.

“Not quite true. You were born at two minutes past three in the morning,” Sirius told him with a faint smile, looking lost in memories.

“I was?” Harry blinked.

“Yes. Lily wasn’t thrilled. She took it as a sign you were going to be active all night and causing trouble like your dad,” Remus chuckled.

“She wasn’t wrong,” Severus muttered.

Harry smiled over at Remus and Sirius. Every time he learnt something knew about his childhood or his parents, he felt a warmth in his chest, and he always wanted more. He’d learnt more about himself and his family in the last few days than in the last decade and yet there always seemed to be more to learn.

Another unusual thing about Harry was how little he looked forward to his birthdays.

Nobody could really argue with that.

He had never received a birthday card in his life.

“Really? Never? Not even from Weasley and Granger?” Draco wondered.

“No. They didn’t know me for my eleventh birthday and Dobby never gave me my mail, so I didn’t get any for my twelfth birthday either,” Harry explained.

The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one.

Harry grimaced.

Harry walked across the dark room, past Hedwig’s large, empty cage, to the open window. He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets. Hedwig had been absent for two nights now. Harry wasn’t worried about her as she’d been gone this long before, but he hoped she’d be back soon — she was the only living creature in this house who didn’t flinch at the sight of him.

Everyone winced.

Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year.

“Really? Inches?” Fred teased. “Are you sure?” Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

“He only said a few. That’s plausible. Any more than that and we’d know he was lying,” Ron put in with a grin. Harry hit him on the arm but that just made him laugh harder. Several other people laughed as well, grateful for something to lighten the ever-darkening mood.

His jet-black hair, however, was stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it. The eyes behind his glasses were bright green.

“Eyes as green as a fresh-pickled toad,” Fred sang gleefully. Ginny and Harry both threw pillows at him for that.

On his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning. Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry’s parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash.

There was an outbreak of angry murmuring at the lies the Dursleys had told Harry.

They had been murdered by Lord Voldemort. Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, where Voldemort’s curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled.

Bill grimaced.

Harry had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts.

“Twice in two years, please don’t remind me,” Sirius groaned.

“I didn’t meet him this year,” Harry pointed out, trying to sound positive.

“There is that, but you spent the whole year thinking I wanted to kill you,” Sirius reminded him, sounding highly put out by that.

“I know better now and that’s what’s important.”

Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday.

“That’s uncomfortably true,” Remus said.

He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to him with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise. Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Harry realized what he was seeing. Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Harry’s direction.

“What?” Sirius asked worriedly.

“It was nothing to worry about,” Harry grinned.

He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second, he hesitated, his hand on the window latch, wondering whether to slam it shut. But then the bizarre creature soared over one of the streetlamps of Privet Drive, and Harry leapt aside, realising it was three owls, with two of them supporting the third.

“Three guesses who the third owl is,” Neville grinned.

“And the first two don’t count,” Fred added, shaking his head.

“You really shouldn’t have used Errol of a trip all the way from Egypt,” Percy said to Ron.

“You wouldn’t let me use Hermes,” Ron reminded him.

“Sorry.”

They landed with a soft flump on Harry’s bed, and the middle owl, which was large and grey, keeled right over and lay motionless.

All of the Weasleys sighed in unison.

There was a large package tied to its legs. Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once. It was Errol, the owl belonging to the Weasley family. He dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol’s legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig’s cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

“Thank you, Harry,” Arthur smiled gratefully.

“It’s fine. He recovered pretty quickly.”

Harry turned back to the remaining owls. One of them was Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol.

“Where did she get a parcel from?” Tonks wondered.

“She went to find Hermione in France,” Harry said with a grin.

“Wow. That’s really impressive. She went off, on her own, to find your friend and get your birthday present?” Emmeline asked. Harry nodded.

Harry didn’t recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night. Harry sat down on his bed and grabbed Errol’s package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold, and his first-ever birthday card.

Ron smiled widely, absurdly pleased it was his card that Harry had opened first, so he’d gotten him his first ever birthday card.

Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out — a letter and a newspaper clipping. The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read the article which was about Mr. Weasley winning the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. They would use the money to go to Egypt for a month.

Nobody said anything out loud, but several people were wondering if the money wouldn’t have been better spent on other things. Ron hadn’t even gotten his own wand in his first year, surely a holiday for a month was just wasteful. Even if they’d gone for half of that, they did deserve a holiday, they would still have plenty of money left over.

Harry scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangly, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.

Ron, the twins, Remus, Sirius and Harry all scowled furiously at the mention of the rat.

Harry couldn’t think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor.

All the Weasleys grimaced at that.

He picked up Ron’s letter and unfolded it. He apologised for the phone call and his dad said he shouldn’t have shouted. Bill had been taking them around all the tombs with mutant skeletons in there of muggles who’d broken in and grown extra heads.

“That’s sounds pretty cool,” Harry said. “I wish I could see that.”

“Well, if you ever manage to come for a visit, I’ll be happy to show you around. Especially if you do want to go into curse-breaking, I can introduce you to some people,” Bill offered. Harry smiled gratefully.

“That would be amazing.”

“When my name is cleared, we’ll take you,” Sirius promised. Remus nodded and Harry’s smile widened.

He mentioned the prize money, saying most of it had gone on the trip, but he would be getting a new wand.

“I should hope so, seeing as you don’t have one,” Charlie said.

They would be back a week before the start of term and wondered if there was a chance of meeting Harry in London. He told him not to let the muggles get him down. Then he added that Percy was head boy. Harry glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair.

“You really wore your prefect badge during a holiday?” Tonks scoffed.

“I got it while we were in Egypt,” Percy told her. “And I didn’t want to leave it lying around because of the twins.” Both twins flashed him innocent smirks.

Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it saying it was a Pocket Sneakoscope which was supposed to light up and spin if someone untrustworthy was around.

“Seriously, how is it not spinning in the same house as those people?” Fred wondered.

“Good question, honestly I think that thing was broken,” Neville said. “I heard it going off in the dorm a few times.” Ron and Harry suddenly exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“I forgot about that,” Harry breathed. “Wait, I had it buried in a pair of socks, how did you hear it?” He asked Neville.

“When the dorm was completely silent there was a weird, very slight, whistling noise. I checked it out and found the thing going off,” Neville admitted. “Sorry. Seamus helped me look and he went through everyone’s stuff.”

“It’s fine. I just never heard it.”

“Seamus went through my stuff?” Ron groaned. “That explains a lot. But the sneakoscope did actually work,” he added darkly.

The note continued that Bill said it’s rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn’t reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn’t realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.

Bill glared at his brothers.

“Boys!” Molly scolded.

“It was just a joke,” Fred defended, but he was laughing.

“You are both disgusting,” Charlie said, but he was smirking. It was funny when it wasn’t him.

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought. Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione. Her letter said Hedwig had come all the way to France to collect his birthday present which was good as she hadn’t known how to send it. She asked if he’d seen the picture of Ron and said she bet he was learning loads.

Several people snorted at that.

“Ron? Learning on holiday?” Fred scoffed.

“It was an informative trip,” Percy put in.

“For you. You like studying. Ron doesn’t,” George pointed out.

She claimed to be jealous, but she’d been learning about the local history of witchcraft in France which meant she had rewritten her whole History of Magic essay. It was now two rolls of parchment longer than Professor Binns had asked for.

“Really, Granger?” Draco drawled in disgust.

“That is wholly unnecessary,” Andromeda agreed. “And, frankly, shows you are unable to prioritize important information over just putting in everything you deem relevant.” Hermione blushed.

She concluded that Ron said he’d been in London in the last week of the holidays and asked if Harry could meet them. If not, she’d see him on the Hogwarts Express. As a P.S. that Percy was Head Boy and Ron didn’t seem happy about it.

Percy frowned at that but said nothing.

Harry laughed as he put Hermione’s letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. He suspected it would be a large book full of difficult spells.

Hermione frowned. “Why would I get you that? I know you wouldn’t like it.”

“I couldn’t think what else you would get me to be honest,” Harry admitted.

His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit.

All the Quidditch fans whistled delightedly at that.

“That’s an awesome present,” George grinned at Hermione. “And my birthday is April 1^st, for future reference,” he added with a smirk.

“George!” Molly scolded but Hermione just laughed.

“Of course it is. I couldn’t imagine a better birthday for you.” The twins both grinned widely at her.

Harry unzipped the case to look inside. There was a large jar of Fleetwood’s High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.

“Honestly, that handbook was the only thing that helped me last as long as I did that week,” Harry told her. She smiled slightly.

“I’m sorry it couldn’t help a day longer.”

“It did pretty well, considering.”

Apart from his friends, the thing that Harry missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch. Harry happened to be a very good Quidditch player; he had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of Harry’s most prized possessions was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom.

Harry sighed at the mention of his broom. No matter how much he loved his Firebolt, it just wasn’t quite the same as his very first broom.

Harry put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: This was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly — as though it had jaws.

Everyone who had taken Care of Magical Creatures that year, shuddered.

“Those blasted books,” Ron groaned.

“They were awful,” Neville agreed.

“They were quite informative once you got them open,” said Hermione, tentatively.

“Great. I’d rather not have my hand snapped off to get that information,” Fred told her.

“Hand snapped off?” Emmeline queried, worriedly.

“The Monster Book of Monsters,” Harry told her, with a grimace. “If you didn’t stroke the spine, it attacked you.”

“That sounds exactly like the type of book Hagrid would love,” Kingsley muttered.

Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose.

“Really?” Amelia asked.

“Of course not. He wouldn’t hurt me. He just might not realise what he sent me was dangerous,” Harry defended his friend.

“True, but that doesn’t make me any happier about it,” Sirius said.

However, Hagrid didn’t have a normal person’s view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Several adults shook their heads at exactly how much Hagrid had been allowed to get away with and wondered how there hadn’t been any serious consequences yet. Although it was pure luck his creatures hadn’t killed Harry and Ron, so there was that.

Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again.

“Wonderful,” Sirius groaned. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“It could have been worse,” Harry told him.

Harry reached for the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled. A book fell out.

“A book?” Bill frowned. “A snapping book?”

“A biting book,” Ron corrected with distaste.

“At least it was a published book, I doubt the book would give any serious bites,” Emmeline said, but she didn’t sound entirely certain.

“It was nasty enough,” Neville murmured, rubbing his hand in memory.

Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab. The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it. It bit him and scuttled past. Harry managed to flatten it. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door.

“He didn’t wake up, did he?” Fred wondered anxiously.

“Thankfully, no,” Harry said. “They waited until a normal hour of the morning to ruin my birthday,” he added under his breath.”

Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he buckled tightly around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid’s card. Hagrid’s card wished him a happy birthday and told him the book might come in useful in the coming year and expressing a hope the muggles were treating him right.

“A biting book? Why would that be useful in the coming year?” Emmeline raised her eyebrows.

“Care of Magical Creatures textbook. It did contain useful information, it was just annoying having to keep stroking the spine,” Hermione told them.

It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful.

“Ominous and yet completely in line with everything we know about him,” Charlie grinned.

“I hate that book,” Harry groaned.

“We all hated that book,” Neville assured him.

He put Hagrid’s card up next to Ron’s and Hermione’s, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left. Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within. It was his Hogwarts letter containing the usual platform information and departure time as well as enclosing the permission letter for Hogsmeade.

“Oh no. Those muggles will never sign it,” Bill shook his head.

“I was so close,” Harry sighed.

Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning.

Everybody sighed at that. They couldn’t blame Harry for being depressed at that. It was supposed to be a great moment in a young wizard’s life, getting to go Hogsmeade and his awful relatives would deny him that for no reason other than to make him miserable.

“Surely there must be a way around that? For people with guardians like those,” Fred wondered.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Sirius escaping meant there would have been no way I’d have been allowed to go, even if they did sign the form,” Harry muttered.

“Sorry, pup,” Sirius sighed, hugging him.

It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends, but he didn’t know how he was going to persuade his relatives to sign the form.

“It so nearly worked,” Harry sighed.

“What nearly worked?” Remus wondered.

“You’ll see. Not that it mattered in the end.”

Looking at the alarm clock he saw it was now two o’clock in the morning. He decided that he’d worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, so got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he’d made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down, eyes open, facing his three birthday cards. Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else — glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

“Done,” Draco announced with relief.

“Well, that was…a bit depressing but could have been worse for a chapter at the Dursley’s,” Charlie mused.

Chapter Text

Draco handed the book to his godfather who sneered down at the title.

Aunt Marge’s Big Mistake

“Ooh, finally!” Ron exclaimed with a huge grin. “I want to hear what really happened. I just know Harry left out the details.” Harry grimaced.

“Given what we know about those people, I don’t think it’s going to be a good story,” Percy cautioned. Of course he’d heard about the events, Harry blowing up his muggle aunt and running away with Sirius Black on the loose had been huge news at the time, despite the Ministry’s attempt to cover it up.

Harry went down to breakfast next morning to find the Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table.

“It was weird. Only Petunia is usually up before me in the summer,” Harry mused, shaking his head.

“What time was it?” Remus wondered.

“Almost half nine. Much later than I usually sleep in.”

“Well, if there is any day to have a lie in, it’s your birthday, I suppose,” Bill smiled.

They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room.

“He complained about what?” Draco blinked.

“I mean, he complains about literally everything,” Harry pointed out.

“Kind of like you, Ickle Malfoy,” Fred smirked. Draco glared at him.

“I’m nothing like that filth.”

“You kind of are,” George grinned.

“Enough boys. Percy is right. It’s not likely to be pleasant,” Arthur spoke up, fixing the twins with a stern glare. Harry sighed and shrank into Sirius’ side.

Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

“Eww!”

“Yuck!”

“That is disgusting!”

“Why do his parents let him do that?” Several people wondered at once.

Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon. Instead of wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys gave any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room. Unfortunately, Harry was far too used to this to care.

Several people muttered angrily under their breath.

He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the newsreader on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict. The newsreader was saying that Black was armed and extremely dangerous.

Sirius groaned. “It’s going to be a long book, isn’t it?”

“They are all long,” Harry muttered. “But yes. It’s not going to be great for you either, this time.”

A special hotline had been set up for sightings of Black to be reported immediately. Vernon snorted, saying there was no need to tell them Black was no good, saying he was a filthy layabout and talking about his hair.

“Oi!” Sirius yelped indignantly. “I’d like to see how you look after being in that place for twelve years innocent or not. And he’d be not.”

“Really? You’re upset because Vernon Dursley, of all people, complained about your hair?” Remus rolled his eyes.

“And it was pretty bad,” Harry grinned. Sirius narrowed his eyes and Harry began to shuffle away from him. A deceptively strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him in place.

He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed.

Sirius gave an exaggerated gasp, feigning offence.

“Wow. That must have been pretty bad to make Harry’s hair look tidy,” George teased. Sirius and Harry both glared at him.

The newsreader had reappeared and changed the topic. Vernon complained that they hadn’t stated where the maniac had escaped from, and he could be coming up the street right then.

“Not yet. Give it a week or so,” Harry laughed.

The Ministry workers all winced at the casual mention of how easily Sirius had found Harry. It was a very good job he hadn’t been trying to kill Harry or it would have been extremely bad.

Aunt Petunia whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hotline number.

Several people rolled their eyes.

She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on her boring, law-abiding neighbours.

“Eh, the neighbours are equally nosy,” Harry shrugged. “They were probably all doing the same thing.”

Vernon asked when they would learn that hanging was the only way to deal with these people.

“Does he mean criminals? Like, all criminals?” Charlie frowned. “That’s a bit harsh?”

“And sending someone to live with soul-sucking demons for any offense isn’t harsh?” Hermione asked.

“It’s not every offense,” Emmeline pointed out.

“Pretty much. It’s either a fine or prison. And even in the lightest security, you can feel the dementors,” Sirius reminded her.

Petunia agrees, still squinting into the next garden. Vernon finished his drink and said he’d better be off soon as Marge’s train arrived at ten. Harry, who had been thinking about Hermione’s present, was jolted back to the present at the mention of Marge, who was Vernon’s sister. Harry had been forced to call her ‘aunt’ all his life, despite not being blood related.

Sirius snarled angrily.

Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn’t often stay in Privet Drive, because she couldn’t bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry’s mind.

“Aaaand we’re going to recount each and every one, aren’t we?” Harry groaned.

“Yes,” Draco nodded, scanning the rest of the page quickly.

At Dudley’s fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him beating Dudley at musical statues.

A few unhappy grumbles could be heard, but they knew worse was coming and so kept most of their irritation quiet.

A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerised robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry.

“She what?” Sirius asked, repulsed.

“She actually gave you a box of dog biscuits?” Andromeda asked in disgust. Harry shrugged.

“I just threw them out. It could have been worse.” Nobody bothered to argue with him on that specific point.

On her last visit, the year before Harry had started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the paw of her favourite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight.

“How long were you up there?”

“A while.” Harry’s tone of voice told everyone he wasn’t going to answer in any more depth than that.

The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley’s eyes.

“Of course it did,” Remus scowled.

“I’ll bring tears to his eyes,” Ron muttered angrily.

“Only if you let us help,” Fred stated grimly.

“You’ll do no such thing, boys. Leave it to the adults to sort out,” Molly scolded.

“You mean the same adults that left him in that place and then didn’t bother to check on him? Those adults? Or the adults that Harry is supposed to be able to confide in but constantly ignore or dismiss him?” Fred snapped at his mother. “Professor McGonagall told Dumbledore they were the worst sort of muggles after a single day of watching them, but when Harry came to Hogwarts, she didn’t check on him, did she?” Minerva looked down, shame-faced. “Or when we told you he’d been starved and had bars on his window, and you just thought we were lying to get out of trouble. Why should we trust any one of you with Harry?” Fred finished his rant and George put a hand on his twin’s arm to calm him down, although he agreed with every word that had been said. There was a stunned silence as none of the adults had a rebuttal for Fred’s words.

“Mr. Potter…” Dumbledore began but he was cut off by Ron.

“Don’t you start!” He glared at the headmaster. For a lot of his time here, Ron had been focusing on his family problems, his embarrassment at having some of his insecurities read out and having his parents find out exactly what he had been doing for the past few years. But he’d also been taking note of the headmaster’s actions ever since he’d learnt just how bad his best friend’s home life had been and exactly who had put him there. Something had always struck him as strange about their first year, and while he’d thought it was cool at the time for Dumbledore to let Harry face You-Know-Who, he didn’t think that now. Now, he was suspicious about what the headmaster had planned for his friend. Bill had clearly realised something as well, Ron didn’t know exactly what, but it was big. And he just knew he wasn’t going to like it. And once they’d read about his first and second years again, he’d started going over third year in his own mind. And he didn’t like some of the conclusions he reached.

“Ron!” Molly glared at him. Ron glared right back but chose not to continue the argument right then.

Vernon snarled that Marge would be there for a week. Then stated they needed to get a few things straight before he collected her. Dudley finally looked away from the tele, preferring to watch Harry being bullied by Vernon.

There were many eye rolls and mutterings.

The first order was to keep a civil tongue in his head when talking to Marge. Harry retorted that he would if she did.

George whistled appreciatively. “Good for you, Harry.”

“Not good for him if he gets in trouble for rudeness,” Percy pointed out.

“It’s not rude, it’s a fair request,” Tonks said.

“To most people. To those people, it’ll be seen as rude,” Charlie reminded her. She sighed.

Vernon ignored this.

“At least that’s something,” Remus muttered.

And continued that Marge didn’t know anything about his abnormality and they didn’t want any of his funny stuff while she was there. He told Harry to behave himself.

“Does that mean they don’t remember that Harry can’t use magic outside school?” Neville wondered.

“I think they forgot for a bit, yeah. But if I used that threat, they would have remembered eventually,” Harry shrugged.

Harry replied he would if she did.

“Pushing your luck a bit there. Which really isn’t a good idea given the extremes your luck goes to,” Kingsley said with a grimace.

Vernon ignored this again, saying they’d told Marge Harry attended St Brutus’ Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.

“What?” Several people asked indignantly. Harry scowled.

“Did they tell everyone that or just Marge?” Remus wondered.

“Everyone probably. It explains why the neighbours started avoiding me even more than before.”

“Who cares what some awful muggles think?” Draco asked.

“For once, blondie is right,” Tonks said. Draco glared at her. “You’ll never have to go back there anyway, and it won’t matter what they think.”

Harry was angry yelled ‘what’ and Vernon told him to stick to the story or there would be trouble. Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a week-long visit was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks.

“Oh, you were angry about the visit, not the school thing,” Ron nodded.

“I was pretty angry at both, but the visit was more immediate.”

Vernon said he’d better be off to the station. He asked if Dudley want to go but his son refused, having gone back to watching tv with Harry’s threatening over with. Petunia said Duddy had to make himself smart for his auntie. Mummy had bought him a new bow tie

“I love how she still talks like he’s five,” Tonks snorted.

“Mentally, I’m pretty sure he is,” Charlie pointed out.

“Besides, it’ll take longer than a trip to the station to make that kid look smart,” Ted muttered.

“It’s not like she’ll be able to see the tie under his chins anyway,” George grinned.

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder and left. Harry, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea.

“Oh no!” Several people groaned.

“Hey!” Harry complained. “This wasn’t a bad plan.”

“Did it work?” Hermione asked, eyebrows raised.

“Technically no, but that was because of what happened with Marge. The actual plan worked, it was just the execution which was kind of beyond my control,” Harry defended himself.

Abandoning his toast, he quickly followed Uncle Vernon to the front door. Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat and snarled that he wasn’t taking Harry.

“Like he’d want to go,” Ron snorted.

Harry stated he wouldn’t want to go.

Ron and Harry high fived.

He continued that he wanted to ask him something. Vernon eyed him suspiciously as he told him that third years at his school were allowed to visit the village sometimes. Vernon asked ‘so’ and Harry stated he needed him to sign the permission form. His uncle sneered and asked why he should do that.

“Because it’s the decent thing to do,” Arthur sighed.

“Like that matters to them. It’s something Harry wants, that’s the only reason he needs to refuse,” Remus frowned unhappily.

Harry pointed out that it would be hard work pretending to Marge that he goes to St Whatsits. Vernon yelled the name of the Secure Centre at him, and Harry happily detected a note of panic in his voice.

“Blackmail. Nice!” Sirius grinned, giving Harry a high five.

“Honestly, purely by coincidence it turned out to be a good thing they didn’t sign the form. It was hard enough refusing him permission to visit Hogsmeade without it. It would have been much worse denying him if he’d had one signed,” Minerva muttered to Pomona.

Harry agreed, saying it was a lot to remember.

“Only for you, Potter,” Severus rolled his eyes, but there was no nastiness in his voice. He almost sounded humorous which weirded Harry out slightly.

He added that he would need to make it sound convincing. He asked what would happen if he accidentally slipped. Vernon roared that he would get the stuffing knocked out of him, advancing with his fist raised.

“Don’t you dare!” Sirius snarled.

“He didn’t touch me,” Harry assured him. “Well, aside from some spit,” he added with a grimace. Several people shuddered at that.

Harry stood his ground.

“Course he did,” Fred stated proudly, but he was eyeing Harry with concern. Was he standing his ground because he considered Hogsmeade worth a beating, or did he have enough confidence that his uncle wouldn’t actually hit him? The second option didn’t quite tally with the rest of the evidence. Even if there had been no explicit beatings in the books, his aunt had tried to hit him with a frying pan before, and Dudley had been encouraged to hit him with his school stick (which was still weird to Fred).

Harry pointed out that having the stuffing knocked out of him wouldn’t make Marge forget what he could tell her. Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

“Living dangerously there, Potter,” Moody grunted.

“I live dangerously all the time,” Harry shrugged. “At least that time I thought I’d get something good out of it.”

“That’s a bit grim,” Tonks frowned.

“Having you heard these books? My life is one big danger and after another. Might as well try and enjoy what I can,” Harry shrugged again. Sirius hugged him tightly at that while Bill gave Dumbledore a pointed look.

Harry quickly said that if Vernon signed his form, he’d remember everything he was required to and pretend to be normal.

“Well, that won’t work. We already covered all the reasons you’re not normal,” Fred grinned.

“That’s why it says he’ll pretend,” George pointed out.

Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple. Eventually he agreed, saying that if Harry behaved during the visit, then he’d sign it at the end of the week.

“Ah, well, it wouldn’t have worked anyway then. He’d probably just go back on his word at the end of the week,” Ted sighed.

“No,” Harry disagreed. “He wouldn’t, if only to keep me from following through should Marge come back. Or literally anyone else he didn’t want me blabbing to. Not that it matters either way.”

“True. You wouldn’t have been allowed to Hogsmeade even if they’d signed the form because of Sirius, and now someone else can give you permission,” Remus told him. Harry nodded.

Vernon wheeled around, pulled open the front door and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.

A few people snorted at that.

Harry didn’t return to the kitchen. He went back upstairs to his bedroom. If he was going to act like a real Muggle, he’d better start now. Slowly and sadly, he gathered up all his presents and his birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with his homework.

“Even muggles celebrate their birthday,” Andromeda pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don’t think a secure centre for incurably criminal boys would be the type of place you make friends who send you birthday cards,” Harry said.

“Good point,” Tonks winced.

Then he went to Hedwig’s cage. Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings. Harry sighed, then poked them both awake.

“Bet Hedwig loved that,” Ron chuckled.

“Nope. And she didn’t like being told to clear off either.”

“She clearly loves you very much and probably doesn’t want to leave you alone there,” Charlie smiled.

Harry told her she had to leave for a week. He suggested she go with Errol to Ron. He would write a note explaining.

“It probably would be good for Errol to have an escort all the way to Egypt as well,” Percy muttered.

Hedwig’s large amber eyes were reproachful, and Harry told her it wasn’t his fault. It was the only way he’d be allowed to visit the village with Ron and Hermione. Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe.

Harry leant into Sirius slightly. He knew this chapter was just going to get worse and honestly, he didn’t want to hear Marge’s words again, especially considering Snape was the one reading. Hearing it in his voice, which often insulted Harry’s father as Marge had done, would be just as bad as hearing it the first time. Why oh why had Snape, of all the people in the room, been the one to get this chapter? Oh yeah, because his life sucked.

But Harry didn’t have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest. He reached the hall and she snapped at him to do something about his hair.

“Good luck with that,” Sirius chortled.

“Unless you’ve got a whole bottle of Sleakeazy around, that won’t be happening,” Remus smiled.

Harry couldn’t see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticising him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be.

“Sounds like someone we know,” Ron muttered, glancing over at Snape who sneered.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon’s car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors, and footsteps on the garden path. Petunia hissed at Harry to get the door. He did so with a feeling of great gloom in his stomach.

The readers all had a similar feeling.

On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon; large, beefy and purple faced, she even had a moustache, though not as bushy as his.

“Really? A moustache?” Tonks asked with a giggle. Harry nodded.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Charlie muttered sarcastically.

“Hey, I blame you. You’re the one who said the last chapter hadn’t been too bad for a Dursley one,” Tonks reminded him.

“This already happened! Whatever I said wouldn’t make any difference,” he protested.

“We can still blame you,” Bill grinned.

In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.

“I take it that’s the one that chased you up a tree?” Sirius scowled.

“Yeah,” Harry grimaced. He really hated that dog.

Marge asked where her Dudders was, then calling him her neffy poo.

Most of the younger readers all snorted.

“It’s no wonder that boy is so messed up with parents and an aunt like that,” Ted murmured to his wife. She nodded in agreement.

“And with a school that encourages students to hit each other with sticks, I doubt he will learn any better there,” she sighed.

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow-tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Sirius snarled.

“I’d prefer that to being smothered the way Dudley was,” Harry assured him.

Then she seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug and planted a large kiss on his cheek. Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge’s hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

“He has to be paid to hug his own aunt?” Molly looked scandalised.

“It’s the only thing that would make him walk all the way down the hallway and away from the tv and food,” Ron snorted.

“I’d put up with Muriel if I got paid to do it,” George grinned.

“Fred!”

“I’m not Fred,” George rolled his eyes.

“Sorry George, but don’t talk about Aunt Muriel like that.”

Marge then greeted Petunia, striding past Harry to kiss her on the cheek. Vernon came in, smiling, and shut the door. He asked Marge if she wanted tea and what Ripper would want. Marge said he would have some tea from her saucer.

“Urgh!” Several people looked grossed out.

“Tea is bad for dogs!” Charlie exclaimed.

“As a supposed dog breeder, she should know that,” Luna frowned.

They all trooped into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase.

“Works for me. I’d rather Marge forgot I was there more often,” Harry muttered.

But Harry wasn’t complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by him, so he began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as he could.

“And it still wasn’t long enough,” he sighed.

By the time he got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner.

All of the animal loves flinched.

“I hope she finished with it and is not planning on sharing with the dog,” Andromeda said in disgust.

“Ripper had his own bowl with some of her tea in it.”

Harry saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.

“Well, at least someone else is suffering, even if only a little,” Sirius muttered grumpily.

Vernon asked Marge who was looking after the other dogs.

“Hopefully someone who knows what they are doing,” Charlie scowled.

“I know she has someone who usually helps her out, but I’ve never met him.”

She stated that Colonel Fubster managing them. He was retired and she thought it good for him to have something to do. But she couldn’t leave Ripper who pines if away from her.

“Honestly, animals usually have good taste. I’d have thought he’d want to get away from her,” Charlie said.

“She had Ripper since he was born. He doesn’t know any better,” Harry told him grimly.

“No wonder he’s so vicious. She’s trained him that way,” Bill rolled his eyes.

“Poor Ripper,” Luna sighed sadly.

Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down. This directed Aunt Marge’s attention to Harry for the first time.

“Stupid dog,” Sirius scowled.

She asked if he was still there.

“Obviously,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately,” Fred scowled.

Harry agreed. She told him not to say ‘yes’ in an ungrateful tone, saying it was good of Vernon to keep him.

“Yeah. So ‘good’ of him,” Ron spat, sarcastically.

She continued that she wouldn’t have done it herself. He’d have gone straight to an orphanage if dumped on her doorstep.

“He probably would have been raised better in an orphanage,” Remus muttered.

“But he wouldn’t have the protection from Lily that saved his life in first year,” Amelia reminded him. “As unfortunate as it is, Harry did gain something from it. There is no guarantee an orphanage would have better conditions.”

"He would still have the protection from Lily's sacrifice though. It's just the blood wards on the house that require him to live with blood relatives," Bill pointed out.

“No guarantee it would be better than living in a cupboard under the stairs and having frying pans aimed at his head?” Sirius scowled angrily.

Harry really didn’t appreciate having his life at the Dursleys discussed as much it was being currently, reading about it was bad enough, the extra discussions were highly annoying. He said as much quietly to Sirius who apologised and promised to try and keep his comments at a minimum.

Harry was bursting to say that he’d rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped him. He forced his face into a painful smile.

“Good. Don’t let her get to you on the very first morning. However trying she is,” Kingsley nodded.

Marge told him not to smirk at her. She said he hadn’t improved since she last saw him and had hoped school would knock some manners into him.

“He’s the most well mannered out of everyone in that stupid house,” Fred scowled.

“The bar isn’t exactly high,” George reminded him. Fred shrugged.

She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her moustache and asked where Vernon sent him. Vernon gave her the lie about St Brutus’, saying it was a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.

“So, they should send Dudley instead,” Charlie commented.

“Definitely a hopeless case if there ever was one,” Bill agreed.

Marge asked Harry if they used a cane at St Brutus’. Harry paused, but Vernon nodded behind Marge’s back, and he agreed. Then he felt he should do it properly before adding ‘all the time’. She said this was excellent and that she wouldn’t have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it.

If someone in that house deserves a beating, it is you,” Sirius snarled. Then he squeezed Harry’s arm apologetically.

She added that a good thrashing was needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred.

“Maybe they should have tried that on Dudley then. Maybe he’d be less of a brat,” Tonks muttered.

“Unlikely. They believe he is a perfectly good child. They think his behaviour is acceptable, but Harry’s good manners are what should be punished,” Bill pointed out.

Marge asked if Harry had been beaten often. Harry agreed, saying he’d been beaten loads of times. She narrowed her eyes, stating she didn’t like his tone. If he could speak of his beatings in such a casual manner, they weren’t hitting him hard enough. She suggested Petunia write to the school and give them permission to use extreme force in Harry’s case.

“She what?” Arthur asked, aghast.

“That’s…that woman is horrible,” Molly shook her head in disbelief that one family could be so awful.

“If this is the very first meal, I’m honestly surprised Harry lasted almost the whole week before blowing her up,” Kingsley muttered.

“And I understand why a thirteen-year-old had such a big outburst of accidental magic,” Amelia agreed quietly.

Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.

“That’s something, I suppose,” George said grimly.

He asked about the news.

“Really? Of all the topics!” Sirius groaned. Harry offered a commiserating smile.

As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her.

“I don’t blame you,” Remus sighed.

