A/N: Well, we've made it. Nearly a year later, and after more than 380,000 words, Part II is at last complete. I truly loved writing this story, and I hope you have all enjoyed reading it. As I did at the end of Part I, I have posted the first chapter (the prologue, really) to the next book. So, when you've finished with Part II, I encourage all of you to head to my profile page and check out Chapter One of Child of Hogwarts, Part III: The Master of Death.

Enjoy 'The Marauder Legacy'!

This is the final chapter… so please read and review!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and/or story lines are the property of Joanne Rowling.

Chapter 43: The Marauder Legacy

Severus came to very slowly. There were voices, both distant and close… a lingering chill in the summer's air. His head felt as though he'd spent the night in the pubs, and he could taste the lingering copper of blood in his mouth. It was a monumental effort to open his eyes.

When he did, the first thing he discerned was green. He was lying on soft, slightly damp earth, covered in the lush grass of early summer. The blades obscured his vision, and he went to raise his pounding head…

Then there was a child's squeal and a thump, and suddenly bushy brown hair had replaced the sea of green.

'Professor Snape,' the girl hissed, a small hand on his shoulder. 'Oh, thank goodness. Quick – get up, get up, sir! They're coming…'

Severus leaned back, away from her anxious face. His thoughts were confused and broken.

The grounds… he was in the grounds, somehow. He could see Weasley too, white-faced and waving his arms at something or someone in the distance, balanced on one leg. Granger reached out a hand again as if to help him to his feet… But how had he –

The Shack. Potter. The Rat.

It all came back in a flood of rage, panic and pain. He looked wildly around, thrusting a hand into his pocket.

Like a sick imitation of that night more than a year ago, when he had found himself waking on the floor of that foul passage to the Chamber, his hand found only fabric. He snarled.

'It's here,' the girl said quickly, holding the weapon out for him. 'I kept it for you. Come on, sir, we have to distract them. I don't know whether Harry…'

Potter.

This was his fault. Again.

He snatched his wand back from Granger, refusing her aid as he regained his feet. There were figures approaching – wizards, he thought, and Dementors. Some of the wizards had conjured Patronuses, which he supposed was the reason the chill felt muted… he was grateful, for he did not think he could summon his own at the moment. Thanks to Potter and his rash, uncontrollable temper.

But Potter… Potter was not here. Nor was the rat, or the wolf, or the mutt…

'Where are they?' he hissed to Granger, stumbling toward her where she'd joined the red-haired boy. 'Pettigrew, Potter…'

'Pettigrew ran off,' she whispered back.

'He what?' Severus snarled. 'The traitor escaped?'

'Yes – after Lupin transformed, when we'd escaped back into the grounds…. The Dementors came, Harry drove them back, but –'

The potion. Shite. He'd known the foolish wolf should have taken it straight away! They all might have been… but Potter –

'Where is Potter?' he demanded.

'Severus!'

A new, much higher voice called out from behind him. Severus whirled to see Filius Flitwick running down the path from the school, his robes hiked up to keep from tripping and his flyaway hair bouncing about on each step.

'He's… he took Sirius away,' Granger answered quickly. 'He told us to distract them – the headmaster isn't back yet…'

'Away?' Severus repeated. 'With Dementors in the grounds? Where, exactly, did he –'

'Ms Granger, Mr Weasley!' the Charms Master gasped out, reaching them at last just ahead of the Ministry contingent. 'In Merlin's name, what has –'

But the Aurors had arrived now. One of them – Scrimgeour, Severus thought it was – pulled Filius aside with a rough hand, muttering urgently at his ear. A group of five or six made a beeline for the castle, while a woman Severus did not recognise grabbed him by the upper arm.

'Sir?' the woman asked, shaking him slightly. 'Sir, Sirius Black has been reported here tonight. Have you any –'

'I have no idea where your criminal has got to,' Severus answered smoothly, detaching his arm from her grip. 'I have only just awoken myself.'

Her brow furrowed as she scrutinised him. 'That's a nasty cut you've got there,' she opined. 'You one of the staff?'

'Yes,' he said curtly. 'And my students…' he looked around again, to where two other Aurors were converging on Weasley and Granger. He hurried to intercede, pulling them out of the Ministry's grip.

'Oi –' Weasley protested hotly.

'Listen to me, very carefully,' he hissed at the boy's ear. Granger, he knew, would not need instruction to pay attention. 'Say nothing. Tell them nothing. You were knocked out – you have no idea what happened tonight. The last thing you remember is walking with Potter in the grounds before the Dementors arrived. Do you understand?'

'We need statements from the three of you,' the woman who had intercepted him said, a touch more irritation in her voice. 'And any information you can give us on –'

Severus released the children, with one last meaningful glare. 'We have nothing to offer,' he said over her. 'And these students need to be seen by our mediwitch. The headmaster –'

'We have an immediate situation,' Scrimgeour protested, breaking off his conversation with Filius to glare at Severus. His eyes were calculating, and deeply mistrustful. 'Nobody leaves this hillside while the search is going on.'

Severus snarled. 'The children need tending,' he spat at the Auror. 'Dumbledore would not allow –'

'Albus Dumbledore is not here,' the man reminded him. He took a step closer, his gaze intensifying. 'And I would remind you, Severus Snape, that impeding a Ministry investigation for an escaped Death Eater does not look –'

'I impede nothing,' Severus growled. 'I hate the murderous traitor as much as you, Scrimgeour. I came out here tonight in an effort to stop this madness. And Albus Dumbledore…'

He paused, smirking just a fraction as a dazzling silver figure whooshed through the air around them. Its appearance caused several of the Ministry wizards to exclaim in alarm.

'Has returned.'

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Albus and Minerva apparated in sync, just in front of the wrought iron gates. A second, louder pop announced that the Minister had joined them, but Albus did not turn from his purpose. The gates were open at an odd angle; the ancient hinges broken in places, leaving the portal to his school ajar. Fury pulsed in the headmaster's chest.

No chill permeated the summer's night. No Dementors remained at their post. And yet, from the distant grounds, Albus could hear a cacophony of angry voices.

He passed through the entrance with his wand drawn, moving at once for the out-of-sight men. He recognised both Filius' high squeak and Severus' deep snarl among them. As they crested the hilltop and the figures came into view, Albus thought he saw a dark shadow zoom fleetingly over the forest in the distance.

He summoned his Patronus, shooting the blinding silver phoenix directly at the mob in the grass. It did not join those of the Aurors, circling protectively around their masters. Instead, it drove with the force of Albus' rage through the horde of Azkaban guards, sending the creatures away from his castle and students, back toward the gates. Fudge gave an undignified squeak as he hurried away from their retreat, not bothering to summon his own protection.

The faces of the dozen wizards all turned as he took the remaining distance at a powerful stride, his anger and his magic piercing the night like thunder.

'Albus,' Severus said, turning away from what appeared to be a heated discussion with Rufus Scrimgeour as the headmaster joined them. He was bleeding, and paler than usual. But as the Potions Master turned, Albus caught sight of two much smaller figures at Filius' side.

Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Which meant…

'Where is he?' Albus demanded, sweeping his gaze between Severus, the children and the Ministry entourage.

'No sign of him yet, sir,' Rufus said gruffly. 'But we've only just arrived ourselves. Shacklebolt led a contingent into the castle, but your man here won't let the guards in to assist with –'

'No Dementor shall be permitted to cross the threshold of this school,' Albus insisted firmly. 'As undoubtedly Filius relayed.'

But Sirius was not the 'he' Albus had been asking for… and as he met Severus' eyes, he knew the latter understood.

'I do not know,' he answered curtly. 'I was attempting to ascertain as much, when the Ministry arrived. He was gone when I awoke. Both he and –'

'He… he went down the hill, sir,' Hermione piped up, stepping out from behind Filius. She was whispering the words, her face terrified. 'Harry… he went toward Hagrid's, but that was several minutes –'

'Black took the boy?' Dawlish demanded at Scrimgeour's side. 'Why did you not say sooner, foolish –'

'He didn't take him anywhere!' Ron Weasley protested. He was limping, Albus noticed, as he came to stand at Hermione's side. 'You lot have got it all wrong! Harry –'

'Enough, Mr Weasley,' Severus cut in, exchanging a grim look with Albus. 'Hold your tongue.'

'But I –'

Ron stopped, as Albus caught his gaze and shook his head once, just slightly. The boy swallowed hard, but he did not attempt to reason with the Ministry again. Already, Scrimgeour was leading several of his men and women down toward the Gamekeeper's hut.

'Take the children back up to the school,' Albus instructed Minerva, following the Aurors at a run. 'We shall meet you in the hospital wing.'

Severus, predictably, pursued him at once. The Ministry wizards were some distance in front.

'Where have you been?' the Potions Master accused as they tore through the darkened grounds. 'How the hell did the Ministry manage to –'

'An excellent query,' Albus said, giving his professor a sideways glance. 'As it has become clear, Severus, that Cornelius was not the only one keeping information from me tonight.'

There was a beat of silence. Candles flickered to life in Hagrid's windows as they drew closer to the hut. Albus increased his own stride. If the Aurors found Sirius first…

'The rat took the boy,' Severus said at last. 'Pulled him into the Willow. There was a fight in the Shack… Black and Lupin had him, the last I knew. But I was knocked out… by Potter's foolish magic. When I awakened, Pettigrew, Black and Potter had all disappeared.'

