Harry mulled over the letter for a long time, twisting the information this way and that. If Pettigrew was the traitor, had he been willing, or had he been forced? Was he marked? Did he have information on Voldemort? It was possible that capturing and interrogating Pettigrew would be worth the effort, and he could simply erase his memories and dump him somewhere conspicuous when he was done. Then, Black would be free and the Dementors—which he now realized where actually some type of hollow—would be taken back to Azkaban.

That Black was good friends with his father was not much of a surprise. It fit the information he had gathered so far. Presumably, he had to have been close to James Potter in order for people to have believed he was their Secret Keeper. That Lupin was also a part of his father's circle of friends answered more questions, such as why he always seemed unable to stop himself from staring at Harry when he was in class.

Harry wasn't particularly interested in what his parents were like. He had hazy memories of them watching over him with concerned looks. He remembered his parent's death in an abstract way, as a series of strong emotions from his mother (panic, fear, determination) and Voldemort (hatred, anger, short-lived triumph). Then, he remembered a feeling like an explosion of energy, like raw electricity and fire in his veins, and acid-green light, and pain.

You released a Cero, Ulquiorra said to him. Or, rather, you channeled the Cero that Murciélago sent through you. A sliver of the curse passed through, and it tore deep inside your soul, dragging the heart into the dark place that it inhabits now. I barely managed to keep your soul from tearing altogether, and we were weak for years afterwards.

Harry felt himself get tugged into his inner world. He let himself sink into his mind.

"And what about Voldemort's soul?" Harry asked when he arrived.

"It fled. The cero greatly damaged him."

Murciélago sauntered out of the Cave and smirked self-contentedly. "Bastard didn't know what was coming for him. There's no way anyone's gonna kill this body. You're lucky I'm a part of you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have cared a rat's ass if you had stayed alive."

The hollow held out a delicate white palm, and a pinprick of green light appeared above it, growing to about the size of a lime and pulsing gently.

"What are you doing," Ulquiorra demanded to know.

"Oh, nothing," Murciélago said, giggling and tossing the ball of energy into the air and 'catching' it. The cero never touched his skin, Harry noted. Ulquiorra gave him one last suspicious look before turning back to Harry.

"Once a week is not enough time to practice what Yoruichi taught you. If you are unprepared when you begin your training with her, you will only damage yourself. You will practice daily, and meditate daily."

Harry nodded grimly, aware that he had been slacking. Ulquiorra continued.

"Along with your usual exercises, you will practice wielding me. When you are ready, you will go and purify a Dementor." His eyes flashed. "You must also search a way to protect yourself from their effects. Your soul is not to be food for hollows, and especially not those disgusting magic-gorged Menos."

Murciélago giggled, still playing with his cero. Harry glanced at him, then asked, "Magic-gorged?"

"They don't feed on happy memories. They feed on magic and souls. The removal of happiness and promotion of fear is simply their hollow abilities. It seems a magical being will emit more magic when they are stressed than content."

"And the Patronus Charm?" He had been researching it, but had been mostly unsuccessful thus far.

"The happy memory simply removes the wizard from the fear, and allows him to re-gather the magic he had been releasing. The Patronus itself, I suspect, is simply pure magic, and gives the hollow something else to feed upon. If my theory is correct, then meditation will work just as well as a happy memory."

Great. Meditation.

"Is there anything else?" Harry asked, ready to leave. Ulquiorra was silent for a moment, and then answered.

"Recall the day that Dumbledore questioned you about your whereabouts. I advised you to avoid eye-contact. He was trying to enter your mind, and if I had fought him off, he would have noticed. I suspect that there is another way for you to defend your mind. Research it, and research methods of mind probing. That is all."

Murciélago giggled again. "Catch!" he exclaimed, tossing the ball of energy to Harry. Instinctively, Harry caught it, gasping as it sank into his flesh. His body tingled painfully, then seemed to go back to normal.

"What was that?" he asked, checking himself for unseen injuries. It was as if nothing had happened.

"A little Christmas present, from me to you. If you need it, just say the magic word. It should obey you well enough. You're not quite ready to learn it on your own, though, little master." He grinned wickedly. "You might just…be consumed."

/\/\/\/\/\

By the end of the winter holidays, Harry had managed to produce copious amounts of pearly white mist, but had not achieved a corporeal patronus. He had brewed a few muscle-relaxing potions, as a result of his daily exertions, but otherwise, his days passed quietly. He had discovered the branch of magic that Dumbledore had been using. Legilimency, the ability to delve into minds, and Occlumency, the ability to protect one's mind from such attacks, were fascinating arts, and Harry absorbed the theory with relative enthusiasm. It involved a great deal of mental concentration, and meditation, which Harry found himself doing more and more often. He found that gathering his thoughts became easier with each passing day, and meditation was no longer so much of a chore. He had an excellent motivation, after all.