“I can’t believe anything actually makes their usual level of awfulness seem like a good thing,” Ted shook his head.

“Well, if your options are bad or worse, you go for bad,” Tonks said glumly.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement.

“Merlin, it’s like a week-long potions lesson,” Ron grimaced. Severus glared at him.

“It’s scary how alike Snape and Marge are when it comes to Harry,” Fred noted. Severus moved his glare to Fred. It burned him even more he couldn’t fully deny it.

She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents whilst glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn’t got a present too.

“Like I’d fall for that,” Harry snorted.

She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person. On the third day she told Vernon he shouldn’t blame himself for the way the boy turned out.

“You mean he can’t take credit for Harry somehow turning out as such a polite, young man,” Molly corrected.

“It is quite miraculous,” Arthur agreed.

“That’s all Harry,” Remus smiled.

She continued that if something was rotten on the inside there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“We noticed. Clearly there is nothing anyone can do to fix that family,” Fred sneered.

Harry tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook, and his face was starting to burn with anger. He forced himself to remember the Hogsmeade form and not to rise to the bait. However, Marge was still talking, saying that if there was something wrong with the bitch, there was something wrong with the pup.

It took people a few seconds to realise what Snape was saying, his teeth were gritted so hard as he spoke. Then there was a wave of outrage.

“How dare she!” Sirius snarled, flexing his fingers as if he could strangle Marge right there.

“That cow,” Emmeline exclaimed.

“The only thing wrong with Lily was her unfortunate relation to Petunia,” Remus scowled.

At that moment, the wine glass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge spluttered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

“Time for Harry to leave,” Charlie said worriedly.

Petunia squealed, asking if Marge was alright. Marge told her not to worry as she mopped her face. She said she must have squeezed it too hard and had done the same thing the other day.

“At least she has a ready-made excuse for that,” Amelia said, relieved.

“How did she managed to break a glass by holding it too firmly?” Percy wondered.

“Who knows. As long as they aren’t blaming Harry, who cares?” Fred shrugged.

“Marge isn’t blaming Harry. The other two might,” George pointed out.

But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously, so he decided he’d better skip pudding and escape from the table as soon as he could.

“Did it work?” Remus wondered.

“Yeah. I think they wanted me to go as much as I wanted to leave.”

Outside in the hall, he leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since he’d lost control and made something explode.

“When did you last make something explode?” Fred asked interestedly.

“A few years before I started Hogwarts,” Harry told him.

“What happened?” George questioned eagerly.

“I’ll tell you later. I want to get this over with.”

He couldn’t afford to let it happen again. The Hogsmeade form wasn’t the only thing at stake – if he carried on like that, he’d be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic.

“Not for accidental magic,” Amelia assured him.

“So, I didn’t just get away with it because of Sirius?” Harry asked.

“No. Although, there should have been an enquiry as to why you had such a big bout of accidental magic at your age, you shouldn’t have gotten into trouble, regardless of circumstances.”

“Ministry officials had to go to the house to fix Marge and none of them seemed to notice anything wrong with those people?” Charlie wondered.

“I guess they just assumed the anger was about the incident itself, not an underlying hatred of magic,” Kingsley sighed.

“Not to mention they were probably afraid of adult wizards given what happened when Hagrid visited,” Arthur added.

Harry was still an underage wizard, and he was forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside school. His record wasn’t exactly clean, either. Only last summer he’d got an official warning which had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry would face expulsion from Hogwarts.

“I will have that stricken from your record,” Amelia told him. She already had a note to do just that somewhere on her very long list of things to be done once they returned.

He heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way. He got through the next three days by forcing himself to think about his Handbook of Do-it-Yourself Broomcare whenever Aunt Marge started on him.

Hermione smiled faintly.

This worked quite well, though it seemed to give him a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that he was mentally subnormal.

Several people snarled angrily.

Ron felt bad about how much joy he had taken from Harry blowing up his aunt. While he thought she deserved it, now more than ever, he hadn’t realised just how much his best friend had put up with before it happened.

At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge’s stay arrived.

Everybody tensed. They knew it was going to be awful. Even more awful than everything else they had already read because this cause Harry to snap, when he’d already put up with her abuse for almost a full week.

Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine.

“Several bottles? There are only three of them able to drink alcohol,” Molly frowned disapprovingly.

“And Petunia doesn’t drink much. Marge and Uncle Vernon had at least two bottles each,” Harry grimaced.

“Well, that won’t help anything,” Ted sighed.

They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry’s faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

“I don’t think more alcohol is necessary there,” Kingsley frowned.

“Past a certain point I don’t think it’s going to matter. Unless they drink enough to actually pass out, which would be the best outcome. They are almost certainly already drunk before the brandy,” Emmeline pointed out.

He asked if he could tempt Marge who had already had quite a lot of wine. She agreed to a small one but asked him to keep adding a bit more.

“How much did she have?” Remus wondered in horrified anticipation.

“A full glass.”

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out.

Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Uncle Vernon’s angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out.

“Damn, why?” Tonks groaned.

“Even if he’d let me leave, Marge would have wanted me to stay,” Harry told her grimly.

Marge smacked her lips and placed her empty brandy glass back down.

“She drank the whole thing in one go?” Ted blinked, looking reluctantly impressed. Harry nodded.

She praised Petunia for the meal, saying she normally just had a fry-up as she had twelve dogs to look after.

“Really? Twelve? I hope she treats the rest of them better than Ripper,” Charlie said.

“I wouldn’t count on that. Although, maybe she just spoils Ripper with things that could kill him, as he’s supposedly her favourite,” Bill suggested.

She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach.

Narcissa, Draco and Andromeda all wrinkled their noses in disgust.

She stated she liked to see a healthy-sized boy, winking at Dudley.

“Nobody in that house is healthy-sized,” Molly tutted. “One doesn’t eat enough, and the rest eat too much.”

Marge continued that Dudley would be a proper-sized man like his father.

“Wow. How are these people so delusional?” Ron wondered.

“I’ve been asking myself that for years,” Harry said dryly.

She agreed to a spot more brandy.

A few people winced at that.

Then she started on Harry. She jerked her head at him, who felt his stomach clench. The Handbook, he thought quickly. She stated he had a mean, runty look about him.

“I wonder why,” Hermione stated sharply.

She continued that you got that with dogs, and she’d had Colonel Fubster drown a ratty one last year that was weak and underbred.

“She had a dog drowned?” Luna gasped, looking horrified.

“More importantly, did she just imply Harry should have been drowned?” Fred asked, horrified.

“I’m going to kill her!” Sirius snarled.

“No. You’re not. I’m going to kill her first,” Remus told him calmly, although his eyes had taken on a more amber hue like a wolf’s.

“Nobody is killing anyone,” Amelia stated, though she didn’t look convinced about that. “They can all just rot in jail instead.”

“But, even if the…Petunia and Vernon could be tried through the wizarding system as guardians of a wizard, Marge can’t be,” Tonks pointed out unhappily.

“If she doesn’t know that tea is bad for dogs, I’m sure her breeding practice is probably illegal in some way. We can tip off the muggle police,” Kingsley suggested. Honestly, even if it wasn’t illegal, he was quite tempted to forge some evidence so it would appear to be anyway. It was the least she deserved.

“She’s a terrible person, can we please move on,” Harry begged. Thankfully, Snape seemed to agree with him and continued reading.

Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book: A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers. He could still hear Marge saying how it all came down to blood. She assured Petunia she was saying nothing against her family, but her sister was a bad egg.

Severus’ teeth were gritted once more, making it difficult to hear what he was saying, but they would understand enough.

Sirius and Remus both scowled furiously while the rest of the room’s occupants muttered angrily to themselves.

She continued that they turn up in the best families. Then Lily had run off with a wastrel.

“James wasn’t a wastrel!” Sirius shouted.

Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he thought. But he couldn’t remember what came next. Aunt Marge’s voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Vernon’s drills. Marge asked what Potter did as she helped herself to more brandy. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense.

“If they were so worried they could have tried to put a stop to it. Told Harry to leave the table or something, seeing as they wouldn’t tell that foul woman to shut up like they should,” Ted said angrily.

Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents. Vernon, half glanced at Harry as he stated that James was unemployed.

“He was in hiding to protect his family! And before that he was fighting in a war!” Sirius growled.

“They wouldn’t have the first clue what James did even if he was working,” Remus pointed out, trying to remain calm himself, which was becoming more and more difficult.

Marge said she expected it, calling him a no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger.

Snape’s voice bore into Harry’s head, not unlike Marge’s and he fought to stop himself from covering his ears like a small child. A second later he wished he had as Sirius finally completely exploded into outraged yelling. Most of which wasn’t even intelligible words, but incoherent, incandescent rage dotted with expletives that continuously had Molly screeching his name.

It took them several minutes, which was mostly the effort of Remus, to calm Sirius down enough for him to be removed to another room where he struggled to further calm himself down. Most of his rage wasn’t necessarily at the specific insults, Snape had hurled far worse during their school years, but at the build up of the entire week. Which is how long the reading of this chapter had felt like. And the knowledge that all of this was being said about a dead couple, two of his best friends, in front of their orphaned son. All of it had tried his last nerve, spiralling into a familiar black rage that had helped him get through Azkaban, along with the knowledge of his innocence and his need for revenge.

Eventually, Remus managed to get through to him that they needed to support Harry through his, and the thought of his godson was the final kick he needed to at least get himself under some semblance of control.

They made it back into the reading room, to find everyone else was still just as outraged as Sirius at what had been said, especially that it was in front of Harry.

Harry, who was curled up on the couch, practically forcing himself into a small ball that was rocking gently. The Weasley twins were on either side of him with Ron kneeling in front of him while the others all vented their anger at the Dursleys to each other. Sirius immediately felt a wave of guilt. He’d put himself and his own emotions ahead of his godson. Again. It was just incredibly difficult. For twelve years he’d only been allowed negative emotions. He’d had to force himself not to think about Harry, except in terms of guilt, lest the memories and happy feelings be taken from him.

It was why, aside from a few brief glimpses such as the road near the Dursley’s and the Quidditch game, Sirius hadn’t sought out Harry throughout the last year. He’d had a hard time allowing himself the freedom to dwell on positive things, as well as being terrified of how he would be received. He hadn’t known exactly what Harry had heard about him and it was easier to focus on his need for revenge, the main thing that had driven him to survive the last twelve years, than focus on Harry. It had been made worse by the dementor’s presence all around the school which had meant he hadn’t been able to really recover from his time in Azkaban. All year, despite being sort-of free, he’d still only been allowed negative emotions and he’d been forced to focus on his need for revenge to the exclusion of all else in order to survive.

At the shack, it had been clear Harry had heard and believed the worst of him, and it was easier to focus on Peter than the hurt he had felt at that, especially as he’d been struggling with the joy at finally getting a chance to actually talk to his godson for the first time. A few days in this room wasn’t anywhere near enough to even truly begin sorting through his issues, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty whenever he screwed up. He already had enough worries about being a good enough parental figure to Harry without having emotional breakdowns all the time.

He sat down beside Harry, moving twin one out of the way, and gently prised him from his curled-up position. To his relief, Harry came willingly and sank against him, hiding his face in Sirius’ chest. Ron gave him an approving nod and forced twin two to move so he could sit on Harry’s other side.

Eventually they all calmed down enough to retake their seats.

“Maybe someone else should read the rest,” Fred suggested. Ron nodded vigorously in agreement. Severus was more than happy to hand the odious task of reading to some other unfortunate soul, so held the book out to Filius who took it without complaint.

Harry stated that he was not. The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life. Vernon yelled for more brandy, having gone very white. He told Harry to go to bed.

“Bit late for that,” Tonks muttered angrily.

Marge disagreed, telling Harry to go on. She asked if he was proud of his parents. They had gone and gotten themselves killed in a car crash, she suspected they were drunk. Harry interrupted, saying they hadn’t died in a car crash. She screamed at him that he was a nasty liar and they had died in a car crash, leaving Harry to be a burden on their decent, hard-working relatives.

Everyone took a deep breath in an attempt to stop yet another outburst that they all knew was pointless, but they were all struggling with a deep-seated anger.

“No wonder Harry inflated her. She’s lucky that’s all he did, considering,” Kingsley muttered grimly.

“As long as I have plausible deniability, I’m tempted to look the other way if they hex her to Hogwarts and back,” Amelia replied.

“Harry’s the burden? Harry?” Ron spat furiously.

“If we use magic to place pranks, like shrinking keys and other annoyances but her memory is wiped of any knowledge of magic, is that allowed?” Fred wondered through gritted teeth.

“No. Definitely still illegal,” Arthur told him. “But any call outs to a muggle of the name Marge Dursley would be delayed for as long as possible.” Both twins grinned, but there was no pleasure in them. It was pure malice.

She called him an insolent, ungrateful little, but she stopped speaking halfway through. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger – but the swelling didn’t stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. Next second, several buttons burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls – she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami.

“Not bad. Better than she deserves but it’s a start,” Bill nodded. He was mentally going through all non-lethal yet inventively malicious curses he knew from Egypt that he could teach the twins.

Vernon and Petunia both yelled Marge’s name at the same time as her body began to rise off the chair. She was entirely round, her hands and feet sticking out weirdly, as she drifted up into the air making apoplectic popping noises.

“How come you’ve never done that to Snape?” Fred wondered suddenly. “That would be awesome!”

“It most certainly would not,” Severus told him icily.

“It wouldn’t be worth my life, doing that to Snape,” Harry pointed out.

“You didn’t do it to that thing on purpose, it wouldn’t be on purpose to Snape. I’m just curious as to how he hasn’t provoked you badly enough to get a response yet,” George said.

“Well, for one, he doesn’t have quite the same level of extended exposure to Severus that he did to that woman. For another, when he sees Severus, he is at Hogwarts and using magic frequently, which makes accidental magic less likely. Part of the reason accidental magic occurs in younger children, aside from the fact that they haven’t learnt control, is that they don’t use their magic as frequently, so it builds up. It then explodes out during a time of high emotions. Usually, once they are taught control, and begin using magic on a daily basis, outbursts become less likely, but still possible, particularly during summers when no magic may be used,” Filius explained. Hermione and Harry found his explanation particularly interesting, and even those that didn’t were just glad for something different to focus on for a few moments. Unfortunately, he soon continued reading.

Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly. Vernon yelled out ‘no’ while seizing one of Marge’s feet in an attempt to pull her down again. Instead, he was almost lifted off his feet. Ripper then leapt forwards, sinking his teeth into Vernon’s leg.

“Good,” George said vindictively.

Harry tore from the dining room before anyone could stop him, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as he reached it.

“Did you open that windlessly and wordlessly?” Bill asked, surprised. Harry stared at him and shrugged.

“It might just be residual magic from such a large outburst,” Filius mused. “But it’s possible it was focused magic, like growing his hair back after a poor haircut. That’s a lot more focused than usual accidental magic and may have been wandless magic.”

“We’ll test for wandless or wordless ability later,” Moody grunted, looking at Harry who just nodded helplessly.

In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door. He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenched up the loose floorboard and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents. He wriggled out, seized Hedwig’s empty cage and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.

A few people smirked in grim satisfaction.

He bellowed for Harry to come back and put her right.

“Like he’d do that even if he knew how,” Fred scoffed.

“Not a chance,” Harry agreed.

But a reckless rage had come over Harry.

Everyone winced. Thankfully, such a large outburst of accidental magic meant he was unlikely to have another one, despite how angry he was.

He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand and pointed it at Uncle Vernon.

“Harry…” Remus said uncertainly. He certainly thought the Dursleys deserved whatever Harry did to them but knew Harry would have felt guilty if he caused them any true harm.

“It was just a threat; I wasn’t going to curse him. Although mostly because I don’t really know any good ones,” Harry muttered.

“We’ll teach you,” Fred and George promised in unison.

“I’ll teach you plenty too,” Sirius vowed.

Harry stated that she deserved it.

Everyone nodded vigorously.

He repeated that she deserved what she got and warned Vernon to keep away from him. He fumbled for the catch on the door behind him. He added that he was leaving as he’d had enough. And next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig’s cage under his arm.

“That’s it,” Filius announced.

“Let’s take a break,” Minerva stated quickly.

They all broke up, going to vent their frustrations in their own ways. Sirius and Remus took Harry to another room. To their surprise, Harry didn’t seem particularly angry, just frustrated and more than a little depressed.

“Are you…stupid question. How are you…is there anything we can do to help?” Sirius asked desperately. Harry offered him a wan smile.

“No. I just…hearing it once was more than enough. Twice was particularly unwelcome. Especially Snape’s voice and then everyone getting so angry when they’ve never really cared before. They all just thought I was irresponsible or found it funny that I accidentally blew up my aunt. None of them ever asked why I’d done it, or cared. Now they are all angry on my behalf. It’s a lot.”

“That’s fair. You’ve been constantly let down by so many people, us included,” Remus sighed. “And I understand that seeing them all showing they care rather than just saying it and not proving it is a lot to take in. Hopefully, that will get easier with time. I’m confident that pretty much every person in that room does care and will make sure you are never in a situation like that again.”

“And if Snivellus ever starts on you or your dad in front of you I’ll hex him so badly he…” Sirius began, but Remus cut him off with a sharp glare.

They stayed in the room a while longer, talking about the most trivial things to distract themselves. It was a little over half an hour before they returned to the room. Most people were already back and seated, although there were still many smaller discussions going on.

As soon as they emerged, the Weasley twins and Ron were standing up and hurrying over. While they didn’t bombard Harry with questions as he thought they might, they did accompany them to the couch, sitting with them. Harry was between Ron and Sirius. George was on Ron’s other side while Remus was on Sirius’. Fred decided to sprawl on the floor by Harry, Ron and George. They began telling him about all sorts of curses and hexes that could be used on the Dursleys', Marge in particular. While he would likely never use any of them, it did make Harry feel slightly better.

Once everyone was back, Filius retook the book and turned to the correct page.

Chapter Text

Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk.

“I’m surprised you managed several streets with the weight of that thing,” Fred teased. “You are only little after all.” Harry stuck his tongue out.

“His trunk had wheels, or he wouldn’t have made it out of the garden,” Ron smirked.

“Be fair, he would have at least got to the end of his own street on pure rage,” Neville joined in.

“Nev!” Harry shot his dorm mate a betrayed look that made people laugh.

He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart. After ten minutes sitting on the wall his anger turned to panic. Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix.

“Seriously?” Sirius demanded. “Never? Not even when a basilisk had its fang in your arm?” Harry shrugged. He didn’t know how to answer that without reminding Sirius that he hadn’t minded the prospect of dying. Being potentially expelled from Hogwarts and forced back to the Dursleys forever seemed much worse of a fix than dying did to him, but he didn’t think his godfather would appreciate the explanation.

“You know teenagers are overly dramatic,” Bill put in to cover the awkwardness of Harry’s silence.

“It’s not just teenagers. So is Sirius,” Remus said dryly making a few people chuckle.

"And several other adults who should know better," Minerva added, glancing at Severus who sneered.

"Like you're any better on occasion," he retorted.

He was stranded by himself in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. Additionally, he had just done serious magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts.

“Ok, when we give out those letters, someone needs to explain to the muggle born and raised that accidental magic isn’t punished,” Amelia sighed.

“Harry was sent a warning for a house-elf doing magic. He’d still assume he’d be in trouble, accidental magic or not,” Percy pointed out grimly.

“But Amelia isn’t entirely wrong. It’s still something we should make sure they know, to prevent further situations like this,” Minerva said.

“’Like this’ meaning being dumped with abusive relatives who hate magic?” Fred asked.

“Well, yes,” she said slowly. “But also just for their peace of mind, even those not in as severe a situation as Mr. Potter may get stressed about performing accidental magic and being punished for it.”

“We need to add a basic wizarding knowledge class for first-year muggleborns anyway, for things that purebloods and magically raised students have grown up knowing. We can simply add this to the syllabus,” Pomona stated.

He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren’t swooping down on him where he sat.

“If you don’t do any more magic, they won’t be able to track you,” Fred told him with a grin.

Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent, wondering what was going to happen to him. He wondered if he would be arrested, or simply be outlawed from the wizarding world.

“And the severely overthinking his punishment is back,” George noted.

“It’s not exactly overthinking his punishment. I mean, it is because accidental magic isn’t punishable, but given the warning he got for Dobby’s actions, if Harry were blamed for this then he isn’t wrong. If he had performed the magic on purpose in front of a muggle who didn’t already know about magic, he would be expelled. Especially for a second offence. And as he hasn’t taken his OWLs, his wand would be snapped,” Kingsley said.

“They wouldn’t snap the Boy-Who-Lived’s wand,” Tonks scoffed.

“Harry wouldn’t know that,” her father reminded her. “So far, all his fame has brought him are extremes, where he is either a hero or vilified far more than anyone else would be. So, it’s not too much of a stretch to imagine this falling on the vilified end of the spectrum.”

He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sank even lower. Harry was sure that, criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now.

“Of course,” they said in unison.

“We wouldn’t let you go back to those people,” Ron continued.

However, they were both abroad, and with Hedwig gone, he had no means of contacting them.

“Yeah, that’s not good. But Hedwig is incredibly smart and seems pretty attuned to what you need considering she went to France to fetch you a birthday present. She’ll probably turn up soon enough,” Charlie said with a smile.

He didn’t have any Muggle money, either.

Everyone grimaced at that.

“Even if you’re going to be taken away from those people, it’s a good idea to get some money exchanged at Gringotts and always carry a little bit of magical and muggle money just for emergencies,” Bill advised. Several people nodded in agreement with that advice.

“Especially given how danger-prone you are,” Fred grinned. Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

He had a little wizard gold in the moneybag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune his parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London.

“You could take the Knight Bus, but I guess you don’t know about that,” Tonks sighed.

“I do now,” Harry grimaced.

“You’ve been on the Knight Bus?” Remus looked surprised.

“Yeah. I accidentally summoned it. I hate it almost as much as floo powder,” Harry grumbled.

“You summoned it accidentally?” Percy frowned. “How?”

“Tripped over my trunk and flung out my right hand to get my balance.”

“Well, it’s a good thing, at least this time. You’ll be safer on there than in the middle of a muggle street by yourself,” Amelia said.

He thought he’d never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London. Then he had an idea. He looked down at his wand, which was still in his hand.

Moody nodded approvingly.

He thought that if he was already expelled, a bit more magic couldn’t hurt.

“But you’re not expelled, so wouldn’t that be an issue?” Hermione wondered.

“There were likely already Ministry workers at Privet Drive and the proximity would mean it would be impossible to detect Harry’s magic while they were there using magic in the vicinity,” Amelia explained. “Once it was established that it was just a bout of accidental magic the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched.”

“Harry’s house was tagged as a high priority for any magic happening due to Sirius’ escape and lack of known whereabouts,” Kingsley added. “So, the response would have been faster than usual.”

“But Sirius didn’t have a wand?” Harry pointed out.

“He could have stolen one along the way. Or you might have used magic in self-defence. Either way, we would rather be prepared. Not that it helped in any way,” Amelia sighed.

“But accidental magic isn’t tracked the same way as wand magic. Why would it have registered?” Percy frowned.

“Because an outburst of magic that big in a muggle area, will register with the Ministry anyway, regardless of being wandless,” Kingsley told him.

He had the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father. He wondered if he could bewitch his trunk to make it feather-light and flew to London under the cloak.

“That’s…reckless,” Tonks grinned. “I like it.”

“Flying under the cloak would be almost impossible. Too much wind,” Sirius told him.

“But it is exactly the sort of thing Sirius and your dad would have done,” Remus shook his head, looking amused.

“You’d have been right behind us,” Sirius shot back. Remus couldn’t deny that.

“But only to stop you two from doing something completely stupid. You know I don’t like flying much.”

Then he could get the rest of his money out of his vault and begin his life as an outcast. It was a horrible prospect, but he couldn’t sit on this wall forever or he’d find himself trying to explain to Muggle police why he was out in the dead of night with a trunkful of spellbooks and a broomstick.

“Definitely not a good situation to be in,” Bill grimaced.

Harry opened his trunk again and pushed the contents aside, looking for the Invisibility Cloak – but before he had found it, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more. He felt a prickling on the back of his neck like he was being watched. Looking around, he saw the street appeared to be deserted.

“Good awareness,” Sirius smiled. “Sorry I freaked you out.”

“You were there?” Kingsley raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I didn’t intend to be seen, but I wanted to see my godson at least once before I set off to make sure Pettigrew couldn’t hurt him.”

“Barely even a handful of streets away and you found him already,” Amelia shook her head. “If you’d been intending to kill him nobody could possibly have gotten there in time.”

A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted. No lights were on in nearby houses. He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand.

“Good instincts,” Moody nodded approvingly.

“Why didn’t you show yourself and say something?” Harry asked in an undertone.

“Because I didn’t know what to say. I figured I’d probably scare you and honestly, even as a dog the rush of emotions at seeing you again after so long was overwhelming,” admitted Sirius quietly. Harry nodded.

He had sensed rather than heard that someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Harry squinted at the black alleyway. He wished it would move, so he’d know whether it was just a stray cat or – something else.

“Stray cat?” Sirius spluttered, trying to sound offended and inject some lightness into the mood.

“Well, you were kind of a stray,” Remus pointed out with a grin.

“Is there something wrong with cats, Mr. Black?” Minerva asked archly. He grimaced.

“Er, of course not. Cats are great,” he muttered as a few people chuckled.

Harry cast Lumos and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him.

“Almost blinded me there too,” Sirius grumbled, but he was grinning.

He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them, Harry spotted the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

Ron grimaced. Sirius had apologised and he understood why he’d done it, but he still shuddered at the image of a large dog eyeing up his best friend. The same dog that looked like the Grim that had charged right at him and dragged him away from his friends, breaking his leg.

Harry stepped backwards. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter. There was a deafening BANG and Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light. With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time.

“What?” Sirius yelped. “I didn’t realise you almost got run over!”

“It was fine. I got out of the way,” Harry assured him.

“Even with that, it’s still actually a good job Sirius was there. If he hadn’t caused Harry to accidentally summon the Knight Bus, who knows what would have happened,” Ted pointed out.

“We know. Harry would have tried his ridiculous plan of flying to London under his cloak. Which absolutely wouldn’t cover his broom and his trunk as well as himself,” Hermione said.

“Leaving the muggles to spot a flying broom and trunk with no rider,” George chuckled. Harry winced; he hadn’t thought about that.

A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights had screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying.

Sirius cringed at how close it had been. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine. No harm done,” Harry assured him.

They belonged to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windscreen spelled The Knight Bus. For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall.

A few people chuckled. “The Knight Bus does have that effect on people who’ve never seen it before,” Ted grinned.

Then a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night. He gave a speech, welcoming him to the Knight Bus, saying it was emergency transport for a stranded witch or wizard. He introduced himself as Stan Shunpike who would be the conductor, before cutting himself off.

“Really? Shunpike became the conductor for the Knight Bus?” Charlie asked interestedly.

“You knew him?” Harry wondered.

“Yeah. Vaguely. He was a Hufflepuff a couple of years below us,” Tonks explained. “He’d have been in his sixth year when you started Hogwarts, I think. So, he probably hadn’t been working with the Knight Bus for long. Massive gossip.”

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close to, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was, with large, protruding ears and a fair few pimples.

“He hasn’t changed then,” Tonks grinned.

He asked what Harry was doing down there. Harry told him he fell over and Stan asked what he did that for.

Several people sniggered, while others rolled their eyes.

“Definitely hasn’t changed,” Percy agreed. Shunpike had been a year above him at Hogwarts, but was well known amongst the prefects for being out after curfew, just wandering around the castle.

Annoyed, Harry stated he didn’t do it on purpose. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding.

Sirius winced guiltily.

He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over, and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus’s headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.

“I was still there; I’d just moved which is why I missed you almost getting run over. I didn’t leave until you were safely on the bus,” Sirius told him.

Stan asked what he was looking at. Harry explained there had been a big black thing, possibly a dog. He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s forehead. Stan asked him what was on his head.

“Wow. That has all the tact of Ron,” Fred snorted.

“Oi!” Ron complained.

“He’s not wrong,” George grinned. Ron glared at him.

Harry quickly said it was nothing, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn’t want to make it too easy for them.

“It’s impossible to track the Knight Bus properly anyway because it moves around too quickly,” Kingsley told him. “And even if it was trackable, nobody could get there in time before it moved off again.”

Stan asked for his name and Harry gave him Neville’s.

“Really? Me?” Neville asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Sorry, Nev. I couldn’t exactly give Ron or Hermione’s. You were the first person I thought of.”

“That would be a nice thought if you weren't doing it while hiding from the law,” Neville grinned.

He tried to distract Stan by asking if he’d said the bus can go anywhere. Stan answered that it could, as long as it was on land. They didn’t go underwater.

“Do you reckon someone has actually asked to go to an underwater location?” Fred wondered.

“Probably. It wouldn’t surprise me,” Bill laughed.

Stan was looking suspicious again as he asked if Harry had flagged them down. Harry quickly agreed and asked for the price to get to London. Stan told him, including the prices for extras such as hot chocolate, hot water bottles and toothbrushes.

“Don’t get the hot chocolate,” Tonks suggested.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “Found that out the hard way.”

“They usually put an anti-spill charm on their drinks, don’t they?” Sirius frowned, trying to remember.

“Yeah, but I know Stan,” Tonks told him. “And he’ll probably forget.”

“Even with anti-spill charms, it’s still almost impossible to drink anything on that bus,” Emmeline said.

Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag and shoved some silver into Stan’s hand. He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig’s cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus. There were no seats; instead, half-a-dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-panelled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered about pickling slugs before rolling over.

People chuckled.

“How is he sleeping on that thing?” Charlie wondered.

“Sleeping Draught probably,” guessed Ted.

“But then won’t he miss his stop?” Harry frowned.

“A small dose should be enough to let him sleep through the trip, along with a silencing charm for the noise, but would wear off after a few hours,” Andromeda stated.

Stan shoved his trunk under the bed right behind the driver, introducing him to the driver, Ernie Prang, who was an elderly wizard with thick glasses who nodded to Harry as he sat down.

“Nice bloke, Ernie,” Arthur smiled.

There was another tremendous ‘bang’, and Harry found himself flat on his bed having been thrown backwards by the speed of the Knight Bus. He pulled himself up and stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Harry’s stunned face with great enjoyment.

“It can be fun watching muggle born or raised people experience things like that,” Tonks nodded, grinning.

I love finding out about new things magic is capable of, but I keep getting tangled up in other stuff instead of enjoying it properly,” Harry sighed.

“We’ll make sure to show you plenty of cool stuff over the rest of summer,” Sirius promised.

Stan told him they were back where they’d been before they picked Harry up. He asked Ernie if they were somewhere in Wales and Ernie agreed. Harry asked how the muggles didn’t hear the bus and Stan contemptuously told him they don’t listen properly, or look properly.

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, looking affronted.

“Stan’s an idiot,” Charlie rolled his eyes.

“It’s a mixture of complex silencing charms that only affect muggles and muggle-repelling charms on the bus itself,” Filius informed them.

Ernie told Stan to wake Madam Marsh as they would be in Abergavenny in a minute.

“If the bus can appear like it did right in front of me then why can’t it appear right in Abergavenny, or wherever it needs to be?” Harry asked curiously.

“When the bus is summoned, the person holds out their wand arm and the bus can pinpoint the coordinates to apparate close to the magical person in question. If there is no magical signature to use then it can only make small jumps, no more than a hundred miles at a time, or use designated apparition points that have been set up by the Ministry and then it drives from there,” Arthur explained.

Stan passed Harry’s bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Harry was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous. Ernie didn’t seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel.

“In truth, it would probably be better if there wasn’t a driver and they let the bus drive itself,” Emmeline shook her head.

“It still needs direction to the apparition points even if it can drive itself for the majority of the time,” Kingsley reminded her.

The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn’t hit anything; lines of lamp posts, letter boxes and bins jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

“Handy piece of magic, that,” Fred noted.

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a travelling cloak. Ernie stamped on the brake, causing the beds to slide forward. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps.

“The Knight Bus is usually taken by those that can’t apparate, or people who get too sick to apparate or use the floo, but honestly a moment of sickness has got to be better than prolonged sickness of riding that thing,” Amelia said, shaking her head.

“Why does magical travel have to be so awful?” Harry complained. “I’ve never apparated, but it sounds awful, floo is terrible and the Bus really wasn’t much fun. Brooms are the only nice mode of transport I’ve found so far. Or those Ministry cars.” Several people chuckled.

“A mystery nobody has managed to solve,” Remus told him, looking amused.

Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut.

“Rude,” Draco commented.

There was another loud bang, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way. Harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he had been travelling on a bus that didn’t keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time.

