When Harry Missed the Trick Step

Chapter 13: An Interlude of Sorts

Author's Note: It's been too long since I posted an update for this, but please be assured, this story has not been abandoned. Real life, and other stories got in the way. Expect some regular updates from now on.

Chapter name suggestions, anyone?

Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.

Previously on "When Harry Missed the Trick Step"…

A click of heels sounded against the stone floor: they all whirled around as Madam Bones approached them. Her plum-coloured robes had vanished; she was now decked out in purple robes, with some sort of tough material – which looked remarkably like dragon hide – covering her upper torso. Her cropped hair was slightly askew, and her monocle even more so, but she looked otherwise unharmed, albeit with a rather annoyed expression on her face.

What drew everyone's attention was the pair of heavy manacles she was carrying in her right hand.

Harry did not need Hermione's gasp of horror, Sirius' and Lupin's groans, or even Madam Bones' explanation, to understand what had happened.

Peter Pettigrew had escaped, once again.

Mr Weasley led the three of them to the side of the Atrium where, with a wave of his wand, he conjured a few hard-backed chairs for them to sit. Harry took his seat and looked around.

Madam Bones, Sirius, and Lupin were conversing in hushed tones on the other side of the Atrium; the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement sported what could only be considered as a peeved expression on her face. Sirius and Lupin's faces were grim, too, as they were nodding along to Madam Bones' explanation.

Across the Atrium, Ministry workers could be seen scurrying around, trying to repair the damage caused by the detonators. More than once, Harry spotted a few of them gingerly manoeuvring themselves around the vast floor, hoping that they would not set off another detonator.

Despite everything, a small part of him marvelled at the ingenuity of the whole plan – the detonators had been carefully planted so as to cover the maximum amount of area in the Atrium. How they had been charmed to set off at the right time was anyone's guess – he certainly didn't know if it could have been done that way.

'It couldn't,' said Hermione in a tired voice.

Harry started slightly – it seemed he had voiced out his last thoughts. He gave her an inquisitive glance, just as Ron, from Hermione's other side, leaned in to listen.

'A Blasting Curse of this magnitude cannot be contained to set off at a specific time,' she explained. As she did, Harry could see a bit of colour returning to her slightly pale cheeks. He smirked inwardly – trust Hermione to get perked up over a logical problem such as this.

'You're not saying he did this with some help?' asked Ron.

'I don't know how he pulled it off,' said Hermione, 'but clearly, well…'

'It was effective,' said Harry, completing her sentence for her. She nodded tiredly, and dropped her head onto Ron's shoulder. The red-head wrapped his arm around her shoulder protectively, as he looked around the Atrium himself.

'What do you suppose they're talking about?' asked Ron softly, after a few minutes of silence.

Harry looked around in the direction indicated by Ron: Dumbledore had joined Madam Bones, Sirius, and Lupin, and seemed to be giving them an update of sorts. As they watched, Madam Bones' shoulders slumped slightly, while Sirius and Lupin scowled. Clearly, it wasn't good news that Dumbledore had shared.

'No clue,' said Harry, shrugging. 'Doesn't seem like the best update, though.'

'Yeah.'

They fell silent, still observing the adults on the other side. Occasionally, movement from the other areas of the Atrium would catch Harry's eye: he watched interestedly as a few Aurors and staff from other departments of the Ministry worked together to repair the damage to the floor and the walls. By some miracle, the golden statue in the middle of the room was quite untouched, save for a few marks here and there. One wizard in lime green robes strode up to it and began waving his wand in a complicated manner – the next minute, the marks began to fade.

He turned back to the group, just in time to see Dumbledore pull out a wand from the pocket of his robes. Harry was momentarily confused – didn't the Headmaster have a wand already? – but the next second, Dumbledore had passed it to Sirius, who took it reverently, and with a nod of thanks. And then it clicked.

Sirius' wand.

More than anything else, it was this act of Sirius getting his own wand back that reminded Harry of the simple, solid, fact: Sirius was finally free. No longer would he be considered as a fugitive on the run; no longer would he be hunted by the Ministry and the wizarding population in general. Sirius would finally have the freedom to just…live.

Of course, that was easier said than done – Harry knew that nearly thirteen years of ingrained beliefs and prejudice towards Sirius would surely be hard to eradicate. The Ministry had done a splendid job of ensuring that the public would view Sirius as a mass-murdering lunatic, desperately in search of his dark master. The announcement that he was in fact innocent, and was wrongly imprisoned, was unlikely to change the viewpoint overnight. That being said, there was every chance that the capture, conviction, and subsequent escape of Peter Pettigrew could threaten to destabilise the Ministry – who knows what else they would have mucked up? But an unstable Ministry, in times like these, would not bode well for the future.

Right then, Harry was able to fully appreciate just how delicate the entire situation had been – including the pending trial of Barty Crouch Junior – and how the entire situation had gone from good to downright horrible in the matter of minutes. The Prophet was sure to report on the trial and the subsequent attack in the Atrium; Harry could only imagine the backlash and chaos that would ensue from it. If the Ministry of Magic could prove to be such an easy target, what of the rest of the wizarding world?