Adjusting back to days of classes was more difficult than he thought it would be. He was no longer free to read or practice spellwork at his leisure, and fitting in time to sneak away and practice was difficult. He took to waking early, disappearing to the Chamber to perform his exercises, and simply fit meditation into small quiet moments during the day. After dinner, he quickly finished his assignments and then studied his own books until he fell asleep from exhaustion.

"You're becoming a bookworm," Draco taunted on occasion, but Harry would merely stare at him for a moment and go back to whatever he was doing.

He spent a few lessons observing Lupin, figuring out the best way to approach him. He had found many records of detentions for all or some combination of the four friends, and a small article in an archived Daily Prophet about the unlikely friendship between the scion of the House of Black and that of the House of Potter. There was also another that announced the wedding of James Potter to Lily Evans, with much fuss about her lineage, and a photo that included his parents, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin, and a few others, smiling happily. Every so often, the image of James would thoroughly kiss the image of Lily, much to the gathered friends' delight. Harry made copies of the articles.

The next day, when Lupin dismissed class, he lingered behind, waiting until everyone had left before approaching Lupin's desk. The tired and unkempt man looked up, an oddly hopeful expression on his face.

Harry bit his lip, building a façade of shyness. He glanced into Lupin's amber eyes and looked away quickly. "I guess you knew my parents," he almost whispered. He slipped the marriage article onto the table. Lupin smiled at him encouragingly and glanced at the clipping, paling slightly when he saw the photo.

"Yes," he said gently. "I was friends with both James and Lily, although I knew James for longer." He traced the edge of the paper. "Those were happier times."

"Could you…tell me about them?"

Lupin smiled again, this time, a tinge of loss in his features. "Of course, Mr. Potter. Would you like a cup of tea? I believe my office would be better suited for this conversation."

Harry nodded, and followed Lupin to his office. He sat quietly, and whispered his thanks for the cup of tea Lupin set in front of him. They sat in silence for a long moment, and then Lupin cleared his throat and began to speak.

"I'm sure you've been told this before, Mr. Potter, but you look very like your father. Your eyes, though, are pure Lily. They were some of the finest people I have ever met, and extraordinarily gifted in magic."

Harry looked up at Lupin slowly. "You…" he began. Lupin looked at him expectantly. "You could call me Harry…if you want, I mean…"

This time, when Lupin smiled, it was full of bright warmth. "Thank you…Harry. If you would like, you may call me Remus in private. If things had not gone so awfully badly, we might have been as close as family."

Harry smiled, hiding a feeling of triumph. His act was working perfectly.

Lupin took a long sip of his tea, then said, "Yes, they were very gifted, much like yourself. Your father especially enjoyed transfiguration. He had the right kind of practical creativity. Your mother preferred charms and runes. She liked the complexity of spells, and once you got her started on experimental theory, she wouldn't stop until she had exhausted herself with excitement." He took another long sip. "Now, when they first met, Lily instantly disliked James, and he fell in love at the first sight. It took six long years and a lot of growing up for Lily to finally agree to go out with James. Once she gave him a chance, she realized just how much she hadn't known about him. They married just a month after graduating."

"What were they like?" Harry asked, knowing that the child he was supposed to be would want to know.

Lupin smiled fondly. "James was a real troublemaker. Nothing he did was quiet or small, and once he decided you were his friend, that was it. You were friends for life. He had a friendly smile for everyone. Well," he said, hesistating, "except for the Slytherins, but in later years, he matured past those childish rivalries. I'm sure he'd be very proud of you, no matter what house you are in."

Harry smiled tentatively. "And my mum?"

"She was beautiful and kind, and she hated the house rivalries. In fact, one of her best friends was in Slytherin. She was fair to everyone, and she was one of the top students in every class. She was an incredible woman, and I know she loved you very much."

Harry sat quietly for a moment, wondering if Lily had ever shared her worries about him with this man.

He glanced at the photo on Lupin's desk, then said, quietly but clearly enough that Lupin couldn't pretend to haven't heard him, "What about Sirius Black?"

Lupin seemed to choke. "What about him?"

"He's in that picture. And…" Harry lay the article about the Potter/Black friendship on the desk as well.

Lupin was quiet for a long moment. "Yes, Black was a friend of ours as well. He…some people aren't born evil, Harry. He was a good man, once."