Harry leant closer to Sirius, knowing that his conversation with Stan was coming up. Sirius was mildly surprised, while Harry accepted physical affection it was rare he initiated it, but didn’t comment, just squeezed his godson’s shoulders gently.

His stomach churned as he fell back to wondering what was going to happen to him, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet.

“The Dursleys, no, but the Accidental Magic Reversal Department managed it fairly simply,” Kingsley said.

“Shame really, they should have just left her,” Charlie snorted.

“Unfortunately, that would be a bit too hard to explain to other muggles,” Bill sighed.

Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

Sirius tensed, understanding now why Harry had moved closer a minute ago.

Harry exclaimed that the man had been on the muggle news. Stan chuckled, saying it was Sirius Black and asking where he’d been. When Harry’s expression remained blank, he gave a superior sort of chuckle before removing the front page and giving it to him. Harry read the article about Sirius.

Sirius grew grimmer and seemed to withdraw into himself as Filius read the article out. Seeing the expression on his face, nobody dared comment leaving the professor to finish the article without a single interruption.

Once he had finished, Harry looked at the picture, into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one.

“Excuse me!” Sirius spluttered, forcing himself out of his stupor and latching on to any smaller detail that didn’t make him want to cry or throw up.

“Good to know you did pay attention in your Defence classes,” Remus grinned. Sirius made a wounded noise and glared at his best friend.

“Well, it’s a good job we haven’t had any garlic if Mr. Black is a vampire,” Luna said, and she sounded so serious nobody could tell if she was joking or not. Sirius blinked at the young girl in mild confusion.

“Call me Sirius,” he told her automatically. “And I’m not a vampire.”

“Oh,” she sounded surprised by this revelation. “Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t sound it, but then again, you do have a rather large number of nargles around you so it’s no wonder you’re confused.”

“Nargles?” Sirius was completely lost. Luna opened her mouth to explain but Filius decided to keep reading and she closed her mouth, returning her attention to the book.

Stan, who’d been watching Harry read, commented that Sirius was a scary-looking thing. Harry asked if it was true he’d murdered thirteen people with one curse.

“Yet somehow only Pettigrew was blown to smithereens,” Sirius scoffed. “And I don’t know any curses that leave not a single trace of a being except somehow a finger.”

“That is an odd occurrence,” Kingsley agreed. “And should have been investigated. A single Priori Incantatem would have shown what spells you used, and as you say, no spell causes that kind of damage.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t care. Crouch had been after me for ages because of my name, then he had his excuse handed to him on a platter,” Sirius scoffed bitterly.

Stan agreed that he had, in broad daylight and in front of witnesses. He said it had caused a big issue and Ernie agreed. Then he looked at Harry and said Black had been a big supporter of You-Know-Who.

Sirius scoffed angrily.

Harry said Voldemort’s name without thinking causing Stan to go white and Ernie to jerk the steering wheel so hard a whole farmhouse had to jump out of the way.

Several people snorted in amusement.

“Only you, Harry,” Fred chortled.

Stan asked what he said his name for, and Harry apologised, saying he forgot.

“You forgot? Forgot that almost everyone in the wizarding world is scared of that name and wouldn’t dream of saying it out loud?” George asked in amusement. Harry gave a sheepish shrug.

“Yes?”

“Fred’s right. Only you.”

“You’re lucky that didn’t blow your cover,” Neville told him. “I’d certainly never say it.”

Stan weakly repeated that he forgot, then complained his heart was beating that fast. Harry turned back to Black being a supporter of You-Know-Who.

“Really? Stan complains once and you say ‘You-Know-Who, but me, your best friend, ask you not to and you ignore me?” Ron complained.

“Yes,” Harry grinned.

Stan agreed, saying it was said Black was very close to You-Know-Who.

“And how would you know that?” Sirius demanded grumpily.

“He doesn’t, he’s just talking rubbish,” Remus soothed.

“Rubbish you believed,” Sirius retorted. Then he winced. “Sorry. That was unfair.” Remus didn’t meet his eye but waved away the apology.

Stan continued that when little Harry Potter put paid to You-Know-Who, here Harry flattened his fringe again, all of You-Know-Who’s supporters were tracked down.

“Unfortunately, not all of them,” Amelia sighed.

He said most of them knew it was over and came quietly but not Black.

“What? Sirius didn’t even resist arrest, he was just laughing hysterically, how is that not coming quietly?” Kingsley frowned.

“Depends how loud he was laughing,” Fred smirked. Several people rolled their eyes at the lame joke but Sirius gave a light chuckle, glad someone was at least attempting to make a joke of this and keep the mood light.

Apparently, Stan had heard Black thought he’d be second-in-command when You-Know-Who had taken over.

“What rubbish!” Sirius scoffed yet again.

“We know, Sirius. But you know what the rumour mill is like, and the Daily Prophet at the time didn’t help,” Andromeda pointed out.

Stan told Harry how they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of muggles where Sirius proceeded to take out his wand and blast half the street apart, killing a wizard and twelve muggles.

Sirius ground his teeth furiously.

“Typical Stan, he loves gossip way too much,” Tonks said, shaking her head.

In a dramatic whisper, Stan asked Harry what he thought Black did next. Harry asked what and Stan told him Black had laughed. Even when reinforcements from the Ministry arrived, he just went with them laughing because he was mad. Ernie commented that if he wasn’t mad before, he would be after being in Azkaban. Those guards gave him the collywobbles.

“Those guards are evil,” Harry muttered angrily. He hated how much the dementors affected him.

Ernie said it served him right.

Sirius flinched.

“You know he doesn’t mean you personally, but the person responsible for everything. And he’s not wrong. If anyone deserves how horrible the dementors are, it’s Pettigrew,” Harry pointed out quietly. Sirius nodded.

Stan said they had a job covering it up with the whole street blown up and a dozen muggles dead. He asked Ernie what they said as a cover story and Ernie told him a gas explosion.

“The usual excuse for that kind of thing,” Arthur nodded.

“It wasn’t an excuse that time. Peter deliberately made the gas pipe explode, knowing how much damage it was cause and the distraction would give him time to transform and escape,” Sirius growled. “He planned everything, even down to the exact location.”

“Stupid rat,” Harry scowled.

Stan continued that now he was out and there had never been a breakout before. Then he said he didn’t fancy Black’s chances against the guards.

Sirius shuddered, thinking about the incredibly close call he and Harry had had not that long ago. It still pained him that Harry had had to be the one to save him, that he’d been completely useless. Of course, he understood why, but that didn’t make him feel any better about Harry almost getting kissed trying to save his useless arse.

Ernie told Stan to change the subject. Stan put the paper away reluctantly and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn’t help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights’ time, about having Harry Potter on his bus after blowing up his aunt while making a run for it.

“You do have the most spectacular stories told about you,” Fred grinned.

He, Harry, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black.

Several people snorted.

“I don’t think accidentally blowing up someone who completely deserved it is quite the same as murdering thirteen people,” Bill pointed out. Harry turned slightly red.

He wondered if inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban.

“No. Not even if you’d done it on purpose. You’d get a warning or potentially be expelled, but no prison for it,” Amelia assured him.

Harry didn’t know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone he’d ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone.

There were several nods at that.

Hagrid the Hogwarts gamekeeper had spent two months there only last year.

Harry scowled at that.

So did Amelia at the reminder of how Fudge had sent the man to prison, in a secret visit at night, without any evidence.

Harry wouldn’t soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid’s face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew.

Sirius and Harry pressed closer together and Remus moved so he was right next to Sirius on his other side, thighs gently touching, offering what little comfort he could.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and bollards, telephone boxes and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry’s pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen.

There were many eye rolls at this.

“Did he at least clean it up or give you another bed?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, he cleaned it, it was fine,” Harry told him.

“Did you get another one or just waste the money?” Draco wondered.

“I didn’t bother getting another one, I didn’t see the point and I completely forgot about it once I got off anyway.”

One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go.

“Almost nobody actually enjoys riding that thing. I don’t know how Ernie and Stan do it,” Tonks said.

“I dunno, riding around all day and night gossiping with people, seems exactly like Shunpike’s kind of thing,” Charlie pointed out.

Finally, Harry was the only passenger left. Stan asked where in London he wanted to go and Harry directed him to the Leaky Cauldron. Soon enough they were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus’s way. The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off, well, he wasn't sure where.

“Lie low? In one of the most popular pubs in the wizarding world where every person recognised you on your first visit?” Percy asked, frowning. Harry grimaced.

“Yeah, well, I’d gotten away with it with Stan and Ernie, so I kind of hoped I could just not be recognised for a bit.”

“You know your luck isn’t that good,” Ron scoffed.

“Yeah,” he sighed regretfully.

“Besides, even without Sirius on the loose, it would still be a big thing that you had run away from home and were missing,” Kingsley pointed out. “People would be looking for you.”

“I wasn’t used to people actually noticing if I was missing either, so it didn’t really occur to me that people would actually look for me. The only people that I thought would care weren’t in the country and didn’t know what had happened, as far as I knew.”

Ernie slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry thanked Ernie. He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the pavement. He said goodbye, but Stan was busy looking at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. A voice said Harry’s name and he felt a hand on his shoulder before he could turn around.

“Not even in the door and you’re busted,” Fred shook his head in feigned disappointment.

“Well, the arrival of the Knight Bus is hardly subtle,” Bill pointed out.

“I wonder how long Fudge had been waiting,” Harry mused.

“Probably most of the night. Once it was realised you were missing and untraceable, it was decided that someone should wait in locations you would be most likely to turn up,” Kingsley said.

“Someone didn’t have to wait at the Dursleys', did they?” Remus asked looking disgruntled.

“No. We did have someone stationed nearby, but it was made clear waiting in the muggles’ house wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Stan started shouting for Ernie to come over. Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt like a bucketful of ice had cascaded into his stomach. He had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself. Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them. Excitedly asking what Fudge had just called Neville. Fudge frowned, saying it was Harry not Neville. Stan shouted that he knew it.

“Seeing as Shunpike’s levels of intelligence have clearly not increased, I find that difficult to believe,” Severus sneered.

“We all know he didn’t have the faintest idea who Harry was, or he wouldn’t have been able to refrain himself from shouting it loud enough for even the sleeping passengers to hear,” Tonks rolled her eyes.

Stan continued yelling for Ernie, telling him to guess who Neville was before shouting that it was Harry Potter, and he could see his scar.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Minerva groaned. “That boy. Shouting about Harry Potter when it was believed a mass murderer was out there trying to kill him.”

“He never was the most…careful of students,” Filius reminded her as delicately as he could while trying to hide his own chuckles.

Fudge testily stated he was glad the Knight Bus had picked Harry up but now they needed to go inside.

“I know he probably just wants to get Harry off of the street, but considering Harry isn’t supposed to recognise him, he could do with explaining at least briefly, so Harry doesn’t think someone is trying to kidnap him,” Charlie said.

“If they wanted to kidnap Harry, I don’t think they’d be trying to take him into the Leaky Cauldron Charlie,” Bill rolled his eyes at his brother.

“Besides, Stan shouted that he was the Minister anyway, that should suffice until Fudge can get Harry somewhere safe and proper introductions are given,” Percy pointed out.

Fudge increased the pressure on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry found himself being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord. Tom asked if they wanted anything and Fudge ordered a pot of tea, still not letting go of Harry.

“Well, he is a flight risk,” Fred teased. Harry glared at him.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ernie appeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly. Stan asked Harry why he hadn’t told them who he was, still calling him Neville.

“Why is he still calling you my name if he knows you’re Harry?” Neville wondered in confusion.

“It’s Stan, who knows,” Tonks shrugged.

“What are the chances he’ll call me Neville if I ever travel by Knight Bus again?”

“Probably pretty high,” she grinned.

Fudge pointedly asked for a private parlour.

“I don’t think he will get the hint,” Draco sneered.

Harry miserable bade them goodbye and Tom beckoned them towards a passage leading away from the bar. Stan called out a goodbye to Neville.

Most of the room either chuckled or rolled their eyes at his antics.

Fudge marched Harry along the narrow passage after Tom’s lantern, and then into a small parlour. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room. He told Harry to sit down, which he did. Fudge took off his cloak, tossing it aside before sitting down opposite Harry.

“Ooh, a nice cosy chat with the Minister for Magic. Lucky you,” George said sarcastically.

“Yeah, the same Minister I saw send Hagrid to Azkaban without any evidence, was specifically waiting for me, probably about to punish me for using magic outside of school. I was thrilled,” Harry told him. George winced.

“Yeah. That must have been horrible,” Charlie sympathised.

“Honestly, it was mostly confusing. He just seemed relieved rather than angry and I had no idea why.”

Fudge introduced himself. Harry already knew this, of course, having seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father’s Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn’t to know that. Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry, and left the parlour, closing the door behind him. Fudge told Harry he’d had them in a right flap after running away like that. He’d started to think, then he cut himself off and said he was safe which is what mattered.

“Subtle,” Sirius snorted.

“Like the Minister for Magic himself would be worried about a single kid running away from home. Obviously, something bigger was going on,” Tonks agreed with her cousin.

“Something nobody but Mr. Weasley saw fit to tell me until much later,” Harry scowled.

Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate towards Harry, telling him to eat. Then he said he would be pleased to know that they had dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Marge.

“Ha! It was hardly unfortunate,” Fred scoffed.

“Unfortunate it didn’t happen sooner,” George agreed.

“Unfortunate she won’t remember it and won’t learn not to insult people’s family when her own are despicable,” Sirius corrected angrily.

He said that two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Marge had been punctured and her memory had been modified. She had no recollection of the incident at all.

“Shame really,” Bill mused.

“Maybe there’s a way to make her able to remember but never able to talk about it,” Fred whispered to George.

“That would be tricky to work out, but we could give it a try. We’d have to…” he moved so he was sitting on the floor next to his twin and they began scribbling on a piece of parchment making everybody slightly nervous, even if they weren’t the likely target.

Remus then moved so he was sitting next to Fred, right between Sirius’ legs and occasionally offered comments on whatever they were writing. It was a sight that scared the professors more than they would ever confess. The two generations of pranksters having a pranking war was one thing, working together was quite another.

He said there was no harm done.

“There was plenty of harm done!” Sirius hissed in outrage, his momentary pleasure at the sight of Remus helping the troublesome twins plan revenge on the muggles quickly evaporating.

Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favourite nephew.

Sirius scowled angrily at the comparison. First Lockhart had been described as paternal, now Fudge as some kind of uncle.

“Well, I only have one uncle and he sucks, so it’s hardly a favourable comparison,” Harry whispered to him, clearly sensing the direction of his thoughts. Sirius offered him a weak smile, but thoughts of Harry’s ‘uncle’ hardly helped put him in a better mood.

Harry, who couldn’t believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn’t think of anything to say, and closed it again. Fudge guessed he was worrying about the reaction of his relatives and stated they were angry but were prepared to take him back the following summer as long as he stayed at Hogwarts for the other holidays.

“And that didn’t raise any kind of alarm? For one incident of accidental magic, they refused to allow him back for school holidays?” Fred wondered, glaring around the room at the adults.

“Probably not. I expect they were all pleased I’d have to stay at Hogwarts, protected, rather than risk me running away again,” Harry muttered.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Fred told him. Harry shrugged.

Harry stated he always stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays anyway and he didn’t want to go back to Privet Drive ever. Fudge sounded worried when he said he was sure he’d feel differently after he calmed down.

Fred wasn’t the only one that scoffed angrily at that.

“You care so much about protecting him from the one who wasn’t even a real threat, you don’t give a damn about sending him back to the real monsters?” Ron asked. Although, a lot of his anger stemmed from the guilt he felt about his reaction to the whole fiasco.

“Does Minister Fudge know about the blood wards at the Dursleys?” Harry wondered. “Because otherwise this makes no sense. If the person after me wasn’t caught, sending me back to an unprotected muggle house that I’ve already been angry enough to run away from once hardly seems like a good idea.

“Fudge does not know the exact nature of the protections, but he is aware some exist,” Dumbledore stated.

“Why does he know that? Surely the Minister for Magic hardly involves himself in the protection of every student?” Fred asked, guessing Harry’s next question.

“He was made aware after Sirius escaped Azkaban,” Dumbledore stated. “He wished to know Harry was suitably protected.”

“Which he clearly wasn’t. Sirius found him seconds after he left, and that’s without the danger he faced in what is supposed to be his own home,” George pointed out.

“Something we didn’t know at the time. We did not know Sirius was innocent, or that he knew or would remember where Petunia lived. It was an oversight, but one that cannot be fixed now,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “We did the best with the information we had.” Several of the younger generation snorted at that.

Fudge continued that they were his family after all and he was sure they were fond of each other, very deep down.

Harry snorted.

“Not even Fudge was convinced of that,” Fred said angrily.

“Did he go to the Dursley’s house? I thought it was the Magic Reversal Squad or something? But why else would he be so doubtful that we were fond of each other?” Harry wondered, having just noticed this.

“Yes. The Minister was one of those alerted by the magic at your house and went to determine whether it was accidental magic, or Sirius was in the vicinity,” Amelia told him.

It didn’t occur to Harry to put Fudge right. He was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to him now. Fudge said that all that remained was to determine where he would spend the last two weeks of his holiday.

“Two weeks?” Sirius frowned. “But that Marge woman arrived on Harry’s birthday, which is the 31^st of July, and stayed for a week. So, it’s only around the 7^th or 8th of August when he got to the Leaky. There’s at least three full weeks to go before the 1^st of September, plus a few days,” he said, trying to do the maths out loud. Most of that time was still blurry to him and dates had meant very little to him.

“That’s a weird detail to get wrong, I was definitely in Diagon Alley for three weeks,” Harry said with a frown.

“So, whatever magic made these books can pull every single thought from Harry’s mind, but still forces us to reread a summary that he’s a wizard every single time and can’t work out there are four weeks in August, not three?” Moody grunted.

“Maybe it left out a week for some strange reason. Did anything special happen during your stay, Harry?” Arthur asked. Harry shook his head.

“Nothing I can think of. The first week was exactly like the other two.”

Fudge suggested he take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron.

“Another question, who paid for Harry to stay there for three weeks? Did you, Harry, or did someone else once again decide something for him and then use his own money to pay for it without telling him?” Sirius asked, glancing at Minerva who flushed.

“I didn’t pay for it,” Harry told him, frowning. “And they didn’t mention it when I went to Gringotts.”

“They wouldn’t, unless you specifically ask to see a statement of your recent transactions,” Bill informed him. “If the person who authorised the payment had the appropriate permission, the goblins wouldn’t bother informing you.”

“Another thing to get checked,” Remus noted. He wondered if Fudge had used his position to get Harry the room for three weeks, but he hadn’t demanded Harry stay, just suggested it. He was curious as to what the Minister would have said if Harry wanted to make other arrangements.

Harry interrupted him to ask about his punishment.

“Harry!” The twins and Sirius groaned in unison.

“If they don’t bring it up, you don’t ask about punishment!” Fred scolded, but he used a teasing tone.

“I didn’t want it hanging over my head. It made no sense to get that letter after what happened with Dobby and then have this completely ignored. If a punishment is delayed, then it’s usually worse later.” That made everybody scowl at the thought of the Dursley’s form of punishment.

Fudge blinked, surprised. Harry pointed out he broke the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry.

The trio of troublemakers all gave exaggerated winces that made Harry shake his head, hiding a smile at their antics. Remus was doing much the same.

Fudge cried that they weren’t going to punish him for a little thing like that. They don’t send people to Azkaban for blowing up their aunts. Harry felt this didn’t tally with his previous dealings with the Ministry of Magic. He pointed out that he had an official warning the previous year due to a house-elf and the Ministry had said he’d be expelled if there was any more magic there.

“And of course that didn’t register at all with Cornelius,” Amelia groaned.

“Not surprising,” Kingsley said.

Unless Harry’s eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward. He stuttered several times as he said that circumstances change, and they had to take into account the present climate. Then he said that Harry surely didn’t want to be expelled.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Amelia shook her head in disbelief. “All he had to say was that accidental magic isn’t a punishable offence. Instead, he acted like a guilty student caught by Professor McGonagall.” Sirius chuckled at that.

“I would have then wanted to know why Dobby’s actions meant I got a letter when it wasn’t even me,” Harry pointed out.

“Which would have led to him stuttering like an idiot anyway, when he should have investigated a rogue house-elf performing magic at a house they don’t work in. So, either way, he was going to bungle the whole thing, but this is still ridiculous.”

Harry agreed that of course he didn’t want to be expelled, so Fudge airily asked what all the fuss was about. He told Harry to have another crumpet and said he was going to find out if Tom had a room for Harry.

“There’s a good chance he just used his sway as Minister to get Harry a room then. Not many people rent rooms in the summer so Tom would be unlikely to lose business,” Kingsley stated.

Fudge strode out of the parlour and Harry stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he’d done? And now Harry came to think of it, surely it wasn’t usual for the Minister for Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic?

“Things would be much easier if people just told me what was going on,” Harry sighed in frustration. “It’s not like I was safer not knowing a supposed mass murderer was after me.”

Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper. He said that room eleven was free. Then Fudge told him not to wander into muggle London and to be back before dark.

“Reasonable restrictions in fairness,” Remus stated. “Regardless of Sirius’ movements.”

“It would have been cool to explore muggle London, but there was enough to keep me busy in Diagon,” Harry said.

“Diagon is a lot smaller than muggle London,” Arthur pointed out kindly. “And in muggle London, nobody would be able to help you get back to the Leaky Cauldron as muggles don’t even know the place exists unless they have a wizard family member.” Harry conceded the point.

He added that Tom would be keeping an eye on him for Fudge. Harry agreed before asking why. Fudge said they didn’t want him getting lost again. It was best they knew where he was.

“It’s bad enough they let a thirteen-year-old stay in a pub alone for three weeks with no proper adult supervision. I know Diagon is safe enough generally, but there are still real Death Eaters out there who could have hurt him,” Andromeda stated. “Although, sending him back to those people would be even worse.”

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak. He said he had to get going as there was plenty to do. Harry asked if they’d had any luck with Black yet.

Several people snorted at the sudden question.

“Bet Fudge loved that,” Sirius chuckled.

Fudge’s fingers slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.

“Idiot,” Moody grumbled.

Fudge asked what and then commented that Harry had heard. He said not yet but it was only a matter of time, the Azkaban guards hadn’t failed yet. They were angrier than Fudge had ever seen them.

Sirius shuddered violently at that. Remus leant back against his legs, offering his warmth and Sirius slid his fingers into his friend’s hair, focusing on the feeling of the silky strands on his fingers.

He held out his hand and Harry, shaking it, had a sudden idea. Harry asked him to sign his Hogsmeade permission form which made Fudge look uncomfortable.

“You asked the Minister for Magic for permission to go to Hogsmeade?” Neville asked, stunned.

“Figured it was worth a shot,” Harry shrugged.

“Unfortunately, he is neither your parent nor guardian,” Pomona pointed out.

He declined, saying he wasn’t his parent or guardian, but Harry pointed out that as Minister, if he said Harry could go, but Fudge cut him off saying that the rules were rules. Then suggested he might be able to visit the village the year after before saying it might be best if he didn’t. He wished him a pleasant stay and with a last smile and shake of Harry’s hand, Fudge left the room.

“At the rate he was going, I’m impressed he didn’t just blab anyway,” Tonks rolled her eyes.

Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry. He asked Harry to follow him, saying he’d taken his things up already. They went upstairs and Tom unlocked his room for him. Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe was Hedwig. Harry called her name, and she fluttered down to his arm.

“That is one smart owl,” Bill whistled.

“I’m guessing she’s a familiar rather than just a post owl,” Charlie mused.

“What’s a familiar?” Harry asked.

“A familiar is an animal that bonds particularly closely with a human. It allows them to be more in tune with each other’s emotions and needs. Only magical animals can form the bond, but it creates a connection between the two that could explain how Hedwig is so in tune with you that she flew to France to fetch a present for you. She’s definitely smarter than your regular post owl.” Harry smiled at the thought of having such a bond with his owl.

Tom said it was a smart owl Harry had, she’d arrived five minutes after Harry had.

Charlie, Harry and Luna all smiled at that.

Tom continued that Harry should ask if he needed anything. Then he bowed and left. Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absent-mindedly stroking Hedwig. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from blue to grey and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry could hardly believe that he’d only left Privet Drive a few hours ago, that he wasn’t expelled, and that he was now facing two completely Dursley-free weeks.

People frowned at the strange timing once more but didn’t bother bringing it up again. They didn’t have any more answers than before.

Harry told Hedwig it had been a very weird night. Then, without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep.

“That’s the end of the chapter,” Filius stated.

“Is everyone alright to continue?” Molly asked, eyeing Harry with concern. They all assented, so Filius handed the book to Pomona.

Chapter Text

It took Harry several days to get used to his strange new freedom.

“Kind of. I wouldn’t say I was used to it, even by the end of the three weeks,” muttered Harry.

“It must have been quite jarring,” Ted agreed with a kindly smile.

“Honestly, it’s a good job it was Harry in that situation, how many other teenagers his age could be trusted on their own in Diagon Alley for three weeks?” Kingsley mused.

“Dunno what you mean,” Fred grinned.

“We’d have been perfect angels,” George added. Several people snorted in disbelief.

Never before had he been able to get up whenever he wanted or eat whatever he fancied.

Several people grimaced at that.

He could even go wherever he liked, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as it was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Harry felt no desire to break his word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world.

“Maybe not in the world, but it does have some good hidden gems,” Bill said.

“Where’s your favourite place?” Harry asked interestedly.

“Obviously Egypt is up there, but honestly, Japan and Greece both have some absolutely fabulous shopping distracts,” he told Harry. What he did say was that all of those places were a lot less restrictive than Wizarding Britain. A lot of what was considered ‘Dark Magic’ here was perfectly acceptable in other places. Even the so-called ‘Unforgiveable Curses’ were legal in specific situations in Greece, where the Killing Curse could be used to end the life of those who were unable to be cured. If the only alternative was a slow, painful death, then it could be used by approved medical professionals, with permission from the patient or a minimum of two other relatives if the patient did not have the capacity to approve themselves. If they did not have two living relatives to make the decision, then the medical professionals could plead the case before an ethics board.

“Egypt was pretty awesome,” Charlie agreed. “Romania isn’t all that great for shopping areas. We usually just owl order anything we need.”

Harry ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where he liked watching the other guests, including dwarfs, warlocks and someone who looked suspiciously like a hag.

“Cool,” Fred whistled.

After breakfast Harry would go out into the magical alley. He spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly coloured umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing each other their purchases or else discussing the case of Sirius Black. One particular person stated they wouldn’t let any of the children out alone until he’s back in Azkaban.

“That poor kid. He’s gonna be waiting a while,” George said, shaking his head and grinning.

“Do you reckon that will still apply once they know Sirius is innocent or will that kid be grounded forever?” Ron mused.

“Once they know he isn’t a murderer, I’m sure it will be difficult to remain terrified of the boy who once cried because his hair was green,” Remus smirked.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I did not cry!” Sirius protested.

“Yes. You did. James changed his hair to Slytherin green because…oh I can’t even remember why now,” Remus chuckled. “And Sirius cried and moped for an hour before he remembered he was also a wizard and could turn it back.” Several people burst out laughing at that while Sirius pouted.

Harry didn’t have to do his homework under the blankets by torchlight anymore, so he sat in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour, finishing all his essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch-burnings, gave Harry free sundaes every half-hour.

“What?” Several people yelled out.

“Free sundaes every half an hour?” Tonks whistled, looking slightly jealous.

“Damn. I’m doing my homework there in the future,” Ron stated, almost drooling at the thought of that much free ice-cream.

“No, you are not,” Molly told him.

“But mum…” He moaned.

“No.”

Once Harry had refilled his money bag with money from his vault at Gringotts, he needed to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once.

“Well, that makes you better than most people your age,” Sirius chuckled.

“Including your father and Sirius,” Remus grinned.

“What do you mean?” Sirius spluttered.

“Your bike? The solid gold chess set, for a game you didn’t even play!”

“That bike was the best,” Sirius protested, though he didn’t comment on the chess set.

“You bought a solid gold chess set?” Charlie asked, looking at him like he was insane.

“It was my parents’ money,” Sirius shrugged. “I bought the most expensive thing I could find to piss them off.”

He had to keep reminding himself that he had five years to go at Hogwarts, and how it would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for spellbooks, to stop himself buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones.

“Ha!” Sirius grinned wildly. “Just like your godfather!”

“Merlin save us all,” Minerva muttered, but she was smiling slightly.

“Had you ever even played gobstones, Harry?” Bill wondered.

“No,” he admitted, “but it looked amazing.”

“I’m not surprised the thought of asking the Dursleys for money was a good deterrent though. That would be enough to stop anyone spending money,” Tonks muttered to Charlie who grimaced.

He was sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant he never had to take another Astronomy lesson.

“You would still need to attend your classes,” Minerva told him firmly.

“Although, honestly, could the school not invest in something like that, so we don’t have to take Astronomy in the middle of the night?” Hermione wondered.

“Given that the school apparently do not have the budget to replace the broomsticks, despite their condition, it would seem unlikely,” Andromeda stated.

But the thing that tested Harry’s resolution most appeared in his favourite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after he’d arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

All of the Quidditch fans sighed dreamily.

“The Firebolt,” Fred murmured, awed.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry edged his way inside and squeezed in amongst the excited witches and wizards until he glimpsed a newly erected podium on which was mounted the most magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life.

All of the Quidditch fans nodded in agreement.

One wizard was telling his friend it had only just come out as a prototype and a young boy commented to his dad that it was the fastest broom in the world. The shop proprietor told the crowd that the Irish International Side, who were favourites for the World Cup, had just put in an order for seven.

“It’s going to be brilliant,” Charlie said excitedly.

“I wonder if we’ll hear about it in the books,” Bill mused. Fred and George’s eyes lit up at the thought of knowing who would win before it happened and how much money they could make betting on it.

A large witch in front of Harry moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the broom, naming it ‘The Firebolt’. It then gave the details of the broom, ending with the price being available on request.

“It’s quite unprecedented to have three big new broomsticks out in four years,” Draco told Harry.

“Was the Nimbus 2000 new out in our first year?” Harry wondered.

“No. It came out the year before. It was released for the 1990 World Cup, but it was still the best in the market at the time.”

Price on request. Harry didn’t like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything so much in his whole life – but he had never lost a Quidditch match on his Nimbus Two Thousand, and he thought there was no point in emptying his Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when he had a very good broom already.

Harry sighed. He loved his Firebolt, of course he did. It was his first gift, that he could remember, from his godfather. But his Nimbus was his first ever broom. And there was something special about that.

Harry didn’t ask for the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt.

All the Quidditch fans nodded like this was a perfectly normal thing to do, while those who were less fond of the sport shook their heads.

There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy. He went to the Apothecary to replenish his store of potions’ ingredients. He also needed new robes as his were now several inches too short in the arm and leg.

“Are we sure? I mean, clearly this book plays a bit fast and loose with some details. Two weeks or three weeks…several inches or just a couple of inches,” Fred teased.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbled. Fred winked at him.

“I am curious…if you had so much free time to do whatever shopping you liked, how come you didn’t buy yourself some other clothes?” Tonks wondered. “Like, not your cousin’s hand-me-downs.” Harry flushed.

“I didn’t want the Dursleys asking questions. With magic stuff they wouldn’t dare look or know how much things cost. If I came back with new clothes they would notice immediately and want to know where I got the money for them. Or Dudley would find some excuse to ruin them,” Harry explained.

“And, honestly, what thirteen-year-old boy thinks about clothes shopping except in cases of absolute necessity?” Sirius wondered. Several people rolled their eyes at him.

“Ones who need to?” Andromeda pointed out.

Most important of all, he had to buy his new school books, which would include those for his two new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Harry got a surprise as he looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass which held about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters.

“Bet the manager loved having those in,” Bill chuckled.

Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

“Would an immobilising charm not be a good idea?” Tonks wondered.

“Probably. Depends how quickly it wears off,” Charlie said. “The book might be resistant.”

Harry pulled his booklist out of his pocket and consulted it for the first time. The Monster Book of Monsters was listed as the set book for Care of Magical Creatures. Now Harry understood why Hagrid had said it would come in useful. He felt relieved; he had been wondering whether Hagrid wanted help with some terrifying new pet.

Several people grimaced at that.

As Harry entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying towards him. He asked if Harry had come to get his new books for Hogwarts. When he said yes, the manager abruptly told him to get out of the way and put on a pair of thick gloves as he walked towards the Monster books’ cage.

“What? Why would he assume Harry needed that? It’s a Care of Magical Creatures book which isn’t a core subject. He had no reason to assume Harry is taking that class,” Emmeline pointed out.

“Seems a bit strange, but better prepared than not?” Charlie offered.

