Author's Notes: This chapter is longer than usual; hence, the late update because certain scenes showed up last minute... Also, I didn't feel it was necessary to break it up into two separate chapters. If you liked this arc, check out the next one, Harry and the Three Knights!

Hope you've enjoyed your reading adventure so far. All reviews, PMs, favorites, and follows have been appreciated.

A loud echoing yelp and furious snarl in the distance sent a spike of adrenaline through Harry's veins. He didn't have much time.

Panting, Harry was now standing at the edge of the lake as Buckbeak picked at the last polecat hanging from the cord against Harry's back.

"Lay down."

The hippogriff obeyed, so Harry tossed it to him. The carcass was snapped right in two.

It wouldn't be much longer until Black and Harry's past self were on the other side of the shore and Harry would feel the bone-deep cold pierce through everything.

And then it happened. Watching his other self's feeble attempts at a Patronus, Harry couldn't wait to see his dad perform—his terrified scream cut through his thoughts. The dementor's disgusting hands were cupping his face as if it meant to Kiss him.

In that moment, the reason why Hermione ordered him to wait by the lake suddenly became very clear. Jumping to his feet, he banished the cold and filled himself with warmth and happiness using a powerful, happy memory of his parents to share; it helped to know that he'd already done this before. "EXPECTO… PATRONUM!"

Great ripples of white light burst forth, battering the innumerable dementors away, and then a stag appeared. A blinding-white stag that Harry could touch. Its fur was soft and warm beneath his cold fingers, even though its hooves left no mark on the ground. And he could hear them. He could hear his parents laughing as they played with their toddler son, ripping out screams of joy from him. "Go to him. He needs you."

The stag pranced joyfully across the shore, greeting his past self with a merry snort.

Harry smiled, recalling the very happy, carefree memory he received at this moment. Once the memory was transmitted, the stag returned to him.

The dementors had been completely driven back. Harry cancelled the spell. In the distance, he could see the black silhouette of billowing robes in the silver moonlight. Harry darted behind the tree roots and donned his Invisibility Cloak. He peeked around the tree, while behind him Buckbeak foraged for… worms, by the squelching sounds of it. Harry placed a hand over the pocket that held the Stunned rat to reassure himself that he had the piece of evidence that would ensure that Black would not remain a fugitive.

By the lake with a mirror surface, Snape wasted no time as he summoned ropes to tie Black up, and then knelt by Harry's unconscious form to place fingers at his throat. The bastard then conjured a stretcher, flicking his wand so that Harry's unconscious body would lie upon it. With a snap of his fingers, the ropes jumped to his hands and Black was made to follow like a jerky puppet, the stretcher trailing behind.

Harry watched as the figures disappeared behind the trees. Now, he had to wait for Hermione… He assumed she would show shortly. He pulled the rat out by its tail, whispered, "Petrificus Totalus," and placed the stiff-as-a-board rodent back into his pocket. The last thing he wanted was a chance for Pettigrew to escape.

There was the sound of water being disturbed, and he watched as something nearly invisible continued to dip into the water, disturbing the surface with large ripples and splashes. The outline of a person could barely be made out. "Hermione…?"

"Yes…?" came a very strained tone.

He removed and pocketed his cloak, stepping hesitantly towards her. "Are you alright?"

There was a chilling silence. Then she said, "Good work with the Patronus Charm."

"I knew I could do it, since it'd already happened," he said. "Did you figure out what Professor Dumbledore meant about saving someone else?"

Hermione hiccupped. "Yes."

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Harry asked, stepping towards her camouflaged form, but she had moved out of his grasp.

"I'm-I'm alright. Buckbeak will provide a means of escape for your godfather within the next forty-five minutes." Her voice had very little inflection and was subdued, nearly distant.

"An aerial assault? That's brilliant, Hermione." Harry grew even more worried when she didn't respond.

Buckbeak was lying on the ground staring towards them.

"Let's go then. We can't waste any more time, can we?"

"No, we can't," she said.

Once Harry reminded her to bow to the hippogriff—which was interesting since she was still Disillusioned and yet Buckbeak bowed back—the two Hogwarts students had a rather easy time crawling onto Buckbeak's back.

"C'mon, Buckbeak. Go!" Sitting behind a camouflaged Hermione, Harry dug his heels in, and the hippogriff reared back with a loud cry.

"Oh, I don't like this!" Hermione yelled as Buckbeak gathered speed with each lop-sided step.

"Try not to pull any of his feathers out," he said close to her ear.

As soon as they'd left the sanctity of the forest, Buckbeak spread his wings and forced them downward, leaping into the air. They lifted into the sky. Leaning against Hermione, Harry gripped the hippogriff's flanks tightly with his knees, while the great wings rose and fell powerfully beneath the two students.

Buckbeak flew high into the sky and headed straight for the castle's turrets; the outline of Hermione revealed that she was clinging to the creature's neck.

"We're going to have to steer him, Hermione. Lean with me!" He leaned to the right and tilted forward.

Amazingly, it worked, and they soon directed the hippogriff to land on the rooftop of Dark Tower by tilting heavily forward.

"Easy, boy," Harry said, once Buckbeak came to a stop.

"I'll get Black." Harry felt Hermione slip off the hippogriff's back.

"Bombarda!" A bolt of light shot from the wand which at first glance appeared to be floating, and the lock and wall cratered open, blasting debris towards the caster. "Come on!"

Harry's godfather limped out and saw that Harry was seated on the beautifully dangerous creature and petting the creature's crest feathers. "Is that…"

"A hippogriff," Harry said proudly. "His name is Buckbeak."

"I've seen him in the woods," Black said hoarsely. "Didn't he attack you?"

Laughing, Harry grinned impishly. "Oh, you saw that?"

"I wasn't happy that it was for a Malfoy—"

"We don't have time. Bow deeply. If he doesn't bow back, then he won't let you ride. Make it count." Hermione's voice was regaining its usual primness. Again, Harry wondered whose life she had saved that night and from what…

Black enacted a very elegant bow as if he'd been born to it, and Buckbeak accepted him readily. Harry checked on Wormtail, who was still where he put him, while Black helped Hermione onto the hippogriff. She swung up a leg behind Harry and then Black hopped on behind her.

"Hyah!" Harry said, digging his heels in and leaning forward.

Buckbeak galloped across the stone rooftop, wings spread out and jumped right off the edge. Soon the wind caught them and the great wings sent them soaring higher and higher. Harry laughed happily as they glided around the castle. Hermione's soft curves were pressed against Harry's back, her arms like a vice around his middle.

"You should get off at the courtyard!" Black suggested over the gusty wind buffering them.

Harry guided the others to lean to make Buckbeak circle around towards their destination. The landing nearly unseated him, but Hermione kept him in place with her tight arms hugging him. Once the beast had stopped, he and Hermione quickly slipped off, hopping to the stone.

"Harry," Black said with a contrite expression, "I'm sorry about your friend… If I had known—" The tower clock began to chime loudly, and they swiveled their heads towards the massive clock of Hogwarts.

"We've fifteen minutes to get to the infirmary," came Hermione's harried hiss.

"My friend?" Harry said after he nodded in understanding at the Gryffindor.

The thin wizard winced. "I couldn't see, but he smelled like he'd been around you plenty…"

Harry blinked thoughtfully. Neville had been with him in the shack—Oh. "What'd he look like?"

"I don't know. Dogs don't have the best night vision. It's the nose, that—"

"It's been very nice to meet you, Mr. Black. But Harry and I need to go." His bushy-haired friend was gesturing towards the entranceway into Hogwarts.

"I'll be forever grateful for this… to the both of you. You've saved my life," Black shifted himself farther up the hippogriff's flank. The creature huffed and squawked at his movement. The painfully thin wizard gazed down at the Slytherin. "I expect you get tired of hearing this… but you look so like your father."