"He betrayed my parents," Harry said quietly, and put a hint of a question in the words.

"I don't claim to understand his motives," Lupin said, just as quietly, "but he was born in a family that supported Voldemort until the end. Perhaps he thought he could finally find approval, or perhaps he was afraid, as we all were. You cannot understand just how much fear…it was a dark time, a hopeless time, for everyone." Lupin set his lips in a grim line. "No one knew who to trust."

"What about Pettigrew?" Harry asked.

"A good man, and a good friend, if a little shy. It is a shame that Sir—Black killed him." Lupin frowned for a moment. "I never thought things would turn out as they did." He shook himself from his reverie. "But this isn't the time for such unhappy thoughts. Isn't there anything else you'd like to know about James and Lily? Or perhaps you'd like to wait for another day?"

Harry nodded. "I have some school work to do," he said, and excused himself.

/\/\/\/\/\

Sirius hadn't been lying about the friendship, it seemed. He reread the letter. A pureblood "blood traitor". There were a few of those in the school, but he doubted many had pet rats. He would scout about to see who it could be.

/\/\/\/\/\

Acquiring the rat had been one of the easiest things he had done in a long while. A simple accio while the Weasley boy wasn't paying attention was enough. He had quickly bound the rat and slipped it in his pocket, and slipped down to the Chamber while everyone ate dinner. He placed the rat on the ground, still bound, and scratched a few runes into the ground around it in a rough square with his wand. He recited a simple ward. It acted like a cage, without stopping magic from going in and out.

He removed the bindings and forced Pettrigrew to become human again, watching with mild fascination as the rat grew and stretched, losing fur and gaining human features. His skin was grey and dull, and he was balding and unkempt, with the look of a man who had lost too much weight too quickly. His baggy skin shook with fear as he realized he was trapped.

"Harry!" he said, surprised, putting his hands against the edge of the ward. His eyes darted around, and sweat beaded on his temples. "You—you've saved me! All these years, I've hidden—"

"Be quiet," Harry commanded, and Pettigrew was silent. Harry stared into the man's eyes, letting the world fall away. "Legilimens."

He found himself in a rat's nest of thoughts and feelings, fear, guilt, self-hatred, shock. Snippets of conversation and flashes of images came, a storm of fragmented memory.

"You killed them! Tra-"

"-very pleased, my loyal ser-"

"-say hi to Wormtail, Harry, won't you sa-"

It was overwhelming, and he fought to keep his identity as the mind of the other man swamped him. He forced himself back into the real world, clutching his head and recoiling. His head pounded viciously, as though he had beaten it against a wall. Lingering fear made his heart race, and his breath came in forced gasps. He opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed.

Pettigrew was on the ground, arms around his head and whimpering loudly, visibly shaking even harder than before.

"Please, don't hurt me!" he cried out.

Harry stunned him and sat down, slowly recuperating. He slipped into his own mind, wanting to get away from that helpless feeling that ruled Pettigrew's thoughts.

"That was pathetic," Ulquiorra said. He glared at Harry, a pinched look in his own face, as though he, too, was in pain. "Why are you wasting time with that trash?"

Harry fought the urge to scowl. "At least I can practice on him. It was my first attempt at legilimency. He could have information, too."

Murciélago stepped out of the caved, giggling, and made pleading eyes towards Ulquiorra. "Aww, can't we keep it, though? It's cute, in a stupid, cowardly way. It'll make a nice pet to experiment on."

Ulquiorra frowned. "Take care that he does not escape."

"He will not. I can wipe his memories when I am done."

"And Black?" Ulquiorra's eyes were cold and calculating.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I suppose he would simply be let free once Pettigrew is discovered. In the meantime, he has avoided the Dementors well enough on his own."

"He will want to be your guardian. He is your godfather."

Harry was silent. "I will think about this," he said, his mind working furiously.

Ulquiorra unsheathed his sword. "Then let us spar. Do you remember what I taught you last time?"

Harry unsheathed his own sword. "Of course," he said, and their blades clashed.

/\/\/\/\/\

"You've failed me again, Wormtail," Master said, his red eyes boring into him, gleaming in the firelight.

"I'm so-so-sorry M-master," Wormtail whimpered, unable to lower his small and watery eyes from the Dark Lord's gaze. He winced as his master roughly entered his mind.

Lily, very pregnant, waddling into the Order meeting, James hovering protectively at her side.

Dumbledore, smiling benignly, calming the frantic and helpless air of the meeting.

Mad Eye, eyeing Peter suspiciously as sweat beaded on the younger man's forehead.