“There’s still no need to be rude. He could have at least asked if Harry needed that book before doing anything,” Andromeda stated.

Harry told him he already had one. The manager was relieved as he said he’d been bitten five times already that morning.

“Even if they are resistant, you’d think he could immobilise them while he took a single book out,” Bill frowned.

“Harry’s point of view saw him as a manager, he might not have been. Or maybe they didn’t train their staff properly,” Ted suggested.

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster books had seized a third and were pulling it apart. The manager cried for them to stop it, poking the walking stick between the bars and knocking them apart.

“Effective,” George said sarcastically.

He cried that he was never stocking them again and he’d thought he’d seen the worst when they had two hundred copies of The Invisible Book of Invisibility.

“A simple ‘Finite Incantatem,’ should have fixed that,” Tonks snorted.

“The biggest mystery is how he assumed Harry was old enough to take a third-year class,” Fred put in, grinning up at Harry.

“Shut up, Fred,” Harry grumbled.

“I’m not Fred, he is,” Fred protested.

“Yes. you are,” Harry told him. Both twins stared at him. They’d known that Harry had been able to tell them apart better than most of their family, but it stilled stunned them how casually he knew who was who, regardless of the tricks they played.

Harry told him he needed a book for Divination. The manager asked if he was starting Divination.

“Obviously,” Andromeda drawled.

He led Harry to the back of the shop where a corner was devoted to future-telling. The manager climbed a set of steps to retrieve a thick, black-bound book. Harry wasn’t listening to the sales pitch as he noticed a book called: Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming.

“Of course you’d spot that book,” Tonks chuckles.

“The cover had a Grim on that looked exactly like Sirius in the alleyway,” Harry explained.

“That’s pretty spooky,” Emmeline said.

The manager told Harry not to read it as he’ll start seeing death omens everywhere which would be enough to frighten anyone to death.

“It would have really helped if your animagus form didn’t look so much like the Grim,” Harry told Sirius jokingly.

“Sorry,” Sirius winced.

“But, hey, Trelawney had a great year,” Ron grinned.

Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar.

Sirius flinched.

The assistant pressed Unfogging the Future into Harry’s hands and asked if he needed anything else. Harry tore his eyes away from the book and said he needed the books for Transfiguration and the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three. Eventually, Harry emerged from Flourish and Blotts with his new books under his arms, and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where he was going and bumping into several people.

“You were that worried?” Sirius asked, concerned.

“I saw a creepy dog in the alley and then saw a death omen that looked exactly like it. I was freaked, but I got over it,” Harry shrugged.

He tramped up the stairs to his room, went inside and tipped his books onto his bed. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open, and sun was pouring inside. Harry could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind him, and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the basin. He defiantly told his reflection that it can’t have been a death omen. He had just been panicking and it was probably a stray dog.

“You tell that mirror, Harry,” Fred grinned.

He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat. The mirror told him he was fighting a losing battle.

Everyone chuckled.

“Even the mirror knows,” Tonks laughed.

As the days slipped by, Harry started looking wherever he went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near. Harry met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, his fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they, too, were ogling the Firebolt; he also ran into the real Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, forgetful boy, outside Flourish and Blotts. Harry didn’t stop to chat; Neville appeared to have mislaid his booklist, and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother.

Neville winced.

“It’s a wonder she didn’t just keep it herself and prevent that happening,” Emmeline muttered.

“I think that’s why she owled my Hogsmeade permission form,” he admitted. "

Harry hoped she never found out that he’d pretended to be Neville while on the run from the Ministry of Magic.

“She’d probably be fine with it. She’s probably prefer you as a grandson anyway,” Neville told him matter-of-factly.

Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he’d have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned. Ron and Hermione were sitting outside the ice-cream parlour, waving at him.

“We didn’t get those free sundaes,” Ron sighed.

“We were only there half an hour anyway,” Hermione pointed out. “We’d spent most of the morning looking for Harry.”

Ron told Harry that they’d been searching for him, and Harry said he’d gotten all his school stuff the week before. Then he asked how they knew he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron said it was his dad.

“Just because he works at the Ministry doesn’t mean he should know all about it,” Amelia sighed. She knew full well most of the Ministry loved to gossip, she didn’t like it, but it was a fact that wasn’t going to be fixed any time soon.

Hermione asked if he really blew up his aunt. Harry stated he hadn’t meant to while Ron laughed. Hermione told Ron it wasn’t funny, and she was amazed Harry hadn’t been expelled.

“He didn’t do it on purpose. I’d have thought you knew you don’t get expelled for accidental magic,” George said in surprise.

“I didn’t know it was accidental magic,” Hermione admitted.

“You thought Harry blew someone up on purpose? Harry?” Fred asked.

“I may not have known everything about his relatives, but I knew enough to guess it was possible,” she said, giving Harry a guilty look.

“Anyone in their right mind would want to blow those people up on purpose,” Sirius snarled.

Harry admitted he was surprised too. He had thought he was going to be arrested. Then he asked Ron if his dad knew why Fudge had let him off. Ron shrugged, saying it was probably because it was Harry.

“I assume you also thought he’d done it on purpose,” Charlie looked at his younger brother. Ron shrugged and nodded.

He continued that he’d hate to see what the Ministry would do if he blew up an aunt.

“They would do exactly the same if you had a case of accidental magic like that,” his dad told him.

“I know that now,” Ron said.

Then he said that they’d have to dig him up first and his mum would have killed him.

“If you’d done it on purpose, yes. If any relative had said such things to you as that woman did to Harry, it would be them the Ministry would have to dig up,” Molly stated firmly.

Ron told Harry he would be able to ask his dad that evening as they were staying at the Leaky Cauldron, including Hermione.

“I assume to keep an eye on me?” Harry asked, dryly.

“You’d been fine there by yourself for three weeks. It was more to escort you to the station the following morning,” Arthur told him. Harry nodded.

“It would have been awkward trying to get there myself,” he said.

Harry asked if they had all of their new school stuff and Ron showed off his new wand. Then he mentioned their books, saying the assistant had nearly cried when they wanted two Monster books.

“I bet he did,” Charlie snorted.

Harry asked about Hermione’s purchases, which spanned three bags to Ron’s one. Hermione pointed out she was taking more new subjects than them.

“Only three more,” Bill pointed out.

“I got some extra reading for them as well,” she said.

“Naturally,” George grinned fondly.

Ron asked what she was taking Muggle Studies for, and she said it was fascinating to study them from a wizarding point of view.

“It really won’t,” Tonks told her. “It’ll just be disappointing.”

“Yeah. I got that,” she sighed.

Harry asked if she was planning to eat or sleep at all that year while Ron laughed. Hermione ignored them both.

“I was actually concerned,” Harry told her. “And I was right in the end.” Hermione said nothing.

She stated that she had ten galleons, and her birthday was coming up so she could get herself an early birthday present.

Ron scowled.

Ron suggested a new book, but Hermione said she wanted an owl as both Harry and Ron had one. Ron protested, saying all he had was Scabbers.

Sirius, Remus and Harry all scowled as well.

“Stupid rat,” Ron grumbled.

He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket, saying he wanted to get him checked over as Egypt hadn’t agreed with him. Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers.

Sirius smirked slightly; glad his escape had at least had some effect on the rat.

Harry, who knew Diagon Alley pretty well now, told them where the magical creature shop was. They headed to the Magical Menagerie. There wasn’t much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering or hissing. The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Harry, Ron and Hermione waited, examining the cages.

“It’s not big enough in there. Most of those poor animals don’t have enough room at all,” Charlie frowned.

“Even magical space can only do so much, especially in an area like that,” Filius said ruefully.

“They are still well looked after,” Ted pointed out.

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise.

“Are they supposed to do that or is it a charm?” Harry wondered.

“It’s a charm. It has to be replaced every couple of years or so,” Filius told him.

Then there were cats of every colour, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-coloured furballs that were humming loudly, and, on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats which were playing some sort of skipping game using their long bald tails. The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter. He told her his rat had been off colour for a while. She told him to bang him on the counter.

“Should have taken her literally,” Sirius muttered.

Ron lifted Scabbers out of his inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better look. Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was second-hand (he had once belonged to Ron’s brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woe-begone.

“Yes, that rat certainly lived a long life,” Pomona said to herself.

“Was he not an unfortunate victim of Miss Granger’s cat this year?” Filius wondered. Everyone in the entire school knew about the rows between the two, and the cause.

“I believe so. But, like everything we’ve believed about these last few years, I suspect we might be wrong,” she replied. He nodded in agreement.

She asked how old the rat was and Ron replied that he wasn’t sure, but he had belonged to his brother.

“I found Scabbers when I was…seven?” Percy frowned, trying to remember.

“And you gave him to Ron before his first year, so you’re fifth year, making you fifteen? And then Ron had him for three years. That makes him about eleven years old?” Emmeline frowned. “That can’t be right.”

“Even magical rats shouldn’t live that long,” Charlie agreed.

The witch asked what powers he has.

“None,” Percy snorted.

“Aside from exceptionally long life,” Andromeda stated suspiciously, eyes focused on her cousin.

Ron hesitated. The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch’s eyes moved from Scabbers’ tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly.

Sirius sneered.

She stated he’d been through the mill and Ron defensively pointed out he had been like that when Percy gave him to him.

“He was like that when I found him,” Percy shrugged.

She told him a common garden rat couldn’t be expected to live longer than three years, but if he wanted something more hard-wearing he could buy one of the shop ones which were skipping again. Ron wasn’t impressed so she offered him a rat tonic. Ron started to ask how much when he broke off with a yell. Something huge and orange landed on his head, spitting madly, and launched at Scabbers. The witch yelled at Crookshanks, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor and then scarpered for the door.

“Wait, the first time you met Crookshanks, he tried to attack Scabbers, and you bought him?” George frowned.

“The witch said he’d been in there for ages as nobody wanted him,” Hermione said defensively.

Ron shouted for his rat, haring out of the shop after him; Harry followed. It took them nearly ten minutes to find Scabbers, who had taken refuge under a wastepaper bin outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ron stuffed the trembling rat back into his pocket and straightened up, massaging his head. He asked what it was, and Harry replied it was either a big cat or a small tiger.

Several people chuckled at that.

Ron then asked about Hermione and Harry said she was probably buying her owl. They made their way back up the crowded street to the Magical Menagerie. As they reached it, Hermione came out, but she wasn’t carrying an owl. Her arms were clamped tightly around the enormous ginger cat.

“You really bought a cat that attacked your friend’s pet?” Tonks reiterated George’s question.        

“He’s definitely not an owl,” Fred added.

“I just…he was an outsider, unwanted. I felt a kinship with him.”

“Still, it seems a bit rude to buy an animal that literally tried to maul your friend’s pet completely unprovoked,” Bill put in. “But, as long as you understand the issue and take steps to prevent problems it should be alright. Especially if he’s part kneazle and can be trained.” Ron snorted. Hermione glared at him.

Ron stated that she’d bought the monster. Hermione stated he was gorgeous. Harry privately disagreed, thinking he was bow-legged and his face was squashed like he’d run into a brick wall.

A few people snorted while Hermione turned her glare on Harry who put his hands up defensively.

Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione’s arms. Ron pointed out that the cat had nearly scalped him but Hermione just said he hadn’t meant to.

“He might not have meant to scalp Ron, but he did mean to attack Scabbers,” Bill pointed out.

“Why though? He must be used to seeing rats, there was a cage of them on the desk, right by Scabbers at the time,” Charlie frowned.

“Scabbers was out and not in a cage. Maybe he just knew he could get to that one unlike the ones in the cage,” Tonks suggested. They all shrugged.

Ron asked about Scabbers, pointing out that he needed rest and relaxation which he wouldn’t get with the cat around. Hermione stated he’d forgotten the tonic, handing it over to him, before saying Crookshanks would be in her dormitory and Scabbers would be in his.

Harry and Neville both snorted at that. They knew full well neither pet remained in the appropriate dormitory. Crookshanks had practically lived outside the boy’s dorm when Scabbers was in it and Ron after took his pet out to the common room with him.

“Pets don’t often remain in the dormitories. They will have to learn to share space in the common room at the very least,” Tonks pointed out.

“They certainly didn’t learn to share,” Fred commented, thinking on all the times he’d seen Crookshanks try to attack Scabbers. Which he now knew was Pettigrew. Could Crookshanks have known that? He must have done. He hadn’t tried to attack anyone else’s pet that year, that he knew of anyway.

She asked what the problem was.

“The problem is your pet just tried to attack his ill pet and you don’t seem to be taking the issue seriously,” Bill frowned. “If your plan is just to keep the two in separate dormitories, that’s not going to work, neither of you are likely to stick to that and it’s hardly fair to keep a cat in just one dormitory. So, you need to put a different plan in place.”

She continued that the witch had said Crookshanks had been in there for ages as nobody wanted him. Ron sarcastically said he wondered why. They made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron and found Mr Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet. He greeted Harry, asking how he was. Harry said he was fine.

Mr Weasley put down his paper, and Harry saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at him.

Sirius scowled as he was brought up yet again.

Harry guessed they still hadn’t caught him. Mr. Weasley said no, and they’d all been pulled off their regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him.

“Really? But surely they can’t have expected you to be searching for a supposed mass murderer? That’s Auror work, hardly something most of the staff should be doing,” Emmeline frowned.

“We weren’t actively out searching for him, but we were all trying to contribute to finding him. For example, Perkins and I were providing information and monitoring on muggle transport that he might have been using, as we thought he didn’t have a wand. That sort of thing,” Arthur explained.

Ron asked if they would get a reward for catching him as it would be good to get more money. Mr. Weasley, who was looking rather strained, told him not to be ridiculous.

Arthur gave a wry half-smile at Harry’s perceptiveness.

He stated that Black wasn’t going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard.

“Actually, of everyone who had a chance of catching me, it would be Harry,” Sirius said, forcing a grin.

It would be the Azkaban guards that got him back.

Sirius shuddered.

“Well, your words are marked, dad,” Fred smirked. Arthur chuckled slightly.

At that moment Mrs Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts, the newly elected Head Boy, Percy, and the Weasleys’ youngest child and only girl, Ginny. Ginny who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life during their last term at Hogwarts.

Ginny blushed furiously.

She went very red and muttered ‘hello’ without looking at him. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and greeted him. Harry tried not to laugh as he greeted Percy in return. Percy pompously said he hoped Harry was well which made him feel like he was being introduced to the mayor.

It was Percy’s turn to flush.

Harry replied he was very well but was interrupted by Fred who elbowed Percy out of the way and bowed deeply. He said it was simply splendid to see him. George then pushed Fred aside, cutting his twins off and agreeing it was absolutely spiffing to see him while shaking Harry’s hand.

Most of the room chuckled at the twins’ antics.

“Honestly boys, Percy was just being polite,” Molly told the twins.

“We know. We were being polite too,” Fred grinned. Percy rolled his eyes.

Percy scowled.

Fred rolled his eyes.

Mrs Weasley told them that was enough, but Fred greeted her as if he’d only just spotted her, shaking her hand as well, saying it was corking to see her.

There were more chuckles.

Mrs Weasley repeated that it was enough and then greeted Harry after putting her shopping down. She said she supposed he’d heard their exciting news and pointed to the badge on Percy’s chest, saying he was the second head-boy in the family. Fred muttered that he would be the last. Mrs Weasley said she didn’t doubt that.

“That’s a little harsh. Ron could still be in the running,” Bill pointed out. Privately, he thought it highly unlikely his brother would be head-boy without some major growing up and leaving his lazy habits behind, but anything was possible in the next four years. He knew neither of the twins would be, but they wouldn’t want it either.

Molly nodded and apologised to her youngest son.

She added that the twins hadn’t been made prefects.

“Of course not. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to make both twins prefects, there’s only one per year, and how would you pick between the two?” Charlie said. Molly pursed her lips but said nothing.

George asked why they would want to be prefects as it would take all the fun out of life.

“Exactly!” Sirius agreed.

“Really? I don’t recall the fun being taken out of things because I was a prefect,” Remus muttered.

“You were a wet blanket anyway,” Sirius teased.

“A wet blanket who made sure most of your insane ideas would actually work,” he retorted. Sirius just grinned.

Ginny giggled. Mrs Weasley told them to set a better example for their sister.

“We’re setting an example of how to have fun,” George said.

Percy loftily put in that Ginny had other brothers to set her an example.

The twins both snorted. They knew full well that Ginny did not take after Percy in pretty much any way. Bill was disagreed, although not outwardly. He might not have spent much time with his younger sister, given that he’d been at Hogwarts for most of her life and then left for Egypt when she was seven, but even he knew she took after the twins more than most of her other brothers.

He disappeared to change for dinner and George heaved a sigh. He told Harry they had tried to shut him in a pyramid, but their mother spotted them.

“You did what?” Bill asked, glaring at the twins. “I told you those tombs were dangerous. You could have seriously hurt Percy.”

“It was one of the ones you’d told us was clear and safe. We just wanted him to shut up about being head boy for a bit, not to hurt him,” George said defensively. Bill relaxed marginally at that, but he was still unhappy.

“Still, those pyramids are not to be messed around with. Just because they’ve been cleared and declared safe doesn’t mean you should be messing about. Something could have been missed, or you could have gotten the wrong tomb.”

“We wouldn’t have put him in the wrong tomb,” Fred scoffed.

“You shouldn’t have been shutting anyone in any tomb,” Molly scolded them angrily.

“Sorry, Perc,” they muttered in unison.

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlour and the seven Weasleys, Harry and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses. Fred asked how they were getting to King’s Cross the next morning and Mr. Weasley told him the Ministry was providing cars which caused everyone to look at him. George seriously said that it was because of Percy. There would be flags on the bonnet with HB on them. Fred chimed in that it would stand for Humungous Bighead.

“Fred! George!” Molly scolded. They both smirked.  

“Honestly guys, you’d think you’d know that a joke isn’t funny if it’s repeated too often,” Charlie told them. “Lay off.”

“We can’t do anything about it now,” Fred reminded him.

Everyone except Percy and Mrs Weasley snorted into their pudding.

“I love how that implies Arthur snorted into his pudding as well,” Remus muttered to Sirius quietly. Sirius barked out a surprised laugh at that.

Percy asked why the Ministry was providing cars. Mr. Weasley told him that they were doing him a favour as he worked there and no longer had a car.

“So, I assume it’s because of Harry then,” Kingsley said. He knew there was no way the Ministry would ‘do Arthur a favour’ and loan him multiple cars just to get to the platform.

“Yes,” Arthur admitted.

His voice was casual, but Harry couldn’t help noticing that Mr Weasley’s ears had gone red, just like Ron’s did when he was under pressure.

Arthur shook his head at Harry’s observations once more.

Mrs Weasley cut in saying it was a good job as they had so much luggage, they’d be a nice sight on the Muggle Underground.

Harry and Hermione both winced at the idea of all nine of them trying to get to King’s Cross on the Underground.

She asked if they were all packed. Percy told her Ron wasn’t as he’d dumped his new things on Percy’s bed.

“Thanks for that, Perc,” Ron muttered grumpily.

Mrs Weasley told Ron to pack properly as they wouldn’t have much time in the morning.

“That is a good point,” Bill nodded, knowing how chaotic it was on Hogwarts day.

“If you pack the night before you can sleep in longer in the morning,” Tonks pointed out with a grin. Ron nodded thoughtfully.

“You would know,” Andromeda sighed.

Ron scowled at Percy. After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Ron and Percy were next door to Harry. He had just closed and locked his own trunk when he heard angry voices through the wall, and went to see what was going on. The door of number twelve was ajar, and Percy was shouting that it had been right there on his bedside table. Ron protested he hadn’t touched it. Harry asked what was going on and Percy rounded on him, saying his Head Boy badge had gone.

“And you thought Ron had taken it? Had Ron ever done something like that before?” Charlie asked with a frown.

“Well, no. But nobody else had been in the room,” Percy pointed out.

“That you noticed,” Bill said, eyeing the twins.

Ron added that Scabbers’ tonic was also missing. He thought it might be downstairs, but Percy yelled that he wasn’t going anywhere until his badge was found.

“Considering how much you’d been wearing it, maybe you should have searched for both downstairs,” Ted suggested.

“I knew it had been on my bedside table. I hadn’t worn it to dinner,” Percy shook his head.

Harry offered to get the tonic as he was already packed.

Arthur sighed.

Harry went downstairs and was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlour. A second later, he recognised them as Mr and Mrs Weasley’s.

Most people looked at the pair in surprise.

He hesitated, not wanting them to know he’d heard them rowing, when the sound of his own name made him stop, then move closer to the parlour door.

“Harry!” Molly and Hermione scolded.

“He overheard his best friend’s parents arguing and his name came up. Most people would eavesdrop on that,” Draco pointed out. He certainly would have done. Quite a few of the younger generation nodded in agreement.

“I’m going to guess Sirius is about to come up again,” Remus said.

Mr. Weasley was saying that it made no sense not to tell him. Harry had a right to know, which he’d tried to tell Fudge but the Minister insists on treating Harry like a child.

“He is a child,” Molly frowned.

“He hasn’t been a child in a long time,” Sirius told her grimly.

He continued that Harry was thirteen, but Mrs Weasley cut across him, saying the truth would terrify him. Did he really want to send Harry back to school with it hanging over him. He was happy not knowing.

“Not really. I’d rather know and be prepared. Even if Sirius had been after me, I already knew Voldemort wanted to kill me. He’d tried twice. Sirius could hardly be any scarier than that,” Harry pointed out.

“And he’d escaped from Azkaban, something nobody else has ever done. If they were concerned enough to put those horrible things around the school, clearly someone thought he would break into Hogwarts, which he managed to do multiple times! Harry should have been prepared not left in the dark,” Fred stated, backing Harry up. Harry smiled at him gratefully.

Mr. Weasley stated he didn’t want to make Harry miserable, he wanted to put him on his guard. She knew what Harry and Ron were like, wandering off by themselves and having been in the Forbidden Forest twice.

“Technically, I’ve only been in there once,” Ron corrected his dad.

He continued that Harry couldn’t do that this year. Arthur was prepared to bet that if the Knight Bus hadn’t picked Harry up, he would have been dead before the Ministry found him.

“The Ministry didn’t really ‘find’ him. Harry pretty much walked into Fudge in a fairly obvious place to wait for him,” George pointed out.

“I wouldn’t be betting if I were you, dad,” Fred grinned. “First you wanted your words marked and now this bet.” Arthur chuckled lightly.

Molly replied that he wasn’t dead. Arthur stated they Sirius Black was supposedly mad, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, which was supposed to be impossible. It had been three weeks, and nobody had seen him.

“Three weeks? I guess that extra week is missing again for some reason. It had been four weeks, because Harry had been in Diagon Alley for three weeks, and Sirius escaped at least a week before,” Charlie pointed out.

“He escaped almost exactly a week before. He escaped on the day before Harry’s birthday, which was made everyone even more worried. We thought the date was too much of a coincidence,” Kingsley stated.

“Honestly, I didn’t have a real clue of the date. I saw the date on the newspaper Fudge had given me, but other than that I didn’t have much of a sense of time,” Sirius admitted.

He continued that they were no closer to finding him than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing they knew for sure was what Sirius was after.

Sirius snorted.

Mrs Weasley said Harry would be perfectly safe at Hogwarts. Mr Weasley disagreed, saying they’d thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black could escape there, he could break into Hogwarts. Mrs Weasley argued that nobody was sure Black was after Harry. Harry heard a thump as if Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table. He reminded her that they hadn’t reported it to the press, but Black had been talking in his sleep for a while before his escape, saying ‘he’s at Hogwarts’.

“Yeah. There can’t be that many people at Hogwarts Sirius would be thinking about,” Andromeda said, frowning at her cousin.

“He’s my godson, of course I was thinking of him,” Sirius shrugged, giving nothing away.

Mr. Weasley continued that Black was deranged and wanted Harry dead.

Sirius winced.

He suspected that Black thought murdering Harry would bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black had lost everything the night Harry had stopped him and he’d had twelve years in Azkaban to brood on that.

“That much is true at least,” Sirius muttered bitterly.

There was a silence. Harry leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more. Mrs Weasley said he had to do what he thought was right, but he was forgetting Albus Dumbledore. She didn’t think anything could hurt Harry while Dumbledore was headmaster.

“Really?” Andromeda asked her in disbelief. “He’s almost died far too many times in that school under the headmaster’s watch.”

“All of those troubles were already inside the school,” Molly pointed out.

“Sirius broke into the school multiple times and even made it into Harry’s dormitory. If he had wanted to kill Harry, he could have done. Easily. Even under Dumbledore’s watch,” Remus stated grimly. “He might not have known about Sirius’ animagus form, or even that he knew about the secret entrances to the school, but the fact still remains Harry could have been killed once more. Hogwarts simply isn’t as safe as people believe.”

“Something we will be using these books to remedy,” Minerva stated firmly.

She assumed Dumbledore knew about all of it. Mr. Weasley agreed and said they had to get his agreement to station the Azkaban guards at the entrances to the school, which he wasn’t happy about but agreed to.

All of the students shuddered at that.

“It was horrible,” Neville muttered.

“Going past them every time, you wanted to go to Hogsmeade. And the stupid Quidditch game,” Fred agreed, eyeing Harry with concern.

Mrs Weasley wondered why he wouldn’t be happy if they were there to catch Black.

“Because having those awful guards around a school, full of children, was a terrible thing,” Minerva stated grimly. All of the teachers and students nodded in agreement.

Mr. Weasley told her Dumbledore wasn’t fond of the guards.

“Nobody is fond of those guards,” Amelia stated.

“Good point,” Arthur agreed.

He continued that he wasn’t fond of them either, but when dealing with a wizard like Black, you had to join forces with those you’d rather avoid. Mrs Weasley started that if they save Harry, but he cut across her saying if they did, he’d never say another word against them.

“Save me?” Harry snorted. “They almost killed me and almost sucked out my soul more than once over the course of the year. They did more damage than anyone else that year.”

“What?” Molly and Arthur asked at the same time.

“Er…long story?” He grimaced.

Eventually, he suggested they go to bed. Harry heard chairs move. As quietly as he could, he hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlour door opened, and a few seconds later footsteps told him that Mr and Mrs Weasley were climbing the stairs. The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. Harry waited until he heard Mr and Mrs Weasley’s bedroom door close, then headed back upstairs with the bottle. Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron’s room in the search for his badge. Fred whispered that they had it and had been improving it. The badge now read Bighead Boy.

Percy rolled his eyes at the twins. “Sorry Ron, for falsely accusing you.”

“It’s fine,” Ron muttered after a few moments of surprise.

Harry forced a laugh, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut himself in his room and lay down on his bed. So, Sirius Black was after him. That explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He’d made Harry promise to stay in Diagon Alley where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on him. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take them all to the station tomorrow, so that the Weasleys could look after Harry until he was on the train.

“All that fuss for lil ol’ me. I should be flattered,” Sirius said lightly, trying not to dwell on how much he hated every minute of this.

“You did always like being centre of attention,” Remus chuckled.

Harry lay listening to the muffled shouting next door and wondered why he didn’t feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr and Mrs Weasley obviously thought Harry would be panic-stricken if he knew the truth. But Harry happened to agree whole-heartedly with Mrs Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be.

Several people stared at Harry like he’d lost his mind.

“Were you not at the same Hogwarts we’ve been reading about in these books?” Bill asked him in astonishment.

“Well, yeah, but where else would I have been safer?” Harry asked.

“That is a good point,” Emmeline put in. “It’s not like there are many other options. Unless you consider his relatives where the wards are. Other than that, it’s pretty much Hogwarts or nowhere.”

People always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of. He thought that Black, as Voldemort’s right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him. And then there were the Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around the school, Black’s chances of getting inside seemed very remote.

“Not really. He’d already gotten past them once,” Draco reminded him. Harry shrugged.

No, all in all, the thing that bothered Harry most was the fact that his chances of visiting Hogsmeade now looked like zero.

“Of course that’s your biggest concern,” Fred chuckled.

“It was a big thing. All of my friends were able to go and I didn’t want to be left behind because my relatives suck and now crazy dude was after me.”

“Hey!”

Nobody would want Harry to leave the safety of the castle until Black was caught; in fact, Harry suspected his every move would be carefully watched until the danger had passed.

“Yet, clearly, not carefully enough,” Severus drawled.

He scowled at the dark ceiling. Did they think he couldn’t look after himself? He’d escaped Lord Voldemort three times, he wasn’t completely useless.

“It’s not a case of you being useless,” Kingsley pointed out. “It’s that you shouldn’t have to look out for yourself if the adults in your life did their jobs.”

“Besides, you’re no match for me, pup.”

“Really? I seem to recall differently,” Harry grinned at him. Sirius pouted.

Unbidden, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed his mind. What to do when you know the worst is coming. Out loud, he stated firmly that he wasn’t going to be murdered. The mirror sleepily said that that was the spirit.

A few people chuckled at that.

“That’s it for the chapter,” Pomona announced.

“We have time for a couple more yet,” Minerva said. She took the book from Pomona and began reading.

Chapter Text

Tom woke Harry the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

“Ron, you could at least knock. You hate it if any of us barge into your room without knocking first,” Percy rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine. We share a dorm,” Harry shrugged.

He commented that the sooner they got on the train the better, as he would be able to get away from Percy at Hogwarts. He had accused Ron of dripping tea on a photo of his girlfriend who had hidden her face under the frame because her nose had gone blotchy.

"Did you spill tea on the picture? Even accidentally?" Bill asked his brother casually.

"It was Percy's fault!" Ron exclaimed. "I was moving his cup of tea so I could get my books and he bumped into me. A couple of drops fell on the picture, and he was yelling like I did it on purpose."

"It's the only good picture I had of Penny," Percy frowned.

"Well, you shouldn't have put your cup of tea on my books right next to the picture then," Ron replied.

"If you're stuff didn't take up every available surface I wouldn't need to," retorted Percy.

"Enough boys," Molly cut in. "Percy, it sounds like it was an accident. It was easy to fix. Ron if you'd packed your things away the night before as I told you to, then it might not have happened."

Harry said he had something to tell Ron, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

Percy rolled his eyes.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she’d made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.

"Love potions are hardly funny items," Severus muttered.

"You brewed love potions?" Charlie asked his mother in astonishment at the same time.

"Just the one. I never gave it to anyone," Molly said, blushing lightly.

"I should think not," Minerva stated sternly.

"Love potions are terrible things. I've never understood how the magical world treats them so casually," Ted put in.

"Most don't do anything more than cause an infatuation," Fred shrugged. "And they wear off after a couple of hours. The strong ones are illegal."

"Infatuation can be dangerous too," Hermione pointed out.

Ron asked Harry what he'd been saying. Harry said he'd tell him later as Percy stormed in. Harry had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron’s narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy’s screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly. Hermione cooed that she'd let him out on the train.

"In a small train compartment with the same rat he's already tried to attack?" Tonks asked dubiously.

"It's not fair to keep him caged the whole way to Hogwarts," Hermione protested.

"It's also unfair to Ron's ill pet if his friend’s cat tries to attack him again," Bill pointed out.

"Crookshank's basket should be enchanted to be comfortable for him despite the small space. Most travel cages have extension charms to give them more space inside as well as temperature regulation charms," Charlie explained.

"Crookshank's travel basket certainly didn't have any of that on. I didn't know it was an option either," Hermione frowned.

"That's unusual. You must have gotten a fairly poor shop assistant if they didn't even let you know it was an option," said Neville.

"Maybe you could trade off then. Keep Crookshanks in his travel basket for some of the journey and Scabbers in his cage for the rest. That way they both get some time stretching out," suggested Ted. Ron and Hermione both flushed. Hermione wanted to point out that Crookshanks was a cat and needed more room than Scabbers had, especially seeing as the rat spent most of his time asleep and wouldn't care if he was in a cage or not, but she knew it wasn't an argument she would win right now. Besides, it was still strange thinking about Scabbers the rat, knowing he was also Peter Pettigrew.

Ron said she wouldn't, asking about poor Scabbers. He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket. Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside and said the cars were there. Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet. Mr. Weasley told Harry to get in, glancing up and down the crowded street.

"Subtle, Arthur," Kingsley teased.

"At least some was looking out for Harry," Sirius said.

Harry got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron’s disgust, Percy. The journey to King’s Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry’s trip on the Knight Bus.

“I should hope so,” Arthur smiled lightly.

The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though Harry noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon’s new company car certainly couldn’t have managed.

“Very handy,” Ted mused.

“If the Ministry have magical cars, why was it so bad that Mr. Weasley enchanted one?” Harry asked, confused.

“Essentially because he enchanted it to fly, which muggle cars do not do. The enchantment to enhance the space inside wouldn’t have been illegal, nor the charms on the Ministry Cars to get through traffic a little quicker. Flying, even with an invisibility booster, which obviously can fail, is too noticeable,” Remus put in quickly, keeping his explanation simple before Hermione or the Ministry workers could spend half an hour or more on the topic.