Albus did not reply. There would be a moment to hear the details… but it was not now. Not before they had located Sirius and Harry.

'He's here!' one of the Aurors called, shouting from the edge of the trees. 'The boy!' Albus' heart contracted. He sped up yet again.

'He's breathing,' another voice called out. 'But he doesn't look good… Black must have –'

'Stand aside,' Albus commanded, shoving his way through the grouping as he reached them at last.

He crouched down at Harry's side. The boy looked smaller, younger; as he always did when Albus seemed to come upon him in moments like this. He was overly warm and very pale, but his breathing was steady and his pulse strong. As Albus touched his wrist, he caught sight of a familiar, carved wooden instrument protruding from his slackened fist. He slipped it covertly into his own sleeve.

'Harry,' he called softly, shaking his shoulders. The boy did not respond, but Albus had not expected him to. He could feel magical exhaustion in him, whatever else might have occurred this night.

'Where's Black?' Scrimgeour demanded, hawk-like eyes scanning the murky trees. 'Dawlish, Spencer, search the forest. Fulton – see to the lake. The rest of you, with me in the grounds. Assume you can deal with the boy, Dumbledore?'

'Yes,' Albus agreed at once. He let the others go, staying bent over Harry until their footsteps were out of earshot. He ran a careful diagnostic, just to be sure.

'Albus,' Severus muttered, bending low at his ear as the spell did its work. 'I do not care if they should destroy the insolent mutt, but surely you must –'

'They will not find him,' the headmaster said. He handed the whistle to Severus.

'What is it?' the Potions Master demanded.

'A thestral whistle,' Albus explained. 'Harry used it, to call one of the herd tonight. He sent his godfather to safety. He put his own life at risk, to save the life of one he loved.' He brushed an ancient hand through Harry's fringe, revealing that famous scar.

Severus made a noise of disbelief. 'How can you be sure?' he needled. 'Black might have run for it. Potter might have passed out before –'

'I saw it, in the sky above the forest as we arrived,' the headmaster said distractedly, catching the little slip of parchment. 'I can contact Sirius after we –'

He broke off, fury reigniting as he glanced down at the results.

'What is it?' Severus asked, bending toward him again. He made a noise of disgust at the third listed item. 'I would not have thought Pettigrew capable,' he snarled.

'Do you still have the antidote among your stores?' Albus demanded, giving him a sharp look.

Severus nodded once. 'I replenished, after the incident last summer,' he informed him. 'I shall have it sent for Poppy.'

'Thank you,' Albus said. 'Then we ought to make haste.'

He bent to pick Harry up off the ground, back straining slightly. However much smaller Harry might look in unconsciousness, he was hardly a child any longer.

It would not be long before Albus could not carry him at all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'It was lucky you were there, Snape… else Black might have finished them all.'

'Indeed, Minister. I only wish I had not been knocked unconscious… if I had been able to apprehend him…'

'Ah, well, who could have expected you to? When he's outrun the Azkaban guard as long as he has…'

Harry came to sluggishly, the odd conversation penetrating like slow-acting venom in his brain. He felt much as he had after falling fifty feet from his broomstick: slow, groggy, aching, and very, very tired… The speakers' words seemed to ebb and flow as he heard them, fuzzy and slightly out of reach.

'And you still have no lead on his current whereabouts, Minister?'

'No… no, none at all. Dumbledore thinks he'll have fled the country, or at least this general area. But we'll continue searching, of course.'

'I wish you luck. You cannot find the murderous traitor soon enough…'

Harry's eyes snapped open, his mind finally catching up to his senses. He shot up in the bed as a furious rage took hold.

'How dare you!' he shouted, though his voice was slightly muffled by his recent sleep. He fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table, slapping them back over his ears.

Both Fudge and Snape turned. The Minister looked shocked, and rather concerned. Snape, on the other hand, was perfectly impassive.

'Harry!' Fudge exclaimed, moving at once to Harry's bedside and scrutinising him with an anxious, almost familial look.

The gesture unnerved Harry – he had never spoken to the Minister before… let alone had any sort of relationship with him. Indeed, he had only been in the same room with Cornelius Fudge on two occasions, and the Minister wasn't to know of either. On the first, he had been hidden under his invisibility cloak with Ron in Hagrid's hut. The second, he'd been stashed under a table at the Three Broomsticks.

'Er – hello,' Harry said, scooting back a little against the iron frame.

Fudge smiled at him, as though he were a favoured nephew. He reached out a pudgy hand to feel Harry's brow. Harry did his best not to flinch.

'You're still feverish,' Fudge told him with a worried frown. 'You've had a difficult night… you ought to be resting.'

'I don't need to rest,' Harry insisted stubbornly. He shrugged out from under Fudge's hand to glare at Snape again. 'What are you telling him, sir?' he demanded harshly. 'You saw what happened tonight… you know the truth! Sirius is innocent! It was Pettigrew who –'

'Hold your tongue, Potter!' the Potions Master snapped at him, his dark eyes flashing. Harry saw that he still had an unhealed cut creeping past the edge of his hairline, relic of Harry's own rash magic in the Shrieking Shack.

Suddenly, he did not feel all that guilty anymore.

He narrowed his eyes. 'I don't know what you're playing at,' he snapped. 'But if this is all some scheme to get back at him for the rubbish prank he pulled while you were at school… you're more cowardly than I thought!'

Snape rushed the bed, his face as twisted and dangerous as it had been hours ago in the Shrieking Shack. 'You impertinent little –'

'Severus, really!' Fudge said in alarm. He caught the professor's arm as he came into range, halting his assault. 'The boy obviously doesn't know what he's saying… he's feverish, he's confused, and –'

'I'm not –' Harry protested hotly. But Snape, still glaring, drowned him out.

'Yes, of course,' he said stiffly. He wrenched his arm free from the Minister's grasp, smoothing his expression again. 'As I was telling you, Minister… Black's done quite a good job on them. Confunded when I arrived in the grounds.'

'We were not Confunded!' Harry shrieked. 'Ask Ron, or Hermione, or Remus…'

'Professor Lupin,' Snape corrected over him again, 'Has been ill since early evening, Potter. He has not left his chambers.'

'But I –'

'You are confused, Potter,' Snape said, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. 'You must have been… unless you wish to be expelled for attacking a teacher…'

Harry's face flushed, in both anger and embarrassment. 'I am not confu-'

'What's this?' a new voice demanded.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling around the curtains. Through the momentary gap before she yanked them shut again, Harry saw Ron was asleep in a neighbouring bed. He must have been dosed with something powerful, for he had not stirred despite Harry's rant.

The matron looked ready to curse the lot of them. She put her hands on her hips as she turned an irate gaze on Snape.

'Severus, Minister, I'm afraid I must ask you to go,' she said huffily. 'Potter is my patient, and he cannot be distressed.'

'I'm not distressed,' Harry snarled.

She raised an eyebrow pointedly.

'Out, out!' she shooed, flapping her hands at the professor and Fudge. 'Potter – do not move a muscle until I return. Severus, I shall see to that cut in the back room…'

'No need, Poppy,' Snape replied silkily, as Madam Pomfrey whipped the curtains round the front of Harry's bed as well, shutting out his view of the rest of the ward. 'I can tend to it myself…'

Harry pushed his bedsheets away, scrabbling the table for his wand while the matron argued with Snape. He set his bare feet upon the tile floor…

But it was like she had a sixth sense for miscreant patients.

'Not a muscle,' Madam Pomfrey chastised, flying back through the curtains as though Harry had set off an alarm with his big toe. 'Why must you always be so difficult?'

She pushed him forcibly back into the bed, tutting as she felt his forehead and pulled his wand out of his hand – completely ignoring his protests.

'I want to see the headmaster,' Harry insisted. 'Where's Dumbledore?'

The matron stuck a mug of steaming chocolate into his hand with an admonitory glare. 'Drink it all,' she commanded. 'Or I swear I shan't let you out until the Hogwarts Express departs in a fortnight.'

Harry took a large gulp, but only because he knew it would make her more forthcoming. 'Where's the headmaster, ma'am?' he asked with a touch more politeness.

She eyed him beadily, and Harry pressed the cup to his lips again. The drink, he noted a touch too late, was making him slightly fuzzy.

Madam Pomfrey gave a satisfied smirk. 'Calming Draught is a wondrous thing,' she opined to herself. 'And the headmaster will be back shortly, Potter. He has just gone to return Ms Granger to Gryffindor Tower.'

Harry frowned. 'How come she didn't have to stay?' he demanded. 'If you made Ron and me?'

The matron glared. 'Because Ms Granger did not present with fever, broken bones, or magical exhaustion,' she told him huffily. 'I might add that she also managed to walk herself into my ward tonight. You, on the other hand…'

'I haven't broken anything!' Harry pointed out irritably. He hesitated, realising he actually had no idea what had happened, since Sirius had flown away. 'Er… have I?'

She refilled the mug of chocolate with a wave of her wand, giving him a beady eye. 'Not yet,' she warned him. 'But put another finger outside this bed before I clear you to do so, and I make no promises, Potter.'

He glared over the rim of the cup. 'How's Ron?' he asked instead.

Madam Pomfrey frowned. 'Broken leg,' she told him grimly. 'But he'll be fine. As for you…'

'Magical exhaustion,' Harry finished for her. 'I know.'

He recognised the sensation by now, though he did not think this was anywhere near as bad as he'd been in first form.

'Yes,' she agreed primly. 'Coupled with the effects of nearly one hundred Dementors, if Ms Granger's account holds true, which explains the fever. And there were… other spells, Potter.'

Madam Pomfrey seemed disinclined to elaborate, and Harry gave her a curious look. Her eyes, so often stern, looked almost tearful. She patted him awkwardly on the shoulder before turning with a huff, muttering to herself. She bustled through the front curtains and returned with two phials of brightly coloured potion. The first she handed over Harry recognised at once as Fever Reducer… but he recognised the second too. And he realised she thought he did not.

'This one…' she began, but Harry shook his head.

'I know what it is,' he said, a bit hoarsely. He took it from her.

She cleared her throat. 'The effects should dissipate by morning,' she told him, returning to her usual briskness. 'I shall want to keep you until the fever resolves, of course, but you should be feeling much better in a few hours.'

Harry scowled as he threw back the phial. 'I feel fine now,' he insisted. 'But I need to talk to the headmaster.'

Madam Pomfrey did not seem to be listening, busily straightening his bedside table as she muttered to herself.

'… and you lot were quite lucky Severus and the Ministry…'

'We were not lucky,' Harry said, though he couldn't seem to bring himself to shout over the Calming Draught. 'And it wasn't Sirius who did cursed me… The Ministry doesn't know what's going on. They've got it all –'

'You are confused, Potter,' the matron said soothingly, pulling up his bedclothes. 'It's natural, until the spell wears –'

'I've told you, I wasn't Confunded,' Harry disagreed. 'If you would, if anyone would, just lis–'

'I see you are awake,' a voice interrupted.

Harry whipped his head to face the curtains again, as Dumbledore strode through. His heart immediately lightened as he caught sight of the headmaster's smile and the familiar twinkle in his eyes.

Albus would fix this. He always did.

'Hi,' he said in relief.

'Headmaster,' the matron greeted, turning as well.

'Poppy,' Albus acknowledged with a nod. 'I wonder if you might give us a few minutes?'

She nodded curtly, but fixed Harry with a stern look again. 'Just a few, headmaster,' she said, though she spoke the words more to Harry. 'Potter needs rest. I shall go and see if I might track down Severus while you speak.'

'An excellent idea,' Dumbledore agreed, his blue eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. 'I do believe he was assisting Minerva in seeing Cornelius and the remaining officials out…'

She left them, muttering darkly as she made for the end of the ward. Dumbledore waited until the door had clicked shut behind her, then swirled his wand through the air. Though the headmaster had not spoken an incantation, Harry was sure it was some sort of privacy enchantment he had enacted.

But he did not much care, as the mention of the Potions Master had stirred his anger once more.

'Snape is a lying git,' he said harshly, when Dumbledore had turned for his bed again.

'Harry –'

'No, he is,' Harry insisted. 'He was in here before you were – with the Minister. He told him that Sirius is a murderous traitor!'

'Harry –'

'He wouldn't let me talk about Pettigrew… he made out like I was the liar. Said I'd been Confunded by –'

'Harry, enough,' Albus said, his voice slightly raised.

Harry stopped speaking, but he did not stop glaring. Dumbledore gave a deep sigh. 'We will reach Severus in a moment,' he promised. 'But first, I wish you to tell me what happened tonight.'

So Harry did, starting with the moment that Pettigrew had reappeared, dragging him into the willow from trip back from Hagrid's. Dumbledore listened without interruption as he told him of the events in the shack, Remus' transformation and their escape from the passage… but Harry faltered as he recounted the swarm of Dementors.

'You must have produced quite some Patronus,' the headmaster prompted with a smile. 'To drive back so many Dementors.'

Harry gave half a smile in reply, though it could not douse his melancholy. 'I suppose,' he said, shrugging. 'But I had to. Ron and Hermione couldn't do it; they'd never learned the spell. And… and Sirius…'

He trailed off, remembering the look on his godfather's face. Albus squeezed his arm.

'Sirius could not manage the charm,' he guessed, watching Harry intently.

Harry shook his head. 'No,' he admitted quietly. 'He said he couldn't do it, any more.'

Albus nodded. His expression was sad. 'It may come back to him, in time,' he said gently. 'Patronuses are very light magic, as you know, fuelled by goodness. As such, they are hardest to call forth when we are steeped in an overwhelming sea of the emotions and memories that Dementors evoke. A terrible dichotomy, for it is then that we need their protection the most. Sirius spent many years in the Dementors' company, Harry. He needs time, for his soul to heal.'

Harry brushed a tear from his cheek.

'You performed an incredible feat, in producing your own Patronus tonight,' Albus told him, lifting his chin with a long finger. 'Your actions saved the lives of your friends, Sirius and Severus. Your father and mother would be very proud. I am very proud of you.'

Harry opened his mouth to say 'thank you'… but the words got lost in his throat. Instead, he found himself asking, 'Where were you?'

The headmaster grimaced, moving the hand from his chin to brush Harry's hair from his face. Harry rather suspected he was being covertly examined again; but he did not protest the contact. It made him feel safe. In a way that he had not for several long, terrifying hours. Albus took a moment before he answered.

'I was… detained,' he said at last. 'I was at the Ministry, as you know, for a meeting tonight. Fudge did not deign to share the Dementors' information until long after he had sent Ministry reinforcements; and Severus and Remus, it seems, were concerned that alerting me when they realised Pettigrew had taken you would tip off the Ministry prematurely, and possibly put Sirius at risk. They could not know, of course, what would happen later.'

From the headmaster's expression, Harry could tell that Albus did not agree with this reasoning. But it did explain his absence. Harry sighed, and began recounting the rest of the night… how Pettigrew had vanished when Harry collapsed… how he'd run with Sirius; called the thestral to them at the edge of the trees.

'I don't remember anything, after he flew off,' Harry finished at last. 'I guess that's when I must have passed out again…'

'Not an uncommon phenomenon,' Albus reassured him. 'With the end of an adrenaline rush, things tend to catch up with us.' He pulled Hagrid's whistle from the pocket of his violet robes. 'I found this beside you, when Severus and I arrived in the forest tonight,' he told him. 'I was able to piece together what had happened… the Ministry, however, was not. Sirius is in no immediate peril.'

Harry let out a sigh of relief. He had known, of course, that the Ministry hadn't caught Sirius… he could tell as much from the conversation he'd overheard since waking. But it was good to hear it affirmed all the same.

'I think this out to be returned to its master,' Dumbledore said with a wink, placing the thestral whistle on Harry's bedside table. 'It may come in handy if…'

But Harry was no longer listening. His heart was frozen in his chest; as if Dementors had burst into the hospital wing.

The Servant shall break free and set out to re-join his Master…

'Harry?' the headmaster called, looking very concerned as he bent over him.

Tonight, before Midnight…

'The Servant shall break free…' Harry repeated aloud. 'Trelawney's prophecy! It happened… exactly like she said. And it's my fault!'

Dumbledore was frowning. He did not remove his hands from Harry's shoulders as he spoke. 'What, exactly, did Professor Trelawney tell you?' he asked gently.

Harry repeated the words, as precisely as he could remember them. He described Trelawney's strange trance… the odd way she'd spoken and her lack of memory. Dumbledore did not ask any questions, but his face was unreadable as Harry finished.

'Did… was that a true prophecy, sir?'

Though only hours ago Harry had been determined that the others might believe him; now he wished with all his heart that Dumbledore would deny it.

'I believe so, yes,' Albus said honestly, dashing Harry's hope. He gave Harry the shadow of a smile. 'Even Professor Trelawney, Harry, has her moments. I have witnessed her make such prophecy before.'

'You… you have?' Harry asked, astounded. 'You never said…'

Harry thought, for just a heartbeat, a shadow passed behind Dumbledore's eyes. But when he made to look again, the headmaster's expression was as benign as ever.

'Yes,' Albus confirmed. 'Just once, many years ago.'

'And did it come true?' Harry pressed.

Again, something momentarily flashed in the headmaster's face.

'In part,' he answered quietly. 'The rest… the moment it referred to has not yet come to pass.'

Harry felt panic rise within him again. 'Then it is my fault!' he repeated, sitting up against the bedframe and balling his hands into fists in anger. 'I wouldn't let them kill Pettigrew! Sirius, Remus, Snape… they all wanted to. But I wouldn't let them. I blasted Snape against the wall to stop him doing it… I made Sirius bring him back alive. And then, he escaped in the grounds! Now he'll return to Voldemort, and Voldemort will rise again just like she said, and I'll –'

'Harry – stop,' Dumbledore commanded. He sat himself on the edge of the bed, both hands on Harry's shoulders again. Harry could not tell if the intention was to comfort or restrain him.

'But she said –'

'Listen to me, Harry' Albus interrupted, very seriously. He moved one hand to cup Harry's cheek. 'None of us, no matter our powers, make or unmake fate. The consequences of our actions are far too complex – far too interwoven – to ever predict in their entirety. It is what makes Divination such a tenuous and difficult branch of magic. You are not the reason Sybill's prediction came true, Harry. We do not make a prophecy's fulfilment more or less likely by either avoiding it or forcing it about. The events of what would be were to be… whether you had overheard Sybill's prediction or not.'

'But it's my fault Pettigrew escaped!' Harry repeated, only slightly less agitated.

'It is not your fault, my dear boy,' Albus contradicted gently. 'You could not control the chain of events in the grounds. And you were right, Harry. James and Lily would not have wanted their friends to avenge their deaths by murdering Pettigrew. That was not their way, and it should not be yours.'

'But if Voldemort comes back now…' Harry insisted.

'Then it will not rest on you,' Albus assured him firmly. 'Moreover, Peter Pettigrew now owes you a life debt. A life debt is a powerful thing, in the magical world… a powerful bond that is tied to a wizard's very core, and must be repaid. You may, one day, be very grateful that you saved Peter Pettigrew's life tonight… and I am much mistaken if Lord Voldemort should desire a servant in the debt of Harry Potter.'

A life debt… like Snape had owed James Potter…

Snape…

'Sirius told me what happened, the night my father saved Snape's life,' Harry told him, watching Dumbledore's face closely as he brought the conversation back to his original argument. 'That's why he hates Sirius so much, I suppose… but how can you let him lie to the Ministry like that?' he demanded. 'How can you let him tell them it's Sirius who –'

'Harry,' Dumbledore said, looking very sad again, 'The reasons that argue against trying to secure Sirius' freedom without Peter Pettigrew to offer in his stead still stand; perhaps even more so, in the wake of all that happened tonight. Believe me, nobody wishes more than I that there was another way. But, at this juncture, to attempt to persuade Cornelius otherwise is to take a great risk. For none more so than Sirius himself. Severus is only doing what he knows he must. What will, ultimately, keep Sirius and you from harm.'

'How does it keep Sirius from harm to let the Ministry think he attacked me tonight?' he demanded. 'If they think he put the Cruciatus –'

'The Minister does not know that piece of information,' Albus informed him, his own eyes darkening again at the reminder. 'I gave Poppy the diagnostic discretely; we did not mention the curse's use to Cornelius.'

'Fine then,' Harry relented, disgruntled. 'But that's not the point. I mean, I got it before, and all… but now we've seen Pettigrew, haven't we? Seen him as a man! Why couldn't we just submit our memories to Fudge, or –'

'You know why the Ministry will not accept Sirius or Remus' word, Harry,' Albus said patiently. 'We have been through this before.'

'Yeah, but now it's not just them!' Harry argued. 'That's my point, Albus. There's me, Hermione, Ron and Snape… they can't just dismiss us all!'

'Children's memories are more easily Confunded than adults,' Albus confided. 'To the Ministry, who will be hoping for that explanation… they will not consider an alternative. And Severus cannot offer his own testimony.'

Harry scoffed. 'That's rubbish,' he said angrily. 'All of it. Even if they don't believe us, and Remus and Sirius and back-up from you or Minerva… why couldn't Snape speak up? Just because he's so good at Occlumency… even the Ministry must be able to see how much he hates Sirius. Why would he help him, if it wasn't the truth? Why would he have to lie?'

Albus sighed heavily again. Though Harry was the one in the hospital-issue pyjamas, he rather thought the headmaster looked much more exhausted than he felt. He took longer to answer than he had yet that night.

'If Pettigrew had not escaped tonight,' he said slowly at last, 'If he had been captured… or even if he had been killed… things might be different,' he admitted. 'But as they stand now, Severus has no other option, Harry, then to tell the story he has told. There are factors at play which are far more complex than I have the ability to explain tonight.'

'But why?' Harry demanded.

'Because it would not make a difference, either way,' Albus said sadly. 'And this way… everyone stays safe, for the moment. Sirius will have his redemption, Harry, I promise you. I am sorry it could not be tonight.'

Harry let his head fall back against the pillow, turning his face toward the window and away from the headmaster for a moment… still gritting his teeth in bitter frustration. Beyond the mullioned panes, the cold, steel-grey light of earliest dawn was just beginning to lighten the grounds. Harry wondered if Remus would have changed back yet. He couldn't see the Willow, from this angle.

'I… I really thought everything was about to work out,' he admitted softly. 'I should have known…'

'There was nothing you could have done, my dear child,' Albus said quietly. 'And by all accounts, many things did work out this night. You were not successfully kidnapped; Sirius was not recaptured; neither you nor your school mates suffered permanent injury; and you performed incredible feats of both magic and bravery. You succeeded in saving Sirius from an unconscionable fate. All of this, Harry, is accomplishment to be grateful for.'

Harry did not reply. But as he felt Dumbledore's strong fingers close over his own, he squeezed back all the same.

'We ought to call an end to the conversation, for now,' the headmaster opined a few moments later, resting a hand on Harry's head. 'You need to rest and heal, if you are going to have a prayer of being up and about on the morrow.'

'Madam Pomfrey will never let me out tomorrow either way,' Harry said bitterly. 'She kept me to bed the whole week-end after the last Dementor attack… and that time I hadn't also done wandless magic and been under the Cruciatus in the same night.'

Albus smiled faintly as he stood from the edge of the bed. 'You are stronger than you were, Harry,' he disagreed gently. 'Both physically, and magically. You have grown.'

Harry did not quite know what to say to that.

'It's been a lot longer than a few minutes,' he observed, yawning a bit as Dumbledore doused his candle. 'I'm surprised she hasn't come back to shout at us already.'

'Hmm…' Albus agreed. He pulled Harry's covers up to his chin. 'Well, I might not have been entirely truthful, when I pointed her towards Severus' location. But then, Poppy enjoys a good hunt more than anyone I have ever known.'

Harry grinned, just a little, as he felt the headmaster's magic lull him into sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The term drew to a close with the usual cheer above him. Students chatted happily about summer plans and Quidditch matches, released from the pressures of examinations and lessons. They spent their fortnight of freedom lounging in the grounds, feasting in the Great Hall, and engaging in the usual mayhem that allowed him opportunity to take last minute points.

But in the dungeons below, Severus was far less content. He almost, as much as it made him ill to contemplate the fact, missed the mutt. He almost missed the months of staring at that revolting parchment with Lupin. At least, before that night, they had known where the traitor was. At least Severus had been able to contemplate victory.

Now…

The knock came at his quarters four days later. Severus knew before he answered that it would be Albus.

He was irritated, somewhat, that the headmaster had taken so long. He knew Potter had spent but one night in the matron's company… and yet Albus had been preoccupied, in the days since. He'd met with the wolf and with Fudge. He had seen that the Dementors were removed from the school. He'd returned to London and continued his interrupted discussions with the other European schools…

And only now, it seemed, had he found time for Severus.

He pulled the door ajar in some irritation.

'Headmaster,' he greeted in a clipped tone.

Albus, it seemed, was ready for the rancour. He smiled pleasantly as he showed himself in.

'Severus,' he acknowledged with a nod. 'Nearly done marking your examinations by now, I should expect?'

Severus scowled. 'I am,' he said curtly. 'Are you insinuating your absence of late has been naught but courtesy for my end-of-term duties?'

Albus chuckled lightly, though Severus could read sadness behind the twinkle. 'Never,' he disagreed. 'I have had a great deal on my own plate, until now….'

Severus gave an impatient noise, but led the way toward the sitting room. He dug a bottle of Albus' favourite scotch out of the side cupboard, offering the spirit up wordlessly. At Albus' nod, he poured two measures.

'You were wise,' Albus observed, 'Not to tell Cornelius the truth of what happened the other night.'

Severus snorted. 'I am not a fool,' he said waspishly. 'I recognise that my word would not do Black any favours… not that I am inclined to offer favour, of course. But Pettigrew's escape, in any case, has complicated matters…. Should the Dark Lord ever rise again –'

'When,' Albus corrected. 'I am afraid, Severus, that the question has always been when. And the answer may prove closer than we imagined.'

Severus raised an eyebrow. The firelight was dancing off Albus' half-moon spectacles, making his eyes much harder to read. Not that Albus often gave away his thoughts.

The headmaster sighed. 'Sybill has made another prophecy,' he informed him softly. 'Only hours before the events of that night, to Harry.'

Severus nearly dropped his tumbler as Albus recited the second-hand words. He felt his upper lip curl, in both anger and fear.

'Sybill Trelawney has made but one true prophecy in all her career,' he reminded Albus in a snarl. 'And Potter is hardly able to distinguish knotgrass from dandelion. I cannot think him capable of –'

'Severus,' Albus quelled. 'This is not to be taken lightly. It was foreseen that Pettigrew will assist Lord Voldemort to rise again, which means there are things we must discuss.'

The Potions Master took a longer pull from his drink, wishing it were something stronger than whisky. Perhaps arsenic.

'That you did not reveal the truth to the Minister is all to the better,' the headmaster continued. 'But there are other ears which could prove just as fatal. Harry tells me you attempted to kill Peter Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack…'

'And did the brat tell you what he did, Albus?' Severus demanded. 'Did he inform you, headmaster, that he lost his mediocre control yet again, resulting in my injury and his own overexertion?! If it were not for his woeful incompetence, I might have prevented this entire disastrous series of events!'

Albus held up a hand. 'Harry did tell me, Severus,' he said, though his voice dripped with warning. 'And I do believe he feels remorse for his actions. On the other hand, Harry's interference kept you from crossing an irredeemable line, Severus… and I cannot bring myself to regret that, whatever might have followed.'

Severus ground his teeth, unwilling to bend.

'In any event, that is not what I inquired about,' Albus went on. 'What is done is done. Pettigrew has escaped, and he will already be seeking his master. He has nowhere left to go, after all. So we must decide, Severus, how you will manage to undo whatever damage Pettigrew could inflict to your loyalties, should Lord Voldemort discover the circumstances of his escape. Or else, we must begin to consider whether it would be wise for you to resume your place at all.'

Severus hesitated. He had never considered it – never thought there was a choice, after the many mistakes he had made… the many years he had already spent, attempting to reverse their damage. He had never considered that he might walk away. Or, at least, never considered that he might do so with the headmaster's blessing.

But Albus was giving him a choice.

A choice, he knew, he had already made…. Already committed his life to, years ago. It was not within Albus' power to undo. It was not the headmaster to whom he had pledged his soul.

It was only for Her.

'It will not be a problem,' he said, as silkily and unruffled as he could manage. 'I said nothing to Pettigrew that would indicate anything but my desire to see him dead. I spoke, in fact, of his unpopularity with the Death Eaters… anything I told him could be easily interpreted as anger on the Dark Lord's behalf. It is a memory I would have no scruples showing the Dark Lord himself… and one which I possibly could use for that purpose, should the necessary occasion present.'

Albus nodded in satisfaction, though his expression was still grave. 'We have avoided that pitfall, then,' he said. 'It is lucky, perhaps, that you were incapacitated when you were… it saves us the inconvenience of needing further explanation.'

Severus scowled, drinking deeply again. 'Let us hope we will not need explanation at all,' he said when he emerged.

'After all,' he reasoned with slightly more confidence, 'Pettigrew's success can hardly be counted immediate, even if the Seer proves right. He is hardly a talented wizard. It may take him years to locate the Dark Lord, if he manages to do so at all… and the Dark Lord is as likely to kill him as reward him for the finding. Even if he survives their reunion, I myself would put little faith in his ability to return the Dark Lord to power single-handed.'

'Do not underestimate Peter Pettigrew,' Albus cautioned. 'That is the blunder we all made, all those years ago. Failure to learn from the mistakes of history dooms men to fatal repetition.'

Severus frowned. He was more disquieted than he was comfortable admitting, even to this wizard… who knew him better than any other soul alive. But they were not in crisis – not yet. And it was amateur to lose one's head when there were precautions easy enough to take.

'Keep eyes on those who escaped the confines of Azkaban,' he advised. 'MacNair, Avery, Malfoy, Nott… the old crowd. I can review the list, should you need it. There can't be more than two dozen or so still free. Karkaroff, of course, will be here already.'

Albus inclined his head. 'A reasonable proposal,' he approved.

'Pettigrew will not act alone,' Severus continued, musing aloud. 'And the Dark Lord is not near fool enough to allow it. If there is movement among the Death Eaters… if Pettigrew or the Dark Lord approaches another for assistance… one of the others will serve as a marker. It will have to be one of them.'

'I tend to agree,' the headmaster said. 'We should discuss it in more detail after the children have gone, before Harry returns from his aunt and uncle's.'

Severus gave an irritated jerk of the shoulder: both at the reminder of the brat, and the mention of his despicable relations.

But he also thought of something else…. A query to which he was not sure he wanted to know Albus' answer.

'Will you tell him?' he asked anyway.

The headmaster, as Severus had expected, did not need further explanation. He stared hard at Severus for a moment, seeming to debate the answer himself.

'No,' he said at last. 'Not… not just yet.'

Though a part of him relaxed at the news, the other half grew decidedly angry. 'Why not?' he demanded. 'It is his future, Albus, that is the centre of this maddening web. It will be for him to end this.'

'Yes,' Albus agreed. 'But Harry is still a…' he stopped, swallowing hard; uncharacteristically emotional. 'He is still young,' he amended. 'He is not ready for the weight of such a burden… and we are still an unknowable distance away from Lord Voldemort's return. There is still time.'

Severus glared. 'The brat is immature and under-talented,' he opined. 'But he is not likely to snap out of that childishness until you make clear to him what is at stake.'

'And you would have me do so now?' Albus suggested with a raised brow. 'You would have me place that burden on him… take away whatever carefree moment he may still have? He is not yet fourteen, Severus… he is not ready to deal with it, mentally or magically. I cannot do it to him; not now.'

Severus considered the headmaster shrewdly. He could not believe – even watching the headmaster's sickening devotion to the boy – that he needed to give such a reminder. Not to this man… this master of calculation and complex schemes. And yet, somehow, he could believe it. Because it was as the Dark Lord had always thought…

Albus Dumbledore's greatest weakness was his capacity for Love.

He refilled both their drinks before he answered.

'Albus,' he said, after a long pause, and with more softness than his voice usually allowed, 'The boy may not be ready, as of yet. But you may never be ready. You may never want him to face what he must… to do what he must.'

The headmaster sipped his drink in silence. For several minutes, there was nothing to disrupt the evening but the pleasant crackle of the fire, bringing an end to a day just like any other… and yet entirely altered.

'And what of you, Severus?' Albus asked quietly. 'Will you be prepared, to do what you must, when the time should come?'

Severus met Albus' piercing gaze. He saw concern, and perhaps something more, in the bright blue eyes.

He drained the last of his whisky.

'Always, Albus,' he vowed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a beautiful summer's day.

Remus had opened the windows, letting the warmth and flowery breeze seep into his little quarters as he bustled to finish up his packing. He would miss this home, when he left at the end of the week. Soft sunlight gleamed off the fastenings on the pile of cloaks he'd laid over the back of the sofa; many books with ribbons and notes shoved in at odd angles stood stacked on the sitting room table; and, on the mantel, the Map lay folded and closed.

Remus was not glued to it, anymore. There was no longer a point in the obsession. But he did not need its spell to prepare him for the familiar knock at the door.

'Come in, Harry,' he invited, speaking before he'd even walked round the sofa.

Harry burst in, looking utterly devastated. Remus offered him a sad smile.

'You've heard,' he guessed. 'I expected Albus might tell you.'

A wasp hummed angrily against one of the mullioned windows… searching, perhaps, for its escape route.

'How can you leave?' Harry pleaded, before Remus could even offer tea. 'You've been brilliant this year, Remus: the first real teacher we've had in Defence. You can't go!'

Remus sighed. 'Harry, did you speak with Albus about why I have decided to resign?' he asked, moving an empty specimen tank off Harry's usual cushion.

Harry did not take the proffered seat. He crossed his arms. 'Not much,' he said defiantly. 'I came straight here, when he told me you'd decided to go. I wanted to hear it from you. I wanted you to explain why you would leave us… why you would leave me!'

'I am not leaving you,' Remus contradicted. 'I will still be going to Surrey with you at the end of the week, and I –'

'That's not the same thing!' Harry shouted. He glared. 'Is it because of that rubbish in the Prophet?' he guessed with a scowl. 'Because of that Skeeter woman who wrote up Sirius' escape on Tuesday, and told everyone that you're a –'

'No, it is not,' Remus said firmly. He grimaced at the memory… both of the article and the dozens of Howlers that had rained down his windows the following day. 'The staff and the Board of Governors were already aware; neither Dumbledore nor I did anything improper. There are angry parents, of course… many of them, but –'

'That doesn't matter!' Harry interrupted again. 'Nobody cares, Remus. Not anyone who's had you in lessons. Everyone thinks you were a brilliant teacher… even some of the Slytherins were saying so at breakfast yesterday. My form thinks it even makes you better, that you know so much about –'

'Harry, has anyone ever mentioned that you have a particular habit of cutting people off before their explanation is complete?' Remus inquired lightly. 'It does make it difficult, for someone who wants so badly to hear the answers to his questions.'

He was smiling teasingly, but Harry coloured anyway. The trapped wasp began to buzz more insistently.

'Sorry,' the boy mumbled, chastised.

'It's quite alright,' Remus assured him. 'In any case, what I was going to say, Harry, is that I am not leaving because of what Ms Skeeter wrote… nor even because of what happened at the last full moon. I spoke with the headmaster even before the article was published.'

He paused, thinking back on his conversation with Albus…

Remus knocked softly on the door, afraid the headmaster might not yet be awake. They had, after all, had several very long days. But the old man's voice answered the call almost at once.

'Enter,' Albus invited. Remus pushed open the door.

The headmaster was not seated at his desk perusing end of term paperwork, as Remus had suspected would be the case. Instead, he was on his feet at Fawkes' golden perch, stroking the phoenix's scarlet and gold plumage and crooning softly at it. The bird's eyes met Remus' before the headmaster's did. He sang one, high note.

'Headmaster,' Remus greeted, clearing his throat slightly from the unexpected emotion that seemed to have lodged there.

Albus turned slowly to face him. When Remus' gaze met the blue one, he was sure that Dumbledore already knew why he had come.

The headmaster sighed. 'Remus,' he said softly, coming down from the desk's platform toward him, 'Are you certain I cannot dissuade you?'

Remus shook his head. 'You cannot,' he said. 'My mind is quite made up, Albus. I… I am very grateful, that you brought me here. Very thankful for the opportunity to teach, and to be with Harry… but it is time for me to go.'

Albus gestured toward the sofa and Remus sank onto it, the headmaster seating himself upon the opposite armchair. Fawkes trilled again, taking to the air. He soared once around the circular office before alighting on the back of Albus' chair. He watched Remus through huge, doleful eyes.

Albus cleared his throat. 'If this is about the events of the other night,' he began, 'Then I wish you would reconsider, Remus. What happened was not your fault…'

'What happened was intolerable,' Remus disagreed harshly. He was still furious with himself. 'My foolish disregard for the precaution I have known I must take, since I was five years old… my inexcusable lapse of judgment… it very nearly cost the lives of five innocent people, including the lives of my best friend and the child I love most in this world. There is no forgiveness for that, Albus. Not from you, and not from myself.'

'It was not your fault,' Albus repeated. His voice was just as calm, even in the face of Remus' anger. 'There is not a man alive, my dear boy, who has not made a misstep navigating the perils of an emergent situation.'

'I am not a man, Albus,' Remus growled. 'I am a monster. And I know better. This sort of danger was precisely what I feared could happen, when I foolishly allowed myself to think I could –'

'You are a man, Remus,' Albus disagreed, his tone much sharper. 'A good, loyal and kind man. And I will not hear otherwise. What happened was unfortunate and, yes, could have been disastrous, had not fortune and talented spellwork intervened. But the point is, it was not. And, frankly, the situation was already perilous. From what I understand of the happenings in the Shrieking Shack, I cannot imagine your absence would have expedited a more favourable conclusion.'

Remus hesitated. 'Perhaps not,' he allowed. 'But it only made things worse, in the end. And it has highlighted for me the truth of my condition… I cannot be around school children, Albus. It was, perhaps, just an unfortunate coincidence of timing last night… but if someone had died, or been bitten, I would never have forgiven myself. And it is not a risk I can take again.'

Albus sighed deeply. 'I do not agree,' he said, stroking the phoenix's feathers once more. 'And even less do I relish the idea of sending you away, when we have such need of you here. The children must be instructed in Defence – now, perhaps, more than ever. And Harry –'

'I won't leave him,' Remus promised. 'I shall keep to the scheme we discussed… go with him, to Petunia's home. But afterward….' He paused again, watching the sunlight gleam off Fawkes' plumage. He sighed. 'I do think that the threat of a werewolf in this castle presents more danger than it counters,' he reaffirmed, 'But to be entirely truthful… it is not the reason I wish to go, Albus,' he admitted at last.

The headmaster raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. He waited for Remus to continue.

'Sirius,' Remus said at last. 'Do you… do you know where he is?'

Albus inclined his head. 'He is on the Isle of Skye,' he confided. 'For the remainder of this week. I have arranged for him to move to Bathilda's for a few days after… it is best, for now, to continue moving, until we can come to a more permanent arrangement.'

Remus nodded. 'And… do you know what that arrangement might be?'

Albus twinkled at him. 'I have… a few thoughts,' he said enigmatically. 'Nothing definite, of yet.'

His eyes grew slightly more piercing. 'But if you think I would condone the pair of you continuing to hunt Peter Pettigrew across the globe, then I am afraid you will find I am rather less than amenable. Although remaining in the country holds significant risk, I do not wish for Sirius to leave Britain for many reasons, and even less do I wish you…'

'No, no that is not what I meant,' Remus assured him hurriedly. 'It's only… I had a thought.'

Albus waited again, and Remus pressed on.

'I want to be with him,' he said bluntly. 'He needs…' he hesitated, not sure how to put his thoughts into words. 'He needs help,' he decided, somewhat lamely. 'Azkaban… it altered him, Albus. Sometimes I think he realises; other times, he does not. But there is damage there that will not heal, on its own. He needs someone to help him with that, especially now….'

He trailed off, a bit emotional again. This scheme was something he had been plotting for some time now. But he had thought – had hoped – that things would be different by the summer. That Pettigrew would be the one imprisoned, and Sirius exonerated. That he and Sirius both could have been at the castle, perhaps. That Sirius could have seen someone in London, though he was certain his friend would have fought that idea tooth and nail. It would not have been hard to convince Sirius to stay at Hogwarts… he would have wanted to; to be near Remus, and – particularly – to be with Harry. It wasn't the family fantasy that Sirius had dreamed of excitedly over Firewhisky in the Shrieking Shack… but it would have been enough. It would have been perfect. Remus could have assuaged some of his own guilt, for leaving Sirius to rot in Azkaban for twelve long years.

But that could not be, not now.

They could not all go on the run with him. They could not undo all the wrongs of the past… but Remus – Remus could do this.

'He can't be alone,' Remus continued aloud. 'He's been that way too long, Albus. We left him; all of us. We abandoned him to that place. I abandoned him. My best friend…'

'You put too much blame on yourself, Remus,' Albus said softly. His eyes, Remus noted with some alarm, were slightly watery. 'You always have done. Sirius does not fault you for the past. You seek forgiveness you have already won.'

Remus gave a sad smile. 'Perhaps,' he allowed. 'But it does not change that what I have said holds true, headmaster. And not just for him. I… I thought he was lost. Just like all the rest. Friends, Albus, are all I get in this world. They are all I have. And I just got Sirius back. I do not want to lose him again. I do not want to abandon him… and I must help him, if I can.'

Albus nodded slowly. He expression was still mournful, but there was a resignation in it that told Remus the headmaster would not protest.

'I would not let you go, Remus, for any less of a purpose,' he told him seriously. 'But I can understand your wish.'

'Thank you, Albus,' Remus said, inclining his own head.

The phoenix sang another note. Albus had his fingers to his chin, looking deep in thought. Remus wondered if he ought to take his leave… But Albus had not given a sign yet to dismiss him, and he felt it might be rude to dash out after such a heady conversation. He smoothed the knees of his shabby robes instead, waiting for the headmaster to speak.

'If you intend to stay with Sirius,' Albus said at last, 'Then I think, perhaps, I may have a solution for his more permanent relocation.'

Remus raised a brow. 'Oh?' he asked, curious.

'Indeed,' said the headmaster, his eyes twinkling. 'There is a cottage I took possession of several years ago, after you had moved to the Continent. It is quite remote and overlooks the sea. I had hoped to take some time there, as things wound down from the First War… but I am afraid Hogwarts has always been too much a lure and a responsibility to spend much time away. The cottage has sat mostly empty since its purchase. It would be fairly easy to ward, I should think. I could see to the arrangements easily enough while you are with Harry at the Dursleys'. And I do expect the seaside would be a wonderful place to blow the cobwebs of the past away. The ocean, or so I have often been told, has healing magic of its own.'

Remus smiled. 'It sounds perfect,' he agreed. 'Thank you, headmaster.'

'It is my pleasure, Remus,' Albus insisted. 'I dare say Harry, Minerva and I might even pay a visit. Minnie adores the sea… and I doubt Harry has ever had the chance to see it.'

Remus' smile widened. 'That would be wonderful.'

'Then I shall see to it straight away,' Albus agreed, clapping his hands as he made to stand. 'We can speak about the details on your return.'

Remus nodded, and made to depart the office. He was nearly at the door when the headmaster called again.

'Oh, and Remus?'

The professor turned. Albus was twinkling still, Fawkes balanced on his shoulder.

'I wonder if, perhaps when you and Harry return from Surrey, you would mind joining me on a visit to Alastor Moody…'

Harry's eyes were wide as Remus finished the explanation. He had, finally, taken a seat on the sofa. Remus made his way over to the window as Harry processed.

'So… you're going to be staying with him?' he clarified. 'With Sirius?'

'I am,' Remus agreed with a smile. 'After we return from our visit to Surrey. We can correspond, of course, and even visit, once things have calmed a bit.'

He lifted the latch on the upper windowpane, letting the tired wasp back out into the sunlit grounds. It refrained even from stinging him in its gratitude.

Harry smiled a bit. 'Well… I guess that's alright,' he allowed at last as Remus returned to the sofa. 'I mean – I really wish you were still going to teach,' he amended, with a stern look that reminded Remus a bit of Minerva. 'But I'm glad Sirius won't be on his own. And I'm glad we'll all still be able to see each other… even though everything went so wrong that night.'

Remus squeezed his shoulder gently. 'Me too,' he said. 'And I must say… I think you will find there are some benefits to my position as an ex-professor…'

'Oh yeah?' Harry challenged, a bit glumly.

'Yes,' Remus affirmed.

He walked to the mantel, retrieving the folded Marauder's Map. Harry watched him dubiously, the shadow of frustration on his face.

'As I am no longer your professor,' Remus said, with just the slightest mischievous smirk, 'I see no reason that I cannot bequeath you this.'

He held the map out. Harry's mouth opened slightly in surprise as he took it.

'Really?' he asked, fingering the edges of the worn parchment. 'You aren't worried that I'll… I don't know, sneak off to the village and let Aberforth sell me Firewhisky?'

Remus gave him a wink. 'I trust you shall use it with the utmost discretion, Harry,' he told him seriously. 'And after all… what is life, without just a touch of mischief?'

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'I've handed it in,' Hermione announced, tossing Harry's Arithmancy textbook onto his bed as she entered the boys' dormitory. 'You left that in the Common Room, by the way.'

Harry looked up from his strewn belongings to glance at the cover. He and Ron were the last in their dormitory to finish their packing up.

'Cheers,' he grunted, rebalancing the pile of Quidditch robes in his arms so he could reach for the book.

'Handed what in?' Ron queried, emerging slightly red-faced and dishevelled from where he'd been rummaging for spare socks under his four-poster.

Hermione sighed as she rolled her eyes. 'The Time-Turner, obviously,' she explained in exasperation. 'I've just come from Professor McGonagall's office. I gave it back.'

Harry paused in his attempt to fold the crumpled-up trousers he'd found at the bottom of his wardrobe. He looked up at her in surprise. 'Really?' he asked. 'You're sure?'

'Why in blazes would you do that?' Ron demanded. He tossed the slightly dusty pair of socks he'd retrieved onto the top of his trunk, frowning at Hermione. 'Thought you were all about cramming in as many O.W.L. subjects as they offered?'

'I…was,' she said hesitantly. 'But I've just… I've been thinking a lot, since everything that's happened.' She glanced around the deserted room, as if frightened someone might be crouching unseen in a corner. Though it was clear the trio were alone in the dormitory, she whispered the next bit anyway. 'Since Sirius, and Pettigrew, and…'

'Trelawney's prophecy?' Harry suggested quietly.

She swallowed. 'I still don't believe it,' she told him firmly. 'That woman… she's nothing but an old fraud. But, that doesn't mean that things might not be happening. We all know that.'

'And that affects your ability to kill yourself revising thirty hours a day?' Ron quipped.

Hermione frowned at him. 'Not precisely,' she disagreed. 'I just think… well, there are more important things.'

Her eyes met Harry's. A flash of understanding passed between them. Harry felt older, suddenly, than he had ever felt before. It was as if in this past year he'd crossed some chasm, yet not even realised he'd done it. Somehow, he knew Hermione had crossed it too.

He wasn't sure he liked the world, on this side of it. It did not feel quite as safe.

'So… what did you drop then?' asked Ron, who was now sitting on his messily-stuffed trunk to force the lid shut.

'Get off,' she told him with a huff, pulling her wand to straighten the clutter. Ron grinned as he popped off the trunk and allowed her to fix it for him. 'And Muggle Studies,' she answered.

'Good choice,' Ron approved. 'Never understood why you joined up with that anyway; you're Muggle-born.'

'You can sit the exam anyway,' Harry said.

'I know,' she agreed. 'I spoke to Professor McGonagall about it, and she says a few people with Muggle backgrounds have done that before. I expect it does mean they'll have to find another way for us to take Arithmancy next year, Harry, but –'

'That's fine,' said Harry quickly. 'Dumbledore will work something out. I won't miss that thing either.'

He threw the last of his quills on top of his parchment and shut his own trunk. 'All sorted?' he asked, turning to Ron.

Ron wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. 'Yeah, reckon so,' he agreed. 'But blimey, you'd think it'd be easier to work this out… undetectable extension charms and all. Mine must be faulty – rubbish second-hand thing, of course. Probably busted when George gave it to me.'

Hermione sniffed. 'The charms are supposed to be instructive, as well as useful, Ron,' she lectured him. 'The manufacturers set them so they won't work properly unless you pack your things in neatly. Else how will you learn? There's a book all about it in –'

'The library,' Ron finished for her.

Hermione glared. Harry grinned.

'Well, we ought to head down to the feast,' Ron said, clapping his hands in excitement as his stomach gave an audible rumble. He led the way toward the door.

Harry lagged a bit, feeling that same sinking feeling in his gut that the Leaving Feast always stirred in him.

'Are you coming on the train tomorrow?' Hermione asked him as they made their way down the spiralling staircase for the portrait hole.

Harry nodded. 'Remus is coming,' he told her. 'Like last summer. He'll meet us at King's Cross when we get to London.'

His voice was hollow, but he could not help it. The Dursleys were only hours away. Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile.

'It's only a week or so, right?' she pressed gently. 'You'll be back before you know it, Harry.'

'Yeah,' Ron put in. 'And this summer's going to be brilliant – you just wait. It's the World Cup in August! Dad can usually get pretty good tickets… knows a couple of wizards in Magical Games and Sports. England's hosting the final this year, for the first time in decades. Supposed to be out in Dartmoor, I think. Bet we could convince Dumbledore to let you come with.'

Harry brightened a bit in spite of himself. 'Yeah,' he said dreamily. 'Yeah… that would be brilliant.'

'You too, Hermione,' Ron added eagerly. 'You can't not go to the World Cup, 'specially if it's here…'

Ron jabbered on about the prospect for most of the journey down to the Great Hall. Harry allowed himself to be happy as they deliberated the English and Scottish chances. Seamus Finnegan put up a vehement defence of the Irish side when at last they'd joined the Gryffindor table and the conversation of hundreds of students – all looking forward to several months of holiday. Seamus nearly socked Dean Thomas, when the latter suggested Wales might make a surprise surge. Neville seemed stressed almost to tears as he mused aloud whether he ought to support his mother's Welsh blood, or his father's English. The Patil twins and Lavender Brown started a giggly debate over some Bulgarian Seeker's merits verses the handsome wizard who had just joined up for Spain, and Ron spoke appreciatively of the tiny Scottish witch they'd watched the previous August…

But even the excitement of the forthcoming tournament could not keep Harry's melancholy at bay for long, as he looked around the Great Hall.

He knew he would be back in only a matter of days. He knew this summer, in addition to the headmaster and Minerva and Remus, he might be able to spend time with Sirius. But it did not change the fact that Sirius was still hunted; still considered, by almost everyone in the Wizarding World, to be a murderer. Still had to hide. It could not douse the knowledge that Pettigrew – his parents' betrayer – had got away. That he was still out there.

Or that it had, at least in part, been Harry's fault. Whatever Dumbledore might say to the contrary.

The Dark Lord will rise again, with his servant's aid…

'Cheer up,' Hermione whispered, nudging him gently in the ribs.

Harry started. He realised he had been silent for several minutes; lost in contemplation whilst he stared unseeing at his half-full plate.

'It will all work out, Harry,' she told him gently, apparently reading the turmoil in his face. 'It always does, in the end.'

Harry nodded automatically, clearing his throat as he reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice.

What would be, would be. And he could change nothing, tonight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was very late, as Albus made the walk alone back into the village. He'd timed it hoping to catch the pub nearly empty after last orders. Minerva, knowing that the summer would be hectic and not wishing to leave the castle once Harry had returned, had left immediately after the Hogwarts Express to visit with her family. Albus sent along a letter for Sirius, as he was currently staying with Ophelia as well. He hoped, at least, that Sirius would be keen for the scheme with Remus. It would be a relief to have one aspect of the tumult resolved.

The winged boars stood sentry on the high gates of the grounds, but they were the only watchers tonight. For whatever faults he foresaw with Cornelius, the headmaster was grateful that the Minister had complied with his wish to relieve the Dementors of their duty at the school. He only wished all evil was so easily dispatched.

Or, in the meantime, he would settle for a world in which he need not dance with one evil to fell another.

'Albus,' his brother greeted him, wiping at a corner table as the headmaster set the entrance bell tingling. The pub was, to his satisfaction, completely deserted. Most of the stools already stood upended on their tables, several unmanned rags finishing the washing up at the spigot behind the bar.

'Aberforth,' he nodded back. 'Has a visitor arrived for me?'

Aberforth grunted, tossing his soiled flannel carelessly toward the basin. His aim was expert.

'Aye,' he agreed. 'He's up in Room Seven. Said you'd asked for privacy…'

Albus inclined his head, making for the stairs. But Aberforth cut in front of his path. Albus raised an eyebrow.

'Hold your hippogriffs, Albus,' the barman protested, raising a bushy eyebrow. 'I wanted a word.'

'I am rather anxious to see him, Aberforth,' Albus said with a touch of impatience. 'He has a long return journey…'

'I'm aware,' Aberforth said gruffly. 'Got a memory near as long as yours, Albus, and just as sharp. All them Weasley boys spent a night or two down here… the lookalikes near every week.'

Albus suppressed a chuckle in spite of himself. Minerva, he was certain, would not be pleased to hear it.

Aberforth was still staring shrewdly at him. The headmaster sighed. 'What is it?' he requested.

The barman's eyes narrowed. 'Not easy to pop round from Egypt…' he began darkly. 'And he's been by a few times, these past months. I stopped in at the international portkey office in town for a delivery the other day, Albus… didn't see one record of Weasley's travels.'

Albus frowned. 'It is not wise to draw attention to this, Aberforth,' he warned. 'If someone should notice –'

Aberforth gave a hollow laugh. 'I may be a barkeep, Albus… but we were forged in the same fire, you and I. I'm not ignorant enough to leave traces… and I'm not blind enough not to work out where it is he could be apparating in from… where he wouldn't have to use the regulated channels…'

The headmaster's eyes flashed. He made to step around his brother, but Aberforth shifted with him.

'Don't bring the boy into this,' he said, eyes still boring into Albus'. 'It's wrong, Albus. You should know… you of all people should know the risks. He's toxic. He'll turn him, or use him, or both.'

'Bill is not naïve,' Albus disagreed. 'And he is fully aware, Aberforth, of what he is facing in this task. He is not the same as… he is not prone to the same temptations; and he does not go into this blind. You were the one who suggested Gellert's counsel, then warned me off engaging him on my own… what would you have me do?'

Aberforth did not answer. He stepped aside at last, though his eyes were still doubtful.

'Don't do anything stupid, Albus,' he answered gruffly.

And he turned back to his close-up, leaving Albus to ascend the stairs alone.

'I apologise for the lateness of the hour,' the headmaster said, shutting the door to Room Seven softly behind him.

'Not a problem, sir,' Bill replied, offering Albus a drink as he joined him at the small table.

His tone was easy and his smile warm, but Albus could see that Bill Weasley had changed. He was slightly paler, just a hair thinner, than he had been at the start of the year. His long hair was pulled back in a more practical thong, and his eyes had taken on the beginnings of knowledge – true knowledge, the type of which most did not encounter. He looked older.

Albus felt a pang of guilt at the observation.

'How has your work been progressing?' he asked without preamble.

'It's coming along,' the wizard replied. 'He wants to see you, of course. Says he doesn't trust me… but I think we're working on that.'

Albus smiled slightly, though the situation was anything but amusing.

'You have not had any trouble with your Occlumency?' he checked.

Bill shook his head. 'I don't think so,' he affirmed. 'Not that I've noticed, anyway… and I think I would notice, if he managed to get through.'

'Undoubtedly,' Albus agreed. 'But I am certain that he will not. He would not wish to anger me… and certainly he has realised that your skill is such that he would have to make a more obvious attack, if he hoped to succeed.'

The younger wizard gave a curt nod.

'Is there anything I should note?' Albus inquired, when it seemed Bill was hesitant to continue.

Bill's jaw worked for a moment, as though he were steeling himself to say something. His face had gone slightly pinched; he looked almost ill.

'He… he explained what it was you spoke of at our initial meeting,' he said at last. 'The Horcrux.'

Albus felt a thrill run up his spine. He had known, of course, that Bill would learn of this magic eventually… it was a sacrifice he knew he would have to make, when he'd elected to include the wizard in their confidences. But it made him uneasy all the same; that anyone else become privy to the horrors of darkest magic.

'A terrible, evil artefact,' he acknowledged. 'Created, as I am sure Gellert will have explained, through the ultimate act of dark magic.'

'Yes,' Bill said with a nod. 'Grindelwald told me. He also said that he – and you – think You-Know-Who made more than one… that that's how he survived, the night he attempted to kill Harry.'

'Voldemort,' Albus corrected. 'You must learn to say it, Bill.'

'Voldemort,' Bill agreed, still watching him closely. Albus sighed.

'Yes, that is what we believe occurred,' he admitted. 'There is no way to be certain… of any but the Diary, at least, at this point. But it is, I think, the most likely explanation, given all that we know of Tom Riddle.'

Bill nodded. 'Yes, that's what he thinks too,' he said. 'And he sends two messages.'

Albus waited.

'First, he says you ought to trace the locket,' Bill told him. 'He tried to look, apparently, but he says he cannot do more from his tower… and he doubts you would allow him to search beyond.'

'An accurate assessment,' Albus said at once. 'But I shall investigate myself.'

Bill nodded again. He took a sip from his drink. Albus watched him… but he did not go on.

'The other?' he prompted.

Bill turned the goblet round in his hand, hesitating. His eyes were gleaming when he raised them at last, but not with excitement. He looked almost frightened as he cleared his throat.

'The other was not a request,' he said slowly, 'But a… posture, he called it. He wishes you to know that he is researching something else…'

'Indeed?' Albus asked, intrigued. 'And what is that?'

Bill swallowed. 'He wants to know,' he said at last, 'Whether one can create a Horcrux out of a living being.'

FIN.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

POST-A/N:

I do not usually do a note again at the end, but I wanted to remind those who may skip initial author's notes that the first chapter of Part III has posted! You can access the new book from my profile page, 'Child of Hogwarts, Part III: The Master of Death.'

Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed and supported my writing throughout this long process! I cannot tell you how much it means to me.

I hope you will all leave your comments/reviews/thoughts on the conclusion to Part II – and do enjoy Part III!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Review Responses, Chapter 42

TL-Deception: Thank you for reviewing! Really glad you enjoyed the action in the last chapter. We do get Albus and Minerva's return here, so I hope you like that… Enjoy the conclusion of Part II!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thanks for reviewing! YES – the thestral whistle. I've been sitting on that for over a year, now… but this was always where it was headed. I'm glad you enjoyed its ultimate use. Haha, I'm sorry for the suspense – but things worked out in the end. Or, rather, nobody died, this time. I hope you like the final chapter!

Mwinter1: Thanks for your review! Hope you are still enjoying the story, and that you like the last instalment!

Me (Guest Review): Thank you for reviewing! I do apologise that it made you cry… but I hope they were good tears? Very happy you enjoyed it so much, especially the bit where Harry finds out at last about the incident with the Willow while Snape and the Marauders were at school… I'd held off on that for a bit in this version, as I didn't have Harry sneak off to Hogsmeade the second time and therefore needed a new place where it would fit organically… glad it seems to have felt right here. Snape will be very irritated when he awakens… his bit is perhaps my favourite arc in the final chapter, so I do hope you like it. As for Albus and the Sirius resolution – some of it will be addressed in this last instalment, and some will continue into Part III. Remus' future will definitely be addressed and, I hope, make some sense… but I'll let the readers judge that. Enjoy the ending!

Anyeshabaner: Thanks for reviewing! Ah… I did try to warn you! :) Don't lose your optimism – it's a wonderful quality! But definitely fair warning now that things are likely to get much darker in the Child of Hogwarts universe, before there's a chance for happily ever after. Alas, our characters will not be riding off into the sunset anytime soon, but I think the resolution is bitter-sweet, all in. Sirius, in the events of Chapter 42, makes the choice he was unable to make in 'The Godson.' Faced again with what responsibility really means; faced again with the choice between Harry and Wormtail… the choice between vengeance and justice; what is right and what is easiest… he makes a conscious decision to go to Harry, even though he realises doing so will likely end any chance of keeping Pettigrew. Sirius isn't free – or, at least, not yet – but he found freedom anyway, in a way. He found it in himself.

Fudge, on the other hand… that problem is just starting to heat up. We are seeing the beginnings of unease which make his reaction to Voldemort's ultimate resurgence so unsurprising to Albus, and so very dangerous for the world. He is, as Albus stated a few chapters ago, very much a 'peace-time Minister'… and yet peace time is drawing to a close. He cannot countenance a return to war, and it blinds him to reality and sense.

Haha, I enjoyed your rant on vanity… and it is true. Tradition, of course, is not just a wizarding phenomenon… it is also a steadfast hallmark of British society in many ways. Do not misunderstand me – I think tradition has its importance and its place… but just as Albus contemplates in Chapter 42, it also carries the danger of prolonging or promoting unwise inefficiencies and prejudice. And wizards – particularly when they 'get together' with their foreign counterparts, as Arthur Weasley chuckles about in canon GOF – can't help but show off, just a smidge.

Distance… I'm not sure I agree, actually, on this point. I think Dumbledore and Harry have become much closer than headmaster and student, though the relationship has grown organically, rather than overnight. It is clear that Albus sees Harry as 'his child' (he states as much several times, unconsciously), and many of our characters have commented on the situation. Harry finds it much harder to say that he 'loves' someone than the headmaster does, at least aloud… but I think the most telling part on his feelings for Albus comes in Chapter 41, when he thinks about Sirius' offer of a home… and realises that he isn't missing a father-figure anymore, because Albus is so involved in his life. This relationship will continue to develop over the next few books, as it is the central story, really, that I am telling… so hopefully if you feel there's still too much 'distance' between them now, you will start to see that gap close more and more as we move forward. That being said, although I think the relationship is very much a mix of father-son, teacher-student, mentor-apprentice, protector-ward…. Albus and Minerva will definitely not be 'adopting' Harry in the legal sense.

The next book has started… in fact, the first chapter should be up as you read this. It is much more complex and much darker even than Part II has been at times… but I am very excited to share it. The first couple of chapters should post fairly quickly, as they have been written for some time. Definitely check out Chapter 1 when you've finished Part II!

Gingerljf175: Thank you for reviewing! Very happy you found the series and that you have enjoyed it so much thus far, and thrilled to hear that the writing and characterisation is meeting expectations. I'll do my best to keep the updates quick! :) I hope you like the conclusion to Part II, and that you enjoy the new book!