"For the sake of the Wizarding world, you must go into hiding. It could be either of your children," Dumbledore said, softly, sadly. Alice and Lily, frowns etched into the corners of their mouths, nodded. Alice rubbed her swollen middle protectively.

"But what is it that makes the children a threat to him, Albus?" That was Frank, worry in his tone.

"I'm afraid I can't say. It would make their situation even more dangerous."

"We'll need Secret Keepers," Alice said, and the others nodded.

Lily was crying, but quietly. James held her close, and turned his gaze to Dumbledore.

"You said that the Fidelius Charm was unbreakable!"

"The strength of the Charm lies in the loyalty of the Secret Keeper," he began, but Lily cut him off.

"He was the most loyal man I've ever known! He would never have told—"

"Alas, even the fiercest of loyalties can be broken, my dear. Never underestimate the power of torture on the human soul. What happened to Alice and Frank was tragic indeed."

Sirius paced back and forth, snarling under his breath. "I'm too obvious," he said, and James looked like he wanted to agree. There was a moment of silence, and then eyes turned towards Peter.

The Dark Lord laughed and laughed, malice tainting his glee. Wormtail shook, guilt swamping him.

"It seems you haven't failed me after all. When will the exchange be made?"

"October twenty-third, milord."

"Then I shall strike on the thirty-first. An auspicious day, is it not? All Hallows' Eve."

Harry removed himself from Pettigrew's mind, shaking off the lingering feelings of guilt and self-loathing. The man's emotions weren't supposed to affect him so much. He took several deep breaths, and then forced the man to look into his eyes once more.

"Legilimens!"

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry rubbed his temples as he struggled to pay attention in Transfiguration. His wooden goblet was only slightly transparent, nowhere near the clear crystal he needed it to be. He took several deep breaths and cleared his mind, and then imagined the transformation he needed to happen. He tried the spell again, and this time, he succeeded…only to wince as the goblet shattered loudly, fragments going in every direction. A bit cut his cheek, and he flinched.

"Mr. Potter, are you quite alright? That is the third time you've failed a transfiguration this month," McGonagall asked, her mouth in a stern frown.

"I'm fine, professor," Harry said, waving his wand and muttering, "Reparo." The goblet reformed, but soon crumbled, becoming just a pile of fine sand on his desk.

"Obviously not," she said wryly. "Off to the infirmary with you, lad."

Harry sighed and got up, ignoring the stares from his classmates. Ordinarily, he never failed transfiguring one object to another. He walked to towards the door.

"I'll be checking with Madame Pomfrey, so don't think you can just go back to your dormitory!" McGonagall called after him, and he nodded, stepping into the hallway. He made his way to the Hospital Wing, feeling faint and dizzy.

It was probably the legilimency. Each time he entered the sniveling man's head, he felt absolutely awful afterwords. It got easier each time, but the combined effects made his head pound and his stomach churn. He wasn't getting much sleep, either, and his food intake was less than ideal. He had been taking a few Wit-Sharpening potions, and the stuff for his muscles…

The last thing he saw was the cold, stone floor before the world went black.

/\/\/\/\/\

"What's wrong with him?" Murciélago asked, prodding the sleeping boy.

"A combination of unhealthy behaviors," Ulquiorra said, narrowing his eyes at Harry's unconscious form. "He was acting like…trash."

"An idiot, as usual," Murciélago giggled, stroking Harry's face. "He's so cute when he's sleeping."

Ulquiorra ignored the remark, wondering how he could have missed the signs that his master was falling ill. Despite his powers and intelligence, a boy was still a boy, with mental and physical needs and limits.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Will he be alright?" Dumbledore asked Madame Pomfrey. She sighed.

"Yes, of course he will be alright. As far as potion mix-ups go, this was a minor case. The only reason it hit him so hard is that he was suffering from exhaustion, too. He needs rest, food, and a lesson on taking too many potions."

"Which potions were involved?"

"The Wit Sharpening potion, which is fairly standard, although I usually see more Ravenclaws in here because of that. It doesn't seem he was taking it too much, but he was also taking a muscle relaxant, and a few ingredients reacted with each other badly. He would have had headaches, muscle pain, and a lack of concentration, which, ironically, is exactly the opposite purpose of the potions."

The Headmaster wondered what, exactly, Harry was doing to make him take those potions.

"When will he be ready for class again?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, whenever he wakes up. It depends on how long he's been taking the potions. Within a week's time, for sure. He simply needs to get rid of the potions in his system."

"I see."

Pomfrey shook her head. "Poor boy. All that stress about Black, I'm sure. I'll be glad when this whole mess is over with."