They reached King’s Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights. Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry’s elbow all the way into the station. He suggested they go in pairs and that he would go first with Harry.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Sirius smiled. It was still painful to dwell on the fact that Arthur had thought he was protecting Harry from him, but he appreciated someone looking out for his godson, nonetheless.

Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry’s trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him. In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Everyone smiled slightly at that. They all loved Hogwarts, and the Hogwarts express was part of that experience.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run. Percy spotted Penelope and started smoothing his hair down. Ginny and Harry had to look away from each other to avoid laughing as Percy walked towards her, chest out so she’d see his badge.

Percy blushed.

“Did Penny get Head Girl?” Bill wondered. He recalled she’d also been a prefect the year before.

“Yes,” Percy smiled proudly.

Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Harry and Ron led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.

Harry flushed while Molly smiled a little sadly to herself.

She told Harry to take care, eyes oddly bright. Then she began handing out sandwiches.

“Did I get everyone’s right this year?” Molly asked worriedly.

“Yeah, at least mine were chicken, which is my favourite,” Ron assured her.

“Ours were great too,” George said while Percy nodded in agreement.

“Oh good,” she said, relieved.

Mr. Weasley asked Harry to come with him over to a nearby pillar, leaving the others crowded around Mrs Weasley.

“You told him?” Emmeline asked.

“Yes. I didn’t feel right letting him go off to Hogwarts completely unprepared,” Arthur admitted.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled.

He said there was something Harry should know, and Harry admitted he already knew. Mr. Weasley was stunned, asking how he could know. Harry confessed to overhearing the conversation the night before.

“It’s like we’ve taught you nothing,” Fred shook his head sadly.

“Never confess,” Sirius agreed.

Harry apologised and Mr. Weasley anxiously stated it wasn’t how he would have chosen for Harry to find out.

“Honestly, it was probably better like that than finding out right before getting on the train. At least I had the night to think it over,” Harry shrugged. “But I still appreciate you trying.” It was more than most people had done for him in regard to keeping him informed.

Harry assured him it was ok and this way he hadn’t broken his word to Fudge, but he also knew what was going on.

“Good point,” Moody grunted.

“Not that Fudge would have known either way, it’s still a good way around,” Remus grinned.

Arthur commented that he must be scared.

“Harry? Never,” Ron snorted.

“Yeah, well, Harry’s weird. Most people would be scared that a supposed mass murderer was hell bent on killing them and had escaped one of the most secure places in the world to do so,” Tonks pointed out.

Harry assured him that he wasn’t. Mr. Weasley seemed disbelieving, but Harry continued that Sirius Black couldn’t be worse than Voldemort.

“Maybe not worse, but many of his followers are still people to be worried about,” Kingsley warned him.

“And Lily’s protection would only protect Harry from Voldemort himself, or those he’s possessing, not all his Death Eaters,” Remus pointed out.

“I wasn’t really thinking about that,” Harry shrugged.

Mr. Weasley stated that he knew Harry was made on stronger stuff than Fudge thought, and he was pleased Harry wasn’t scared. His next statement got cut off by Mrs Weasley calling his name and saying the train was about to go. Mr. Weasley called back that Harry was coming before turning back to him and saying he wanted his word. Harry cut in, guessing he was to promise he’d be a good boy and stay in the castle.

“A promise you would never be able to keep,” Severus drawled. Harry grinned and shrugged. He could hardly deny it.

“He was safe,” Sirius shrugged.

“A fact nobody but you was aware of,” Minerva reminded him.

Mr. Weasley said he wanted Harry to swear he wouldn’t go looking for Black.

“Oooh, and you were doing so well, dad,” Fred winced.

“What do you mean?” Arthur frowned.

“Well, not even Harry would go looking for someone who wants to kill him for no reason whatsoever,” Ron said.

“Which means you basically just told him there is a reason he would want to go after Sirius, even if he was a murderer,” George added.

“A reason that basically everyone else in the wizarding world knew, which only frustrated me more,” Harry put in.

Harry was confused but the whistle went, and guards began walking along the train, slamming doors shut. Mr. Weasley told Harry to promise him that whatever happened, Harry cut him off to ask why he’d want to go looking for someone who wanted to kill him.

“A good question,” Tonks said.

“It would have been better to just tell him rather than making such a fuss about it when he might have heard it from anyone at school,” Charlie added.

“There wasn’t time,” Arthur sighed. “I didn’t want to give him that information in the middle of the platform in such a rush.”

“Then you shouldn’t have made him give his word. You don’t give your word when you don’t know the full story,” Moody grunted.

“Harry knows and trusted Arthur. It’s not unreasonable to give your word to someone you trust,” Kingsley said. Moody snorted derisively.

Mr. Weasley tried again, saying that whatever he might hear before being interrupted by Mrs Weasley.

“Just making him even more curious,” Fred shook his head.

Steam was billowing from the train; it had started to move. Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.

“That was close,” Remus whistled.

“Good job he made it. Can you imagine everyone’s faces if Harry missed the train two years in a row?” Charlie chuckled.

“At least someone would have known he missed the train and been right there to take him to Hogwarts safely,” Tonks said.

“It would have been better if I had missed the train,” Harry muttered bitterly.

Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione that he needed to speak to them privately as the train picked up speed. Ron told Ginny to go away.

“Honestly, Ron,” Percy rolled his eyes.

Ginny huffed and stalked off. Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train. This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students, and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.

Remus smiled slightly.

“It’s a very good job you were there,” Hermione stated.

“And a good job we managed to sit with Professor Lupin,” Ron added. Harry nodded. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened otherwise, given how the Dementors seemed drawn to him. He shuddered just thinking about it.

“I’m no longer your professor, please call me Remus,” Remus told Ron.

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard’s robes that had been darned in several places.

Remus sighed as Sirius eyed his current robes. He knew what his friend was planning, whether he liked it or not.

He looked ill and exhausted.

Several people glanced over at Remus, unable to help themselves. He just smiled lightly, more than used to the scrutiny.

Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey. Ron asked who they thought he was as they took the seats furthest from the window. Hermione immediately gave his name.

“How could you possible have known that?” George asked, looking impressed.

“It was on his briefcase,” Hermione smiled.

Ron asked how she knew that, and she pointed at the luggage rack over the man’s head, saying it was on his case. The case in question was small, battered and held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

“If you’d only just been made a professor, how come the case was so old?” Tonks asked interestedly. Remus smiled slightly.

“Because I expressed a desire to teach when I was younger. This one,” he gestured to Sirius, “and James mocked me ceaselessly. Lily bought me the briefcase for Christmas the year after we left Hogwarts.”

“Really?” Harry asked. He loved these small snippets about his parents that made them so real, while also smothering a slight feeling of jealousy that he had nothing of his mother’s that she had given him. Yes, he had the protection thing, but that had also cost his mother her life, so Harry didn’t count that.

“Yes. It was very thoughtful of her.”

“How come you never fixed it with magic?” Tonks wondered.

“Because Lily generally preferred to do things the muggle way, when possible,” Remus explained with a fond expression.

Ron wondered what he taught. Hermione said it was obvious as there was only one vacancy.

“That you knew of,” Minerva pointed out. Hermione nodded.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already had two Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumours that the job was jinxed.

“Now we’re three for three,” Harry sighed.

“Well, it’s not like we wanted to keep either of the first two,” Ron pointed out.

Ron said he hoped the man was up to it as he looked like one good hex would finish him off.

Ron turned red as Remus smiled slightly.

He turned to Harry and asked what he’d wanted to tell them. Harry explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him. When he’d finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. Hermione said he’d have to be really careful and not go looking for trouble. Harry pointed out he didn’t go looking for it, trouble usually found him.

“Whichever way you look at it, you needed to be careful,” Emmeline said.

Ron asked how thick Harry would have to be to go looking for a nutter who wanted to kill him.

Sirius winced.

“Sorry,” Ron grimaced.

“No, it was a fair comment,” Sirius sighed.

They were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was.

“That’s coz you’re you,” Ron told him.

“But also, we knew how much trouble we’d all gotten into in the past two years,” Hermione said.

Ron uncomfortably pointed out that nobody knew how he’d gotten out of Azkaban as nobody had done it before and he was a top-security prisoner.

Sirius shuddered.

Hermione said they would catch him, and they had all the muggles looking out for him too.

“All that did was make things worse,” Arthur sighed.

“So many false sightings,” Kingsley agreed. “It was bad enough with just the wizarding community.”

Ron suddenly asked what that noise was. A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment. Ron finally said it was coming from Harry’s trunk. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry’s robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron’s hand and glowing brilliantly.

“What? On the train?” Bill frowned.

“Maybe the twins are nearby,” Charlie grinned. Bill grimaced while the twins smirked.

“Either that or it thinks Remus is untrustworthy,” Sirius grinned at his friend as he tried not to think of exactly who it must have been reacting to.

Hermione asked if it was a sneakoscope and Ron agreed it was, although it was a cheap on. It went haywire as he was tying it to Errol’s leg to send it to Harry.

“It wasn’t going off at the Dursley’s though, and if anyone could be considered untrustworthy it’s those people,” Tonks pointed out, frowning.

“So far, we’ve only heard it going off around Ron and the Weasley’s. At dinner in Egypt, when Ron was sending it to Harry and now,” Ted realised. Fred and George exchanged looks, guessing a certain rat was setting it off.

“But none of the Weasleys are untrustworthy,” Kingsley said.

“Much like the other strange things in these books, I’m sure we’ll find out the answer eventually,” Amelia stated.

Hermione asked if he was doing anything untrustworthy at the time. Ron protested before admitting he wasn’t supposed to be using Errol as he wasn’t up to long journeys. Then he asked how else he was supposed to get Harry’s present to him.

“Even if it was Ron using Errol when he wasn’t supposed to in Egypt, none of you are doing anything untrustworthy at that point in time,” Charlie frowned.

Harry advised him to put it back in the trunk before it woke Lupin up.

“Nah, that soon after a full moon he sleeps like the dead,” Sirius assured them.

“It was pretty loud,” Harry said.

“It didn’t wake me,” Remus told him with a smile.

Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it. He suggested they get it checked in Hogsmeade. Hermione asked if he knew much about the village as she’d read it was the only entirely non-Muggle village in Britain. Ron agreed, then said he only wanted to get inside Honeydukes.

“Surprise, surprise,” Fred snorted.

“Honeydukes is brilliant,” Charlie said.

“They really do have something for pretty much all tastes,” Ted agreed.

Hermione asked what that was. Ron explained it was a sweetshop and described some of the sweets they sold.

“It is quite obvious when someone is sucking on a sugar quill,” Filius chuckled.

“Yeah, the only class you can really get away with that is History,” George agreed.

Hermione pressed on that Hogsmeade was an interesting place, including the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion and the most severely haunted building in Britain.

Sirius snorted loudly, before barking out a laugh, while Remus rolled his eyes fondly.

“Why is that funny?” Neville wondered quietly.

“Because the shack isn’t haunted at all,” Harry told him.

“A fact that most adult wizards and witches really should know. It wasn’t even built until the seventies,” Filius chuckled.

“Really?” Neville frowned.

“Yes. It was built for me to use,” Remus admitted. “When I transformed there, the villagers heard screams and believed it to be haunted, something Albus encouraged as it stopped anyone from snooping.”

“So, a new building was built, and nobody questioned the fact that nobody seemed to use it, it just became haunted by screaming ghosts immediately?” Ted wondered.

“The idea attracted many tourists to see ‘the most haunted building in Britain’, which increased revenue for the shop owners. I’d suspect some of them helped the rumour on further, not caring for the truth,” Remus sighed.

“Good thing nobody expects any good History lessons, or surely people would question why we weren’t learning about the history of the most haunted building in Britain in History of Magic,” Harry said. A few people nodded in agreement.

Ron continued talking about sweets, plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Hermione looked around at Harry. She commented it would be nice to get out and explore Hogsmeade for a bit.

“Sorry,” she winced.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.”

“Really? You thought his relatives would sign his permission form after blowing that woman up?” Charlie asked in surprise.

“It didn’t occur to me they wouldn’t sign it,” she admitted. “And even if I had, I knew we’d gotten our Hogwarts letters around Harry’s birthday, so before he blew her up. I thought he’d have gotten it signed immediately.”

Harry stated they would have to tell him when they found out. Ron asked what he meant, and Harry explained his relatives didn’t sign the form, nor would Fudge. Ron was horrified and suggested that McGonagall would give him permission. Harry scoffed.

Minerva winced. Not only did Harry have little to no faith in her, he was right to do so. She was adamant that she had done what was right with what she had believed about Sirius, but if that hadn’t been the case? If Harry’s relatives had simply refused to sign the form, would she have made an exception and let Harry go to Hogsmeade? She hated that she couldn’t give a definitive answer. She wanted to believe that she would, that she would understand the exceptional circumstances of his awful relatives, but understanding had clearly not been her strong suit in recent years.

Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, was very strict. Ron then suggested they ask the twins.

Fred and George grinned.

“A pleasure to be of service. Especially in the arts of sneaking out of the castle,” Fred winked.

“While a murderer was supposedly out for his blood?” Molly demanded.

“Er…”

“Of course not,” George said lightly, though he knew it was futile. The book was sure to reveal they had given Harry the map. His mother eyed him, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hermione scolded him, saying Harry shouldn’t be sneaking out with Black on the loose.

Several people nodded.

Harry bitterly said he expected that was what McGonagall would say if he asked for permission.

“In this case, she was right to do so,” Remus pointed out.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered.

Ron said Black wouldn’t dare if they were with him.

Several people snorted at that.

“Ron, he was thought to have murdered thirteen people with a single curse. How did you think two thirteen-year-olds would put him off?” Percy asked, wondering at his brother’s idiocy. Ron flushed.

“Ah, the invincibility of youth,” Ted chuckled.

Hermione told him not to talk rubbish.

Ron flushed a deeper shade of red while more laughter rang around the room.

“You tell him, Hermione,” George winked.

She pointed out that Black had already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street and did he really think Black would worry about attacking Harry just because they were there. As she spoke, she was fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks’ basket.

“Ut oh,” Bill winced.

Ron told her not to let that thing out, but he was too late. Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron’s knees; the lump in Ron’s pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away, telling him to get away.

“Really, you could have at least warned Ron you were going to let him out,” George said.

“And he went straight to Ron. It’s not a good sign,” Bill mused. He just knew this saga wasn’t going to end well at all, and neither pet owner seemed to be dealing with it well. Admittedly they were only thirteen, but he’d thought Hermione at least would have had more common sense.

Hermione told Ron not to.

“The cat has already attacked him and his pet once. He’s entitled not to want Crookshanks on his lap,” Fred pointed out.

“Still no need to shove the poor cat,” Charlie said with a frown. “There are other ways to stop him.”

“Not that cat. He just wouldn’t give up,” Harry told him.

“It’s odd. Normally a cat wouldn’t be fixated on a single rat, especially if he was in Ron’s pocket and out of sight,” Emmeline mused.

Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.

“You were awake then?” Sirius asked his friend amusedly.

“You were?” Harry asked. Remus just smirked and didn’t answer.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron’s top pocket.

“At least he wasn’t attacking,” said Ted.

At one o’clock, the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door. Ron wondered if they should wake Lupin up as it looked like he could do with some food.

Ron flushed as Remus chuckled lightly. “Sorry,” he muttered. Remus waved away the apology. He’d heard worse and Ron had been attempting to do a nice thing.

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously and tried to speak to him. The trolley witch told her not to worry, if he was hungry later she would be up with the driver. Harry obtained a stack of cauldron cakes. Ron wondered if he’d actually died.

Remus chuckled once more.

“It’s how you know he’s awake. Lack of snoring. Especially over such a long period,” Sirius told them.

“I’m surprised you believe I snore, given you’d have to hear it over the sound of your own snores,” Remus told him dryly. “You could wake the dead with the noise you make.”

“The only one in our dorm who didn’t was James,” Sirius shrugged. “And he complained enough about the rest of us.”

Hermione stated that he was breathing. He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin’s presence in their compartment had its uses.

Now it was Harry’s turn to flush slightly.

“Why did you pretend to be asleep for so long?” He asked.

“I didn’t wish to intrude on your time with your friends. I thought it may make things more awkward for you to have an unknown professor in the compartment who was clearly listening to your conversations.”

Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, they heard footsteps in the corridor again, and their three least favourite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

“Ah, the compulsory visit so ickle Malfoy can talk to his crush,” George smirked. Draco glared at him but gave no retort, knowing it wouldn’t help things.

Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first train journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy was in Slytherin House, and he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy’s bidding.

Draco sighed. He’d always thought it was fun, having minions who would do as they were told, even if they were highly unintelligent. But, having heard about the lengths Harry’s friends would go to for him, even without being told to, made him a little jealous.

Draco said to look who it was, calling them Potty and the Weasel.

“Imaginative as always, Malfoy,” Fred drawled.

“’Look who it is’, like you didn’t go looking for them deliberately,” Charlie scoffed.

Malfoy commented on the money the Weasleys had won, asking if Mrs Weasley had died of shock.

Several people rolled their eyes.

Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks’s basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort.

Sirius smirked.

“Should have known that was a little too convenient,” Harry muttered. Remus just smiled at him serenely.

Malfoy asked who it was, taking a step back. Harry told him it was a new teacher, as he got to his feet ready to hold Ron back.

“Really?” Ron complained.

“I wasn’t going to let you hit Draco with a professor in the compartment,” Harry shrugged.

“You never let me hit him anyway.”

“He shouldn’t have to hold you back, Ronald,” Molly scolded.

“So, I should just let him get away with saying all those things?” Ron demanded.

“He’s boring and predictable. Just don’t react to his rubbish,” suggested Bill.

“And hex him when there isn’t a professor around,” Fred added.

“Fred!” Molly scolded.

“Don’t encourage the hexing of other students,” Minerva sighed.

Harry asked Malfoy what he had been saying. Malfoy’s pale eyes narrowed; he wasn’t fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher’s nose.

“He is, but only if it’s Snape who wouldn’t punish him for anything,” Fred muttered.

He resentfully told Crabbe and Goyle to leave, and they disappeared. Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles. He said he wasn’t going to take any crap from Malfoy that year. If he made any more cracks about his family, he was going to…he trailed off and made a violent gesture in midair.

“How did that work for you?” Fred asked his brother doubtfully. Ron glared at him.

“Well, not so great for Ron, but Hermione on the other hand…” Harry smirked. Hermione blushed and Draco scowled.

“What’s this about Hermione?” George asked, eyeing the witch interestedly. Her flush deepened.

“Nothing.”

“You’ll find out later,” Ron grinned. “It was brilliant.”

Hermione hissed at him to be careful, pointing to Lupin.

“Remus wouldn’t have minded. He heard that the Malfoy kid deserved it,” Sirius said.

“I still would have had to step in if one student hit another, deserving or not,” Remus told him mildly.

But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep. The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

Sirius snorted. Remus rolled his eyes. “I did actually get some sleep, if you must know. Things were fairly quiet after the Malfoy boy’s visit, and I was tired.”

Ron said they must be nearly there as he tried to look out the window. The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down. Ron was pleased, saying he was starving and wanted to get to the feast. Hermione checked her watch and said they couldn’t be there yet. Ron asked why they were stopping.

Harry grimaced. He really wished they could skip this next bit. What did it really add to the story anyway? Why did everyone need to hear what he heard when they Dementors were near him? He leaned closer to his godfather who squeezed his shoulders.

“Why would the train stop? It’s a magical train,” Emmeline frowned.

“The Minister authorised a search of the train,” Kingsley said heavily.

“Please tell me it was Aurors that did the search?” Charlie asked, without much hope.

“No,” Harry told him grimly. “Definitely no Aurors.”

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

Everyone grimaced.

Ron asked what was going on and Hermione gasped as he stood on her foot. Harry felt his way back to his seat, asking if they had broken down.

“Impossible,” Tonks shook her head.

“We know that now,” Ron told her.

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out. Ron said there was something out there, maybe people were coming on board. The compartment door suddenly opened, and someone fell painfully over Harry’s legs. It was Neville. Harry helped him up as he asked what was going on. Harry said he had no idea and told him to sit down. There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

Neville winced.

“Only you, Nev,” Ron chuckled.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sorry, Hermione.”

“It was an accident,” she said.

Hermione said she was going to ask the driver what was going on. Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain. Ginny had arrived and bumped into Hermione. Ginny said she was looking for Ron and was ushered into the compartment. Harry told her to not sit there as he was there.

Ginny blushed scarlet.

Neville made a sound of pain. A hoarse voice interrupted, telling them to be quiet. Professor Lupin had woken up. Harry could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke. There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames.

“Woah. How did you do that?” Fred asked excitedly.

“Remus has always been good with fire,” Sirius grinned.

“Was it a spell?” George wondered. “It didn’t give an incantation. Was it bluebell flames?”

“No. It definitely wasn’t that,” Hermione told him, having wondered the same thing herself.

“I performed it wordlessly. And it is a spell of my own creation,” Remus informed them.

“Yeah, Remus is too flashy to use Lumos like everyone else,” Sirius smirked.

They illuminated his tired, grey face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. He told them to stay where they were as he got to his feet. But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin’s hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry’s eyes darted

downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak, and it was glistening, greyish, slimy- looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.

Everyone shuddered.

“The Dementors should not have been allowed to search the train without a Ministry representative,” Filius said unhappily.

“There was a representative. However, they took too many Dementors and were unable to keep an eye on all of them,” Amelia told him grimly.

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry’s gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

“Not that it made much difference,” Ron muttered.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest; it was inside his very heart.

“Oh great, we get to experience Dementors with Harry’s super descriptions,” Bill grimaced. Everyone looked horrified at that idea.

“Well, it’ll be an experience,” Tonks said, trying to sound cheerful and failing.

Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn’t see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder. And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams.

Nobody dared say anything, but they all moved closer to those who were sitting next to them.

Harry shuddered. Sirius wasn’t doing much better. They clung to each other, and Remus put his arm around Sirius from the other side.

Ginny buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, remembering her own experiences with the Dementors.

He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn’t… a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him. Someone called his name and slapped his face. Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking—the Hogwarts Express was moving again, and the lights had come back on.

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

“Well, that was horrible,” Charlie muttered.

“And to think, they are supposed to be protecting the students. How Fudge thought this was a good idea is beyond me,” Kingsley shook his head.

He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face. Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat. Ron asked if he was ok. Harry agreed, asking what happened and who screamed. Ron told him nobody screamed.

“But if no one screamed…” Tonks said, trailing off as everyone looked at Harry sympathetically.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at him, both very pale. He said he’d heard screaming.

Harry was grateful when everybody remained silent.

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. He handed Harry a particularly large piece, saying it would help.

“Good job Professor Lupin was there,” Fred muttered, eyeing Harry with concern.

“Definitely. He’s the one who got rid of it,” Hermione told him.

Harry took the chocolate but didn’t eat it, asking what that thing was. Lupin explained it was a Dementor as Azkaban while giving everyone else chocolate too.

“Thanks Professor,” Neville said.

“Call me Remus,” he smiled kindly. “And it was no problem.”

“You’re lucky Remus was in a sharing mood. Normally you get hexed if you try and get him to share chocolate,” Sirius grinned, though it was a little shaky.

“No, you get hexed for trying to steal my chocolate,” he corrected.

Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. He suggested they eat as it would help before excusing himself to go and speak with the driver. He left and Hermione asked Harry if he was ok. Harry asked what had happened. Hermione explained that it had looked around, or she thought it had, and then, but she trailed off. Ron took over, saying they thought he was having a fit, he went sort of rigid and fell out of his seat.

Harry scowled as they all looked over at him. “I was fine,” he stated firmly.

“You passed out,” Sirius pointed out quietly. “That’s not fine.”

Bill considered. They’d all thought that the Dementors would have a bad effect on Harry because of all his bad memories. Given who he’d lived with for most of his life, it was unlikely he had that many good memories, which was sad all by itself. However, Harry not only had a lifetime of awful memories, but he also had more than anyone else in terms of souls as well. He had his own, and the sliver of Voldemort’s. Even if it was a tiny piece, it was still a second soul in a single body, it was no wonder the Dementors would be drawn to Harry. And that he’d have such a bad reaction. Spotting the embarrassed look on Harry’s face, he made a note to mention his theory to the young man. It wasn’t his fault he had such a violent reaction.

Hermione continued that Professor Lupin had stepped over him, pulling out his wand and saying none of them were hiding Sirius Black under their cloaks and to go. When the Dementor didn’t leave, Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand which caused it to glide away.

“What did you do, Professor?” Neville asked quietly.

“It is called the Patronus Charm. It can be used to drive away Dementors but is incredibly advanced magic,” Remus explained.

“Can you teach us?” Ginny asked.

“I can. But it is difficult magic. NEWT level or higher.”

“Please. I don’t want to feel like that again,” Ginny said. Remus sighed.

“Alright. Those who want to learn, we’ll add it onto your existing lessons, but don’t be disheartened if you don’t manage it.”

Neville said it was horrible, voice higher than usual. He asked if they felt how cold it got when it came in. Ron said he felt weird, like he’d never be cheerful again. Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.

Ginny blushed and hid her face once more.

Harry awkwardly asked if any of them fell out of their seats. Ron said no, but Ginny had been shaking like mad.

“Thanks, Ron,” Ginny glared at her brother.

Harry didn’t understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. He wondered why he had gone to pieces like that, when no one else had.

“Because you have a lot more bad memories than most people,” Remus reminded him.

“I know,” Harry sighed. “And the bad memories are why I react so strongly, but I don’t get why they seem attracted to me so much. Don’t Dementors feed on good emotions and memories, leaving you with the bad ones. It’s why they feed on a patronus instead of the caster because it’s full of positive emotions. Surely, they should be less interested in me?”

Several people frowned at this, but nobody had an answer. Not one Bill was going to voice out loud just yet anyway.

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile before saying he hadn’t poisoned the chocolate.

“I sort of forgot I even had it,” Harry admitted.

Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes. Lupin told him they would be arriving at Hogwarts in ten minutes and asked how he was. Harry said he was fine, not questioning how the man knew his name.

Remus sighed. He knew it was his own fault that he and Harry had gotten no closer during the school year, and even now he was far behind Sirius in the levels of trust.

They didn’t talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville’s pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. A familiar voice called for the first years and the trio saw Hagrid at the other end of the platform. He greeted them and they waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

“They are pulled by Thestrals,” Luna told him.

“Thestrals? What are those?” Harry asked.

“They are creatures that can only be seen by those who have seen somebody die. It gives them a bad reputation, but they are very useful creatures really,” Remus explained.

The coach smelled faintly of mould and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates.

Sirius shuddered and gripped Harry tightly while also leaning closer to the warmth Remus exuded.

“It was a horrible year all around,” Minerva sighed.

“To think, the Minister wanted them to be allowed in the school itself,” Filius said grimly.

“He what?” Emmeline asked, astonished.

“Albus would never have allowed such a thing,” Minerva assured her.

“Indeed not,” Dumbledore agreed.

“The School Board would not have allowed it either,” Pomona added.

The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out. As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear, asking if he actually fainted. Malfoy asked if Longbottom had been telling the truth that he actually fainted.

“I didn’t mean to tell him,” Neville mumbled, shooting Harry an apologetic look. “I was talking to Ginny.”

“I know you didn’t mean to tell him,” Harry assured Neville.

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry’s way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously. Ron told him to shove off and Malfoy asked if he fainted as well. If the scary old dementor frightened him too.

“Big talk from someone who almost wet himself,” Fred sneered. Draco flushed a light pink.

A mild voice asked if there was a problem. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage. Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said no and then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.

“Prat,” Charlie rolled his eyes.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the three of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called for Harry and Hermione.

“Harry and Hermione? What could anyone need with them so soon?” Tonks wondered.

“Well, I had sent an owl ahead about Harry,” Remus admitted. Harry scowled.

“And Hermione was trying to take every lesson on the curriculum, so it’s probably about that,” Ted guessed.

Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. Harry fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong. She said there was no reason to look worried, she just wanted a word in her office.

“That doesn’t fill a bloke with confidence you know,” Sirius offered his former head of house a wobbly grin.

“Yeah, that’s even quicker than we’ve managed to get into trouble,” Fred grinned.

She told Ron to move on. Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry and Hermione away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor. Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Harry and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly that Professor Lupin had sent an owl ahead to say he’d taken ill on the train. Before Harry could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in.

Harry scowled.

“At least someone cared enough to get you checked out,” Fred told him quietly.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

Harry felt himself going red in the face. It was bad enough that he’d passed out, or whatever he had done, without everyone making all this fuss.

“You’re overdue a bit of fuss,” Sirius told him. “And Dementor exposure is nothing to sniff at,” he added with a slightly haunted look.

“There was nothing they could do for me. I’d already had chocolate.”

“But they didn’t know why you fainted. It was still worth getting checked out,” Ron put in quietly.

Harry protested he didn’t need anything. Madam Pomfrey stared at him closely as she guessed he’d been doing something dangerous again.

“Not this time,” George grinned.

“Makes a change,” Tonks chuckled.

McGonagall stated it was a dementor. They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly. She pushed Harry’s hair back and felt his forehead as she said he wouldn’t be the last one who collapsed.

“He wasn’t,” Pomona stated.

“Really?” Harry looked at her in surprise.

“Really. You had one of the worst reactions to be sure, but a few others collapsed over the year as well due to the longer-term exposure,” Minerva told him.

“Not to mention the incredibly large number of extra Dreamless Sleep Draughts I had to brew,” Severus added.

She continued that he was all clammy. She mentioned the effect they had on people who were already delicate.

“Ouch. Not a thing to say about a teenaged boy,” Tonks chuckled.

Harry crossly protested he wasn’t delicate. Pomfrey absently agreed he wasn’t while taking his pulse.

A few people chuckled.

McGonagall asked if he needed bed rest and if he should spend the night in the hospital wing.

“It wouldn’t do anything except give people like Malfoy more fodder,” Charlie shook his head.

“Some more chocolate and time away from those things,” Bill agreed.

Harry jumped up saying he was fine. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if he had to go to the hospital wing was torture.

A few people rolled their eyes.

Pomfrey suggested some chocolate at the very least. He told her he’d already had some and Professor Lupin had given it to everyone. Pomfrey approved, saying they finally had a Defence professor who knew his remedies.

“I spent more than enough time in the hospital wing to pick up a few things,” Remus said dryly.

“And you always keep chocolate on hand anyway. You think it solves everything,” Sirius pointed out.

“In this case, it did,” Ron grinned.

McGonagall asked Harry if he was alright to which he agreed. She told him to wait outside while she spoke to Hermione.

“Hang on, how come Hermione was present for Harry’s discussion but he can’t be present for hers?” Fred wondered.

“Because my talk with Miss Granger was of a private nature. If Harry had requested for her to leave the room, then of course she would have been asked to wait outside,” Minerva stated.

Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. He had to wait only a few minutes; then Hermione emerged looking very happy about

something, followed by Professor McGonagall, and the three of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall. It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

“So, you’ve missed the sorting every year except your own so far,” Ted realised.

“Yep,” Harry nodded.

Hermione commented they’d missed the sorting. New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the Sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to. Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. He wondered if the story of his collapsing in front of the dementor travelled that fast.

“When Malfoy already knew? Of course it spread that fast,” George snorted.

He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry smiled.

He asked Harry what it had been about. Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off. Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn’t why Harry respected him. You couldn’t help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the dementor had entered the train compartment.

Sirius scowled. He certainly didn’t feel Harry was any safer.

“At least you were able to relax in the castle,” Emmeline said.

“Yeah, the castle was fine. It was only going to Hogsmeade that was affected,” Percy told her.

Dumbledore greeted them and announced that the school was playing host to the dementors which were stationed at every entrance to the grounds.

“Were you already at the school by then?” Harry asked Sirius quietly.

“No. I couldn’t travel all that quickly.”

He said that nobody was to leave the school without permission. The dementors would not be fooled by tricks or disguises, including Invisibility Cloaks.

“A necessary but foolish warning,” Severus drawled.

“You don’t need a disguise if you don’t go near them,” Fred whispered, smirking at Harry.

“Or if you’re an animagus,” Sirius told him with a wink.

He continued that it was not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses and suggested they not give them any reason to cause them harm. He looked to the prefects and Head boy and girl to keep them safe.

“Like they needed an excuse,” Harry snorted bitterly.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound. He then said there were two new teachers that year, firstly Professor Lupin would teach Defence. There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause.

"After your last experience I'm not surprised," Remus chuckled.

Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"I'll buy you some new robes once I'm cleared," promised Sirius.

"I'm fine," Remus protested. "I don't need new robes. Mine work perfectly well."

Ron hissed for Harry to look at Snape. Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: it was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry.

Several people rolled their eyes.