Harry smiled up at him.

"Except your eyes—"

"I know," Harry said. "You'd better go. The dementors will be here any moment."

Black's expression twisted with sadness, self-pity, and anger. "It's cruel that I spent so much time with James and Lily, and you so little. But know this: The ones that love us never really leave us."

"Sirius—"

"You can always find them in here," the escapee said, touching a hand to his chest in an unhurried manner. "I wanted to say—"

"GO!" Harry and Hermione shouted together. Harry was laughing lightly at his godfather's romantic sensibilities.

Looking a bit put upon, Black wheeled Buckbeak around. "We'll see each other again! I promise, Harry!" He squeezed the hippogriff's sides with his heels. The downdraft from the wings nearly knocked the two students to the ground. The hippogriff took off running, and then rider and creature lifted into the sky… and became smaller and smaller.

"Harry, come on."

Yanking out the nearly weightless material, he threw the Invisibility Cloak over the both of them. "Use the Time-Turner and go back an hour and we can wait in the infirmary—"

Her face blanched. "No."

It had seemed like a sensible request, but maybe it was another restriction on the time-traveling device that Harry hadn't known.

So, they ran through the nearest entrance, up the stairs, and down the corridor towards the library which was closest to the infirmary. As they neared the library, they heard voices.

"The Kiss will be performed immediately?" said the greasy-haired bastard.

"As soon as Flitwick returns with the dementors," Professor McGonagall said sourly.

Harry clenched his teeth as they slipped past without either professor being any wiser. The infirmary was just a little bit farther when the tower clock began to chime. Harry and Hermione weren't even trying to keep themselves covered now as they sprinted.

The infirmary door opened and Dumbledore stood facing it, talking to their other selves in the room. "By the way, I find retracing my steps to be a wise place to begin."

Harry quickly stowed his cloak into the inner pocket of his robes, while Hermione hurried to the headmaster just as he closed the doors. "We did it." She said tearfully. "We did it."

"Did what? Step inside."

"Professor... For you." Hermione passed something silver into the headmaster's hands.

A twinkle appeared in the adult's eyes, and he smiled mysteriously. He closed his hand over the object she'd given him. "Thank you, Miss Granger."

Deciding this was the best time to provide the evidence, Harry held the unconscious rat up by his worm-like tail. Harry's eyes were drawn to its front paws, suddenly afraid that he'd gotten the wrong rat. It was missing a digit on its right paw. "Also for you, professor."

The headmaster holding what Hermione had given him also took the Petrified rat, staring at it with an amused expression. The old wizard's smile grew as he turned to the Slytherin. "Thank you, Harry."

"How did you—" Hermione blustered.

The last chime had rung in the distance. Harry looped his arm through hers and pulled her through the door. "In, chat later."

She went into the room without argument. The lock glowed with magic, and then Harry and Hermione turned to each other. Harry was surprised when she didn't grin at him.

"That was amazing fun," Harry said as they walked across the room towards his bed. There was a set of blinds set up in the far corner of the room, which Harry hadn't noticed before.

"Let's not do that again," Hermione said. She looked rather ill as she stared at the blinds. As if catching herself, she looked away guiltily.

"What was that you gave the headmaster?"

"I said I'd help free your godfather from unjust punishment, hadn't I? I used the Dictim Pin to record everything inside the Shrieking Shack," she murmured. "Not that any of it mattered since you went and fetched Pettigrew yourself." Hermione's jaw tightened. "You could've told me what you planned to do so—" She sniffed loudly and shook her head, roughly rubbing at her eyes. "It's too late. What's done is done. Get back in bed before Madam Pomfrey catches you on your feet."

A little bewildered at Hermione's reaction, Harry lay back onto the infirmary bed. "Thank you, Hermione. For your help."

"I screwed everything up," she replied testily, reaching for his hand and squeezing. Her eyes had taken on that wet quality again.

Harry's smile faltered. He remembered the screaming beneath the Whomping Willow, the blood on Snape's pale hands, and Black's attempt to apologize… "More importantly, what's wrong with Theodore?"

Hermione's laughter was edged with deep unhappiness. It caught in her throat several times, sounding like aborted sobs. Harry squeezed her hand, and the unnerving not-laughter quieted.

Not a moment later, Madam Pomfrey came out of her office. "How are you, dears? The headmaster didn't trouble you much, did he?"

"We're fine, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, pulling her hand from Harry's.

Harry found that he missed the warmth of her soft hand. The Healer then offered a great amount of chocolate, which Harry ate without complaint, though he much preferred treacle pudding. Hermione was asking after Theodore when they heard a roar of fury from somewhere inside the castle.

Madam Pomfrey looked away with a frown. "What was that?" Angry voices came closer and closer.

Beyond the infirmary door, Flitwick was saying, "He could have picked the lock and climbed down! Perhaps you should have left a guard—"

"HE DID NOT ESCAPE ON HIS OWN!" Snape roared down the corridor.

"How else do you explain—"

"POTTER DID THIS! HE HAS A HOUSE-ELF!"

BAM. The doors of the infirmary burst open. In entered Professor Flitwick and Snape. The headmaster, looking very calm, arrived not a moment later.

"What is the meaning of this, Severus?" Madam Pomfrey cried out.

"Excuse me, Poppy," Snape said with his bared yellow teeth and turned to Harry.

Harry managed a calm look as he imagined his cupboard and vividly imagined how flying his Firebolt might feel. Shifting slightly to the right, Hermione unobtrusively slipped her hand into his again, giving it a squeeze.

"OUT WITH IT, POTTER! YOU HELPED BLACK ESCAPE!" he bellowed.

"This door was locked," Professor Dumbledore said evenly. "Mr. Potter could not have done anything without either myself or Poppy knowing."

Snape turned sharply. "WITH. HIS. HOUSE-ELF!" The adult howled, spittle flinging from his mouth.

"Calm down or I will cast you out on your ear, Professor Snape," Madam Pomfrey declared. "You are well aware that I have more than one patient."

"You don't know, Potter!" He hissed more quietly. His fury reddened the cheeks of his face.

"That will do, Severus," the headmaster said in his usual quiet manner, and the Potions Master fell silent instantly, though his eyes were hot coals of fury. "Harry, might you ease Professor Snape's mind? I'm sure the house-elf would listen if you called."

"Dobby!" Harry said aloud.

The small house-elf arrived with a pop, startling Hermione whose hand nearly jerked from Harry's. "What is Master Harry wanting from Dobby?"

"Did you have anything to do with Sirius Black's escape?"

"From Azkaban? Oh, no, no. Dobby has not, sir."

"No, from the topmost cell of Hogwarts Castle, you nitwit!" Snape snapped.

The house-elf shrank away. "Dobby knows nothing about that, sir."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You cleaned the dining room at Spinner's End just because I couldn't stand it any longer. Are you sure you didn't help my godfather escape?"

Dobby blinked his large green eyes and shook his floppy ears at Harry. "Dobby had nothing to do with that, no. Master Harry hates his godfather… and Dobby has not been back to Hogwarts since last year…"

"Thank you, Dobby. You may go," the headmaster said with a gentleness that masked it as the order it was.

Dobby looked to Harry, and he nodded. With a snap and a crack, the house-elf had gone.

"I know Potter did it." An unconvinced Snape glared at him.

"Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since the headmaster left, and Poppy would have noticed had either of them had left," Flitwick said reasonably.

"Of course I would have!" Madam Pomfrey said, bristling. "And I certainly would have heard if a house-elf had Apparated into here!"

"There, Severus," Professor Dumbledore said kindly, "Unless you are suggesting that Harry is able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling Madam Pomfrey's patients further."