"I as well, my dear," he said, and wondered what Harry really knew about Sirius Black.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry opened his eyes, feeling as though he was rising out of a cloud of darkness. His eyes met black and yellow ones. He could barely feel shock through his daze.

"Finally!" Murciélago said. He was straddled around Harry's waist, with his elbows sharply digging into his chest. A bit of blood dripped from his scar onto Harry's nose. "You've been asleep for five days!"

"Five?" The hollow child got off of him, and Harry sat up.

"Yes," said Ulquiorra, a frigid edge to his normally calm tone. "Your inability to maintain your body has brought unwanted attention on you. This oversight is unacceptable."

Harry looked down, and then met the other's gaze again. "I apologize," he said. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed.

"Apologies mean nothing. Go. There is much to be done, and you have done no one a favor with your idiotic actions."

His inner world faded as Ulquiorra's glowing green eyes bored into him.

He inhaled, keeping his eyes closed, filling his nose with sharp odor of potions and sanitation. He was in the infirmary, he realized, and felt about for people. The nurse was away, likely in her office, and no one else was currently in her care. That was a rarity, he knew, and he opened his eyes and sat up, intending to escape before she could lecture him on the proper usage of potions. He heard her office door open and cursed internally. Of course, she likely had spells that alerted her when her patients were awake.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, good to see that you have recovered!"

Harry was silent, eying the door. Madame Pomfrey tutted, scanning him with her wand.

"It seems that the potions you consumed are completely out of your system now. Mr. Potter, are you aware that the combination of Wit Sharpening and muscle relaxing potions is extremely unwise? I—"

"The armadillo bile and the crushed rattlesnake spleen, I realize. I overlooked it, but I will be more careful in the future."

"Not only that, Mr. Potter," she said with pursed lips. "You came in quite exhausted and overworked. I'm afraid that you will have to come in for regular checkups until I see that you have been treating yourself correctly."

"With all due respect, Madame," he began to argue.

"I will not discuss this, Mr. Potter. Now, I understand that you must be very stressed with Sirius Black still on the loose, but that is no excuse to let yourself go. You will come here every Saturday morning, and you will eat properly and sleep for at least nine hours every night."

Harry was silent, and then nodded. "May I leave?"

The nurse sighed. "Very well. Do talk with your teachers so that you may catch up with your peers. I suggest that you either take only one of the two potions you were consuming, or perhaps find an alternative for one that isn't counterproductive."

"Yes Madame," Harry replied, and gathered his wand from the nightstand. He nodded curtly and left, frowning.

Five days…what had happened to Pettigrew? By the light outside, it seemed that it was dinner time, or near then. He made his way toward the girl's loo, and went into the Chamber.

Pettigrew was still alive, it seemed. He sat very still in the middle of his cage, occasionally licking his lips. His water pitcher was empty, and his skin was even more unhealthy-looking that normal. Relieved, Harry refilled his pitcher, ignoring the squeak of fear that the small man made as he approached. Pettigrew crawled towards the filled pitcher, and, not daring to glance at Harry, took the pitcher in his hands and drank deeply. Water sloshed out, soaking the front of his shirt, but he ignored it, drinking all of the contents of the pitcher and setting it down again. Harry refilled it again with a silent aguamenti, but Peter slunk off into a corner of his cage, gnawing on his nails.

Reassured that his plans hadn't been ruined, Harry made his way back to the Great Hall.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Expecto Patronum," Harry stated, his mind firmly under his control. Magic exploded out of the tip of his wand, shifting and stretching to form a large, pearly white bat. It flapped its wings almost lethargically, as if it knew that, as a being of pure magic, it didn't need to make such mundane motions to lift from the ground. It flew around the Chamber, and then returned to Harry, cocking its head as if waiting for a command.

Harry was reminded of Murciélago, and for a brief moment, expected the patronus to speak with his child tones and acid words. Instead, it seemed to take his silence as a dismissal, and simply dissipated, leaving no trace of its having ever been there.

Triumph filled him, and he reveled in the accomplishment. It had been a long and arduous process, learning how to gather his magic and force it into shape. He could see how using a happy memory would help, but his every attempt using that method had failed utterly. He could not think of a memory powerful enough to catalyze the process.

He wondered if the actual presence of a Dementor would hinder his ability to produce a patronus, and decided that he would practice the technique until he could do it at a moment's notice. Clearing his thoughts and pulling together his magic, he incanted once more.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry kept his curses to himself as he heard about Black breaking into the Gryffindor dormitories. The end of January had come and gone, and he had forgotten about Black's situation. He must have assumed that I had destroyed his letter, Harry thought, trying to block out the sounds of his whispering housemates.

Although he wanted the Dementors gone, and Peter had outlived his usefulness (his feeble mind having broken under the strain of so many brutal and inexperienced rummaging-throughs), he didn't want anyone to have any legitimate guardianship over him. The Dursleys didn't count; they allowed him to do as he pleased. Black he wasn't so sure about.

But Black clearly cared for him, and thus, he could be manipulated. He was powerful: magically, as the only man to have escaped from Azkaban, and politically, as the only heir to the infamous Black lineage. If he could be persuaded to vacation in Japan…but no, there would have to be a reason for Harry disappearing for hours on end.

Harry wasn't sure how to proceed. If, perhaps, he could meet with the man, he could calculate the best way forward, but that was hardly likely to happen. He was certain the man wouldn't harm him, but finding a way to sneak out of the building—

Harry smiled a satisfied smile. There was a simple way for him to sneak out of the building. Slytherin's hidden passage emerged very near the wizarding village of Hogsmeade. He would have the outlaw meet him at the edge of the forest, and give him an ultimatum: allow Harry to do as he pleased and support him politically, and go free, or stay at large and never speak to his best friend's son again. He was certain the man would choose the former.

He would have to implement the plan soon, and use the time before then to practice his patronus and his zanpakutou techniques on the Dementors before they left. Perhaps he could even feed Peter's soul to one. It would be interesting to see exactly how it was that they devoured the wizard's soul and left his body intact.

/\/\/\/\/\

It was gruesome, even for him. The rattling, sucking efforts of the Dementor literally tore the soul from its body, swallowing it head first until only the chain dangled from its gaping mouth, and then snapping the chain. The body screamed and writhed in the process, still feeling pain until the cord that attached it to its soul was severed. Disgusted, Harry swung his blade at the Dementor, neatly slicing it in two. It disappeared, cleansed of its sins.

He allowed his bat patronus to disappear, and then sank back into his body. It had been difficult to separate himself from his material shell at first, but repeated attempts and many bruises later, he could do it on command. Swishing his wand, he made Peter's living corpse trail after him as he returned to the Chamber.

It was a matter of convenience, he thought to himself. Even obliviation charms could be broken, and so having Peter's soul be consumed would secure his less-than-Gryffindor doings more than any wand-waving technique. He hadn't realized just how inhumane the process was, but he brushed it off as inconsequential. He tried to ignore the thought that Orihime would have been horrified by his actions.

Can you be sure that the end justifies the means?

Harry didn't have an answer for his zanpakutou.

/\/\/\/\/\

Sirius Black,

I am writing to tell you that I believe you. I have captured Pettigrew. He is not a threat any longer. However, there are several things that I must discuss with you. Are you willing to meet me at the edge of the Forbidden Forest by the Shrieking Shack? If so, send a time and date.

I will be looking for a large, black dog. You will be looking for a silver bat. It is my patronus. It will lead you to me. I will be alone.

What I have stated above is true, on my magic.

Harry Potter

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry,

You must be as crazy as your father to be sneaking out with Dementors on the loose. It's good to hear you have a patronus. That must be Lily in you—she was always good at Charms.

You captured Peter? Is that why he wasn't in the Gryffindor's room? Makes sense, I guess.

I am more than willing to meet you, Harry. Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade weekend, I heard Rosmerta say, so that's out. The 13th, then, around noon. Make sure no one is looking for you. Bring food.

I'd trust you even if you didn't swear, but I swear on my magic that I will not harm you.

Sirius Black

Harry raised an eyebrow. The last sentence, even the part about trusting him, was written in blood. Harry's oath had been a formality. Sirius's was binding. Harry wondered where he had gotten parchment and a quill, but there were several shops in Hogsmeade that a stray could conceivably pilfer from. He set the letter down, and began to meditate.

"This is reckless."

Harry frowned. He had thought of everything, but yes, it was reckless. He was betting everything on his predictions, but he was very sure that the predictions were right.

"He swore on his magic."

Ulquiorra was silent. He gazed up at the moon, his pale features nearly glowing.

"What does harm mean to a man who spent twelve years in the presence of Dementors?"

"I can protect myself—"

"You cannot be sure. You don't know his level of skill."

"I'm already dead. He can't—"

Ulquiorra fixed him with an icy stare. "You are alive until your body ceases to accept your soul. Death is irreversible. You can still be harmed. Wounds of the flesh become wounds of the spiritual body, and those of the spiritual body become those of the flesh."

"Still," Harry persisted, "I am certain that he will cooperate."

"He is not to be trusted."

"Of course," Harry said, and they were in agreement.