Dumbledore continued that the second new appointment was for Professor Kettleburn who was retiring to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs.

"Remaining limbs?" Neville wondered.

"He lost an arm and a leg. In separate incidents I believe, but how he lost them changes each time you ask him," Charlie grinned.

Dumbledore continued that Kettleburn would be replaced by Hagrid. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard. Ron said they should have known as who else would have set them a biting book.

"To be perfectly honest, Kettleburn might well have done the same," Tonks chuckled.

"Yeah, he's got limbs missing for a reason," Bill agreed. "He's almost as bad as Hagrid about interesting magical creatures."

"He did at least know what was safe for students or not. It was only his own safety he took risks with," pointed out Percy.

"Yeah, he liked dangerous beasts, but also accepted they were dangerous, rather than Hagrid who thinks they are all basically puffskeins," Tonks grinned.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth. Dumbledore stated that was everything of importance and to let the feast begin. The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Harry, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat.

“Nothing beats Hogwarts food,” Sirius sighed.

“I’m hungry,” Ron complained.

“We can eat after the next chapter,” Molly told him.

“Can we at least get some snacks once this one is done?” Asked Fred.

“I’m sure we can spare five minutes for some snacks,” Remus assured him.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn’t a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had cleared Hagrid’s name last year.

Amelia pursed her lips. She made a note to check if Hagrid had just been released from Azkaban or if his name had actually been cleared. Given Cornelius' proclivity for taking the easy way, and with no official proof it wasn't Hagrid the first time, it’s likely it was never actually struck from his record.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

Hermione squealed out congratulations as they reached the teachers’ table. Hagrid wiped his face as he said it was all down to the three of them.

Draco pulled a face at that.

"Honestly, it was the three of them that helped to clear his name and have him released from Azkaban, but that shouldn't have been enough to get him a teaching job. He has no OWLs or teaching qualifications," Amelia pointed out.

"Because Lockhart likely had teaching qualifications," Remus scoffed.

"And look how that turned out," Kingsley said grimly, but he said nothing further as the matter had already been discussed.

Dumbledore had come down to him straight after Kettleburn said he'd had enough. Which was something he had always wanted. Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away. Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. A large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them for the password. Percy called from behind the crowd that the password for Fortuna Major. Neville was a bit distressed by this. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.

"You must have known it changed at the start of every year though and been expecting it," George pointed out.

"I was," Neville sighed, "but I had hoped it would be something easier to remember."

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Harry climbed the spiral stair with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.

“Done,” Minerva announced. She put the book down and the Weasley children all stood up, hurrying towards the kitchen. The others began to follow at a sedate pace.

Once everyone was satisfied with their drinks and snacks, and had been to the loo, they retook their places.

“One more chapter and then I think that’s it for today,” Dumbledore announced as he picked up the book.

Chapter Text

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

“Half of them were probably laughing at Malfoy,” Charlie muttered.

“He did look stupid,” Ron agreed. Draco glared.

Hermione told him to ignore them while Parkinson called out that the dementors were coming.

Several people rolled their eyes.

Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley. George passed out their schedules before asking what was wrong with Harry. Ron answered for him, saying Malfoy as he sat down on George’s other side. George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

The twins looked over at Draco and grinned evilly at him. Draco swallowed hard, knowing those expressions likely meant he was in for some trouble.

George called him a git, claiming he wasn’t so cocky last night when the dementors were at their end of the train. Fred agreed Malfoy nearly wet himself.

Draco blushed as several people snorted.

George said that he wasn’t too happy himself considering they were horrible. Fred agreed they freeze your insides. Harry pointed out neither of them passed out. George told him to forget it, telling him about their father’s visit to Azkaban when he came back all weak and shaking. Fred added that they would see how happy Malfoy looked after the Quidditch game.

“Well, when he finally ‘recovered’ enough to play,” Ron snorted.

“Not that the extra time did him any good,” George smirked happily.

“Almost a whole season extra practise and a ridiculous amount of cheating still couldn’t help the Slytherins,” Fred agreed proudly. Draco scowled.

“Yeah, if only he hadn’t faked his injury. Dem…what happened in the first game is the only way Malfoy could beat Harry to the snitch,” stated Ron smugly.

“So really, his pathetic faking only made it worse for his team in the long run,” smirked George. Draco’s scowl deepened.

The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse.

Harry grinned.

Feeling slightly more cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes.

“Thanks guys,” he smiled at the twins gratefully. He knew he could always rely on the pair to cheer him up when he needed it.

“Always glad to be of service,” Fred winked at him.

Hermione was examining her new schedule. She commented that they started new subjects. Ron took a look and stated they’d messed up her schedule as she was down for about ten subjects a day for which there wasn’t enough time.

“Ten a day?” Bill asked incredulously. “Even with two more subjects than anybody is actually allowed to take normally, she shouldn’t have that many in a single day.”

“It wasn’t every day. It just happened that Monday was a particularly busy day,” Hermione told him.

“That’s still not right,” Percy said. “You cannot physically take every subject. And for self-study you don’t have the class times on your schedule because you are expected to make your own.”

She said she would manage as she’d fixed it all with Professor McGonagall. Ron pointed out that, that morning, she had Divination, Muggle Studies and Arithmancy all at the same time.

“What?” Percy blinked in surprise.

Hermione just shrugged. All of the Ministry workers exchanged looks. Something wasn’t right here. Why was Hermione scheduled to attend all lessons, some at the same time, instead of the normal self-study programme for those wishing to take all exams? Given how the other books had turned out, especially the last one, they assumed this would also have a large effect on the events of the year. Because, obviously, the one time it was decided to try a new method of allowing a student to study all subjects, it would be a friend of Harry Potter and end up saving his life most likely. At this point, Amelia thought basically anything was possible.

Ron asked how she would be in three classes at once, but she told him not to be ridiculous.

“Your timetable says otherwise. It’s not a ridiculous question,” Neville pointed out. Hermione said nothing.

Ron tried to press but she changed the topic, asking for the marmalade.

“Smooth,” George chuckled. Hermione blushed.

Ron continued and she snapped at him.

“Three subjects at once is more than a bit full,” Emmeline pointed out.

“Well, I wasn’t supposed to tell them anything about it.” Amelia glanced at Kingsley. It wasn’t promising that Hermione wasn’t allowed to tell her friends exactly how she was completing such a schedule.

“I hope you got really good at deflection then, because something tells me Ron isn’t going to drop it easily,” Sirius chuckled. Hermione sighed.

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand. He stopped to tell them they were in his first ever lesson and he’d been up since five getting everything ready.

“Er…everything?” Emmeline asked nervously.

“It was nothing bad,” Harry assured her.

“Speak for yourself,” Draco muttered.

“You were the most dangerous thing in that class,” Ron snorted. “You and your big mouth.” Draco glared at him.

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat. Ron anxiously wondered what he’d been getting ready. The hall was starting to empty as people headed off toward their first lesson. Ron checked his course schedule and suggested they leave as they had to get to Divination at the top of North Tower for their first lesson.

“It’s a long way, especially if you don’t know any shortcuts,” Remus agreed.

“We learnt the shortcuts pretty quickly. We were highly motivated,” Harry told him.

They finished their breakfasts hastily, said good-bye to Fred and George, and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Harry into the entrance hall. The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn’t taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

Sirius shook his head sadly.

Ron panted that there had to be a shortcut as they climbed yet another long staircase. The landing was bare except for a painting of a bare stretch of grass. Hermione and Ron discussed which way they should go while Harry stared at the painting. A fat, dapple-grey pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Harry was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit one another, but he always enjoyed watching it.

“The portraits can tell you all sorts of interesting things if you talk to them,” Remus told him.

“I don’t normally talk to them, but maybe I will in future,” Harry smiled.

A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

All of the Gryffindors who had been at Hogwarts that year groaned.

“Sir Cadogan,” Neville moaned.

“Now we know why his painting is in some empty hallway far away from the main area of the school,” Ron said.

“Cadogan? Isn’t he that crazy knight we saw a few times?” Sirius frowned, trying to remember.

“Crazy knight? Definitely sounds like him,” Harry said wryly.

The knight saw the trio and yelled at them, asking if they’d come to scorn at his fall before telling them to draw. They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

Several people laughed.

“He’s certainly something,” Charlie chuckled.

“He’s a pain,” Neville grumbled.

Harry asked if he was alright.

A few people smiled at the boy’s thoughtfulness, even to portraits.

The knight told him to get back, calling him a scurvy braggart. The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn’t get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

There was another round of laughter.

“He’s certainly a character,” grinned Tonks. “Seems much livelier than most of the other portraits I know.”

Harry asked if he knew the way to North Tower. His demeanour changed immediately at the prospect of a quest. He clanked to his feet and shouted for them to follow him, calling them dear friends and saying they would find their goal or perish bravely in the charge.

“Dear friends? Bit of a change from scurvy braggart,” noted Ted with a chuckle.

“He’s mental,” Ron told him.

“Seems like fun though,” Tonks grinned.

“Yeah. Fun,” Neville muttered sarcastically.

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, they would go on foot. And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight. They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armour. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

“Well, that’s one way to get there quicker, trying to keep up with a portrait,” Charlie laughed.

The knight yelled for them to be of stout heart as the worst was yet to come. They saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines.

A few people chuckled.

Puffing loudly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiralling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom. The knight bade them farewell, calling them comrades-in-arms and telling them to call upon Sir Cadogan should they need of noble heart and steely sinew in the future. Ron comments they’ll call him if they ever need anyone mental.

There was a round of laughter.

“At least it sounds like you got there in time. Although, why didn’t you just follow everyone else from breakfast, save yourselves the trouble?” Percy wondered.

“We were a bit distracted with Malfoy and Hermione’s schedule,” Ron shrugged.

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it. Harry read the teacher’s name and asked how they were supposed to get up there. As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry’s feet. Everyone got quiet.

“She does love her dramatics,” Minerva rolled her eyes.

“She’s not the only one,” Pomona pointed out easily.

Ron said after him, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first. He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn’t look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop.

Minerva and Hermione both wrinkled their noses.

“Sounds…interesting,” Kingsley said slowly.

“It’s not,” Harry assured him. “It’s horrible and difficult to focus.”

At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle.

“It smells awful,” said Neville.

“Probably to hide the smell of her sherry,” Minerva muttered.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said reproachfully.

“She’s not wrong,” Severus put in.

The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups. Ron appeared at Harry’s shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers. Ron asked where she was. A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. It greeted them, saying it was nice to see them in the physical world at last.

Minerva rolled her eyes while Sirius snorted.

Harry’s immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl.

“She sounds…interesting,” Sirius muttered.

“Irritating, kinda creepy, weird, but interesting is not the word I’d use,” Ron stated.

“Ron, don’t be rude about your professor,” Molly scolded.

Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings. She told them to sit, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table. She welcomed them to Divination, sitting herself down and introducing herself. She stated they may not have seen her before as she finds that descends too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds her inner eye.

“Or at all,” Minerva stated.

“She comes to feasts occasionally,” said Pomona.

“I’d never seen her before,” Harry shrugged.

“I think I’ve only seen her once in five years,” Percy told him.

“She came to a few events when I was there, but not many,” Bill agreed.

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, saying they had chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of magical arts.

A few people snorted at that.

“It’s difficult because to be a true seer you are either born with the ability or not. Other divination methods are not necessarily difficult to learn, the difficulty lies in interpreting them,” Luna told the room.

She warned them that if they do not have the Sight, there is very little she will be able to teach them. Books can only take them so far in the field.

“Hardly from the outset. It’s a bit late to tell them that once they’ve already chosen the subject,” Ted pointed out.

“That’s also not true, and very off-putting to new students, telling them that if they don’t have the Sight, they won’t be able to learn much,” Emmeline frowned.

“Yes, hardly an encouraging start,” Kingsley agreed.

At these words, both Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn’t be much help in this subject.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Hermione noticed and glared at them both.

She continued that many witches and wizards, talented though they were in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, were yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future.

There were a few chuckles.

“I know a few talented in those particular areas,” Minerva said, lips twitching in amusement as she stared at the twins. They both beamed.

Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. She turned to Neville, who almost fell off his pouf, and asked if his grandmother was well. He said he thought so and she told him not to be so sure.

“Was your grandmother, ok?” Emmeline asked.

“Yes. She just had a touch of flu, but she was fine,” Neville assured her.

Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly that they would be covering the basic methods of Divination that year, including reading tea leaves and palmistry.

“So, your gran was fine. There was no need for her to scare you like that,” Charlie frowned at Neville who shrugged.

“She made a bunch of so-called prophecies like that,” Hermione said derisively. “Some she got lucky with; some were completely wrong.”

“Make enough and you’ll be right eventually,” Ron shrugged.

She turned to Parvati and told her to beware a red-haired man. Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him.

“Did you do anything to Parvati?” Bill asked his brother, curiously.

“No. Not that I can think of,” Ron shrugged again.

“Might have been us. I think we caught her in one of our pranks by accident,” George said.

“To be fair, we caught almost everyone in that prank,” Fred pointed out.

Trelawney continued that they would progress to crystal balls, if they had finished with fire omens. However, classes would be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu.

“Which happens every year,” Minerva rolled her eyes.

Then she predicted that around Easter they would lose one of their number forever.

“Also, around the time at least one student has had enough and quits the subject,” Severus stated. Filius chuckled; it was usually one of his Ravenclaws that quit. Often a muggle-born who didn’t know what they were getting into by signing up for the subject. Most of the Purebloods only signed up if they knew they had the Sight, or if they already had an interest in Divination.

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it. She turned to Lavender Brown, who shrank back in her chair, and asked if she could pass a teapot. Lavender was momentarily relieved, but when she handed over a teapot, Trelawney told her the thing she’d been dreading would happen on the 16^th of October.

“Honestly, that woman,” Minerva scowled.

“Was Lavender ok?” Ted wondered.

“Lavender was fine,” Hermione told him.

Lavender trembled. Trelawney gave them instructs for reading tea leaves. As they went to collect the teacups, she told Neville to take a blue cup after he broke the first one as she’s attached to the pink.

“Now that’s just a self-fulfilling prophecy. Knowing she thinks he will break a cup will make him more nervous. And it’s probably pretty common knowledge around the school that Neville gets a bit clumsy when he’s nervous,” Remus said with an apologetic look at Neville who just waved it away. It was true after all.

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said he should take one of the blue ones. When Harry and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over. Ron asked Harry what he could see. Harry replied that he saw a load of soggy brown stuff.

Everyone laughed at that.

“I mean, technically, he’s not wrong,” Tonks chuckled.

The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid.

“It sounds like a terrible learning environment,” noted Ted.

Trelawney told them to broaden their minds and see past the mundane. Harry tried to focus, noting that Ron’s cup held a crooked cross, that signified trials and suffering, as well as a sun which meant great happiness. He concluded Ron was going to suffer but be very happy. Ron told him he needed his inner eye testing.

A few people chuckled.

“They do not necessarily have to happen at the same time. It likely means that Ronald may face some trials but eventually he will be very happy,” Luna told them. “Not a bad attempt for you first try at reading tea leaves, Harry,” she added with a smile.

“Er, good to know, I guess,” Ron said slowly.

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry smiled back at the younger girl.

Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction as they laughed. Ron took his turn, spotting a blob that looked like a bowler hat, and he guessed Harry would work for the Ministry of Magic.

“You’d make a good Auror, Potter,” Moody nodded approvingly. Harry smiled slightly, but privately thought that was unlikely. Making a difference in the world was something he’d always wanted to do, but he didn’t think he wanted to spend the rest of his life hunting down Dark Wizards. Being a curse-breaker sounded much cooler. Or maybe he’d find something else that sounded interesting. He’d liked the healing lessons with Andromeda.

He turned the teacup the other way up and suggested it could be an acorn, which would mean unexpected gold.

Harry mentally asked the room for some parchment so he could write down Ron’s predictions.

“What are you doing?” Ron looked at him like he was mental.

“Writing down what you predicted. After the troll and Myrtle, it couldn’t hurt to see.”

“You don’t really think…?” Ron trailed off. Harry shrugged.

“Dunno, but it might be worth finding out.”

Then he moved on, looking at something that seemed to be an animal, though he wasn’t sure which, guessing both a hippo and a sheep.

There was another round of laughter.

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. She took over and snatched Harry’s cup from Ron. Everyone went quiet to watch.

“Of course they did,” Harry rolled his eyes.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise. She spotted a falcon which signified a deadly enemy.

“Wow. What a guess,” Fred muttered dryly.

“Nobody could have seen that coming,” George agreed.

“Harry Potter? With a deadly enemy? Never,” Charlie declared sarcastically. Harry grinned at the three of them.

Hermione pointed out that everyone knew that. Professor Trelawney stared at her. Hermione continued that everyone knew about Harry and Voldemort.

“She’s got a point,” George smiled.

“And, as always, cannot stop herself from giving her unwanted opinion in a disrespectful manner,” Severus drawled.

“Sounds more like you,” Sirius put in. Severus opened his mouth to retort but Dumbledore began reading once more.

Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry’s cup again and continued to turn it. She saw a club, meaning an attack, which Ron had thought was the bowler hat.

“Club, bowler hat. Good going, Ron,” Fred teased.

“Well, I was definitely attacked that year,” Harry muttered.

“Yes, well, you had a supposed mass murderer supposedly trying to kill you and dementors, which you react to worse than most people, surrounding the school. Not to mention the Potter luck. Predicting an attack on you was hardly a feat of skill,” Bill grinned.

“Besides, she literally just said she saw you had a deadly enemy; an attack is kind of obvious after that,” Charlie agreed.

Next was a skull, meaning danger in Harry’s path.

“Really?” Sirius rolled his eyes. “With a deadly enemy and an attack imminent, I’d be much more amazed if she predicted no danger in his path. Grateful too.”

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

Several people rolled their eyes.

“There it is. A death prediction,” Minerva sighed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup.

Neville blushed.

Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed, muttering about ‘her poor dear boy’ and that it would be kinder not to say what she had seen.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Minerva rolled her eyes again.

Dean asked what she’d seen. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron’s table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney’s chair to get a good look at Harry’s cup. She dramatically declared that Harry had the Grim.

“Well, she was right. Kind of,” Fred grinned, looking at Sirius.

“I’m not a Grim. Just a regular dog.”

“That looks almost exactly like a Grim,” George countered.

Harry was confused and asked what it was. He could tell that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror. Trelawney repeated herself, looking shocked Harry hadn’t understood.

“She was just disappointed he didn’t react how she wanted him to,” Minerva stated.

She told him it was a giant, spectral dog that haunted churchyards and was an omen of death. Harry’s stomach lurched. He recalled the dog on the cover of Death Omens in Flourish and Blotts and the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent.

Sirius winced.

“I know it wasn’t you, Siri. I was fine.”

“You almost died!”

“I’d have been in more trouble if the Knight Bus hadn’t arrived,” Harry pointed out.

Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney’s chair. She stated she didn’t think it looked like a Grim.

“You really said that?” George asked. “To her face?” He added in admiration. Hermione flushed slightly.

“Yes. Everyone was getting so scared, and it was ridiculous,” she said.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike. She stated that she perceived very little aura around Hermione and very little receptivity to the resonances of the future.

Luna nodded at that.

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side. He said it looked like a Grim if you looked at in a certain way, but more like a donkey from a different angle.

Most people chuckled at that.

“There, I don’t think you particularly look like a donkey from any direction,” Harry told Sirius.

“He definitely looks like an ass,” Remus smirked.

“Remus!” Molly and Minerva scolded at the same time, though Minerva looked like she was trying to stop herself from laughing. Sirius shot his best friend a look of betrayal that made several people laugh.

Harry commented on them all deciding whether he was going to die or not.

Several people snorted.

Now nobody seemed to want to look at him. Trelawney said they would leave the lesson there and asked them to pack their things away.

“And that’s pretty much been every Divination lesson since,” Harry sighed. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’m supposed to have died.”

“Different predictions of death do not necessarily mean you will die multiple times, rather that your death will be a significant part of your life,” Luna stated. Bill glanced at Dumbledore who was blank faced at this.

“Isn’t death kind of significant in anyone’s life?” Neville asked Luna kindly.

“Not always.”

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry’s eyes. She bade them farewell, and told Neville he would be late next time so would need to work harder to catch up.

“Nice. Now you have an excuse to be late,” Fred grinned.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney’s ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time. Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment.

“Honestly, you should do something about her, Albus,” Minerva told him.

“Sybil is a perfectly good teacher.”

“She deliberately scares her class by predicting one of them will die. Every. Single. Year,” she pointed out in return.

“And you never scare any of your students, Minerva?” Pomona asked, amused.

“Not into thinking they will die.”

“Well, that’s alright then. As long as you don’t scare them to death, it’s perfectly fine,” Filius chuckled.

He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi, and wasn’t even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

Minerva pursed her lips at the pronouncement he hadn’t even see her transformation.

McGonagall turned back into herself and asked what had gotten into them all. She added that, while it didn’t matter, that was the first time her transformation hadn’t gotten applause from her class.

“Not that it matters?” Sirius chuckled. “You sound a bit too put out for that to be the case, Minnie.”

“Don’t call me ‘Minnie’, Mr. Black,” she told him with narrowed eyes. Sirius just grinned at her.

Everybody’s heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand. She explained they had just had divination and McGonagall said there was no need to explain further. Then she asked who was dying that year.

Most of the room burst out laughing.

“Just a tad blunt there, Minerva,” Ted chuckled.

“It was a common occurrence,” she shrugged. “After fourteen years it gets tiresome reassuring the students because of that woman.”

Everyone stared at her. Harry finally spoke up that it was him. McGonagall told him that Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at Hogwarts and none of them had died yet. It was her favourite way of greeting a new class, she cut herself off as she stated that she did not speak ill of her colleagues.

The other teachers all coughed at that. Minerva turned to stare at all of them, eyes narrowed.

“You don’t speak ill of your colleagues to the students,” corrected Pomona. “You complain about them plenty in the staff room.” Minerva huffed but didn’t argue.

Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white.

Several of the adults hid their smiles.

“Subtle as ever, Minerva,” Severus drawled. She shot him a glare.

She went on, more calmly, saying that divination was one of the more imprecise branches of magic and she had little patience with it. True Seers were rare and Professor Trelawney, then she cut herself off once more. She added that he looked in excellent health so won’t be excused from homework, though, if he dies, he needn’t hand it in.

There was another round of laughter at that.

“Very decent of you, professor,” Harry grinned.

Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney’s classroom.

Minerva smiled.

Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered about Neville’s cup. When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione told Ron to cheer up. Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn’t start.

“Oh Ron,” Arthur sighed, guessing what his son would be dwelling on. “Bilius was an alcoholic, and very ill.” Ron had only been eight when Bilius had died. He’d come round one day, loudly declaring he’d seen a Grim before passing out in the living room. Molly had called him home from work to take his brother to St Mungo’s where he’d died from advanced liver failure. Ron was the only one of the children who’d seen and heard the whole thing, as the others had either been with friends or at Hogwarts. He’d had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

Ron grimaced and stared at the floor, trying not to remember that day.

He asked Harry if he’d seen a big, black dog anywhere. Harry admitted he had. Ron dropped his fork and Hermione said it was likely a stray. Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad. He said that if Harry had seen a Grim it was bad. His Uncle Bilius had seen one and died twenty-four hours later. Hermione airily stated it must be coincidence.

“Hermione, that’s not… your friend just told you his relative died. Maybe that’s not the best reaction you could have had,” Tonks told her.

Ron angrily told her she didn’t know what she was talking about. Grims scared most wizards. Hermione said, in a superior tone, they see the Grim and die of fright, it wasn’t an omen but the cause of death. She added that Harry was still with them because he wasn’t stupid enough the see one and think he should drop dead.

“Hermione!” Several people groaned at once.

“That was uncalled for. Ron just told you his uncle died after seeing one and you just turned around and said the same uncle must have been stupid for dying after possibly seeing one,” Emmeline pointed out.

“But…” Hermione tried but Andromeda cut her off.

“No. Your need to prove a point should not come above your friend.”

“Hermione, my brother was a seer, one who was plagued by fragmented visions his entire life and they were often so horrible, particularly during the war, it drove him to become an alcoholic as he found he was less likely to have one if he was drunk. Eventually his drinking killed him. It’s entirely possible he saw his own death coming in the form of a Grim, that does not mean he chose to ‘kick the bucket’ because of it,” Arthur told her. Hermione flushed and looked away from his stern gaze.

“You are perfectly entitled to you opinion on the subject, of course,” Andromeda added, “but not to the point of making such comments on the death of a friend’s relative.” Hermione nodded.

“Sorry, Ron,” she muttered.

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug. Hermione stated the divination seemed very woolly and a lot of guesswork.

“That is true, but that doesn’t make it any less real,” Luna told her.

Ron stated there was nothing woolly about the Grim in Harry’s cup. Hermione coolly responded that he didn’t seem so confident when he was telling Harry it was a sheep. Ron retorted that Trelawney had said she didn’t have the right aura and she just didn’t like being rubbish at something for a change.

Several people privately agreed with Ron on that one.

He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere. She stated that if being good at divination meant having to pretend to see death omens in lumps of tea leaves then she probably wouldn’t be studying it much longer.

“There would be no point studying it much longer. You have too narrow a mind for the art,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “That’s alright, not many people are good at divination.” Hermione huffed.

“Besides, you don’t have to pretend to see anything. You just have to be open to the possibility that you might see something, not necessarily death omens either,” Emmeline said. “I personally, have no aptitude for the subject either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate those who do.”

She continued that it was absolute rubbish compared with her Arithmancy class. Then she snatched up her bag and stalked away. Ron frowned after her. He asked Harry what she was talking about as she hadn’t been to Arithmancy yet.

“Wasn’t Divination the first lesson on the first day? Followed by Transfiguration? How could she possibly have been to an Arithmancy lesson. She’d have had to be in two places at the same time,” Amelia frowned. Then she gasped and stared at Dumbledore. “You didn’t?”

Severus had also jolted at the words, remembering Albus’ words in the hospital wing at the end of the year and turned to glower at his employer. He’d made it sound ridiculous, the idea of Harry and Hermione being in two places at once and yet…it seemed that that was exactly what had happened.

“No way,” Kingsley breathed. “All year? That must have wreaked havoc on her body.”

“What? What do you know?” Tonks asked eagerly. Nobody answered her. Dumbledore kept on reading quickly.

Harry was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday’s rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale grey, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. Ron and Hermione weren’t speaking to each other.

“Nothing unusual there,” Harry muttered.

Harry walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid’s hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when he spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Harry was quite sure he knew what they were talking about.

Several people rolled their eyes.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start. He greeted them, saying he had a real treat waiting and for them to follow him. For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Harry had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last him a lifetime.

Sirius nodded vigorously.

“Definitely,” Ron agreed with a little shudder.

However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there. He told them to gather around and to open their books. Malfoy asked how.

“Unfortunately, that’s a fair question,” Bill grimaced.

Hagrid was confused so Malfoy repeated the question, taking out his book which was bound with rope. Several others took their out, all bound by various methods. Hagrid looked crestfallen as he asked if nobody had been able to open their book. Everyone shook their head.

“Not even Hermione had worked out how?” Charlie asked in surprise.

“We only got them the day before going to Hogwarts and I hadn’t had the chance to try yet. And I was a bit put off seeing them in the shop,” Hermione admitted.

“That’s fair. The store person didn’t seem particularly well equipped to deal with them either,” Tonks nodded.

Hagrid explained they had to stroke them. He took Hermione’s, stroked the spine and it fell open. Malfoy sarcastically sneered, asking why they hadn’t guessed that. Hagrid said he thought they were funny.

“A monster book about creatures, it’s funny in a way,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, but it’s less funny when it’s trying to bite you,” Tonks pointed out.

“Not to Charlie,” Bill grinned.

Malfoy declared it really witty to give them books that tried to rip their hands off. Harry told him to shut up. Hagrid was looking downcast, and Harry wanted Hagrid’s first lesson to be a success. Hagrid momentarily lost his thread before declaring they needed magical creatures and left to fetch them. Once he was out of sight, Malfoy declared the place was going to the dogs and mentioned telling his father.

“Of course. Who could have guessed that was coming,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“It may be borne out of prejudice, but Mr. Malfoy does have a valid concern,” Amelia said unhappily. “Hagrid isn’t a qualified teacher, and I highly doubt Professor Trelawney is either. Hogwarts standards are going down as we’ve already discussed.”

Harry told him to shut up again. Malfoy replied there was a dementor behind him.

“Same old material.” It was George’s turn to roll his eyes.

Lavender Brown interrupted, squealing, and pointed to the opposite side of the paddock. Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Harry had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

“I think a dozen of them is a little excessive. Just one or two would be enough for a demonstration and a study from distance,” Kingsley stated.

He urged the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence. He stated they were hippogriffs and that they were beautiful.

“They are,” Charlie agreed.

“They aren’t bad. Not a fan of me though,” Tonks said.

“Only because you fell over when trying to bow to one,” Charlie grinned. Tonks just grinned back and shrugged.

Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the hippogriffs’ gleaming coats, changing

smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different colour: stormy grey, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black. He said they could come a bit closer. No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously.

“Of course you did,” Remus smiled.

Hagrid told them that the first thing they should know is that hippogriffs were proud creatures, easily offended and to never insult one as it might be the last thing they did.

“If only some people had been listening,” Harry said.

“Well, at least he did give a clear warning before letting any student near them,” Amelia noted.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren’t listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

Narcissa glared at her son. He could have gotten far more seriously hurt than he had been by ignoring that warning.

“So, I’m going to guess that all the fuss about an out-of-control hippogriff that attacked Malfoy was, indeed, absolute rubbish,” Amelia sighed. Honestly, after hearing how the first two books at gone, she’d assumed Hagrid had been at fault. Lucius Malfoy had likely exaggerated, but it was obvious that Hagrid wasn’t the most careful. But it turned out he had given appropriate warning that had likely been completely ignored.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

Hagrid continued that they should wait for the hippogriff to make the first move. He gave clear instructions for how to approach and the procedure involved.

“Well, that’s a much better introduction than I had anticipated. Appropriate warning, clear instructions,” Minerva nodded approvingly.

Then he asked who wanted to go first. Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings. The hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn’t seem to like being tethered like this. Hagrid asked again and Harry offered.

“Of course you did,” Sirius sighed.

“I was fine. This is how I met Buckbeak,” Harry told him.

“Ah, I should have guessed.”

There was an intake of breath from behind him, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered for Harry to remember his tea leaves. Harry ignored them. He climbed over the paddock fence. Hagrid was pleased and said they would see how he got on with Buckbeak. He untied one of the chains, pulled the grey hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar.

Sirius smiled slightly.

The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy’s eyes were narrowed maliciously. Hagrid instructed Harry as he approached. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. Harry bowed. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn’t move. Hagrid told him to back away slowly but then Buckbeak bowed in return.

“Well done,” Remus praised.

“Hagrid really is taking this seriously,” Ted noted, only slightly surprised.

“Of course he is. It’s what he’s always dreamed of, teaching Care. Now he’s finally got the job and his favourite student was in his very first lesson. It’s no wonder he put so much effort into it,” Charlie pointed out.

Hagrid said Harry could touch Buckbeak. Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it. The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

“Of course you were,” Fred scowled.

“Wanted Harry to be attacked, yet when you were stupid enough to provoke one, you were pathetic,” Ron sneered. Draco glared at him.

Hagrid suggested Buckbeak might let Harry ride him.

“Possibly a bit advanced for a first lesson,” Kingsley mused.

“Maybe, but not too bad,” Amelia said fairly.

This was more than Harry had bargained for. He was used to a broomstick; but he wasn’t sure a hippogriff would be quite the same.

“Definitely not,” Charlie laughed.

Hagrid directed him as Harry climbed up. Buckbeak stood up. Harry wasn’t sure where to hold on; everything in front of him was covered with feathers. Hagrid slapped the hippogriff’s hindquarters. Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry; he just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry knew which one he preferred.

“Which one?” Luna asked. Once again, Harry couldn’t quite tell if it was a genuine question or not.

“Broomstick,” he told her. “Definitely broomstick.”

The hippogriff’s wings beat uncomfortably on either side of Harry, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under his fingers and he didn’t dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of his Nimbus Two Thousand, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with its wings. Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground.

“At least it was only a quick trip, and they didn’t leave Hagrid’s sight,” Emmeline nodded approvingly.

“Not that he’d have been able to do much if Harry fell,” pointed out Percy.

“Well even the teachers that can do something don’t have a great record of stopping students from falling,” Emmeline reminded him, glancing at Neville.

This was the bit Harry had been dreading; he leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling he was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. He just managed to hold on and push himself straight again. Hagrid roared that it was great work while everyone, except the Slytherin trio, clapped once more. Hagrid asked who else wanted a go and, emboldened by Harry’s success, the rest of the class climbed into the paddock.