Snape stood there seething, looking as though he might refute that. His black eyes roved over Harry as his jaw worked. Harry continued his spirited imaginings of riding his Firebolt over the Longbottom grounds.

Without another word, Snape whirled on a foot, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the infirmary.

"He looked as if he might argue that such a thing was possible," Professor Flitwick mused.

"He's just suffered rather severe disappointment. Of course, he'd want someone to blame," the headmaster murmured in a paternal manner. Harry had to swallow his laughter to not ruin the old wizard's cover. He had never expected an adult as upstanding as Professor Dumbledore to insinuate half-truths on Harry's behalf. His respect for the old man exponentially increased.

The headmaster's eyes twinkled behind his glasses after a glance at Harry. "Poppy, if Miss Granger has been released, I will escort her back to Gryffindor Tower since it is past curfew."

The Healer nodded without any last minute check-ups on Hermione. This told Harry that she could have left hours ago, but had decided to stay by his bedside instead. "She's free to go."

"Good night, Harry." Hermione's brown eyes still held that guilt in them that hadn't been there when they first traveled to the past together.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry said as her sweaty fingers left his. The headmaster and the Charms professor also bid them goodnight. Harry watched them go, feeling very drained. His eyelids were weighing down heavily, but his mind was too active to sleep…

Once the doors had closed and Poppy returned to her office, Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

He pushed the covers off and slipped off the bed. He came to a stop by the blinds as his watch went cold.

Walking around them into the dark corner, Harry felt something tingle over his skin though he saw no cobwebs he might've passed through. There in a bed was a figure heavily bandaged about the chest and neck.

"Ah, Harry," Theodore whispered weakly. The silver bangles were gone, and his eyes reflected oddly in the darkness.

Harry stepped quickly to his side, staring down at his best mate. He closed his eyes for a moment. He had abstractly realized what had caused Theodore's injury and why Hermione had been acting so strangely, but now to see his friend so terribly injured… Swallowing, Harry opened his eyes again. "Why aren't you in St. Mungo's?"

"To avoid registration," Theodore said through a strained breath. "Da made the Healer treat me here. That way I could still attend."

"Why… did you allow yourself to get bitten?"

"Allow it?" Theodore's pale, sweaty face broke into a grin. "Only Da and you would assume that. As Muggles say, I had a cool upgrade, though I don't really fancy the monthly change."

'Cool upgrade'? That settled it; Theodore was insane. "What happened?"

"Had to save the charming Granger from being mauled. Her parents wouldn't've been able to—" Theodore winced. "To magic her a safe place if she reacted badly to Wolfsbane."

Harry sat heavily in the chair beside him. She wouldn't have been there at all if she hadn't decided to make an audio recording of the conversation on Harry's behalf. "A Knockback Jinx and Shield Charm would've been much more effective than jumping in front of her."

"I'm quick at casting, but not that quick. Before I knew it, a werewolf was bearing down on us. Didn't leave me many options."

Dropping his face into his hands, Harry said, "This is my fault."

"Oh, don't you start on that." Theodore shifted and raised a hand slightly from the bed by hinging his wrist. "Give me your hand."

Harry dropped his hand onto the thin, grasping fingers.

"See? No wince, no hesitation," Theodore said, squeezing it feebly. "That's why you're a good friend, Harry."

"But you're hurt because of me."

His friend rocked his head slightly in a manner that indicated that he disagreed completely but that the movement hurt to perform. He closed his eyes for a moment as if dizzy. Theodore's hand was much warmer than Harry's. "I'll heal up before you know it without the asthma or allergies or chronic illness. Perks of being… you know."

Harry blinked at him. "You never seemed sick."

"Potions. Expensive ones. It's why Da takes any job no matter the distance." Theodore opened his eyes and smiled, taking a pained breath. "Now he won't have to."

"But isn't Wolfsbane Potion expensive, too?"

Harry's hand was squeezed again and released when Theodore relaxed his wrist. "It's a bargain compared to what I've needed."

In the chilly infirmary, Harry clutched his knees and stared down at the dark grey stone floor. "Which is why your dad thought you got bit on purpose?"

"Still thinks that. And maybe…" Theodore trailed off for a moment. "And maybe he's right. My condition was worsening."

"How do you mean worse? You don't mean that-that you were about to die or anything, do you?"

Another tired smile overcame Theodore's sickly features. He shifted on the bed. "Over Easter, I was given an official prognosis for my affliction: MVS Misalignment. I was born with a faulty channeling mechanism. It means I'm in danger of killing myself every time I use magic." Theodore looked as if it was not big news.

Harry didn't know what to say. There were thoughts tearing through his mind, but nothing that seemed right to share at the moment. It explained why Theodore didn't seem to make much effort to perform magic other than in Potions or DADA class.

"Da knew before the St. Mungo's Healers did. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made me plan out my funeral and make an Advance Directive when I turned nine."

"Merlin." What do you say to that?

"And since I know you won't ask, it started when my magic first manifested." Theodore breathed out heavily through his nose, breath hitching from the pain no doubt. "It's taken this long… for the Healers to rule out everything else… It's so rare to have one's magic… leak out in unpredictable… and detrimental ways."

Numbness was Harry's predominant feeling now. "Has anyone with your condition gotten Lycanthropy? Will it cure you?"

Theodore's eyes flicked up to the ceiling. "No… but at best I only had four years left. So…"

Harry's eyes filled. He took a deep breath, tilting his head back so the tears wouldn't fall. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"It's bad enough that Sally-Anne knows. She saw something in her dreams, warned me of the possibility… Fussed over me all year." Theodore's lips pulled into a light smile and then he snorted very softly. "Surprised you hadn't noticed her fawning over me…"

"I was a little preoccupied with Sirius Black on the loose and new classes," Harry said shakily. Pushing his glasses up, Harry wiped his face and leaned forward. He pressed his elbows to his knees. He was going to lose a friend he had only gotten close to this past year.

"As my Da says…" The injured Slytherin took in a sharp breath. "Now that you're good and malleable, it's my turn."

"Turn?" Harry sniffed, wiping at his runny nose.

"Those spells you used in the duel against Snape… when did you practice them? Where?"

The wind was knocked out of him. Being asked that on top of everything else? Harry chuckled. "I didn't. I swear I didn't. I didn't even know the incantation of the first one. It just…" Harry clenched his hands into fists and then relaxed them, remembering. "It just came out of me." When the silence stretched out, Harry looked up and saw Theodore was staring at him with reflective eyes.

"It must have been frightening."

"Yes," Harry said. "It was because I don't know where it came from, and I've never felt so… angry."

Beyond the safety of the infirmary's walls, there was a low howl. Theodore perked up. After several moments, he deflated after appearing to struggle to not howl back. "It's so bloody sad…"

"What?"

"Professor Lupin. He doesn't have a pack…" Theodore made a noise similar to a growl, but it was cut-off by a pained grunt.

The torches along the walls brightened slightly. Harry turned as Madam Pomfrey came around the blinds. "Harry, you need rest if you're going to recover from those dementors..." She bustled to Theodore's side, pressing hands against his face. "The fever's back," she tsked, setting vials next to the bed. "I told you to lie still and not talk."

Harry stood, helplessly watching. "Sorry, I just wanted to know—"

"No need to apologize. Now, hop along, before I paralyze and float you to your bed."

"Madam Pomfrey'll wake you up if I take a turn for the worse." Theodore grinned playfully up at her. "Won't you?"

The Healer's hands stilled where they were. Harry met her worried gaze, and she nodded. "That will do, Theodore. You must rest." She drew back, pulled her wand out, and pointed it at the vials and then at Theodore's abdomen.

"The name's Theoohh…" Theodore's eyes rolled back suddenly, and his body slumped into the bed.