Harry shook his head, the multitude of thoughts threatening to overwhelm his brain – there were just too many things to consider for this, and all of it depended on the way the day's events would be reported in the Daily Prophet. At least there was a silver lining for this – Joshua Smallwood was bound to do a good job in that respect. So far, there had been no indication that he would write an article just like his predecessor, Rita Skeeter, had done.

Speaking of which…

Joshua Smallwood had emerged from the lift, and was looking wide-eyed around the Atrium. Granted, most of the room had been set back to normal, but there was still enough evidence to suggest that the damage had been extensive. As Harry watched, Joshua extracted his camera, clicked a few images, and made a beeline towards the closest group of Ministry workers. He had pulled out his pen and paper as he approached, and immediately began taking notes once the workers responded to his questions. He looked sideways to point this out to Ron, but the red-head had fallen asleep, his head resting on top of Hermione's.

Footsteps nearby distracted Harry – Dumbledore was leading the group of adults to them, having evidently finished their discussion. The Headmaster of Hogwarts looked rather sombre, and the twinkle in his eyes had dimmed a little.

'Harry,' he said, as he reached the trio. For a moment, Harry vaguely wondered where Mr Weasley had gone, but then he caught sight of a tuft of flaming red hair to the side of the Atrium. Evidently, Mr Weasley had been helping the others in setting things right again.

The sound of Harry's name had awoken Hermione: she stirred, and then almost knocked Ron to the floor in her haste to stand up in respect. Blearily cursing under his breath, Ron sleepily looked around at the source of the disturbance, and his eyes opened up a bit more as he spotted Dumbledore and the others.

'Time to go, then?' he asked sleepily. 'Where's Dad?'

'Your father is helping with the repairs, Mr Weasley,' said Dumbledore gently. 'And yes, it is time for you to return to Hogwarts.'

Ron nodded, stood up, and began to stretch languidly. Hermione, now wide awake, gave him a sharp look, which he ignored, before turning to Dumbledore. 'How are we getting back, sir?'

'I have arranged for a Portkey to my office, Miss Granger. The Floo network has been sealed, and Apparation is out of the question for you three.' He indicated Lupin and Sirius behind him. 'Professor Lupin and Sirius will accompany you to the castle.'

Harry nodded in understanding. With the emergency alarm having been triggered, the entire Ministry was in a total lockdown. He was surprised, though, as to how Dumbledore had managed to bypass the protective wards and create a Portkey out of here. Then again, being the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot probably gave him that privilege.

Dumbledore withdrew a rather large sweet box from the pocket of his robes, and gave it to Lupin to hold. 'I will need to discuss a few matters with Madam Bones, after which I shall return to the castle,' said Dumbledore. 'I must speak with all of you once I am back, so I must ask you to remain in my office until then.'

He was addressing the whole group, but for some inexplicable reason, Harry knew Dumbledore was speaking specifically to him. He met Dumbledore's gaze, and he gave a brief nod that went unnoticed by the others.

Once again, Dumbledore reached a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a watch. Harry couldn't be sure, but he knew it wasn't an ordinary watch – for one, from what he could see, the watch had twelve hands. It seemed to make perfect sense to Dumbledore, however, for he glanced at it, nodded, and said, 'Thirty seconds.'

'Place your fingers,' said Lupin, placing the sweet box in front of them. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius placed their fingers on the box, which had begun to glow a faint, dull blue.

'I shall see you soon,' Dumbledore told them, and he turned away with Madam Bones in the direction of the lifts.

Harry mentally counted off the seconds left, even as the glow from the box became brighter – and then, there was a sudden jerk forward just behind his navel; his feet left the ground, but his finger remained glued to the sweet box; he was banging into Hermione and Lupin on either side of him; there was a rush of swirling colour before his eyes, and the wind howled in his ears –

His feet slammed into the ground; Hermione stumbled into his side, but he managed to catch her before they both tumbled to the floor. Sirius, Lupin, and Ron stood around them, forming a circle of sorts around the old sweet box, which had fallen to the floor with a soft thump.

They had arrived in Dumbledore's office. It looked just like it had when they had left it, three days ago. Delicate silver instruments stood upon spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely; the portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were snoozing in their frames, some of them leaning against the sides, while others were resting on their armchairs. The light from the setting sun cast a faint golden glow to everything in the room – spots of light danced upon the case containing Godric Gryffindor's sword. The old and ragged Sorting Hat sat next to it, quite unmoving and still.

As Sirius and Lupin conjured chairs for them to sit, Harry moved towards the perch that held Fawkes, Dumbledore's magnificent golden-plumed phoenix. The large bird looked at him beadily, then let out a soft trill. It had the desired effect – Harry felt much calmer after that, and he expressed his gratitude to the bird by gently stroking its feathers.

With his thoughts no longer a raging whirlwind inside his head, Harry settled into the remaining chair in front of Dumbledore's large desk, and waited for the Headmaster in silence.

The whoosh of flames in the fireplace startled Harry – he had almost drifted off to sleep in the remarkably comfortable chair conjured by Lupin. Dumbledore's figure was spinning inside the grate; moments later, his tall form unfolded itself from the fire. He dusted the soot off of himself, and strode up to take his customary seat behind his desk.

'My apologies,' said Dumbledore, 'our discussion took longer than anticipated.'

Lupin and Sirius waved him off. Harry noticed that, like him, both Ron and Hermione seemed to have fallen asleep, and were sleepily trying to follow the conversation; the two adults, however, were wide awake, and unusually alert.

'Did they determine the cause, Headmaster?'

Harry's brain seemed to snap into focus at that question, just as the recollection of the day's events played out in his mind.

'No doubt, Arthur had mentioned the area-based detonators to you,' said Dumbledore. 'It is a miracle that no one was seriously injured, or killed.'

Harry noticed Sirius' shoulders sagging imperceptibly with relief; he then realised he'd let out a breath he'd been holding since Lupin had asked the question. The news that there were no injuries or casualties was definitely welcome.

'Madam Bones is yet to determine the identity of the person responsible for placing the detonators throughout the Atrium. However, she has been able to find out what, or who, triggered them.'

Dumbledore's gaze passed over the two Marauders, and the three awake students. As Harry met his eyes, there was a sudden blip of understanding – he knew exactly who had set off the detonators, and he beat Dumbledore to saying the name out loud.

'Philip Parkinson.'

Five pairs of eyes looked at him with no small amount of astonishment. Dumbledore surveyed him curiously.

'How did you know that, Harry?'

Harry shrugged. 'It was either him or Lucius Malfoy, and, well…Malfoy Senior doesn't seem like a person who would risk his current position in the Ministry with something like this. Plus,' he added, as another memory popped into his head, 'Mr Parkinson wasn't there when the vote for Sirius was called.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ron's own eyes widening slightly at the memory of looking around the courtroom for the man. Sirius and Lupin were giving him rather impressed looks, and if Dumbledore looked a little perturbed, he did not show it outwardly to the rest of the room's occupants.

'Yes, it was indeed Philip Parkinson,' said Dumbledore in confirmation. 'The Auror Office is trying to establish the events leading up to the attack, so until we receive any further updates, I am as knowledgeable on the matter as the rest of you are.'

Harry nodded demurely – it wasn't like Dumbledore was trying to hide anything, and he had been about to tell them about Philip Parkinson's role, after all. He forced down the sudden feeling of unease that had attempted to bubble up inside him – there was no reason to doubt Dumbledore's knowledge of the truth.

Not yet anyway.

'This being said, Pettigrew's escape also involved a great deal of luck.'

Harry's thoughts were instantly brought back to the office with that statement. 'What?'

'It appears,' said Dumbledore, and here, the old wizard heaved an unusual sigh – one that spoke of exasperation and a twinge of annoyance, 'that the manacles around Pettigrew's wrist were not properly enforced.'

Lupin and Sirius exchanged bewildered looks; to the side, Harry was sure Ron and Hermione were doing the same – well, at least the former would have done so. Hermione was more likely to have either frowned at this laxity, or widened her eyes in trying to decipher the possible reason behind it.

'Specifically, the anti-Animagus charm.'

If the conversation up till then hadn't caught everyone's attention, this last statement certainly had. Even the portraits of the former Heads of Hogwarts were listening intently – Harry had the funny suspicion that they had been faking their slumber all this while.

'Was it just that charm?' asked Hermione. 'Sir?' she added hurriedly, clearly not wanting to sound rude or demanding.

'It certainly seems so, Miss Granger,' replied Dumbledore. 'As I understand, Madam Bones had specifically requested for that charm, amongst various others, to be placed on the manacles holding both Sirius and Pettigrew. The fact that it was not, for lack of a better word, renewed on Pettigrew's chains is disturbing.'

Harry had been silent during the whole conversation, ever since Dumbledore had first revealed Lady Luck's contribution in the rat scarpering from the Ministry. In spite of the day's events, and the unnerving revelations that had been made after, his mind was working at double speed to piece through whatever Dumbledore had said.

Philip Parkinson missing during the second vote for Sirius' trial…yet, he had been the one to second Malfoy Senior's motion of postponing the verdict prior to lunch…

Philip Parkinson triggering the area-based detonators in the Atrium…

The anti-Animagus charms had not been properly enforced on Pettigrew's manacles, but they had been done on Sirius'…

Pettigrew doing a volte-face, and pleading guilty in his trial, after a good half-hour of trying to defend his supposed innocence…

'It was a distraction.'

Harry had said it so quietly, he was sure he would've had to repeat himself. As it was, fortunately, he was saved the trouble of doing just that – Lupin and Sirius had just finished their rather unsuccessful discussion as to how the manacles of the fourth Marauder hadn't been properly charmed, so his soft murmur had carried through the quiet office quite clearly.

'Excuse me?' said Sirius. 'A distraction?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, running his hands through his already messy hair, and making it even more jumbled and haphazard. 'I mean…think about it – Wormtail tries to defend himself for almost thirty minutes, and then suddenly admits his guilt for everything? Doesn't that strike you as odd?'

Sirius looked at him blankly – clearly, he was as clueless as Ron, if the red-head's expression was anything to go by. Lupin and Hermione sported thoughtful looks, however, while Dumbledore gazed at him intently, his chin resting on the tip of the steeple formed by his hands.

'And then…' continued Harry, feeling mildly disconcerted at the extra attention he was receiving, 'the anti-Animagus charm on his manacles…wouldn't they have been cast at the same time on both sets? Unless…' he faltered a bit, his brain trying to make the connection, 'either they weren't cast properly at all in the first place, or –'

'Someone removed the charm after it was cast,' finished Hermione, her voice breathless and her eyes wide.

Harry met her eyes and nodded, just as the implications of that deduction sank into the rest of them. If the latter was true, then someone else had had access to Peter Pettigrew in the hours leading up to the trials, and the lunch time in between. But if the former had taken place, it signalled another, slightly more worrying prospect.

There was a potential Death Eater in the Auror Department.

'Or it could have been a genuine mistake,' countered Dumbledore gently. 'We cannot rule out the possibility of human error in this situation, Harry. Nor can we accuse others of any misdemeanour until they are proven guilty.'

Dumbledore gave Harry a mildly chiding look, but Harry was far from perturbed. The Headmaster was right, of course, but it didn't always mean that they had to give the benefit of doubt to everyone for everything. Barty Crouch Junior was a prime example of that.

'He does have a point, though, Dumbledore,' said Sirius; Harry could see the glimmer of realisation reflected in his grey eyes. 'The Atrium blast was unnecessary, except that it was timed perfectly when Peter passed through it. If his manacles didn't have those charms, he could have transformed and run off anywhere. It'd be just like him to need a big distraction to make his escape.'

'Especially when he's done it twice already,' said Ron, his tone surly. Harry looked at Ron in surprise, before realising that his friend was right – on that quiet street all those years ago, and near the Whomping Willow, Wormtail had had big distractions that enabled him to transform and hide.

'Be that as it may,' said Dumbledore, 'I do not think it wise to merely speculate these theories at this time, when we have such little information with us.' Harry frowned slightly at him, and Dumbledore must have noticed, for he added, 'I will, in any case, bring these theories up for discussion with Madam Bones to investigate. I am sure she would want to ensure that there are no Voldemort sympathisers in her Auror ranks.'

Ron and Hermione winced at the name, but Harry could tell they were slowly getting used to hearing it. Their reactions were a lot less severe this time round.

'The fact that remains, however,' said Dumbledore, 'is that Pettigrew, and Philip Parkinson, are at large right now. And, despite there being no tangible evidence, it is very likely that they have both sought refuge with Lord Voldemort.'

Harry, who up till then had been trying to convince himself that Madam Bones would be able to weed out the traitors in her team, looked up sharply at Dumbledore.

Shit.

He hadn't thought about the entire fiasco from that angle at all – so intent had he been in first, trying to ensure that there hadn't been any casualties, and second, attempting to figure out who was responsible for what had happened. Dumbledore's statement into the silence of his office had put the matter into a whole new perspective, and despite Sirius' newfound freedom, Harry had the sinking feeling that the price they had inadvertently paid for it was a bit too high.

Something that was only confirmed by the Headmaster's next words.

'There is now no way of us knowing what Voldemort's plans are.'

Bloody hell.

It took Harry a moment to notice that those words had been spoken out loud; it took him another moment to realise that it hadn't been him. He looked around, and saw Ron turning a brilliant shade a bright red, in some odd yet perfect contrast to his flaming red hair.

Hermione looked scandalised, and was almost ready to chastise Ron for cursing in front of a Professor and the Headmaster, but Lupin and Sirius were grinning, while Dumbledore merely smiled genially. Harry did notice, however, that the grins and smile did not meet their eyes.

'Indeed, Mr Weasley,' said Dumbledore, 'I am rather tempted to say that myself, if only I were not bound to my duty of ensuring that students use appropriate language in front of the staff.' His blue eyes twinkled, but his tone was stern. 'A point will be taken from Gryffindor for your language, however.'

Ron nodded, a little shamefaced, but he listened intently as Dumbledore continued.

'I will wholeheartedly admit that I did not anticipate Lord Voldemort's plans at the start of this school year. The blame for much of what has happened to you, Harry, lies with me alone. It was foolish oversight on my part, combined with extremely impressive acting, which has led us to the situation we find ourselves in today.'

Harry gaped at Dumbledore. Why was he apologising – especially now, of all times? They had captured the imposter, they had got Sirius his freedom, and yes, alright, Wormtail had escaped, but that was hardly a major concern, was it? Even if they didn't have the foresight into Voldemort's plans, they could surely counter whatever he did decide to do right now, couldn't they?

Couldn't they?

He exchanged a confused look with Sirius, who shrugged.

'Given our lack of information, it is best we remain on-guard from whatever he may be planning now. For this, Harry, I must apologise in advance,' said Dumbledore, looking at Harry, who stared back with a hint of confusion, and just a little more of dread.

'What is it, sir?' he asked.

'I feel – and Madam Bones agrees with me – that you need to stay safe. I would therefore recommend that, until the Tournament is over, you do not venture outside the school grounds. It is also recommended if you are accompanied by someone whenever you are out on the grounds of Hogwarts.'

Harry blinked.

'That's it?'

Dumbledore gave him an odd look. 'I beg your pardon, Harry?'

Harry almost laughed out with relief: he had been imagining a rather more extreme reaction from Dumbledore in terms of restrictions to be imposed on him at Hogwarts. Forget Hogsmeade, he thought he wouldn't have had the chance to step out onto the Hogwarts grounds at all – and he told Dumbledore as much, while elicited a gentle chuckle from the old wizard.

'No, Harry, I am not so unkind as to deprive you of the privileges of taking a walk on the grounds. I must insist, however, that you exercise caution at all times, and are accompanied at all times by an elder student, or a member of the staff.'

'I'll do it, Dumbledore.'

It was Sirius who had spoken; he was sitting upright in his chair, a determined look on his face.

'Let me do it,' he repeated. 'I want to help.'

Dumbledore regarded him carefully; Harry could tell he was evaluating the option, and it seemed like a viable one too. For his part, Harry had no complaints – he wouldn't pass up the chance to spend time with his godfather, especially since he was a free man.

'Very well,' said Dumbledore at last, and Harry and Sirius grinned at each other. 'However, might I suggest that you do so in your Animagus form? The students may not be immediately open to your innocence, despite the Ministry's impending declaration.'

Sirius shrugged. 'I don't mind – I was going to suggest that anyway. I can pick up Peter or Parkinson's scents better as a dog.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Then it is settled. As for your accommodations –'

'I'm sure Rosmerta has a couple of rooms to spare, Dumbledore. Otherwise, I'll just room in with Moony here.' He looked over at Lupin. 'You have plenty of room, don't you?'

Lupin gave him a funny look. 'Of course I do,' he replied, rather defensively.

'Excellent,' said Sirius happily, and Lupin just shook his head.

Harry grinned at the pair of them, then turned to Dumbledore when he was addressed. The Headmaster looked quite relieved, if Harry were to say so.

'Thank you, Harry, for understanding. I had hoped these restrictions would not have been necessary, but unfortunately –'

'It's alright, Professor,' said Harry, interrupting Dumbledore mid-apology. 'I had a feeling I would've had to go through this, anyway.'

Dumbledore smiled at him. 'Very well, then. I believe it is time for dinner already – I suggest you three head down to the Great Hall, before retiring for the night.'

Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded, said their goodbyes to the Professors and Sirius, and made their way out of the office. It was as soon as they were out of earshot from the statue guarding the entrance to the office that they started talking once more.

'What d'you reckon?' asked Harry.

Hermione looked thoughtful, as though contemplating her answer, but Ron ploughed right into it. 'I think you've got it bang on, mate. Don't get me wrong,' he added, as Hermione frowned at him, 'I'm all for Dumbledore's 'innocent until proven guilty' argument, but you have to admit, something doesn't add up there.'

'I'm not saying it doesn't add up, Ron,' said Hermione as they made their way down a flight of stairs, and a portrait of a few sixteenth century witches dressed for a fancy party at the landing, 'but we have no proof! We can't just accuse any random Auror for supporting You-Know-Who, can we? How would you feel if I'd marched up to you and said that?'

'I'd say you'd gone barmy,' said Ron dismissively, 'but that's not the point. 'Course we can't accuse them outright, but it'd be worth doing a bit of digging, wouldn't it? It's not like you'd want to sit on this information till something else happens.'

'Dumbledore did say he would pass on our theories to Madam Bones,' pointed out Harry.

'Yeah, well, she is fair,' said Ron, conceding that little argument. 'I suppose she'd be able to do her own investigation.'

'Yes, she would,' said Hermione, sounding pleased that Ron had been convinced. Harry noticed her taking Ron's hand while they walked along the last corridor leading to the marble staircase, and felt a pang of loneliness as he thought of Ginny. 'We'll just have to wait and see.'

They descended the marble staircase to the Entrance Hall, illuminated by a number of floating candles and torches in stone brackets. Despite being as large as the courtroom in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, it gave off a completely contrasting feel – it was more welcoming, and friendly.

The Great Hall was, as usual, splendid: thousands of candles floated above their heads, giving the students of Hogwarts enough light as they ate their way through the sumptuous dinner prepared by the school house-elves. Overhead, the night sky was a deep blue, with the occasional star twinkling out when it wasn't covered by a cloud.

Thankfully, the doors to the Hall had been left open, so the trio were able to slip inside without attracting too much attention. Their absence from school for the entire day was bound to have been noticed – Harry doubted if even Crabbe and Goyle could have missed that – but they didn't want to face the barrage of questions that were sure to come their way.

Of course, that plan went to pieces the moment they strode past the Ravenclaw table. Whispers and mutters broke out as students looked up – and for one wild moment, Harry wondered if they'd heard the news already. Did word from the Ministry of Magic really travel that fast? He didn't stop to think about it, though; instead, he plodded on, leading the way to the Gryffindor table on the far side of the Hall.

And then stopped mid-stride, as their eyes finally met.

It hadn't been too long – two days at most – but to him, it had felt like a week. Maybe longer. And he knew she felt the same way. Ever since they'd got together, they hadn't spent more than a few hours apart, and that was only because they were in different years, in different classes. Even then, they would occasionally pass each other in the corridors, and they would just exchange smiles, or even brush the fingertips of their hands together. He didn't have much experience in these matters – nor did she, he reminded himself firmly – but the simple caresses and smiles were their own way of reassurance, of taking the time out of their respective schedules to see that the other one was okay.

It was only now, as he stood staring at her, that he realised how much he'd missed that. How much he'd missed her.

His eyes took in everything: her long, fiery, red hair that cascaded down beyond her shoulders onto her back; the warm brown eyes that represented bottomless pools of emotion of every kind – anger, kindness, a hint of jealousy, a smidge of mischievousness (surely something from her elder brothers), and love; the way she stood, staring at him, quite clearly drinking his image in, and making up for lost time –

They were moving towards each other (when did that happen?) – she had reached him (did we run?) – her arms were around his neck (I could get used to this) – she leaned closer, her eyes fluttering shut –

And stumbled, quite ungainly, with the result that their heads bumped against each other in the most unsatisfactory manner.

Harry looked back to see Ron with a knowing smirk on his face.

'Get a room, you two!'

There was a burst of laughter from the students in the area around them. Harry felt himself turning red as he grinned sheepishly, just as Ginny buried her head in his chest. He could feel the heat coming off of her, but he was sure she was grinning, too.

Ginny pulled back, and smiled up at him. 'I missed you.'

'I missed you too,' he said simply. He gave her a tight squeeze, which she returned in equal measure. 'Want to help me kill your brother?'

Ginny looked as though she was considering it. 'Nah,' she said, finally. 'Hermione would have done it anyway.'

Sure enough, as Harry turned to the Gryffindor table to take his seat next to Ginny, and opposite Neville – who greeted him enthusiastically – Hermione had already smacked Ron upside his head.

'How did it go?' asked Ginny, as she helped herself to a chicken wing.

'Huh? Oh,' said Harry, caught a bit off-guard with the question. To be honest, he was surprised she hadn't asked him that immediately. 'He's cleared of all charges.'

She beamed at him, and, with all the courage of a Gryffindor, and general foolhardiness of a Weasley, leaned in to kiss him properly. Thankfully, neither of their mouths were full of food; yet, he felt a slight twinge of disappointment that it couldn't have lasted longer.

Still, the almost contented look, and brilliant smile she gave him after, made it almost worth it.

'Yeah, but the rat escaped,' said Ron darkly, biting off on his wing with more force than necessary.

'What?!' exclaimed Neville and Ginny together. Their housemates seated next to them looked around in mild alarm, but returned to their plates when they realised no one was in real danger.

'We'll explain later,' said Harry, in a reassuring tone. He didn't want the entire table to hear about the day's events – not just yet. Ginny scowled briefly, but thankfully made no mention of it during dinner.

So after they worked their way through dessert a few minutes letter, and then, rather sleepily, made their way to the Gryffindor common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took Ginny and Neville to a corner, and explained everything that had happened over the last almost-two days.

To say they were shocked was an understatement. Ginny was gaping like a fish, while Neville's eyes were as round and wide as saucers.

'Wow,' said Neville, after a full two minutes of silence.

In Harry's opinion, that was a pretty accurate assessment of everything.

With the new restrictions imposed by Dumbledore in place for his safety, Harry spent most of time over the next few weeks indoors, with the occasional walk in the grounds with Sirius by his side. Of course, the bitter weather of March and April in the Scottish Highlands didn't help matters – at least, with respect to encouraging him to get out more.

Ginny had been quite peeved at these new rules for Harry once he'd told her about them – apparently, she had been looking forward to a Hogsmeade date with him ever since they'd started, well, snogging. Harry could see why she was upset, and if he was a little honest, he was slightly annoyed with it too: he had been anticipating the opportunity to visit the village and spend some quality time with Ginny – just the two of them.

She did cheer up, however, when he told her that, with everyone else in Hogsmeade, and with the Marauder's Map in their hands, they could spend a lot of time in the castle together, and away from prying eyes.

And so, they resorted to long walks in and around the castle – when the weather permitted them to do so – as they talked, laughed, joked, and generally enjoyed each other's company. Afterwards, if they got tired of circling the lake, they would flop down beneath their favourite beech tree, and snuggle up together in silence and contentment.

Sirius, who was always around for Harry's walks, generally kept his distance when Harry and Ginny wanted some alone time, although he was never too far away, in case something was to happen. More often than not though, he would join the couple under the beech tree; settling himself down on the patch of grass next to them, he would allow them to stroke his far absent-mindedly while keeping a lazy watch on the surroundings.

They had had one of these peaceful sit-downs a few weeks before the third task was to happen. The sunset was as magnificent as ever – Harry never got tired of the view he was afforded from this side of the lake. The fact that Ginny was with him, cuddled up against him and seeking some warmth from the mild breeze that blew about, made it even more precious.

After a while, Ginny had declared the need to return to the castle and finish her Arithmancy homework. Harry had no such plans for his homework, however – he'd finished most of it already – so he decided to stay behind for a bit, and spend some time with Sirius. After a brief kiss with Harry, Ginny patted Sirius on the head, stood up, and made her way across the grounds to the stone steps leading to the front doors.

Harry watched her go, a small smile on his face, and unaware of the fact that Sirius had just reverted to his human form, and was watching him with a knowing expression.

'You have it so bad,' he said, his tone teasing but not malicious.

Harry didn't respond immediately, but his grin did widen a bit. It wasn't like he could deny what Sirius had just said – he knew he was falling for the fiery, red-headed Weasley girl.

And falling fast.

'I know,' replied Harry after a full minute; Ginny was now a speck in the distance. 'I don't think I've ever met anyone as amazing as her, Sirius.'

His godfather beamed at him. 'That's exactly what James said when he began chasing Lily,' he said, a little wistfully. 'Of course, it took three years for Lily to say the same thing to him, but you've got a head-start on that already, haven't you?'

'Shut up,' Harry mumbled, his face burning. Sirius guffawed loudly at his godson's embarrassment; soon, Harry was grinning at the older man's joy.

'She's good for you,' said Sirius, after his laughter subsided. 'Don't let her go.'

Harry nodded, but Sirius' tone made him look around at his godfather. Sirius was staring out over the lake at the Durmstrang ship, a rather forlorn and melancholy expression on his face.

'Sirius?'

The dog Animagus turned back to Harry and grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 'I'm fine, don't worry about me. Just remembering the old days.' He sighed, and refocused his gaze on the ship again.

Harry wondered if Sirius was remembering how his parents had been, or if he had been forced to let someone go in the past. It seemed more likely to be the latter, if his tone was anything to go by – but Harry didn't feel like pushing his godfather more than was strictly necessary. Sirius would tell him if and when he wanted to; there was no need for him to coax it out of him.

And so they sat, in companionable silence, for a good while, until the last rays of the sun peeked out from the horizon in the distance. A few other students had chosen to take advantage of the mild weather, and were walking across the grounds, or settling themselves in groups along the banks of the lake. Harry could hear shouts of laughter and glee sounding across the lawns from the students.

A peaceful moment that, unfortunately, he had to distract himself from.

'I'm scared, Sirius.'

He'd uttered it in such a quiet whisper, he was sure that Sirius had only heard him due to his enhanced canine hearing. As it was, his godfather jerked around, a frown marring his visage.

'Scared?' repeated Sirius. 'Whatever for?'

Harry hesitated, but ploughed on. 'The Tournament…and after.'

It was true – despite his vision and desire of winning the Tournament after his performance in the second task, the full impact of what lay ahead in the third task had hit him a few days ago. How was he supposed to compete against the other champions, when he was only fourteen years old? Okay, he did know a fair number of jinxes and curses – more than he'd have ever learnt in class – but that was no guarantee of success, was it? Adding to that, there was the threat of Voldemort, and the unknown plan he was now sure to have formulated for getting Harry. Of course, he felt he was as safe as he could be – what with Dumbledore's restrictions, and Sirius' near-constant presence by his side – but after the task? What then?

How he'd managed to keep his composure, while these thoughts swirled inside his head over the last few days, Harry did not know. He did know, however, that he needed to talk to someone about it – and who better than Sirius? Granted, he may not have had a similar experience before, but he was sure to offer him some semblance of advice.

He knew Sirius would always help him, no matter what.

To his relief, Sirius' expression cleared up in understanding, and he nodded, a bit too solemnly. 'You're doing your best, Harry, I've seen it. So has Moony – he thinks you've mastered more spells than we knew at your age.'

'That's my point – my age! Sirius, I'm still fourteen, how on earth do you expect me to win?'

Sirius frowned at him. 'No one's expecting you to win, Harry.'

'That's not very reassuring,' Harry said, with a slight scowl.

Sirius sighed. 'Look, no one is expecting you to win, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't give it your best shot. There's no harm in trying, is there? Anyway, you've come this far, and you're second! You're off top spot by a single point, Harry. I don't see what's stopping you from winning if you try your best.'

'Okay, but what if they ask us to duel each other, or something?' His voice came out more like a scared ten-year old child's, but he didn't care; he knew Sirius wouldn't see it that way.

Oddly enough, his godfather did chuckle a bit. 'They won't get you to duel each other, Harry. I don't think the tasks would involve the champions battling each other. It's more likely that they'll keep a level-playing field, and ask you to rescue something.'

'Rescue something?'

'I suppose so. The first and second tasks had you lot trying to rescue or recover something, didn't they? First, the golden egg, and then the hostages…'

Sirius trailed off, but Harry had understood. He was right, of course: there was no need to worry about fighting the other champions. Sirius' scenario seemed quite likely, to be honest; although he wasn't sure how the points they'd accumulated so far would be of any use, or relevance. He decided not to think about that though – he'd do so when they would be told about the third task.

He still had one other pressing issue to fret over, anyway.

'And after that? What about Wormtail? Or Voldemort?'

'Harry,' said Sirius, stalling his mild panicky outburst. 'You have absolutely nothing to worry about, alright?' He reached over and gripped the young boy's shoulder. 'You've got me, Moony, and Dumbledore looking after you. Not to mention Ron and Hermione, and Ginny too,' he said with a smirk. 'I don't envy anyone if they go for you and get on her wrong side.'

Despite himself, Harry grinned at that. Ginny could be downright scary when she wanted to – Harry had seen the twins, so often self-assured and confident in front of everyone else – scarper for cover when threatened by their younger sister.

'As long as you stick to the restrictions put in place by Dumbledore, you'll be fine.'

Harry scowled. 'You make it sound like I break them on a regular basis.'

Sirius snorted. 'I'd be disappointed if you didn't, to be honest. Just don't do anything rash, or stupid.'

'Like you?'

'Like me, yeah,' said Sirius with a smirk. 'Don't do what I would do, and definitely don't do what I wouldn't do, on the other end of the scale. Do that, and you'll be alright.'

Harry nodded, feeling a whole lot better already. He had needed those simple words of reassurance from a parent-like figure – someone who had been through a lot of horrible and dangerous things in their life. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Sirius fit the bill rather perfectly; as expected, he'd given him exactly the advice that he'd needed to hear.

'Thanks, Sirius,' he said, leaning forward to embrace him. Sirius returned the hug, and when they pulled back, ruffled Harry's hair, making it even messier than usual.

'C'mon, let's get back to the castle.'

Sirius did not raise the topic of their earlier discussion with anyone else, for which Harry was quite grateful. He didn't like to think what his friends, or Lupin, would have thought, or how they would have reacted, to his fears – the pep talk he'd received from Sirius that day proved to be more than enough.

Indeed, Harry took to their daily training sessions with increased vigour and enthusiasm. Hermione, in particular, was quite impressed with his newfound attitude towards learning new spells and jinxes. The others seemed a tad astounded, but they took it in stride, and attributed it to his increasing desire to win the Tournament.

Sirius kept a relatively low profile over the next few weeks, only joining Harry on his walks outside the grounds, but always keeping his distance, and almost never changing back into his human form. Harry wondered why that was. He hoped his interactions with Ginny hadn't forced Sirius to recall painful memories – a fact which he sought to confirm with Professor Lupin, after a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.

'No, you didn't do that, Harry,' said Lupin. 'Okay, not exactly,' he amended, as Harry raised his eyebrow. 'He's just remembering what he had with someone before, well…before Azkaban happened.'

'Can't he get back with that person?' asked Harry. Sirius had looked quite sad the last time he'd seen him, even for a dog, and he hated seeing that on his godfather.

'She died, unfortunately,' said Lupin quietly, to Harry's shock. 'Two years after he was imprisoned, she was killed on an Auror mission to round up the last of the rogue Death Eaters. He blames himself, of course,' added Lupin, shaking his head. 'He says if he'd been with her, she wouldn't have died. They were in the same cadet training, after all.'

'What?' said Harry, stunned by this news. 'Sirius had been an Auror?'

'One of the best,' said Lupin, pulling Harry aside to allow a group of second years to enter his classroom. 'Sirius and James were partners, naturally, but if the task needed more than two Aurors, she was always first choice. She was the best, too, right after Sirius and your dad.'

With that, Lupin squeezed his shoulder, gave him a swift nod, and re-entered his classroom, leaving Harry to his very confused, and slightly overwhelming thoughts about his father and Sirius.

In any case, Sirius had been very reluctant to walk around Hogwarts as a human, despite the Ministry's declaration of his innocence. Just as Dumbledore had predicted, a number of students were still sceptical of the whole matter, even going so far as to suggest that Sirius had bribed the Wizengamot to vote in his favour, while Peter Pettigrew was just a hoax created by the Ministry and the Daily Prophet. The fact that the article had been written by the most unbiased reporter in the last decade, Joshua Smallwood, didn't seem to have gotten through their thick skulls.

While Harry could only marvel at the stupidity of his fellow students, and snort at how they refused to acknowledge something even if it was staring at them in the face, surprisingly, Ron was the most vocal against these select students. It had come to a head a week after the Prophet's article, when Ron and the non-believers (as Ginny had termed them), almost got into an all-out duel in the middle of the Entrance Hall. The fact that most of them were older Slytherins only served to fuel Ron's annoyance.

Thankfully, they were stopped by the passing Professor Lupin and Professor Flitwick, who deducted twenty points from the house of each student, and assigned them a week's worth of detentions.

Since then, no one had thought to raise the issue of the article, or even question it in public, but Sirius was not taking any chances with revealing himself in the school. Apparently, some of those students seemed quite ready to attack Sirius himself, if he was around.

With Sirius lost in glum-land (again, Ginny's words), Harry ended up spending more time in his daily practice sessions, and with Ginny too. She seemed to have taken it as her personal mission to make sure he was sufficiently motivated for his training, and for the third task. Of course, her methods were rather unconventional – and certainly not something that Ron would have wanted to know about – but he wasn't exactly complaining.

Harry had also managed to find time to pitch in with the research on the semi-solid Patronus Charm. While his theory on feelings being the key to producing that Patronus was certainly spot on – although he didn't understand the Arithmancy behind it – they were still trying to see if an entirely solid Patronus could be conjured, and if so, what were the requirements. Progress was slow, especially given that both Professors Flitwick and Lupin were now busy preparing their students for the end-of-year examinations, while Hermione had her own revision and Harry's training to focus on.

In fact, Harry often wondered how his bushy-haired best friend was able to manage so many projects at once. He had spotted her dedicating a considerable amount of time towards S.P.E.W., which, he had to admit, was a lot more effective this time round. With Natalie, Ian, Ron, and Neville chipping in, they had managed to draw up a new manifesto, and convince a number of other students to join the society. Harry overheard Ron telling Natalie and Ian one day that their first target was Winky, Barty Crouch Senior's old house-elf.

As they approached June, Harry felt quite confident in his prowess with curses and jinxes – anything that could be useful in the third task, and other dangerous scenarios. The announcement to the champions that they had to navigate an obstacle-filled maze in the third task only served to soothe his nerves: he would not, as Sirius had assured him, be duelling the other champions – unless they came up against him, of course. Even so, he was sure he'd trained well enough to defeat them in a duel. A straightforward maze seemed like the easiest way to round off the Tournament.

If only…