“Hmm, he probably should have kept it to one student at a time. Having them all go increases the risk of something going wrong and Hagrid not being able to intervene,” Bill frowned.

“True, but they have all at least seen a proper demonstration, and had the proper warnings,” Charlie reminded him. “They aren’t going in blind.”

“Not blind, just deaf,” Ron muttered.

Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn’t seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry watched. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

“Ugh, and I thought Buckbeak had more taste than that,” Sirius groaned.

“How do you know Buckbeak?” Percy asked, curiously.

“Er, I don’t. But he liked Harry, so he must have some taste,” he said quickly. A few people eyed him suspiciously, but let Dumbledore keep reading.

Malfoy drawled that it was very easy. He knew it must have been if Potter could do it. He bet Buckbeak wasn’t dangerous at all, calling him an ugly, great brute.

“Wow. You are an idiot,” Charlie said flatly.

“You deserve everything that happened to you,” Tonks agreed.

“My son did not deserve to be attacked by that animal,” Narcissa hissed.

“Yes, he did, Cissy,” Andromeda told her. “He blatantly ignored a warning from a teacher and likely paid the price for it.”

“You’re lucky it’s Hagrid and not Kettleburn,” Charlie added. “Unless you actually lost a limb, which you clearly didn’t, he’d have just told you to be more careful in future and deducted points for ignoring his instructions.”

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

“You should have used that, Harry,” Fred suggested. “Any time he pretended to faint from a dementor, just squeal like a little girl and dramatically clutch your arm.” Harry and Ron both laughed.

Malfoy yelled that he was dying, and it had killed him.

Several people snorted.

Hagrid told him he wasn’t dying and asked someone to help him get Malfoy out of there. Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Harry saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy’s arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

“A slash on the arm? And you claimed to be dying?” Fred snorted. They frequently got worse than that while creating their products.

“To be fair, it’s probably the worst injury the precious little prince has ever sustained,” George said mockingly.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid. Pansy was shouting they should fire Hagrid straight away.

“Because Malfoy was a prat?” Charlie rolled his eyes.

Dean snapped that it was Malfoy’s fault.

Almost everyone nodded at that.

Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly. They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall. Pansy said she was going to see if he was ok. The rest of the Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione asked if he would be alright. Harry said he’d be fine, thinking he’d had much worse injuries healed by Madam Pomfrey.

Several people winced at the thought of what those injuries were.

Ron commented that it was a bad thing to happen in Hagrid’s first class.

“Do you reckon Malfoy actually planned for Buckbeak to attack him, or did he just miss the warning because he wasn’t listening?” Kingsley wondered.

“Well, he did comment that he didn’t think Buckbeak was dangerous at all, so clearly, he heard at least some of what Hagrid said. He was lucky it wasn’t worse, but I do think it was deliberate,” Amelia said.

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn’t there. Hermione asked if they would fire him, and Ron said they had better not. Harry was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Harry was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

“There were enough Gryffindors who witnessed Malfoy’s stupidity,” Tonks pointed out.

“Yeah, but this is Lucius Malfoy,” Bill reminded her. “The only testimony that will matter is his, and therefore little Malfoy’s.”

Ron gloomily noted that they couldn’t say it hadn’t been an interesting first day back. They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all three of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window. Harry noted a light in Hagrid’s window. Ron looked at his watch and said it was still quite early. Hermione was uncertain, glancing at Harry who said he was allowed to walk across the grounds as Sirius hadn’t gotten past the dementors yet.

“Well, technically he has, or he wouldn’t have escaped in the first place,” Percy pointed out.

So, they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren’t entirely sure they were supposed to be out.

“Well, as long as it was before curfew it should be fine. And, as far as the school know, nobody has told Harry about Sirius and so he has no reason to be cautious or think he shouldn’t be out,” Fred stated.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When they reached Hagrid’s hut, they knocked, and a voice growled for them to come in. Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid’s lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.

“Oh dear,” Tonks sighed sadly.

“Poor Hagrid,” Charlie frowned. “He wasn’t sacked, was he?”

“No,” Harry assured him.

He eventually recognised them and said it was a record having a teacher only lasting a day. Hermione asked if he’d been fired, and he miserably told her not yet. But he suspected it was only a matter of time. Ron asked how Malfoy was and Hagrid replied, Madam Pomfrey fixed him as best she could but he was still saying it was agony, covered in bandages and moaning.

“What rubbish. Madam Pomfrey in a wonderful healer,” Emmeline scoffed.

“Obviously, but Malfoy wants Hagrid to be sacked so, of course he’s faking it,” Charlie scowled angrily.

“And we all know what he’s best at is being a drama queen,” Fred put in.

“IT did hurt,” Draco defended himself.

“I’m sure it did, at first. But there is no way it was that bad after Madam Pomfrey fixed you up. It was a scratch. A deep one maybe, but nothing that wouldn’t be fixed with a bit of dittany and a Wiggenweld potion,” Andromeda pointed out.

Harry immediately claimed he was faking it. He pointed out Madam Pomfrey had regrown half his bones last year.

“Now who is being dramatic. It was hardly half of all of your bones,” Fred teased. Harry stuck his tongue out.

Hagrid stated that the school governors had been told.

“Really? Of all the things that have gone on at that school in the last two years, that’s what they were informed about? If they got told about every single student who ended up in the hospital wing they wouldn’t be doing anything else,” Bill pointed out.

“Yeah, but Malfoy Senior would obviously have told them in a bid to get Hagrid fired,” Percy reminded him.

The governors thought h had started too big, gone with flobberworms or something but he’d thought it would make a good first lesson.

“And in this case, he was right. It would have been a good first lesson and he did actually approach it properly. There was absolutely nothing he could have done to prevent Malfoy’s idiocy,” Charlie stated.

“We know, Charlie,” Bill soothed his brother.

He thought it was all his fault, but Hermione claimed it was Malfoy’s.

Almost everyone nodded at that.

Harry said they were witnesses; they had seen Hagrid give the warning and they would tell Dumbledore what really happened.

“It’s not Dumbledore you need to convince. Besides, Malfoy would have told his father you were friends with Hagrid, so he’d claim you were lying to cover for your friend. You would need the rest of the Gryffindors to vouch for him, rather than you three,” Kingsley told him.

“It wouldn’t matter. The Ministry would care far more about placating Lucius Malfoy than about the fate of one Hippogriff,” Sirius said bitterly. The Ministry workers all grimaced.

Ron agreed, promising they’d back Hagrid up. Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Harry and Ron and pulled them into a bone breaking hug. Hermione told him he’d had enough to drink and emptied his tankard outside.

“Probably for the best,” Minerva agreed.

Hagrid let go of Ron and Harry who staggered away, holding their ribs.

“Were you ok?” Sirius asked quickly.

“Fine. Just sore for a few seconds,” Harry assured him.

“Are you sure? Who knows, you might have broken a few ribs. All of them even. You could have died!” Fred declared dramatically. Then he paused. “Oh, wait. You’re not Malfoy.” Several people laughed while Draco scowled indignantly.

Then he heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash. Harry asked what he’d done as Hermione returned. She said he’d stuck his head in a water barrel.

“Well, that’s one way to sober up,” Bill laughed.

Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes. He said that was better. Then he thanked them for coming before stopping as he saw Harry. Then he started yelling, asking what he thought he was doing, that Harry wasn’t supposed to go wandering around after dark. He yelled at the other two for letting him.

“Well, now it’s definitely a good job Harry was warned beforehand, or he’d be really confused right then,” Fred muttered.

“I was still confused,” Harry assured him dryly. “Or at least I wasn’t expecting him to start yelling like that.”

“That’s fair. It really did come out of the blue,” George said. "

Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door. He said he was taking them back to school and warned them not to let him catch them walking down to see him after dark as he wasn’t worth that.

“Confusion for Harry aside, Hagrid really is being much more responsible in this book,” Bill noted.

“Yeah, he doesn’t want them to wander after dark because a supposed murderer is after Harry, but sending them into the forest to speak with acromantula is perfectly fine,” George scoffed.

“At least he’s trying,” Charlie shrugged.

“That is the end of the chapter. That concludes this evening’s reading,” Dumbledore announced. Molly got up to start dinner and everyone else slowly dispersed.

Chapter Text

Bill simply grabbed himself a plate of snacks before finding himself a quiet room to continue his research. So far, the room had been invaluable. It had given him several books that mentioned horcruxes, including two incredibly rare ones that likely couldn’t be found outside of old Pureblood collections.

He combed through them carefully, not wanting to miss anything. Most of the contents made his stomach turn. He thought he’d seen some evil things in Egypt, but some of the spells in these books were far worse. It was difficult work. He also had to translate some of the texts. He knew Egyptian hieroglyphics well enough, but the Ancient Greek book gave him a little more trouble. According to the texts Herpo the Foul created the first recorded horcrux, and then his notes were stolen by his apprentice, who destroyed the Horcrux, killed Herpo, and fled to Egypt.

Eventually, he found the spell he’d been looking for. As he’d thought, it was a spell to transfer a horcrux to another container, however, the new container had to be prepared through the proper ritual. Which was some pretty dark magic. Non-magical objects were the hardest to prepare, while powerful, magical items were already primed to host a soul. The likelihood of getting hold of an object that had been prepared to contain a horcrux, but never used, was infinitesimal. It wasn’t necessarily difficult to do so, but the magic required to allow an inanimate object to hold a portion of one’s soul left Bill feeling dirty. Unless they wanted to use, and then destroy, a powerful magical artefact, it was their only option.

Still, it was a place to start. If he could tweak the spell to work on a human horcrux, then at least they would have the start of a plan.

***********************************

Everyone but Bill sat around the table in the dining room area, eating the delicious stew Molly had made. The Weasleys were more subdued than normal with the mentions of Bilius still fresh in their minds.

Harry sat with Luna, deciding to spend a bit more time with the girl who was obviously here for a reason, even if that reason wasn’t quite clear. She was full of strange ideas about magical creatures Harry had never heard of before and wondered privately whether they were even real, but he enjoyed listening to her talk about them nonetheless. She had some interesting stories about holidays she’d been on with her father, looking for these creatures. As someone who’d never really travelled anywhere, he liked listening to her describe places like Sweden, Austria and even Australia.

As they finished eating, Moody signalled to Harry who bade goodbye to Luna, once she’d finished her latest story, and made his way to what had become the training room.

As soon as he walked in, he had to duck a jet of red light aimed at his head. He flung up a shield just in time to deflect the next attack and used the spare second to look around. He couldn’t see Moody anywhere, so he crouched down, with his back to the wall, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. From his left came a volley of spells, only a third of which Harry thought he might recognise. Knowing his shield wouldn’t hold long against such an onslaught, he rolled to the side, sprang up to his feet and began casting his own volley of spells back in the direction the attack had originated.

Desperately he tried to think of a way to find out where Moody would be. Nothing came to mind, and he was distracted by another attack from a completely different direction.

Eventually, his shield shattered, and he was hit with a stunner, and everything went black. When he came too, Moody was standing over him. Harry hauled himself to his feet, groaning.

“Not bad. You lasted a decent length of time, but your attack needs to be better. You’re a sitting duck if you just rely on defence.”

“I couldn’t think of a way to get you to reveal yourself,” Harry admitted. Moody nodded. He then proceeded to teach Harry, Glacius, Depulso, and finite incantatem. The first two Harry had little trouble with, though he struggled to get the direction he wanted on the banishing charm. However, he made up for his lack of finesse with power, accidentally throwing Mad-Eye hard into the wall on one go. Harry had apologised profusely, healing up the cut on the back of his head, but Moody had waved this away, being proud of the power behind his spell. Though he did get Harry to practise on the training dummies for a bit after that.

With finite incantatem, Moody disillusioned himself and had Harry try to remove his spell, which he struggled the most with. The best he could get was making Moody’s spell flicker ever so slightly, and he had to be looking in exactly the right direction to even notice.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, lad,” Moody told him when they wrapped up an hour later, with Harry still unable to complete the spell. “You have the power; you just need the focus. You’re a natural and pick up new spells quicker than most Aurors I’ve trained. That doesn’t mean you’ll get everything on the first go.” Harry nodded, feeling a surge of pride in himself. Moody wasn’t all that big on praise, so when he gave it out, he definitely meant it.

As always, Harry was exhausted by the time he finished with Moody, training having gone on for almost three hours, and having learnt three new spells in that time. He made his way to the room he shared with Remus. To his surprise, he found Andromeda in there with Remus and Sirius.

“Hi,” he greeted as he practically fell onto the nearest couch.

“How was training?” Sirius asked.

“Great. Tiring. Moody’s relentless,” Harry told him. Sirius laughed.

“Yeah. But you couldn’t ask for a better teacher.” Harry nodded in agreement.

“What are you three up to?”

“We wanted to speak with you. I meant to bring it up earlier, but with some of the, er, revelations, in these books it slipped my mind,” Remus told him. He paused, looking awkward. “Would you mind if Andromeda checked your memories?”

“For what?” Harry frowned.

“For memories that might be missing, or signs of memory loss. Lockhart was a self-proclaimed expert at memory charms, and Remus is concerned about his…inappropriateness,” Andromeda explained delicately. Harry’s frown deepened before he understood her meaning and yelped in disgust.

“Oh, yuck. You don’t think….no way…”

“It’s entirely possible nothing happened, likely even. But even the slightest possibility isn’t one that should be ignored,” Sirius said quietly. Harry grimaced.

“With their permission, Andromeda is going to check all of the other students here as well, but it’s you he was most…touchy, with,” stated Remus with an awkward grimace. Harry shuddered.

“Alright. I guess. Just…let’s get it over with.” Andromeda nodded and came to sit beside him.

“Now, you just need to relax while I perform Legilimency. Do no attempt to throw me out or stop me entering as we do in occlumency practise,” she advised. Harry nodded and took a deep breath. Then he felt the now familiar pressure on his mind. He tried to relax, allowing Andromeda to enter unopposed. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it was definitely odd. Like his mind was too full, bursting at the seams.

It felt like it lasted forever, fragments of memories from his second year flashed before him. All of his interactions with Lockhart examined.

Eventually, the presence withdrew, and Harry gasped when he was finally alone in his mind once more. His head was pounding, and he saw double for several seconds. Andromeda handed him a potion which he took without question. His vision cleared and his headache lessened. Harry sighed with relief.

“I found no evidence of memory alteration. I don’t believe Lockhart ever attempted to modify his memories,” Andromeda informed them, and they all sighed in relief at the news. Harry sagged against the back of the couch, more exhausted than ever after that. Andromeda handed him the second dose of potion for his eyes which he downed immediately, before making his way to his bedroom.

Once he’d finished his nightly ablutions, he collapsed onto the bed. After a few moments, he heard someone knock on the door. He mumbled for them to come in. Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then the door opened slowly.

“You asleep, pup?” Sirius’ voice was quiet, and Harry made a noise of disagreement which was muffled by the pillow. He felt the bed dip as his godfather sat on the side. A hand gently ruffled his hair and then removed his glasses which he’d forgotten to take off. “You doing ok?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you to sleep. Sweet dreams, kiddo.” With a last ruffle of his hair, Sirius stood up and left the room. Harry fell asleep almost immediately.

***********************************

Sirius went back to the living room area. “He’s out like a light,” he announced.

“It’s not surprising, Legilimency drains you, and that’s without a training session with Mad-Eye Moody on top of it,” Andromeda stated. Sirius nodded, retaking his seat next to Remus.

“He’s a tough boy,” Remus assured him, seeing the worried look on Sirius’ face. Sirius didn’t voice his fears about the news Bill had given them the night before. He trusted Andromeda, but that was Harry’s news to share or not. Though he wasn’t sure what his cousin would be able to do with the news anyway.

“Sirius, I, I would like to apologize for believing the worst of you,” Andromeda stated quietly. He felt Remus stiffen beside him.

“It’s fine, Andi. We were hardly close. You didn’t have much reason to believe I wouldn’t fall in with the rest of the family,” he told her with a sigh. “And you’ve been making up for it, helping me and Harry. Fixing us both up.” Next to him, Remus shifted uncomfortably, probably hurt by his easy acceptance of Andromeda’s apology. And he didn’t know how to explain that it was easy to forgive his cousin, because it wasn’t as close. As personal. He barely knew his cousin. They’d interacted a few times at family parties before she’s run away with Ted, but that was it. She had graduated Hogwarts just before he’d started and had never witnessed the friendship between himself and James. Remus had lived it. But they’d all lived with the friendship between themselves and the rat too.

Although, Sirius had been far more surprised that the rat had had the brains to trick him, than him being a traitor. It had suddenly all just made sense that Peter betrayed them. It fit. And part of him wondered if Remus had felt that way about him, or if he’d always thought some part of the story was missing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Andromeda once more. She had risen and invited Tonks and her husband into the room. The five of them spent a while chatting and having a good laugh. Ted had a great sense of humour, as did Tonks. They made him forget, just for a little while. He felt normal. Happy, even.

Eventually, the three of them left, with promises to repeat the event, when Harry was also able to join them. Silence reigned after that. The slightly awkward tension that had constantly been between the two of them was back and Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. Merlin, he hated it. Hated that he was unable to just let it go. He loved Remus, and that made it so much worse. His head had already forgiven his friend, but his heart, that wasn’t quite with the program. It was hurt, scarred and desperate to protect itself.

“How about a game of exploding snap?” He suggested suddenly. Remus looked bemused by the suddenness of it but agreed easily enough. The room provided a pack of cards and they set about playing. Sirius remembered to set up a silencing charm so they wouldn’t disturb Harry, though he suspected it would take something considerable to wake his godson at the moment.

 Sirius won the first round and Remus tended to his singed eyebrows, grimacing. Sirius laughed and cast a hair growth charm that caused his eyebrows to grow rapidly down his face. Remus spluttered and fumbled around trying to find his wand to fix it, but his eyebrows had grown down to his nose in only a few seconds, almost blinding him.  Sirius fell about laughing at the sight and Remus began cursing.

Eventually, Sirius took pity on his friend and handed him his wand, which he’d taken, and Remus reversed the hex. They didn’t end up playing much more, busy jinxing each other instead until they were both on the floor in stitches. Although, in Remus’ case that might have been due to the tickling charm. Which Sirius eventually reversed. They both leant against the couch, trying to catch their breath.

Sirius slumped sideways, leaning against Remus, his head on his shoulder. This had reminded him of better days, sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Usually, it was him and James getting into playful fights during a game. Remus generally preferred chess, although he’d join in with exploding snap occasionally. They’d also played rune dominos, which seemed to have fallen out of favour by the time they finished Hogwarts. Not enough people took Ancient Runes and learnt to play. He, James and Remus had all taken it, the rat was the only one who never bothered to learn so it was the one game that wasn’t tainted by him. He made a note to introduce Harry to the game, it would be a great way to help him learn Ancient Runes, which he’d expressed an interest in.

“You haven’t fallen asleep, have you? I’m not carrying you to bed,” Remus said teasingly. Sirius snorted.

“Not yet, but you might have to soon.” The sentiment was added to as he yawned widely. He felt more than heard the low chuckle in response and he shuddered.

“Are you cold?” Remus asked, concern in his voice. He knew Sirius was frequently cold after being in Azkaban for so long.

“Na. You’re like a personal furnace,” Sirius told him. Remus shifted slightly and tentatively wrapped an arm properly around his shoulders. Sirius hummed happily. It felt like being wrapped in a blanket. His eyes slipped closed as he basked in being warm, comfortable, content. It felt so right sitting like this with Remus. He never wanted to move.

Remus stared down at the head on his shoulder, hardly daring to breathe. The mixed signals were making his head spin. One moment the awkward tension was suffocating and the next it was as if those twelve, horrible years had never happened. He knew it wasn’t Sirius’ fault, that didn’t make it any less confusing. Or painful. Constantly getting his hopes up, getting a taste of what his future could be like with his best friend at his side and then it was snuffed out. Only to happen again and again.

He sighed to himself but Sirius, of course, noticed and asked if he was ok. “Yeah, just thinking about the rest of this book,” he lied. Either Sirius didn’t notice, or he let the lie go, just sighing himself.

“It’s going to suck.”

“Yeah. But hopefully the future books will tell us where Peter will be so we can find him and clear your name. Amelia will already be working on it and it we catch the rat it will be irrefutable proof.” Sirius made a noise of assent but said nothing.

They sat in silence for a while further, neither of them moving until the fire grew low. Eventually Sirius sat up, yawning and stretching.

“I’m gonna head to bed before I do fall asleep here,” he said. “Good night, Moony.”

“Night, Padfoot,” he replied quietly. He watched as Sirius dragged himself towards his bedroom, but he remained a while longer, thinking over his own actions in the book. His own failures.

After a while he finally got to his feet and made his way to his own bedroom. He fell onto the bed, fully dressed and stared up at the ceiling. Sleep was a long time coming.

********************************

The professors gathered together in one sitting room. They discussed the events so far and then how they could make the following year safer.

“Precautions have been put into place,” Dumbledore assured them.

“Uh, huh. And more will be needed. That Potter Luck is strong stuff,” Minerva said grimly. The other heads of house nodded in agreement.

“Regardless, do you mean to tell me, you allowed Miss Granger the use of a time turner to attend extra lessons that year?” Severus glared at both Dumbledore and Minerva.

“It was an experiment,” Minerva sighed. “The Department of Mysteries wanted a report on the effects of repeated use of a time turner. Miss Granger signed up for all the subjects and it was agreed both goals could be achieved at once as it was vouched for that she was responsible enough to handle it. Only if Miss Granger received the strictest supervision.”

“And I’m sure she did not,” Severus drawled. Minerva flushed slightly. “And you thought a thirteen-year-old was the best recipient of this experiment? Not a seventh year, who have finished their development, both physical and magical?”

“I kept as close an eye on her as I could.”

“Which is hardly that close at all, judging by the rest of your behaviour in these books.”

“You’re hardly one to talk about failing students, Severus,” Pomona pointed out mildly. “Or shall we revisit your behaviour in Mr. Potter’s classes?” The potions master scowled but said nothing.

They continued their discussion, but reached very few conclusions, other than hoping the next book would shed some light on what was to come and how they could prevent it.

******************************************

Hermione spent the evening studying. The room had so many books in, she barely knew where to start. The room had provided her with a specific library room where she knew it was unlikely she’d be disturbed outside the specified lesson times. It shocked her, then, when George Weasley came strolling into the room like he did so every day.

“What are you doing in here?” She asked in surprise.

“Looking for a book,” he grinned. She flushed and his grin widened. He moved over to the potions section and began scanning the shelves.

“Hoping to impress Snape? Or cause trouble?” She asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

“Both,” George winked. He found his book and thumbed through it quickly. “Ah, here it is. Well, I best get back to dear old Freddie. He can’t cope without me, you see.” He gave her another wink and she rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Naturally, she replied sarcastically.

“You want to come and see some of our stuff? See how it’s done?” he offered. Hermione was taken aback but found herself agreeing. While she had no patience for pranks, she was interested in how the twins made their own.

He led her to their room where Fred was scribbling on a piece of parchment at a desk. He looked up when they both arrived and raised his eyebrows.

“Do what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?” He asked, smirking at George slightly.

“George invited me to see what you guys do,” she explained.

“Did he, indeed? Well, fair enough then. George will give you a tour, I’m almost done with this design.” George nodded and began showing Hermione around. They had various cauldrons set up, bubbling away.

“These are under stasis,” he explained, pointing at one bench with three cauldrons on. “I’m good, but even I can only brew two at once,” he smirked proudly. Looking over at the other two cauldrons that were being used, she stared up at him, shocked.

“Are those two different potions? At once?”

“Yeah. I invented that one, and the second one is a swelling solution. Both are pretty easy, and their simmering times work well to allow me to work on both at the same time.”

“That’s very impressive.”

“Praise? From the brilliantly clever Hermione Granger? I’m flattered.”

“Git,” she muttered, feeling her face getting warm. He chuckled; a low sound that made her feel warm in a completely different way. She glared at him to hide her reaction but that just made him chuckle more.

“Come on. I’ll show you our fake wand designs.” He led her over to a different bench from where Fred was working. It was also strewn with parchments.

“Have you done all of this since getting here?”

“Yeah. A lot of it is from memory, we had most of it already done. But we’ve added a few things and got the potions up and running.”

“Wow. This is…well, it’s incredible. You designed all of these things yourselves?”

“Yep,” he grinned proudly. “We currently have fake wands in production, ton-tongue toffees about to be ready for their first tests and canary creams, although those will need a little bit longer to be ready. All of our own invention.”

“How do you have time to make all of this stuff?”

“We don’t really bother with classwork,” he shrugged. She stared at him.

“But if you don’t bother with classwork, how do you learn the things you need to know?” She wondered. He laughed.

“We study what we need. School gives you a broad education, we want a bit more of a specific one. We each have our specialities, I focus on Potions, as you can tell, as well as Arithmancy and Herbology. Fred is better at Transfiguration, Defence and Charms. He also likes Ancient Runes, but that’s more of a hobby. We don’t often use runes for our stuff.

“And what’s your hobby?” Hermione wondered. George stared at her, mouth slightly open as if surprised. “What?” She asked, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Nobody’s ever asked me that before,” he admitted quietly.

“What?”

“Fred always knew, there was no need for him to ask. Nobody else ever bothered. Everyone just assumed my hobbies are pranks and Quidditch. And they are. But nobody ever asked if there was anything else.”

“That’s…” Hermione couldn’t find the words.

“It’s Astronomy, by the way,” he told her softly. “It comes in handy for Potions and Herbology, but sometimes, when it all gets a bit much, I like just lying outside and staring at the stars. Sometimes I like to just fly up to the roof of the castle for some peace and quiet.”

“George Weasley, wanting peace and quiet. Who knew?” She teased. He offered her a lopsided grin that showed a dimple on his left cheek.

“Don’t be telling anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she promised.

He continued showing her some of their designs, plans for the future and she was awed. No matter how much they seemingly skived off schoolwork, they were highly intelligent. Much more so than she had ever given them credit for.

Eventually she bade them goodnight as it grew quite late. She was honestly surprised at how much time had gone past.

“Brave of you, showing Miss Teacher’s Pet all of our stuff,” Fred said to his brother once Hermione was gone. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t tell all the teachers about what we’re doing here.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” George protested.

“Have we been reading about the same Granger?”

“Yes, we have. And you’ll notice she doesn’t often actually go and tell a teacher about what’s going on. She prefers to scold people herself,” George pointed out. “And she didn’t even scold us. She was impressed.” Fred rolled his eyes.

“Alright. Impress your girl.”

“She isn’t my girl,” George shot back. Fred just smirked and it was George’s turn to roll his eyes. The duo finished up their projects without further conversation and soon headed to bed.

*********************************

The following morning, breakfast was noisy affair as most people were feeling well rested and reasonably positive about the day. They hoped that Sirius was the most dangerous thing in the book, as they clearly didn’t have to worry about him actually harming Harry. Those who knew better, knew that everyone had survived, somehow. It was unlikely to be entirely pleasant, but they figured it could hardly be worse than Harry being bitten by a basilisk in the last one.

Lessons resumed that morning. Harry spent the morning with Mad-Eye once more, going over detection charms for poisons in food and drink. Hermione joined him while Ron and the others all had Muggle-Studies. These spells he struggled with a little more and the former Auror gave them both bracelets to wear that had detection charms imbued in them until they could master the spells themselves. They were worried this signalled his intention to try and poison them while they were in the room and made a mental note to check everything they ate or drank.

After that, they both had a Magical Culture lesson. Sirius took Harry aside for this instead of studying with Hermione under Andromeda’s tutelage. He spoke to Harry about the Ancient and Noble families and what it would mean to be Lord Potter. He didn’t understand most of it, and it was quite overwhelming to be a lord of all things, but he appreciated his godfather’s efforts.

Finally, he spent some more time with Bill going over Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. He preferred Arithmancy but wanted to gain at least a basic understanding of them both. He suspected they would have enough time for him to do that and still focus on Arithmancy enough to catch up on the third-year curriculum.

By the time it was lunch, his head was swimming with new information. He sat down between Sirius and Fred, already feeling exhausted.

“You doing ok?” Fred asked him, looking concerned.

“Fine. Just…it’s a lot.”

“Yeah. I’m not surprised. These last few days, has it even been a week? Have been a bit crazy,” Fred agreed.

“What have you been up to this morning?” Harry asked.

“We had advanced Healing with Andromeda first thing. We wanted some extra help given all the inventing we do. Then we had some free time, so I finished off the design for what we call Puking Pastilles. Now we need to make them. We just finished up Defence with Remus.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Could be worse,” Fred grinned.

Once everyone had finished eating, they moved back to the reading room. Everyone retook their usual positions and Amelia picked up the book and found the correct page.

Chapter Text

Malfoy didn’t reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning.

"That's like...what, three days later? For a scratch?" George scoffed.

"There's no way he was in the hospital wing for three days with a scratch from a Hippogriff," Charlie agreed. "They don't have any special properties to create difficulties in closing the wound. It would have been fixed in seconds."

"And then maybe the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey's extra caution," Tonks agreed.

"So, he was in the Hospital Wing for the same length of time as Harry when he had to regrow every bone in his arm?" Sirius scoffed derisively.

"Well, we all know Malfoy is an attention-seeking drama queen," Ron pointed out. Draco scowled.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry’s opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

Most of the room snorted at the ridiculousness.

"Why was he still wearing bandages? Surely Poppy would have removed them before he left the Hospital Wing," Pomona wondered.

"He probably conjured his own while hiding in the dormitory for a couple of days," Ted suggested.

Pansy asked him how it was and if it hurt much. He agreed though he winked at Crabbe and Goyle when she wasn't looking.

Several people rolled their eyes.

"It was a scratch," George repeated.

Snape told them all to settle down. Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said “settle down” if they’d walked in late, he’d have given them detention.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't walk into Snape's lesson late. You wouldn't fake an injury for three days and, if you were truly injured, I imagine you'd just skip potions and get released in time to miss it completely," Tonks pointed out.

"And get in trouble for missing class?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"True, you'd be in trouble either way, even with a legitimate reason," Kingsley shook his head.

But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape’s classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favoured his own students above all others.

Nobody bothered to comment, but there were some eye rolls.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.

"That's not suspicious at all," Fred snorted.

"Any teacher with an ounce of sense would immediately separate them," Andromeda stated.

"Yes, because Snape is known for his sense when Harry is involved," Bill commented dryly.

Malfoy called that he needed help cutting up his ingredients. Snape made Ron do it.

"Severus, you're ridiculous. If Draco was truly injured enough to be unable to prepare his own ingredients, he shouldn't be brewing at all," Andromeda told him.

"Why miss a chance to humiliate Harry and Ron, as I'm sure Harry will be up next for the next ingredient," Charlie asked sarcastically.

Ron went brick red. He hissed that there was nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm. Malfoy smirked across the table and told him to cut the roots. Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy’s roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"Bad idea, Ron," George shook his head. "You know he'll tattle, and Snape will make you swap."

"Ron shouldn't have to do Malfoy's work in the first place," pointed out Bill.

"Well, we know that, but Snape's a git and what Ron's doing is just going to backfire and make it worse," Fred sighed. Severus sneered but several people were nodding their agreement.

"He probably thinks it's funny to force them to do the bidding of their bully. Makes him feel powerful," Sirius sneered.

"You'd be the expert on bullying wouldn't you, Black? You and your little gang attacking people four on one." Severus spat back.

“Like you’re any better. A grown man in a position of power bullying an innocent child,” Emmeline put in.

"Enough," Dumbledore stepped in before the argument could escalate any further.

Malfoy called out that Weasley was mutilating his roots.

"Someone give the kid a real injury," Charlie scowled.

Draco cringed away from the several people, namely Weasleys, who looked perfectly willing to do just that.

Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.

Sirius smirked at the description.

He ordered Ron to change roots. Ron protested, having spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.

"It's not fair, but you really should have expected that," Tonks said. Ron grimaced.

Snape was having no arguments. Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again. Malfoy maliciously called that he would need his shrivelfig skinned, which Snape assigned to Harry, giving him the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.

"And there it is," Tonks sighed.

Most people in the room scowled but didn't bother saying anything. Snape's behaviour was disgusting and yet there was little point rehashing the same argument.

Harry took Malfoy’s shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking.

Several adults nodded approvingly. It was the best action he could take with Snape hovering, just waiting for an excuse to punish him.

Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever. He asked if they'd seen their pal, Hagrid, lately. Ron told him it was none of his business.

"Ron, you really need to learn not to react to him," Arthur told his son. "It's what he wants."

"Well ignoring him hardly helps either, Harry almost never reacts, and Malfoy still bothers him," Charlie pointed out.

"Well, that's usually because Ron reacts anyway, even if Harry ignores him so he still gets what he wants," Percy reminded him.