/\/\/\/\/\

The walk through the tunnel was long, but not unpleasant, as the floor yielded nicely to his footsteps. He lifted the stone entrance and closed it behind him, then wrapped his invisibility cloak around himself and stepped out into the snowy forest. He had dispatched any Dementors that came near the area, and they soon learned to avoid it. He walked briskly towards the Shrieking Shack, scanning the snow-covered landscape for Black's animagus form. A big, black blur huddled on the leeward side of the house, obviously miserable.

Controlling his thoughts and concentrating on his magic, he whispered, "Expecto patronum," and watched as his silvery bat fluttered towards the dog. Black looked up, sprang to his feet, and barked, tail wagging furiously.

Harry walked back through the snow into the forest to a small clearing he had marked out before. He cleared away the snow and cast a warming charm. Soon, his Patronus caught up with him, and Black followed obediently. He entered the clearing and sat, tail thumping on the ground, looking around expectantly. Harry removed his cloak.

For a moment, all the dog could do was stare. Then, in a smooth and practiced motion, he jumped up and morphed into his human form. He stepped closer to Harry, his wind-whipped face so full of hope and pain that Harry almost felt pity.

"Harry…" he said, and a tear fell down his face.

"Sirius Black."

There was a long silence, awkward and still. Harry slipped a hand into his pocket, and removed a small bag.

"Engorgio," he said, and the bag returned to its original size, bigger around then his arms could hold. He set it down and opened it. It was full of sacked meals, enough to feed a person for a month, each under stasis and preservation charms. He tossed one at Black, who barely managed to catch it.

"It's food," Harry said, and Black looked at him with such pathetic gratefulness that Harry had to look away. He heard the sack being ripped open, and then ravenous chewing.

Harry sat down and turned to watch Black devour the meat pie. He bit savagely into the apple, which was gone in five bites, and then washed everything down with a bottle of pumpkin juice. He wiped his sleeve across his face and sighed.

"Nothing like a solid meal after all those rats," he said, and then grinned. "But tearing the damn things apart did bring some satisfaction."

"Rats are…disgusting creatures," Harry agreed.

"Speaking of rats...you really caught Pettigrew?"

Harry nodded once, and watched Black's reaction.

He glanced around as though expecting to see him behind a tree, his bearded, worn face flashing through emotions as carelessly as a child. "Where is he?"

"He's in a safe place. I can choose to expose him and let you go free…or I can choose to destroy him, the last evidence of your innocence."

The look on Black's face was almost comical, a mixture of shock, fear, and rampant confusion. Then, as though a switch were being turned, his features were carefully schooled into a neutral expression. The damage was done, though. They both knew who had the upper hand.

"What are your terms?"

"I need freedom of movement, under the guise of your guardianship. I need to be able to go anywhere and do as I must, without interference, no questions asked. In other words, I need your complete loyalty and service: an oath of Fealty"

Black smiled grimly, and said, "I can see why the Hat put you in Slytherin. I have no choice but to accept, of course. I would rather be free, and in your service, than an outlaw, accused of a crime I would never have committed."

"Good. I thought as much. Shall we swear?"

Black nodded, and held out his hand, dropping to one knee. Harry reached out and clasped it firmly, ignoring his distaste of touch.

"I, Sirius Cygnus Black, do swear upon my magic, Fealty to one Harry James Potter, to serve him with loyalty and respect."

"I, Harry James Potter, do accept Sirius Cygnus Black as my vassal, and resolve to be a fair and just Lord, upon my magic."

A rope of smoke wound around their hands and sank into their skin. Harry helped Sirius to his feet.

"I'll arrange for your release at once," Harry said. "In the meantime, follow me." Harry reshrank the bag of food and led Sirius toward the tunnel entrance. As he revealed the tunnel and motioned for Black to enter, Black raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I thought we found them all," he said under his breath.

"All of what?" Harry asked, and Black smiled in an odd way – pained, perhaps, or nostalgic.

"All of the hidden passageways out of the castle."

"That is how you got in," Harry stated.

"Yes," Black said, and his smiled faded. "There are seven in all, that we knew of, at least. One leads from the castle grounds to the Shrieking Shack. I've been staying there."

"That close to the school – and to the Dementors? That seems…unwise."

Black barked a harsh laugh. "Unwise! That's me, in a nutshell, kiddo. I just swore fealty to a kid I've not seen in twelve years, who blackmailed me without even a nervous stutter. For all I know, you're delivering me to be kissed and you never found Peter at all."

Harry heard his inner hollow cackling. Honest as a dog.

"The reason you never found this passageway is because it has been hidden for a thousand years, Sirius Black. It leads to the Chamber of Secrets. While your name is cleared, you will be safe and fed within its walls."

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Black exclaimed, shocked. "Were you the one who…?" His eyes were wide.

"No, that was a fragment of Voldemort's soul, which had possessed the body of a young witch. I followed her and found the Chamber. I was the one who removed her from the Chamber and ended her possession. That fragment of soul has been sent to Hell."

Black was silent.

"Understandably, you may have doubts about me," Harry said, "and there is no way for you to know if my story is true. I am not bloodthirsty, Black, but lacking conscience. It is difficult for me to feel emotion. I am sure you remember how I was as an infant."

"The quietest, creepiest baby I ever laid my eyes on," Black muttered.

"There were unique circumstances surrounding my conception. My desire is to restore my mind and emotional core – my heart, so to speak – to its natural state. I have no ambitions of ruling, of domination. A desire for power and knowledge, certainly. But control of others does not appeal to me."

They had reached Slytherin's – or, rather, Harry's – hidden chamber. He opened the door and let Black into the thousand-year-old bedroom, and once again un-shrank the bag of meals.

"There are basic necessities in the adjoining bathroom. There is a hallway with two doors outside of this room. One has a sculpted portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Do not antagonize him, as he is more powerful than an average portrait. He has been told of your presence here. The other leads to a library. If you cannot move or read a book, do not keep trying. This is a Chamber of Secrets for a reason. Feel free to read those which you are able to."

Black nodded, seemingly a bit dazed. With a heavy motion, he sat on the bed, his arms crossed in his obvious discomfort.

"As I was saying, Sirius Black, I am not looking to become a dictator or Dark Lord. My motivation for freeing you is simple: I want to be able to move freely. Once you are freed, I expect you to take action to become my guardian. I will set the stage for this. Then, each summer you will come with me to Japan. You may do as you wish there so long as you don't interfere with my training. While I am at Hogwarts, you may do as you please."

Black looked up at this.

"I'm not just going to ignore you, kiddo. You might not feel emotion, but I do." His eyes were bright and fierce, and Harry could see that emotion was nearly beyond Black's ability to control it. "I was there for your birth. I changed your nappies. I dreamed of you for twelve years in a dank cell, was tortured by the thought that I abandoned you to chase that traitor when I should have taken your from that thrice-damned cottage myself. You'll have your freedom of movement – even if I could say no, I wouldn't – but I won't be just sitting by doing nothing. Whatever it is you need, I'll help. And – and I can teach you to duel. I noticed you didn't say anything about wanting to defeat Voldemort." Here Sirius shuddered as though saying the named chilled him. "But it seems you've already faced him twice, and I know he can't be gone for good, if bits of his soul are still around." The look on his face was pure revulsion. "I heard them in the cells, screaming your name, swearing to take vengeance. Their worst memory is the rest of the world's best – the day the Dark Lord disappeared. We thought he was dead!" He shook his head. "Once he has even a smidgeon of power, he'll break them out. Those that aren't in Azkaban – Lucius Malfoy, chiefly – will be manipulating things against you, and likely have been, from behind the scenes. The Death Eaters and Voldemort will be after you, even if you don't go after them."

From Black's perspective, it would seem as though Harry were staring silently at the wall for nearly a minute. Within his mind, three voices discussed this new development.

"I had not anticipated this," Ulquiorra admitted. "The danger you are in is greater than I realized."

"I'd like to see some Death Eater try to kill us! I'll tear them apart!"

"He was in the last war. He may have been locked away for twelve years, but he knows the Wizarding World better than most. He's a pureblood, the heir to a fortune and scion of an ancient bloodline."

"You planned to manipulate him. Are you considering him an ally instead?"

Harry thought about it. "I have a feeling he will be more valuable as an ally. He is impulsive, but canny. In a few sentences, he made himself invaluable to me, offering to train me and aid me as no other witch or wizard can, given my age and the secrecy of Voldemort's wraith existence. He willingly gave me the upper hand and immediate made the best of his situation."

"He a sly dog, but a loyal dog. He's not gonna turn his back. He loves you." Murciélago giggled. "It's pathetic."

"Love is not a weakness," Ulquiorra stated coldly.

Murciélago giggled again. "If you say sooo!" he singsonged.

"Take his offer," Ulquiorra advised. "An ally is better than a tool."

Harry nodded. "You are wiser than you claim, Sirius Black. I accept your offer, and consider you an ally."

The escapee grinned. "Just call me Sirius, then, Harry, and it's a deal."

Harry attempted a smile. "Very well, Sirius."