Harry blinked curiously down at his friend. "Will he be alright, Madam Pomfrey?"

"He's gotten through the worst of it. I know he'll survive the infection... but that's all. I can't say whether there will be complications yet."

"Thank you."

The kind witch nodded and then shooed him away.

Listening to rain that had begun to fall against the windows, Harry laid down into the bed he'd woken up in and stared into the dark ceiling above him.

An hour ago, Theodore must have just been brought into the infirmary in great pain. It was one possible explanation for Hermione's refusal to use the Time-Turner that didn't require a restriction of its use…

After Theodore had protected her, Hermione had saved his life by Transfiguring the silver bangles and dittany into a poultice for the wound. It was a very good thing she had, since a person could die within minutes of being ravaged by a werewolf.

When Harry woke the next day and slipped on his glasses, he was unsurprised to see that Draco was in the chair next to his bed. Unsurprised and unhappy. Harry glanced towards the corner; there were no blinds, and the bed was empty. "Do you happen to bully everyone you know or are you just a prat?"

"Just a prat," Draco answered loftily.

"Then, I'll be more direct." Harry glared at him. "You will either stop telling others that I want to be a Dark Lord or I'll hex you on the spot."

"You with what wand?"

Harry reached for his holly wand and discovered his holster had been removed from his person. It must have happened after he fell asleep. He was wearing pale blue patient robes.

Draco inspected his fingernails. "Oh, that's right, Madam Pomfrey confiscated it, didn't she?"

"I have a pillow." Sitting up, Harry held it menacingly.

"What a terrifying thought, Harry Potter with a pillow." Draco wiggled his fingers mockingly.

Harry swung it and thumped him in the head. The other teen let out a yelp, nearly falling out of his chair. Laughing at the state of Draco's greased hair sticking up at an odd angle, Harry held the cotton pillow up in a ready position again. "That's for calling Hermione a Mudblood after threatening her yesterday, you bleeding prat."

"Fine." Draco slicked his hair down quite easily, looking very annoyed. "I'll stop telling everyone you want to be a Dark Lord."

"Or that I am a Dark Lord. Because I'm not."

"Or that." Leaning back as if he had not been beaned in the head by a pillow, Draco sighed in discontent. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to tell me how you did it?"

"Did what?"

"I have never seen my godfather so furious before." Draco leaned forward. "You realize you—" Gesturing with his hands, he snapped both into a tight fist as he pulled them towards his body. "Snatched his vengeance from him."

"Scapegoating an innocent man doesn't stop the true perpetrator from committing the same acts."

Shaking his head, Draco sighed again. "You're a thick one, aren't you?"

Harry looked at him. The other teen's eyes held a fierce intensity that Harry wasn't used to seeing.

"I figured out that he was the one who gave you that photo album, the one with all those photographs of your mother… Of course, I wasn't completely sure until my father told me about the one request my godfather had ever asked of the Dark Lord."

"…What was that?" Harry wasn't sure if he even wanted to know.

"Sparing your mother's life."

Harry's stomach dropped out. "He…" Wasn't this proof of how close Snape had been to Voldemort? That the evil wizard had actually attempted to fulfill Snape's request? Harry thought he was going to be sick.

"You see? Professor Snape almost avenged the death of your mother through the execution of the man convicted of betraying the Secret he held."

Harry tasted bile but swallowed and took a deep breath. The greasy-haired git should be blaming the Dark Master he once served, perhaps still served. "You believed that justice had been miscarried in regards to Sirius Black," he said.

"Yes, but you don't see me snatching burning parchment from an Ashwinder, do you?"

"You baited a hippogriff," Harry reminded.

"My godfather is deadlier." Draco smirked. "Which brings me to my next point. You still haven't convinced me that you haven't got a death wish."

"How does that work? A suicidal Dark Lord?"

"It fits. No one said you were a very smart Dark Lord. That's why you have me."

Harry snorted because he certainly didn't trust Draco when he went behind Harry's back and threatened his friends. "I don't need your help. I'll stay far away from trouble next year." If there was a next year at Hogwarts… Harry wasn't too worried about that. He thought his chances were very high that he would not be expelled at all, considering that the headmaster seemed to approve of him.

"You, a law-abiding student of Hogwarts? Won't ever happen. I saw your father's misconduct records." Draco laughed. "He was a menace!"

Shooting him an irritated look, Harry scowled. "Did you bribe someone?"

"Oh, no. I spent a long day serving detention with my godfather after McGonagall reprimanded me and docked House points for my Stunning attempt in Hogsmeade. You know how I lovegoing through records." Draco's lips curled in happy remembrance. "Of course, I relayed the information to my father. He found it very fascinating, which is how we got onto the topic of your mother—"

Not wanting to hear what two bigots had to say about his Muggle-born mother, Harry held up a hand. "Why the bleeding hell did they pick you to play babysitter? Where is everyone?"

"Ah, Dumbledore put out notice last night that there would be one last Hogsmeade trip of the term. Today."

Harry scowl deepened because he didn't have permission and probably wouldn't if Neville's overly sheltered childhood was anything to go by.

"It's terribly sad that your friends abandoned you to go on a date."

"They can do whatever they want. I'm not their keeper."

Tutting, Draco stood up and pulled a parchment from his robes. "You're in luck, your Grace. A very small owl delivered these to you this morning." The other Slytherin thumbed it, appearing as if he might be having second thoughts.

Harry simultaneously smacked him with the pillow and stole the parchment, before Draco tried to extract more favors from him.

The pointy-faced prat spluttered indignantly. "There's no need to be so violent! I wouldn't have asked for anything."

"Quit lying," Harry said absently. As he read the note, his face brightened the moment he realized what it was.

For in elegant script in the middle of the page was a line that read: I, Sirius Black, Godfather, hereby give Harry Potter permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends.

"That one didn't have several nasty hexes awaiting the wrong hand to open it, but this one… I didn't want to take my chances." Draco drew out a deep plum-colored letter and offered it to him.

Harry looked at him suspiciously, but pulled it from the other Slytherin's lax fingertips.

"See? I don't always require a favor to help you."

On the front it was addressed to Harry, and beneath it were the words, 'Woe betide to those who tamper with post not theirs'.

Picking up his pouch, which was sitting on the little table beside the bed, Harry took out the letter opener and slit the envelope open. He put the knife away and pulled the sheet of parchment from the envelope. Draco leaned over his shoulder to read.

"Do you mind?" Harry snapped out.

With an unconvincing, hurt look, Draco sat back down. "Spoilsport."

In it, Sirius told Harry that he and Buckbeak were safe and well-hidden, that it had indeed been him who had given Harry the Firebolt for Christmas for the twelve birthdays he'd missed when he was in Azkaban. He apologized for scaring Harry in Hogsmeade and at Spinner's End. In the post-script, he scribbled a short, cryptic message about a letter of apology he'd sent to both Ronald Weasley and Theodore Nott without an explanation as to why. Harry already knew why Theodore would deserve a letter, but it took a moment for him to remember that Weasley had been threatened with a knife—or rather had mistaken Black's attempt to get Wormtail out of Gryffindor Tower as an attempt on the redhead's life.

Sitting up, Harry took a deep breath, refolding the letter and placing it back into the envelope which was now a light blue color. "Dumbledore ought to accept the permission slip. It's not too late to get to Hogsmeade, is it?" When Harry stood up too quickly, a wave of vertigo threatened to send him toppling to the floor; Draco caught his shoulders.

"Lunch first, Scarhead."

After Draco cast a Refreshening charm on him, the blond fetched Madam Pomfrey. She did a few diagnostic spells, provided Harry with one last potion, and returned his wand and holster to him. Once Harry Switched out the patient robes for a clean set Draco had brought, he snapped on his wand holster and pocketed the letters and the pouch. The two walked side-by-side to the Great Hall. "Where's Crabbe and Goyle? Hogsmeade?"

The taller teen nodded.

Harry saw once they entered the expansive room that many of the students had taken advantage of the last trip to the magical town. Neville, Ron, and Hermione had not. They were sitting with the first and second years at the Gryffindor table with the Head Boy. Harry took a seat by Daphne's younger sister and Gilbert at the Slytherin table. With the exams behind him, Gilbert looked very relaxed, chatting easily with his year-mates who'd chosen to stay behind.

"I never did thank you," Harry said to the brown-haired second year.

Astoria Greengrass looked up from listening to her friends and smiled shyly. The other second years' conversations hushed. "No thanks required… your Grace," she covered her mouth after she said that, looking away with a giggle as her blue eyes twinkled with mischief. The other second-years giggled nervously.

"I don't like being addressed like that. Call me Harry or Potter."

"Yes, sir," she responded. She grinned cheekily at him.

Harry sighed as Draco said from across the table with a sage voice, "You won't get what you want, I think."

"Shut it. Don't pretend that you and Theo didn't start the trend, you prat." Harry turned back to the second year when something occurred to him. "Astoria, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, sir, you may."

"How were you able to lie to Professor Snape about my being in the library?" It was something that had bothered Harry. Snape had taken her word for it too easily…

"I'm a natural Occlumens, sir. It's an inborn gift. If you're a Greengrass, you're either a Legilimens, an Occlumens, or a Squib," Astoria patiently explained. "It isn't a really flashy gift, but it's quite useful."

"I see." Harry tried not to be disappointed. If it was such common knowledge for the Greengrass line, why didn't Snape hassle her? Harry shook his head. It was also too bad it was an inborn gift. Otherwise, he would have asked her to recommend an Occlumency tutor. Eating into the spread of food, Harry raised his eyes to the ceiling. The enchanted sky was completely blue without a wisp of sky. Every now and then birds would flutter by.

Normal conversation resumed around him, and Harry swiftly ate several plates of food.

After he finished, Harry hopped off the bench, not bothering to wait for the blond prat. Before long he'd made it to the headmaster's office with Draco ranting behind him about his quick pace. The gargoyle was already standing to attention to the side of the stairwell. The staircase was open to anyone who cared to enter. Harry immediately moved onto the steps, aware that Draco was right behind him.

"Have I done something else to offend you, your Grace?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure you will soon."

Draco's next words were in defense of himself. Harry didn't bother to listen.

Meanwhile, the stairs spiraled upwards, taking them to the landing. The door with the knocker opened before Harry could touch it. Draco fell silent when Harry didn't respond to him. Perhaps he was thinking to himself... or maybe the taller teen had decided not to aggravate Harry further before they spoke to a powerful, well-connected wizard that Harry was on really good terms with.

"Ah, Harry!" The headmaster's cheerful voice greeted. "And Draco. A good afternoon to you. Lemon Drop?"

Harry took one of the yellow, sour candies, plopping it into his mouth to roll it around. Draco politely refused. The headmaster's office was just as Harry remembered it, round and cozy with paintings of previous headmasters fast asleep in their portraits. His eyes zeroed in on a painting of Salazar Slytherin. The Founder was stroking his beard and looking at Harry thoughtfully.

"Have a seat," Professor Dumbledore said, conjuring chairs for them. "It is so unusual for me to receive students as visitors. What may I do for you, gentlemen?"

The permission slip was passed to the headmaster. "I received it this morning. Can I go?" Perched on the edge of the chair, Harry looked hopeful. It was the least the headmaster could do for him after Harry had been attacked twice by dementors on Hogwarts grounds and apprehended Peter Pettigrew…

Peering at the parchment, the aged wizard smiled. "Yes, this is perfectly within rules. I see why you would deliver it personally to me when your Head of House has a certain, hm, bias against your legal godfather. I will arrange a proper chaperone to escort you. Is there anything else?" When Harry answered in the negative, the clear blue eyes turned to the other Slytherin. "And you, Draco?"

The blond looked very uncomfortable with the attention and looked away as he stood. "No, sir."

Harry rose to his feet. "Thank you for your time, sir."

"My door is open to those who choose to seek me out."

With that cryptic message, they left the way they'd come. Once their feet touched the stone of the corridor, Draco let out a burst of air. "Perfectly within rules? Sirius Black is a felon! When my father hears of this, he'll—" Draco's lips curled at Harry's sudden laughter. "Stop it."

"What's your father going to do? He's not even a school governor anymore."

Appearing offended, the other teen sniffed. "He doesn't need to be a governor to enact changes."

Shaking his head, Harry's feet hopped down the marble steps to the courtyard in the stifling heat. He'd begun to sweat the moment they were outside.

Draco cast a Cooling Charm on their robes without being asked.

"Thanks," Harry said begrudgingly.

"You're most welcome, your Grace."

A shadow fell over them, and they looked up to see a bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping the sweat off his face. " 'Ello 'Arry. Rotten luck las' night. I mean, Black escapin' again, an' Buckbeak runnin' away. Glad he hadn't met Professor Lupin on th' grounds…"

"What?" Harry asked, shooting a look at Draco who'd made a disgusted noise.

Hagrid also glanced towards the blond before he turned his head to Harry again. "Blimey, haven't yeh heard?" The Care of Magical Creatures professor lowered his voice, even though there was nobody else in sight. "Poor fellow's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on th' grounds las' night. Professor Lupin resigned firs' thing this mornin' to th' students since he'd made a ruckus howlin' at th' full moon. He's packin' now."

"He's packing," Harry said. "But he's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor we've had in three years…"

"He looked really torn up abou' it. Said he couldn't risk it happenin' again, so's he's leavin'."

Harry froze as the repercussions of what had happened last night dawned on him. Of course Professor Lupin was upset enough to quit. Anyone would be after attacking someone else as a Changed werewolf! "I'm going to see him."

"I'll wait fer yeh, 'Arry," Hagrid said, taking a seat on the stone steps in the shade.

"But there's nothing you can do," his roommate retorted hotly chasing after him into the cool, dark castle corridors. "I'm surprised Dumbledore even let it back inside Hogwarts, knowing what Lupin is."

"I don't care that he's a werewolf. I want to say goodbye. You can stay with Hagrid, if you're too afraid."

"Afraid? Hah! You must be joking," Draco said haughtily, but Harry could sense his unease.

"You forget I know your greatest fear," Harry said to him.

"It changes as you mature. For all you know, I could be terrified of dementors now."

"Good thing you haven't matured any then, isn't it? It makes you predictable."

"I'm not—no, you are! You always leap at the chance to play hero. Play because you aren't one. You rely too much on your reputation and connections to stay at Hogwarts! Anyone else would've been kicked out or sent to St. Mungo's by now!"

"I suppose I do use the headmaster, but he's alright with it or he wouldn't let me," Harry said agreeably as they turned down the corridor which led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "You'd do the same thing if you were in my position."

"Hah! Your prestige and infamy are wasted on you!" Draco ranted, "I would've taken this place over by now by kicking out all the Mud—Muggle-borns and that Muggle-loving headmaster, any drop-outs or werewolves posing as teachers, and any other Muggle-sympathizers can leave as far as I care—"

"It's a good thing I'm not you then, is it? Or else I would've kicked everyone I hated out too, no matter how talented or brilliant." Then Harry stopped by Professor Lupin's office door. Before he could knock, the door opened, and a deeply tanned and wrinkled face peered down at him with steel blue eyes, looking vaguely familiar. "Come in, come in."

Harry turned towards his unpleasant year-mate. "You can wait out here if you'd—"

"I have better things to do with my time than wait on you." Draco shifted, gripping the handle of the wand still in its holster. He had the look of someone mercilessly crushing the impulse to vomit.

"Alright," Harry said.

The blond spun on a foot and walked at a determined pace down the corridor, his cloak flaring out dramatically. Harry inwardly laughed. Had the pointy-faced Slytherin ever taken lessons from Snape?

"Well?" The voice of the stranger called from the room.

Harry stepped through the doorway. It was not with good feeling to see Professor Lupin's things floating to suitcases. An old record was playing a tune in the background, something Harry didn't recognize.

"It is with great pleasure to finally meet you, Harry Potter," the old wizard said. "My son has told me much about you and your heroic deeds." A calloused, sun-tanned hand was offered.

Harry shook it, looking around distractedly. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

The wizard's eyes flickered to the corner of the room where an old wardrobe sat. Harry could just make out the left shoulder of Professor Lupin's shabby overcoat sticking out next not far off the floor.

Harry approached the adult who was on the floor. He paused, seeing the Marauder's Map held in Professor Lupin's grip. He saw innumerable scratches on the wizard's hand and face. Harry wished Lupin didn't look so terribly sick. There were thick bandages peeking out from under the cuffs of his sleeves.

"I saw you coming," the tired man whispered.

"Hagrid told me what had happened. Why did you resign?"

"Because I did something that I swore I would never do." There was a deadness in his remorseful tone.

"But you're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has had in thirteen years. If you go, what sane, competent individual would take the post?"

Lupin sighed. "I am not as competent as I have pretended to be, Harry. Last night reinforced that…" His eyes moved to look at the wizard who continued flicking his wand to pack Lupin's things.

"But it's not your fault—!"

"Yes, it was," came the tired voice. "I thought it would be alright to indulge a little, that the potion wouldn't be rendered ineffective. I'd done it before, you see. Just a single sweet-mint—" Whatever the adult was about to say died on his lips, and tension tightened his shoulders together. "I was fooling myself. Thank Merlin that Severus' potion worked enough to suppress the beast's appetite and a large amount of its bloodthirstiness, even if I didn't maintain my full senses… but the drive to attack others remained…" His face fell, and his eyes grew watery. "In all honesty, I should be in Azkaban. Not free to hurt another living soul," he said hoarsely.

Harry opened his mouth, shut it, and breathed in through his nose. Lambasting his favorite teacher about praising Snape seemed in bad taste, especially given that the previous DADA teacher was obviously feeling very badly about attacking Theodore. "At least, tell me why you think you ought to leave now? Hogwarts still needs you. You know so much and I… I want to learn more."

"Harry…" The scarred wizard let out a heavy sigh. "You've done admirably on your own. At the age of thirteen, you've conjured a fully corporeal Patronus of your own… something that many wizards and witches cannot perform until they are well-seasoned." The wizard slumped his shoulders further. "The truth is… You don't need me."

"I do," Harry said fiercely.

Grey eyes met his, wounded and exhausted. "…I never did tell you how I came to meet them, your parents, Sirius and-and Peter…"

Sitting on the floor across from him, Harry tilted his head at him. "I'd like to listen now, if that's alright with you."

And so, Lupin told him about being the first Lycanthropy-infected student ever admitted to Hogwarts—in secret, of course; how most werewolves were denied any kind of formal education and were largely friendless—well, if you discounted others like them…

The record playing in the background seemed to be so far away as Harry gently tapped Lupin on the shoulder when he fell silent in thought for a long while. "Go on, Professor Lupin."

"I'm no longer your professor," Lupin said with a voice growing hoarse from unshed tears. "I lost that privilege last night."

Merlin, Harry was bad at this. "Alright. Then, tell me more about your friends when you were a student here. There was Prongs… and Padfoot, and—" Harry was loathe to say the next name, "Wormtail, right?"

"Yes, I was forced to trust them with my secret when they grew suspicious of my absences. Well, if Wormtail hadn't told the other two… Then I might never have been as close to James and Sirius…" Lupin's eyes were looking far away now. "Sirius dubbed us the Marauders. The four of us," the wizard said. "Besides them, I had just two other friends."

"So each of them, the other Marauders, became an Animagus to help you… to be your pack, since animals can't catch Lycanthropy…?"

"Yes." The hand tightened on the Marauder's Map as emotion—longing—choked the wizard's voice. Harry had only read repeated warnings of not to engage one among its packmates. Bloodbath was the tamest word for the foolhardy witch or wizard who dared to do so.

"Can I ask you a question? About what happened in the Shrieking Shack, I mean, when Snape—"

"Professor Snape," chided Lupin.

Grimacing, Harry hesitated as the sound of things frittering themselves away into their proper packed places continued. Lupin's eyes drifted to the floor again. "You called it a schoolboy grudge, but Snape—Professor Snape said that Sirius was capable of murder at age sixteen. That sounds worse than a schoolboy grudge."

There came a long, weary sigh. "It's true. Sirius and James played a terrible prank on him… One that might have cost him his life…" A distance developed on Lupin's eyes, fixing on something Harry couldn't see.

"What did they do?"

"They told him how to get past the Whomping Willow on the night of a full moon, knowing I would be Changed and ravaging the interior of the Shrieking Shack."

Harry stared at Lupin. It would explain the animosity and distrust the greasy-haired bastard held towards Lupin whenever it was close to a full moon…

"Ever since, Severus has never looked at me quite the same…" Lupin ran a tight hand through his short hair, the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt falling below the bandage wrapped around his wrist. "If James hadn't grabbed him at the last moment…" The wizard was overcome with emotion, terror and something else Harry didn't quite catch. "Twenty years ago Severus would have become infected like Mr. Nott's son."

Before Harry could figure out what he could possibly say to cheer him up that didn't include a reassurance about no one caring whether Snape was a werewolf, tears were slipping down the ex-professor's cheeks. Lupin's scabbed left hand covered his face. A quiet sob sounded, and an awkward Harry decided that he should say nothing and backed away.

The noise of packing had apparently quieted some time ago, and Harry's heart fell. It meant Remus J. Lupin would be leaving soon.

"What's on your mind?" It was the stranger, who Harry deduced was Mr. Nott.

"I'm worried about him," Harry said, glancing towards the werewolf still sitting near the corner of the office.

"He'll be alright." Theodore's Da said, waving his wand one more time. The remaining packed boxes and bags and trunks around the room ferreted themselves into Professor Lupin's open, tattered suitcase. "He needs time."

Harry watched in wonder, reminding himself that the suitcase likely had an Undetectable Super-Extended Charm on it. "You're okay with your son being a werewolf?"

"There are worse things," Mr. Nott said. He looked far less bothered than Harry would have expected. "Remus, we need to go if you were serious about mentoring my son. I have an appointment to keep and no more time to tarry."

As he stood up, the motions of the werewolf were disjointed, lacking the smoothness Harry typically associated with him. The map was folded and placed into his jacket after speaking the words to make it blank. He reached for the cane leaning on the wall, grasping it to stand.

Feeling a little bad about it but knowing this was his only chance, Harry came forward. "Professor…"

"Remus or Lupin," came the softly spoken correction.

"May I have the map back, Lupin?"

Bloodshot eyes looked at Harry for a long moment. Leaning on his cane, Lupin touched his jacket where the Marauder's Map was kept and then shook his head. "It's too dangerous for you. I can't risk letting James' son get into more mischief next year. I'll hold it in safekeeping until you're old enough to be responsible."

Harry greatly disliked this response, but didn't say so. "Then, this is goodbye?"

"Yes, but not forever," Lupin said. "Please take care of yourself, Harry…"

The Slytherin nodded. Mr. Nott gave him a parting smile as he locked the suitcase with a tap of his wand and picked it up as if it weighed nothing.

The room was very bare now. The door was opened for Lupin, who shuffled out unsteadily, and Mr. Nott followed behind him.

Harry left the room after them. The werewolf's shoulders were drooped as he limped down the corridor.

"You have the most pathetic expression right now," Draco's voice said beside him.

Frowning, Harry squinted to the right and saw a faint outline of a body that nearly matched the wall behind it. He took out his wand. "Finite Incantatem."

Within moments the Disillusionment Charm had melted off of Draco. "The poor bastard must've been a victim of a werewolf attack. The Dark Lord often sent his infectious mutts to bite the children of his adversaries…" Draco lifted an eyebrow, gesturing dismissively. "Usually, the parents would put down such an affront to nature."

"What?" Anger boiled through Harry. The more he learned about Voldemort, the more he hated him. To have purposefully set werewolves onto others was a new low learned. And for parents to murder their own children just for being a werewolf? Why would anyone do that?

Draco snorted at the look on his face. "It's a mercy killing, Potter. The only thing worse than being a werewolf is being a Muggle-born."

Grounding his jaw down, Harry knew it was a lost cause arguing with a self-assured bigot and decided not to say anything.

Eyes flicking towards the exit where the two wizards were heading, the other Slytherin stated, "I'll grant that he's different, since he left his post without needing to be told. Not many werewolves would voluntarily add themselves to the Werewolf Register."

Registration. Theodore Nott had mentioned that he'd avoided it by not going to St. Mungo's…

"To be honest, I've never met a tame one before."

Harry scowled as a thought came to him. "What exactly do registered werewolves do for a living?"

"They find a sponsor, who's willing to have them around." A nasty grin came over Draco's face. "You think that tame werewolf would be willing to wear a collar with my name engraved on it in exchange for sponsorship?"

The image of the boggart-turned-werewolf in bows and wearing a silver collar came to Harry's mind. "No one would do that, werewolf or not."

Full-throated laughter fell from Draco. "You underestimate his desperation. The state of his clothes and luggage tells me that he's been without a steady income for a while." Draco swaggered down the corridor, appearing unaware of Harry's disgust with him. "Well, are you coming? We don't have much time if we're going to Hogsmeade."

"We? You act like we're friends."

"Business associates then." Draco paused mid-step, when Harry went the opposite direction towards a staircase that would carry him to the dungeons. "Of course," the blond said raising his voice, "You're more than welcome to go brood about the unfairness of it all."

Startled by Draco's pronouncement, Harry stopped where he was. "I wasn't going to brood," he called up the stairwell.

"The broody Boy-Who-Lived. Doesn't have much of a ring to it, but I'm sure that will make all the girls weak-kneed in a year or so." Draco laughed again, when Harry didn't respond. "I'll give your regards to that high school dropout. Until then… I bid you adieu."

Traveling to the Slytherin Dungeons, Harry felt a little guilty about setting Draco on Hagrid, but thought a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Not reacting to that bloody prat was more of a challenge than he thought it would be.

Harry's spirits worsened as the last couple of days the term passed. For one, he hadn't seen Theodore since the night of the full moon. For another, Snape's behavior towards Harry had gone from unpleasant to outright hostile. Though Harry had tried to be as obedient and compliant as he could stomach, a muscle would twitch unpleasantly at the corner of Snape's thin mouth every time he spoke at Harry, and when the Potions Master would meet Harry's eyes he would constantly flex his fingers, as though itching to place them around Harry's throat. Harry recognized intimidation tactics since Uncle Vernon had used many of them himself. However, unlike Harry's porky relative, Snape's methods were effective.

Given half the chance, the Death Eater, not unlike Draco's father, was so furious that he might try to murder Harry for helping Sirius Black escape. Of course, Draco had noticed his godfather's nonverbal tells of irrational rage and had volunteered Crabbe and Goyle to take guard shifts, just so Harry could sleep. Even so, Harry never touched any food or drink unless he had Slytherin's knife in hand first, and he always went to bed with his wand under his pillow.

Since his godfather was in hiding, Harry knew he would have to go live on Longbottom Manor with that terrible old witch. Neville, however, was quite excited about the prospect. He greeted Harry whenever he saw him, ignoring the glares he received from the other Slytherins when a Gryffindor had dared to approach Harry so casually. Harry would send a smile back at Neville, eyes shooting daggers at any of his housemates that even tried to approach his brother. That was warning enough for his housemates and they lay off bullying Neville.

Thankfully, the exam results came out on the last day of term and provided a short distraction. Every third year Slytherin had passed their exams. Harry had not received anything lower than an E—besides the solitary A for Transfigurations which Harry hardly thought counted. Sally-Anne and Draco had received top marks again, and not a single seventh year Slytherin had failed their N.E.W.T.S. They would all be graduating and starting a new job as soon as they left Hogwarts.

The Leavetaking feast that night was splendid. The Great Hall was decked in colors of green and silver. Even better, Professor Dumbledore hadn't awarded Harry points for his covert actions, which was precisely how Harry wanted it. The Slytherin House was celebrating rather loudly. Harry managed to forget the unfairness of Lupin's affliction, Theodore's condition, and Black's plight, his horrible unease over Snape, and his upcoming, miserable summer stay with Augusta Longbottom, while he ate, drank, talked, and laughed with the rest of his housemates.

The Hogsmeade train station was crowded the next morning as Harry and Sally-Anne stepped out of the carriage pulled by reptilian black horses with Ginny and Luna, who were locked in their own conversation.

"I'm ready for the summer," Sally-Anne was saying. "I've had enough excitement this year."

There was a screech, and an owl dropped out of the sky clipping its wing on the side of Harry's head.

"Hey!" Harry rubbed his cheek where the feathers had roughly brushed him, looking up at the screech owl perched on a lamp post. When he stepped closer to it, the letter in its talons was released, and he snatched it out of the air. It was a cream-colored envelope with their names on it in Theodore's loopy, squished handwriting.

Sally-Anne smiled at the sight of it. "We need to board the train before it leaves us."

They hopped on board and wandered to the very last compartment. Once they were comfortably ensconced on the benchseats, Harry opened his letter, unfolding it. He leaned over so Sally-Anne could read it with him.

Dear Sally-Anne and Harry,
Madagascar is fantastic! If only I wasn't bed-ridden through most of the trip. Da said my injuries won't fully heal until the next full moon. I can't wait! My allergies are already gone, though my asthma doesn't seem to be.
Lupin's doing better, though he's yet to hold a conversation with me that hasn't include an apology.
All three of us are going to the Quidditch World Cup in August. (It's a surprise for Lupin. If you write him, please don't tell him about it!) And Da has three more tickets to give out. Did either of you want to see a professional Quidditch match? Britain hasn't hosted the World Cup since 1976!
Let me know,
Theo Nott

Harry thought it was a wicked good idea.

"I can't go," Sally-Anne said with a disappointed frown. "My parents are strict about that sort of thing."

The Hogwarts Express let out a shrill whistle and pulled out from the station. The door to their compartment slid open and Neville, Ron, and Hermione came in, taking the bench across from the Slytherins. Ron and Hermione were bickering over something, but at least they weren't shouting.

"Hello Harry. Hello Sally-Anne," Neville said, holding his squirming toad in hand.

They greeted him back, eyes flicking to the intense conversation coming from the other two Gryffindors.

"So, I've told the Deputy Headmistress that I no longer plan to take Care of Magical Creatures next semester. I don't like Magical Creatures as much as I thought I might," Sally-Anne said.

"Really?" Neville's toad wriggled out of his hand and flopped onto his knee. "But Hermione said you did an Outstanding on the exam!"

"Did Hermione lose her privileges?" Harry asked his housemate pointedly, while Hermione and Ron continued to argue about something that seemed inconsequential: England's best Quidditch team.

Neville's eyes went to Sally-Anne and then darted towards Hermione. "What privileges?"

Interrupting her own rant about ill-mannered boys, Hermione grimaced. "I gave them up voluntarily; I didn't want the responsibility, so I won't be taking either Muggle Studies or Divination."

"You never did tell us how you managed to go to those classes at the same time," Ron grumbled.

"Yeah, how'd you do it?" Neville said.

"I don't want to be Obliviated," Hermione said hotly.

Sally-Anne nodded. "Nor I."

"Neither do I," Harry said.

The others looked at him skeptically.

"I bet two Sickles you don't know what Obliviation is," Ron said.

"I'll take that wager." Harry cleared his throat theatrically. "It means someone's erased your memories of a particular event with memory charms."

With a grumble, the Gryffindor slapped the silver wizard coins into Harry's palm.

"I guess Theodore told you then?" Sally-Anne guessed.

"That and a Psych Healer said I accidentally Obliviated myself when I was a child." Harry grinned, sticking the coins into his pouch. "No hard feelings Ron?"

"Nah, it was leftover from the wager I had with my sister."

"What wager?" Hermione asked with a pinched face.

Ron fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, I said that she wouldn't be able to beat Harry to the Snitch… Oh, that reminds me! The Quidditch World Cup this summer!" Ron grinned at her, "How about it, Hermione? Come and stay over again and we'll go see it! Dad usually gets tickets from work."

Hermione didn't appear to like this idea as her face became even more pinched. "I don't know… My parents wanted me to stay home for the summer to spend time together, since I hardly see them…"

"Oh. Right, Mum always said family first." The redhead had a mildly surprised look about him at her lukewarm answer.

"What about me?" Neville asked despondently.

"Well," Ron started and then frowned, "You're not family—"

"Neville," Harry interrupted. "Theo invited me to go with him, but he said he had more tickets."

"You're inviting me?" Neville's voice was filled with such hope that Harry wanted to reach over and pat him on the head. Fortunately, he refrained.

"Well, if we can somehow convince Mrs. Longbottom to let us go, then yes," Harry said, aborting a sigh.

"You could come with us, 'Mione. Right, Harry?"

"Sure. One more shouldn't hurt," Harry said to his brother.

"That sounds fantastic," Hermione said, giving Neville a broad grin. "Thanks, Neville."

"You'll go with them but not with me? I thought we were friends!"

Hermione grimaced. "I'm not so sure about that."

"It's nothing personal," Sally-Anne added. "This way her time won't be monopolized by one greedy Gryffindor."

Ron muttered something under his breath, shooting a murderous glare at her. He then shoved himself up forcibly to slam the door open of the compartment. "Bloody Slytherins!" Moments later, he was gone.

Hermione leaned forward and shut the door. "Thanks, Sally-Anne."

She smiled shyly. A cross look flashed across her face and then she turned to Harry. "Since I was never privy to the information about a certain werewolf teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'd like to know why you were stupid enough to trust Sirius Black's word over our Head of House."

"I… Well..." Where would he begin?

"Every Slytherin thinks you set him loose, though no one knows how you did it." Her eyes narrowed. "If the official story of him slaughtering a street full of Muggles isn't true, then what happened?"

So, Harry told her how Sirius Black had switched places with Peter Pettigrew, a rat Animagus, as Harry's parent's Secretkeeper; how nobody had known Pettigrew was an informant to the Voldemort for over a year; how after the discovery that Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters, Black had gone after Pettigrew to avenge his best friends. Then Harry told them Pettigrew's final act of senseless violence. Hermione and Neville had nodded along agreeing with Harry's summary. When the Slytherin had finished, Sally-Anne looked thoughtful.

"It's all true. I was there," Neville said, though he looked very green.

"Neville, do you need some fresh air?" Harry noticed that he was sweating profusely.

"Well… something that Professor Trelawney said after I was last to finish the exam… But it probably doesn't mean anything, I mean, we all know she's not a Seer…" He laughed nervously, "Just because she and Gran think that the You-Know-Who's going to rise again..."

Hermione peered at her fellow Gryffindor. "We all know she's a fraud. Why didn't you reject it?"

"Well… her voice… it was harsh and it sounded like there was another person speaking from her."

At hearing that descriptor, Sally-Anne frowned. "What did she say?" She leaned closer to Neville, who squirmed and blushed in embarrassment. "Go on. We won't make fun of you."

The Gryffindor's eyebrows knit together in concentration. "She said… He who betrayed his friend… whose heart… rots with murder… shall break free," he said slowly, "And then she started talking about the savage servant and merciless master getting back together… with innocent blood causing the Dark Lord to rise again… Scared me senseless, she did. But it's nothing right?"

The first part might be about Peter Pettigrew breaking of Azkaban in the future… But he was a known Animagus, and before Black no one's ever broken out before…

"It might be a true prophecy," Sally-Anne said darkly.

Hermione snorted. "It's too vague and cryptic to understand until some future event takes place that fits the pieces… There's nothing in it! Trelawney's a fraud."

"I'm willing to trust Neville's instinct. If the pattern holds, next year there's going to be another servant of You-Know-Who. That servant is going to help his master rise again with a blood ritual of Dark Magic," Harry said. The compartment went deathly quiet at that. Harry gave a too-pale Neville the last bit of chocolate from the emergency stash Madam Pomfrey had given him. "Eat up."

And that seemed to cut the tension that had fallen over them. Lighter conversation overtook the compartment, while Sally-Anne and Neville talked about magizoology, a shared interest between them.

Something outside the door yowled, and Hermione opened the door. "Crookshanks!" Hermione crooned, scooping the large fluffy orange Kneazle with a bottle-brush tail. The creature purred happily as she pet it and continued to read.

While the others entertained themselves, Harry pulled out the letters from his godfather and the one from Theodore to re-read. He was hopeful for the next year. No Quidditch meant he wouldn't suffer any falls or attacks on a broom. With luck, Harry thought, this rumor about the Triwizard Tournament will turn out to be a fantastic spectacle to enjoy.

He smiled to himself, feeling much cheered up.

Several hours later, after saying their goodbyes to Sally-Anne, Neville and Harry dragged their trunks off the Hogwarts Express and across the platform to the very stern-looking witch waiting for them. Hedwig hooted in the cage Harry was carrying in his left hand.

"This summer will be devoted to learning proper social protocols and etiquette, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Longbottom said. Her red nagaskin bag and vulture-perched hat looked as tacky as ever. "It shouldn't be that difficult for you if you're a quick learner."

Once she had turned around, Harry made a face behind her, and Neville shot a worried look at him.

"Come along, dears."

And, together they set off toward the station exit for a summer that was sure to test Harry's patience...

~*The End*~

Preview of Harry and the Three Knights

They reached forward as one, each grasping a handle.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. In a howl of swirling color, he and Diggory were being transported. At first, Harry hoped it was one of the many fakes planted to send the hapless champion close to the starting point. However, it took longer and longer for them to land.

Considering how giddy the soul-shard was, Harry had only one viable answer: Voldemort's plan. Harry suspected that he had been expected to grasp the cup all along, to get kidnapped as the result of a most convoluted plan to have him 'win'. Diggory was staring at Harry with wide-eyed expectation as they spun around and around. It's a pity that the spare will have to go, the soul-shard whispered over the roar of the long-distance Portkey.

Harry's feet slammed into the ground, and he fell face-first, releasing the cup. Hands in semi-muddy soil, he raised his head and realized with sinking dread that his worst fears had come alive. They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely, for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were in a dark and overgrown graveyard. Beyond him, there was a black outline of a small church and a large yew tree to his right. A hill rose to his left where a fine, old house had been built. That was all Harry needed to see before he drew his wand.