"Even if Ron didn't and Harry kept ignoring him, he'd want Harry's attention. Draco's got a cruuuuuush," George said in a sing-song voice. Draco spluttered, going red in the face.

In a tone of false sorrow, Malfoy told them he wouldn't be a teacher much longer as his father wasn't very happy about his injury.

"The injury to your arm, or the one to your hearing which meant you failed to hear the teacher's clear instructions?" Tonks asked.

Ron threatened to give him a real injury. Malfoy continued that his father had complained to the governors and the Ministry. He added that his injury was lasting and who knew if his arm would ever be the same again?

"I was bitten by a basilisk and my arm is fine," Harry told him. Several people cringed horribly at the reminder.

"You were healed by Fawkes," Draco pointed out.

"Alright I had all my bones removed and then regrown. I was only in the Hospital wing for a night."

"Honestly, you're as much of a drama queen as Lockhart," Fred told Draco.

"Spends as long on his hair as well," George agreed. "Both blond. Are you two related?"

"NO! I am not related to him!" Draco said derisively.

"I dunno, it's a pretty strong resemblance," smirked Charlie. Draco scowled furiously, turning to look at his mother and godfather for help. Neither said anything in his defence.

Harry commented that, that was why Malfoy was putting it on, to get Hagrid fired. Malfoy agreed that it was part of it, but there were other benefits. He ordered Ron to slice his caterpillars.

"If your arm is that delicate, should you even be up and about? The corridors get very crowded between lessons. It would have been very easy to take a knock. Cause irreparable harm," Tonks said sarcastically.

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble.

Neville sighed.

Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned orange. Snape ladled some up and allowed it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see.

"Too many of some ingredients. It's a fairly simple fix and, for any competent teacher, would be a good teaching moment on correcting Potions gone wrong," Andromeda stated off-handedly.

"Why teach when you can bully your students?" Emmeline asked sarcastically.

He asked if anything penetrated his thick skull. Snape pointed out he'd said only one rat spleen was needed and only a dash of leech juice. He asked what he had to do to make Longbottom understand.

"Your job?" Fred suggested. A few people snorted while Severus glared at him. He opened his mouth, but Arthur cut him off in a mild yet firm tone.

"Don't bother, Severus. Fred is correct. And given how you talk to your students, he has every right to point it out."

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

Several people scowled at Severus.

Hermione offered to help Neville put it right.

"That's nice of you, Hermione, but you know Snape won't allow that," Emmeline told her with an angry glare at the Professor.

Snape said he didn't recall asking her to show off, causing Hermione to go as pink as Neville.

"She wasn't showing off, she was offering to help her classmate as his teacher is too incompetent to do so," Emmeline snapped.

"I am not incompetent!" Severus snapped.

"True. You're just a bullying git," Charlie stated, still angry at the man's treatment of Ron, and throughout the rest of this class. Severus opened his mouth, but Minerva, Arthur and Dumbledore all shot him looks that made him close it again.

Snape continued that at the end of the lesson he would feed the potion to Trevor.

"You WHAT?" Several people shouted at once. Luna and Charlie both gasped in outrage.

"How dare you?" Minerva raged. She almost asked the students why she didn't hear anything about this but looked at Harry and crumpled slightly. She knew exactly why none of them bothered to report this incident to her.

"The toad should not have been in my classroom. Given its proclivity for escaping, it could have caused untold havoc," Severus drawled.

"A valid point and yet completely irrelevant. You should have had the toad removed. That is not an excuse to poison a student's pet," Andromeda told him sternly.

"I don't normally have him in class, but he'd run away that morning and I found him on the way to Potions and didn't have time to take him back to the dormitory," Neville explained nervously.

"And it doesn't sound like Trevor was causing any issues anyway," Bill glared. "Not that it would have been an excuse to kill him anyway."

"I would not have killed it."

"How would Neville know that? You've been nothing but an evil git to him. Why wouldn't he suspect you would murder his pet out of sheer spite?" Charlie scowled.

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. He begged Hermione to help him.

"You did, didn’t you?" Luna asked, looking concerned.

"Of course," Hermione assured him.

Seamus leant over to borrow Harry's scales and told him The Prophet said Sirius Black had been sighted. Harry and Ron both asked where and on the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely.

"Malfoy, who would know all about Sirius 'betraying' the Potters. Something else for him to dangle over Harry's head because nobody saw fit to tell him anything," Fred rolled his eyes. A few of the adults shifted guiltily.

Seamus was excited as he said it wasn't too far from there.

"Why is Seamus excited that a supposed mass murderer is possibly near Hogwarts?" Bill asked.

"It's Seamus," Ron shrugged.

A Muggle had called in a sighting but by the time the Ministry got there, he was gone. Ron repeated that he was seen not too far from there and then spotted Malfoy watching and asked if he needed anything else skinning. But Malfoy’s eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry. He leaned across the table and asked if Harry was thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed.

"Well, if anyone had a hope it would be Harry," Sirius said, trying to keep things light.

"Clearly," George grinned, gesturing to where the two were leaning into each other on the couch. "You look pretty caught there."

Harry offhandedly agreed. Malfoy smirked and said if it was him, he'd have done something before now. He wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy.

"Yes, you would," Charlie snorted.

"Supposedly your arm might never be the same again from a scratch, you wouldn't stand a chance against a supposed murderer," Ron agreed.

"No, but his father would certainly hear about it," George snickered.

"Well, if he was in Harry's position his daddy wouldn't be around to hear about it, so ickle Malfoy would be scuppered," Fred pointed out.

Ron asked what he was talking about, and Malfoy asked if Harry didn't know. Harry asked what and Malfoy sneered, saying maybe he'd rather not risk his neck, preferring to leave it to the dementors. He added that if it were him, he'd want revenge, he'd hunt him down himself.

Several of the younger lot snorted.

"You're a terrible liar, Malfoy," Fred sneered.

Harry angrily asked what he was talking about, but then Snape called to them that they should have finished adding ingredients so they should clear away while the potion stews. Then they would test Longbottom’s.

Several people glowered at Severus.

Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn’t see.

Neville sent Hermione a grateful smile.

"Snape will know you did it. He'll know Neville didn't fix the potion himself," Kingsley said.

"True, but if he saw me before the potion was fixed, he'd have stopped me, and I didn't want to risk it," Hermione explained. "At least this way he wouldn't poison Trevor."

Harry and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner. Harry wondered what Malfoy had meant, why he would want revenge on Black. Ron told him he was making it up, trying to make Harry do something stupid.

"Honestly, you should know by then to just ignore him. He's full of rubbish l and, given he's actively wanted a classmate dead just the year before, it's entirely possible he'd lie his ass off to make you want to chase after someone who wants to kill you," Charlie pointed out.

"Leave it Charlie, he's already apologised," Hermione told him. "Besides, I got him back," she added with a smirk. Draco grimaced at the reminder.

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. Snape told everyone to gather round and watch what happened to Trevor. If the potion is correct, he should turn into a tadpole, if not, as Snape expected, he would likely be poisoned.

"Git," Ron coughed. It was a sign of how angry everyone was that nobody told him off for it.

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited.

"Of course they did," Fred rolled his eyes.

"All of them?" Andromeda wondered. Harry shrugged.

"I don't think so. Mainly Malfoy, Parkinson and their cronies. There were a couple that didn't seem to care either way," he admitted.

Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville’s potion, which was now green.

Several people sighed in relief, feeling pleased for Neville the potion appeared right.

He trickled a few drops down Trevor’s throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape’s palm.

"Well done, Hermione," Andromeda smiled. "Being able to correct Potions that have gone wrong is a key skill past OWL level."

"And doing it without Snape noticing is also impressive," George noted.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Thank Merlin," Emmeline breathed.

Snape took five points from Gryffindor, saying he told Hermione not to help him.

“Actually, you didn’t. You just said you didn’t ask for her to show off. You said nothing about not helping him,” Charlie pointed out snidely.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was seething about Snape. He said Hermione should have lied and said Neville did it all by himself.

“That would never have worked. Snape would never believe it and it would give him an excuse to take more points for lying,” George shook his head.

“Trust Snape to be bitter he couldn’t poison someone’s pet,” Sirius sneered.

Hermione didn’t reply and Ron asked where she had gone. Harry turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch. Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared. Harry spotted her, hurrying up the stairs, tucking something down the front of her robes.

Hermione blushed. “Of course you would spot that,” she muttered to Harry. He grinned at her.

Ron asked how she was behind them one minute and back at the bottom of the stairs the next. She said she had to go back for something she’d forgotten. Then her bag split, unsurprisingly, considering it contained at least a dozen large, heavy books.

“You need an extension charm. And probably a feather light one,” George told her.

“Yeah, I meant to get a new bag in Diagon Alley when I saw how many new books I’d need but then I got Crookshanks and was distracted.”

Ron asked why she was carrying all of the books around. She reminded him how many subjects she was taking, asking him to hold some. Ron protested, point out they only had Defence that afternoon.

“Except, I suspect Hermione has more than that to attend,” Amelia murmured to herself.

Hermione gave a vague reply, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same.

“Well, what else would she do with them in the middle of the corridor?” George laughed. “Just leave them behind?”

“I was thinking more take some of them back to Gryffindor tower, but she didn’t do that either,” Harry shrugged.

“That would have been a better idea,” Hermione sighed. “At least I could get a new bag in Hogsmeade.”

She changed the subject, and she marched off toward the Great Hall. Ron asked Harry if he thought she wasn’t telling them something.

“What gave it away, Ronniekins?” Fred teased. Ron glared at him.

Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

“Thank you for that, Harry,” Remus remarked dryly.

“You’re welcome,” Harry grinned. Remus shook his head, looking amused.

He greeted them and instructed them to put their books away as it would be a practical lesson. A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defence Against the Dark Arts before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies -to class and set them loose.

“That does explain why you were all so nervous about a practical. Most students are excited by the prospect,” Remus smiled.

“We were excited for the practicals after that one. Once we were sure you knew what you were doing,” Harry assured him.

“After what you had dealt with that far, I don’t blame you for the caution.”

He asked them to follow him. Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

“Oh, this should be fun,” Sirius grinned widely.

“It was very cool,” Ron agreed. Remus flushed slightly.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song, calling him ‘Loony, loopy Lupin.’

“Very catchy,” Fred grinned. Minerva was rolling her eyes.

“Peeves normally respects the teachers,” Percy frowned.

“Yes, well, he never did like me as much as he did James and Sirius,” Remus sighed.

“Moony didn’t cause enough trouble for Peeves’ liking,” Sirius grinned. “That and he frequently found him asleep in all sorts of strange places around the school, particularly around the time of a full moon.”

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling. He advised Peeves to take the gum out. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry. Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. He told the group to watch as this was a useful spell and said, "Waddiwasi!”, pointing his wand at Peeves.

Sirius chortled, knowing full well what that spell did. “Nice one, Remy.”

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

Most of the room burst into laughter at that.

“Brilliant,” Charlie chuckled delightedly. Remus looked pleased with himself.

Dean commented it was cool. Lupin thanked him, putting his wand away. They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door. He ushered them inside. The staffroom, a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in.

“Of course it would be him,” Bill groaned.

“He just won’t go away in this chapter,” Charlie complained.

His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said he should leave it open as he’d rather not witness this.

“Good thing too. Can you imagine Snape seeing all of our worst fears?” Ron muttered to Harry. Harry grimaced, imagining Snape’s reaction to Remus preventing him from facing the Boggart. Not to mention how he would have reacted to Remus’ boggart being the full moon.

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said that it was possible nobody had warned Lupin that the class contained Neville Longbottom who should not be entrusted with anything difficult unless Hermione was whispering instructions in his ear.

“Severus, you’re a bitter, vile man. There was absolutely no need for that. To try and ruin another teacher’s image of Neville before his first lesson,” Emmeline scowled at the potions’ master.

“I must agree. I don’t suppose you would wish to become the Potions’ Master at Hogwarts would you Andromeda?” Minerva asked.

“Excuse me?” Snape spluttered.

“You are clearly unfit for the position, Severus. It would be to the detriment of all students, except your Slytherins, to allow you to continue. I thought Harry’s first year was bad enough but this…” She trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Severus must remain at the school,” Dumbledore stated firmly.

“Well then, he can teach the NEWT students and someone else can teach the younger students. Someone capable of being a decent human being,” Minerva suggested immediately.

“Teaching has never been my calling, but I would certainly fill in such a position while a permanent appointment was found. I tutored Nymphadora during the summers to make up for the lack of…proper education found at Hogwarts,” Andromeda agreed.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Filius nodded.

“Minerva…” Dumbledore began but she cut him off.

“No, Albus. For too long have we stood aside, made excuses for him, saying he couldn’t be as bad as the students made out. It turns out he is worse. I will not allow him to teach my Gryffindors any longer than necessary. I understand your insistence he remain at the school, but I will go to the board myself if I must, to gain a proper teacher for the students up to OWL level.” On this she would not back down. She had failed her students time and again, but she would not continue to do so.

“We can discuss this later.”

“There is nothing to discuss except who may take over the position long term.”

Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers. Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. He said that he hoped Neville would assist him with the first stage of the operation and was sure he would perform admirably.

“Thank you, Remus,” Emmeline shot him a smile while he returned.

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

“Hope it hit him,” Ron muttered.

Professor Lupin beckoned the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. He told them it was nothing to worry about, there was a Boggart in there. Most people seemed to think this was, indeed, something to worry about.

“Shame we couldn’t see Malfoy’s,” Ron sighed.

“Then he would have seen yours in return. All of ours,” Harry pointed out.

“Oh, yeah.”

Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively. He explained about Boggarts and that this one had moved in the previous day. He asked the class what a Boggart is. Hermione put her hand up and answered that it was a shape-shifter that would take the form of whatever frightened them the most. Lupin said he couldn’t have put it better himself. He continued explaining before asking Harry what their advantage over the Boggart was. Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Harry had a go.

“Sorry, Harry,” Hermione muttered, blushing slightly. “I’ll try not to.”

“Everyone is kind of used to it by now,” he shrugged. Her blush deepened.

He stated that it wouldn’t know what shape to take as there were so many of them. Lupin agreed. Hermione put her hand down, looking disappointed.

“I was just excited to have a teacher for Defence that was actually good.”

“You do that in every lesson,” Ron pointed out.

Lupin told them it was always best to have company when dealing with a Boggart. It becomes confused, he gave the example of a Boggart becoming half a slug.

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. “When did you see that?”

“When I was abroad,” Remus told him quietly.

“Who was afraid of a slug?” Ron wondered.

“A flesh-eating slug,” Remus corrected. “Someone I met in the States. They’d had a bad encounter with one and it had eaten through most of the flesh of his left leg. It was restored, of course, but he was never the same afterwards.”

He continued that the charm to repel a boggart was simple but required force of mind. What really finished it was laughter. They had to force it to assume a shape they found amusing. He told them the incantation which the class repeated. He told them that was the easy part.

“Unfortunately,” Neville sighed.

“You did very well, Neville,” Remus told him. “You took on the boggart not only once, but twice and defeated it both times.” Neville flushed at the praise, shooting a nervous look at Snape who was glaring at Remus.

Lupin said this was where Neville came in. The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows. Lupin asked what frightened him most in the world. Neville answered too quietly to be heard before repeating that it was Snape. Almost everyone laughed.

“I hardly think it funny that a professor in a school has bullied and tormented a student so badly they are his worst fear,” Emmeline said, pursing her lips furiously.

"Especially when you consider Neville's childhood. His family dropped him out of windows and pushed him off piers, amongst other things. But none of those things are his worst fear. It's Snape," Bill added, recalling what they had learned in the first book. Neville blushed at the reminder and Bill shot him an apologetic look, but it was still true. And, frankly, it was disturbing how terrified Neville was of Snape.

“Congratulations, Severus. You have become the very thing you despised James Potter for being. You hated him for being a bully, tormentor, a coward who attacked only with a severe advantage. That’s you. Taking out your misplaced rage on thirteen-year-old boys,” Minerva said quietly, but the disgust in her voice was clear. Severus jolted at that. “At least you could, and did, fight back against the four of them. Neville has no such option. You are worse than you believed James Potter to be. At least he grew up. I hope you are happy with yourself.”

Severus had turned even paler than usual at her words. Inwardly he was horrified. Not only was he comparable to James Potter…but he’d also turned into his father. Something he’d sworn he would never do. He felt sick. And he’d gotten worse after this. He’d heard about the incident and his only thought had been that Lupin was back and daring to prank him even while he was forced to brew the difficult and time-consuming wolfsbane for him. He hadn’t stopped to consider the implications of the whole thing. And…he hadn’t cared, unable to see past his own humiliation, lost in memories of his own school years and embarrassment from the damned Marauders.

Lupin was thoughtful before he said that he believed Neville lived with his grandmother. Neville agreed but quickly said he didn’t want the boggart to turn into her either.

“So, Neville’s boggart could be a toss-up between his teacher and his guardian? Both of whom are supposed to teach, guide and protect him?” Emmeline asked angrily. Inwardly she was devastated that she had let the young boy down so badly by keeping her distance.

“Er, it’s alright,” Neville told her nervously.

“No, it’s not,” Arthur said firmly. “The adults in your life have failed you almost as badly as they have failed Harry. None of this is right.”

Lupin said he misunderstood him. Then he asked Neville to tell them what clothes his grandmother usually wore.

Sirius, knowing exactly where Remus was going with this, burst out laughing. He thought it was the least Snivellus deserved, but it was brilliant.

Neville looked startled but described her normal outfit, including a dress, a hat with a vulture on and a scarf. Lupin asked about a handbag to which Neville agreed. He told Neville to picture the clothes in his mind’s eye. Neville agreed. Lupin explained that when the boggart left the wardrobe it would take the form of Snape. When Neville cast the spell, focusing on his grandmother’s clothes, it would force Snape into said clothes.

Everyone in the room, except Narcissa, Draco, Severus and Dumbledore, all burst out laughing at that. Severus was too lost in his own thoughts to even react to the goings-on.

“Ahh, Remus, that’s brilliant,” Tonks giggled delightedly.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Charlie said, struggling to talk through his own laughter.

“Don’t we all,” Fred agreed, chortling.

“That’s absolutely perfect comeuppance,” George grinned.

“Except, it will be talked about all over Hogwarts. And who would Snape take it out on when he heard?” Bill asked, mirth leaving him quickly. That sobered everyone else up too. They all turned to glare at Snape, just knowing he’d taken his anger out on Neville.

“You’d think he’d be concerned about being the boggart of his student, but he probably enjoyed it. Just not the ‘making it amusing’ part,” Charlie said scathingly.

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently. Lupin then asked them all to imagine what scared them the most and how to make it funny.

“I know boggarts are part of the curriculum, but I always thought it was a bad idea to let a bunch of teenagers know each other’s worst fears. Some people’s will be a lot worse than others and it seems like it would only encourage bullying,” Ted noted.

“Yeah, it really should be done individually,” Percy nodded.

“There isn’t usually a practical for boggarts. I only did one because it conveniently moved into a good location at the best possible time. They were the only class to do so because they successfully got rid of the boggart. Everyone else had theory lessons only,” Remus explained. “But I agree, I should have thought of that.”

The room went quiet. Harry wondered what scared him the most. His first thought was a Voldemort returned to full strength. But, before he could even think about how to make that funny, he recalled the rotting hand of the dementor on the train. The cold that made him feel like he was drowning.

Harry and Sirius both leant into each other more, each offering the other support.

Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off " Harry was sure he knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear was spiders.

“After the previous year, I really can’t blame you,” Fred shuddered.

“That was enough to give anyone arachnophobia,” Remus agreed.

Professor Lupin asked if everyone was ready. Harry was not, wondering how to make a dementor less frightening.

“Put it in a tutu?” Fred offered with a grin.

“Somehow, I think that might actually be even more terrifying,” Harry told him dryly. He laughed.

“Turn it’s face into a clown one?” George suggested. “Make it do the ballet?” Harry chuckled.

He didn't want to ask for more time as everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

“My apologies, Harry,” Remus said. He’d never planned on letting Harry have a go with the boggart and he hadn’t realised how much that had affected Harry until he had confronted him about it later on.

“It’s ok. I know why you did it now,” Harry reassured him with a smile.

Lupin told Neville they were going to back away to give him a clear field. Then he would call the next person forward. They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready. Lupin had his own wand out and counted to three. A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

Severus swallowed harshly. Memories of backing away from his father, trying to avoid a blow, flashed in his mind and he shook his head to clear it.

Neville squeaked out the spell. There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was another round of laughter.

“Well done, Neville. You did it perfectly, first time,” Emmeline smiled.

“Professor Lupin was a great teacher,” Neville mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“Call me Remus, Neville. And Emmeline is right, you did very well being the first student and getting it on your first time,” Remus told him kindly. The tips of Neville’s ears turned red.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted called Parvati forward. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising. She cast the spell, causing the bandages at the mummy’s feet to unravel, it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

“I wonder if Parvati ever saw a mummy or just read about them?” Bill mused. They were reasonably common in Egypt. Not the magical kind, those were rare, but it was difficult to know which was which when they were first uncovered.

Seamus was up next. He darted past Parvati. Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face -- a banshee. She opened her mouth wide, and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry's head stand on end. Seamus performed the spell. The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

“I think they came across one while they were visiting family in Ireland,” Neville said thoughtfully.

“Yeah. I remember him saying something about that afterwards,” Harry agreed.

The boggart turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle.

Sirius snarled.

Then it became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before and then a single, bloody eyeball. Lupin called Dean forwards and the boggart turned into a severed hand.

“Eugh. That’s gross,” Tonks wrinkled her nose.

Dean hurried forward. Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab. Dean called out ‘Riddikulus’ and the hand was caught in a mousetrap. Ron was up next. The boggart transformed into a giant spider, causing quite a few people to scream. It was six feet tall and covered in hair, and advanced on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Harry thought Ron had frozen. Then he performed the spell, causing the legs to vanish. It rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry's feet.

Everyone glanced worriedly over at Harry.

“Can you imagine Malfoy’s reaction if words got out that Harry’s boggart is, in fact, a dementor. He’ll be worse than ever,” Charlie frowned.

“It was fine,” Harry told him.

He raised his wand, ready, but Lupin intercepted it.

Most of the adults nodded approvingly. It wouldn’t have gone well if the boggart had turned into a dementor in front of the whole class. Even a boggart would mimic the effects of a real dementor.

It transformed and, for a second, everyone thought it had disappeared. Eventually they spotted it, a silvery-white orb handing in the air in front of the professor.

Remus sighed while several people shot him sympathetic looks.

He performed the spell easily and called Neville forward. The boggart became Snape once more. Neville looked determined and once more forced boggart-Snape into his grandmother’s clothes. With one last big laugh, the boggart exploded into wisps of smoke that quickly disappeared.

“Good job, Nev,” Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Harry,” Neville returned the smile.

The class broke into applause. Lupin told Neville he had done excellently. He awarded five points for every person who faced the boggart.

“A bit generous there, Remus,” Minerva said, looking amused. “Especially considering no other class had the same opportunity to do so.” He shrugged, giving her an innocent look that nobody bought.

Neville got ten for facing it twice while Harry and Hermione also got five points each. Harry protested he didn’t do anything, but Lupin reminded him they had answered the questions correctly earlier.

“That was the first time I’ve ever gotten more points than Hermione in a class that wasn’t Herbology,” Neville noted, looking proud and a little surprised.

“You deserved them. You faced your fear very well, especially considering what he did earlier than same day,” Remus told him with a slight smile.

He gave them homework for Monday and dismissed them. Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Harry, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. He knew Professor Lupin had deliberately stopped him from tackling the boggart and wondered why.

“Not everyone got a chance with the boggart anyway,” Hermione reminded him.

“Yeah, but Remus had deliberately stopped me getting a chance. It wasn’t that we just ran out of time,” Harry said. “But it’s fine. Remus explained.”

He wondered if it was because he'd seen Harry collapse on the train, and thought he wasn't up to much. Or that Harry might pass out again.

“I…” Remus began but Harry cut him off.

“Honestly, Remus, I know. You’ve explained and apologised enough. I understand and I’m not mad or hurt anymore,” Harry assured him.

But no one else seemed to have noticed anything. The class all discussed how they had taken on their own fears. Lavender wondered why Lupin was afraid of crystal balls.

Sirius snorted loudly at that, while several other people chuckled lightly.

Ron stated it was the best lesson they’d ever had in Defence.

“I’d take that as a bigger compliment if I hadn’t heard about the quality of your previous lessons,” Remus grinned.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be the best teacher we have, no matter who we get for the next four years,” Harry said. The others who had attended Hogwarts that year all nodded in agreement and Remus looked embarrassed.

Hermione said he seemed like a very good teacher. She wished she could have gotten a turn and Ron sniggered, asking if her boggart would have been a piece of homework that only got nine out of ten.

“Ron, even if that was her fear, it’s not nice to make fun of people’s fears. You didn’t like it when Hermione laughed at your fear of spiders the year before. It might seem silly to you, but there is likely a very non-silly reason behind it,” Bill told his brother. Ron nodded.

“That’s the end of the chapter,” Amelia announced.

“My turn then,” Kingsley sighed. Amelia handed him the book.

Chapter Text

“Why would the Fat Lady flee?” Bill frowned. Sirius shifted in his seat guiltily. Several people turned to stare at him, and he grimaced. He recognised now, that some of his choices weren’t… the best choices he could have made, but he’d been desperate.

“You’ll see?” He offered weakly. Now he got why Harry had used that blasted phrase so much in the first couple of books. Remus put a supportive hand on his arm, and he gave him friend a grateful smile.

In no time at all, Defence Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favourite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

“Of course, you didn’t like him. You must have preferred Lockhart. You are related after all,” Fred smirked. Draco glared at him, but the twins were basically immune to such glares having grown up with Molly Weasley for a mother.

“Don’t be silly Fred, he doesn’t like Remus because he doesn’t want to learn to defend himself. If he does that, he won’t have an excuse to get injured and milk it for months,” George told his twin.

“Oh, of course, silly me,” Fred agreed. Several people chuckled.

Malfoy sneered at the state of his robes, saying he dressed like their old house-elf.

“Might want to get your eyes tested, Malfoy. Those robes don’t look anything like a pillowcase,” Hermione told him haughtily, the mention of Dobby irritating her.

“Honestly, his hearing, his eyesight, his arm…not a good year for ickle Malfoy’s health, was it,” George sneered.

“Besides, who cares how he dresses. Lockhart’s robes were immaculate, and he was a tosser,” Ron pointed out.

“Ronald!” Molly scolded.

“Yeah, if anything, I think being the opposite of Lockhart is something to aspire to,” Harry agreed.

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first.

Remus smiled slightly.

After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost.

“Hate those things,” Kingsley muttered.

“At least they are relatively easy to deal with,” Tonks commiserated. She’d only come across Red Caps once, and it hadn’t been a fun experience, but she’d definitely dealt with worse.

From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy, water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds. Harry only wished he was as happy with some of his other classes. Worst of all was Potions.

“Of course it was,” Charlie scowled.

Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had travelled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny.

“You don’t say?” Ted said, amused.

“Can’t think why, it sounds hilarious,” Fred smirked.

His eyes flashed menacingly at the every mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

Severus sighed. The last chapter had forced him to confront some very uncomfortable truths about what he had become. Truthfully, he was still reeling from them. Particularly the ones Minerva had shoved down his throat. Even when he’d heard about Harry’s home life, he’d been horrified, not to mention furious with Albus, but still felt his own behaviour had been justified. So, he’d told the boy a few truths about his father, but he hadn’t locked him in a cupboard or attacked him. And the slow realisation that his justification for his actions, even over the last few days, was that he was at least better than Petunia Dursley was a sickening one.

And that was without even touching on his behaviour towards Longbottom, which stemmed from his own guilt. Guilt had never been an emotion he dealt with particularly well, and the self-loathing that had gnawed at him ever since he’d told the Dark Lord about the prophecy and realised that Lily would be the target had had twelve years to eat at him. He hated Longbottom for the Dark Lord’s choice, a choice he only made because of Severus.

Blast it all! He hated these books. These realisations. He hated himself.

“My…apologies, Longbottom,” he said through gritted teeth. “My behaviour was…unacceptable.” Longbottom looked stunned. So did most people in the room, though Dumbledore had that blasted twinkle in his eyes. He looked proud. Severus looked away. He didn’t want Albus’ pride. He studiously avoided everyone’s gaze until Kingsley took pity on him and began reading on once more.

Harry was also growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him.

“It got really old, really fast,” Harry grumbled.

He couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunch times, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't.

“The Patil’s often produce seers of varying abilities,” Luna said airily.

“Yeah, but somehow, most of the things she ‘saw’ seemed to revolve around me,” Harry said dryly. “Probably dying in various, horrible ways.” Several people winced at that.

“She might not necessarily have been wrong there,” Sirius muttered. “Considering how many times you should have died in the last three years.”

They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed.

Hermione and Harry both rolled their eyes.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull.

“Thanks for that, Malfoy,” Neville grumbled.

“It could have been really cool. But other than the first lesson, and like one other lesson at Christmas time, it was incredibly boring,” Harry sighed.

Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

Charlie winced. “Really? More than one lesson on flobberworms?”

“We spent most of the year on them,” Harry confirmed.

“Oh dear,” Minerva sighed.

“I don’t think even the older years studied anything more difficult than knarls,” George admitted. Neither he nor Fred had taken Care of Magical Creatures, but Lee had.

“So, thanks to one stupid third-year, literally nobody learnt anything useful in Care of Magical Creatures for an entire year?” Tonks whistled. “Even those in OWL or NEWT year?”

“Pretty much,” Percy nodded.

“I don’t entirely blame him. With Lucius Malfoy on the warpath, if there was a single other incident, he would have probably made sure Hagrid lost his job,” Charlie said with a frown.

Ron wondered why anyone would bother looking after them as they spent another lesson poking lettuce down the flobberworms’ throats. At the start of October, however, Harry had something else to occupy him, something so enjoyable it more than made up for his unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

Harry grinned. So did Fred and George.

"He waited until October to start? Didn't he get you up at the crack of dawn on the first weekend back in second year?" Ted recalled.

"Yes, but Oliver was in his final year, and had NEWTs to think about. It kept him pretty busy," Percy said. While he'd spent more time in the Head Boy dormitory than the 7th year Gryffindor boys one that year, he'd seen enough. Oliver had been pretty shell-shocked in the beginning by his work load. Not that it had lasted long.

There was a recap of the different positions and balls used in Quidditch.

Kingsley read through the recap as quickly as possible.

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field. He stated it was his last chance to win the Quidditch cup.

“I mean, we should have won it the year before. We would have slaughtered Hufflepuff,” Fred stated.

“You can’t know that. Anything could have happened,” Ted pointed out, defending his and his daughter's former house.

“Yeah, we can. It was the same Hufflepuff team that we beat in first year, nobody had changed. They were rubbish until Diggory became captain,” George said. Harry winced. He still hated that he’d lost that game, even if it wasn’t his fault.

He reminded them that Gryffindor hadn’t won for seven years, although they’d had the worst luck in the world, but they had the best team in the school.

“We did,” Fred nodded happily.

“I wonder who’ll end up replacing Oliver,” Harry mused. “And be captain.”

“Angelina will probably be captain. She’s been on the team for the longest and is a good strategist,” George said.

“It’s going to be tough when you lot graduate. That’s both beaters and two chasers graduating in one year,” Harry realised.

“Yeah, I think I’ll suggest to Angie, if she is captain, to hold tryouts for backup players too,” George agreed.

He went on that they had three superb Chasers and two unbeatable Beaters. The twins told him he was embarrassing them, feigning a blush.

They both grinned.

He added that they had a Seeker who had never failed to win them a match.

Harry winced.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ron muttered to him. “And you made up for it beating Slytherin in the final.”

As an afterthought, he also added that they had him. The twins told him he was very good too.

“He was a great keeper,” Charlie nodded. “Could easily go pro, and I assume he only got better with age. I last saw him in his fourth year, and he was already one of the best keepers in the school.”

“He planned to go pro,” Harry stated.

“There were some scouts at the final, so hopefully he’ll get his wish,” Fred told him.

“There were?” Harry asked, startled.

“Yeah. They often come to the final,” George said. “But they don’t just look at the winning team, they look at all the stats from the whole season.”

Wood continued that the cup should have had their name on it the last two years but now this was his last chance to get their name on the thing. Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

“Wow, he must have looked bad,” Bill laughed.

“He really did,” Harry nodded.

“It was both pathetic and sad,” Fred stated.

The team told him that, that year was their year. Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week.

“Ah, those were the days,” George sighed longingly. “Only three nights a week.”

The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Harry's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

"You really are a mini Wood," Fred told him. Harry grinned.

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly. He asked Ron and Hermione what it was about, his good mood evaporating when it was revealed to be the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend.