Hermione's Logic or Out of the Mouth of a Child

Two quick one-shots on how Hermione asks simple questions to overlooked clues and changes the course of the story. Both are titled.

I'm going solo on theses, so, of course, all mistakes are my own. Remember to review. Though I'm sure this little collection won't get many readers. Also, there is a poll on my updated profile. If you have a minute, cast your vote. It has nothing to do with the story. I'm collecting data to see how you like your stories presented and what makes good stories to you.

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How'd She Get up There?

Summary: How did Mrs. Norris get up on the torch holder?

* is from the book.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox.

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It was their second year at Hogwarts, just another Halloween night and Harry, Hermione and Ron were going to the tower after Nearly Headless Nicks Death Day party. They wonder through the upper floors and stopped when they came across a large puddle of water. Their eyes looked partway up the wall and they saw:

*THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's that thing — hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped — there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it.

All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash. Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.*

They all just stared a minute. "How do you suppose she got up there?" Hermione asked the non-sequestered question, a little fearfully. Her mind jumping on the first thing it could think of.

"Don' know," Ron said, rubbing the side of his nose. "Do you really think that's the important question right now?" He looked at her bemused. Really the cat was insignificant. The fact that the legendary Chamber had been opened was more important.

"Yeah," Harry said, though he was kind of curious as well. "However, I think we'd better get out of here. No telling what people are going to say if we're the only one here." Good thing he carried his Invisibility Cloak with him everywhere now. After his adventures last year, he never wanted to be without it again. So, he had someone charm a pocket in all his clothes to expand to hold it. He was beginning to hate Halloween at Hogwarts, there always seemed to be trouble brewing.

"Yeah," came two replies. They were just barely hearing the students coming from the Great Hall and Harry quickly took out his cloak and pulled his friends to the wall and covered them in it. The rest of the student body was just coming around the corner. The first line of students stopped and stared at the words on the wall.

"Oh, Merlin, do you….."

"What is that?"

"What do you think it…?"

Were the questions being thrown about as the students talked over one another. Harry grabbed his friends' elbows and crept sideways to the back of the crowd. His reasoning: to be seen, but not as the first on the scene. They went around the corner pulled off the cloak.

"I can't believe there was no food at Nick's Death Day Party," He said loudly, hoping his friends caught on. He wanted to make as much noise as a possible.

Ron, bless his heart, picked it up immediately, "Yeah, I'm starved, we shoulda left earlier. I can't believe you made us stay, Harry. Wha' ya do that for?" he inquired loudly.

"Oh, stop complaining, both of you," Hermione said, completing the charade. "It's not like you don't have a ton of candy in your trunk." She stopped at the end of the crowd. "What's going on? Why have you all stopped here?" she asked the crowd, hoping their ploy worked.

Nearly Headless Nick had been floating through the walls completely depressed —his party didn't go as he liked. He had caught on to the children, who had tried to cheer him up earlier, attempting to make an alibi and floated to the front of the crowd. "Oh dear, it looks like someone killed Mrs. Norris," he said, and then looked to the trio standing nervously in the back. "It's a good thing you three were with me, or you might be dead as well. That's what happened to M…" he was cut off as the teachers arrived.

"That is quite enough, Sir Nicolas, let us not frighten the children," Dumbledore had arrived, along with his usual circle of professors: Snape, Flitwick, McGonagall, and even Lockhart.

Filch, the caretaker, had just spied his cat and was screaming accusations at Draco Malfoy, who happened to be in the front of the crowd. The little blond boy had been loudly stating that the 'Mudbloods' would be next. Many of the student body were watching him with distrust in their eyes, something he seemed to take pleasure in.

Dumbledore turned again to the crowd after examining the cat, "It is time for all of you to go your common rooms. Sir Nicolas, would you be as kind as to come with me?" He looked ghost and waited for the nod of conformation, then looked at the trio and Malfoy and added, "You four as well."

"Why us?" Harry asked in a loud voice. "We just got here." His two friends nodded.

"Professor, I don't understand, what could we possible have to say about any of this? We were nowhere near here until just now. We were at Nick's Death Day Party," Hermione said defiantly, miffed at being signaled out in front of the crowd after Harry had done all he could to prevent that. Sometime she wondered if the Headmaster took pleasure in making Harry the center of attention. "Everyone here saw us come in behind them. Plus, Sir Nicolas can verify where we were all night. Are you accusing us of something?" she glared at the twinkly eyed man, who just stood imperiously.

Harry was looking around at the other students, "You guys saw us come in after you, right?" he asked.

There were many nods and yeses as students turned to the Headmaster to confirm that they had indeed seen the trio come in after them, complaining that there had been no food at the party of ghost.

"Nevertheless, I need you to come with me. The rest of you students, please go to your dorms," the Headmaster said with a twinkle in his eyes. He made shooing motions to the crowd and they slowly dispersed, whispering and gossiping the whole way. As the students left, Dumbledore turned to those still there and said, "This way."

And so the four second year students trailed after the barmy old man to the DADA classroom. The teachers, the ghost and Filch went in first and the kids followed reluctantly. Harry was really pissed that Dumbledore was making him the center of attention—again. Well, his friends too. Every time something happened in this school, somehow he and his friends got dragged into it and he was bloody tired of it.

*As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her.*

Draco, *Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.* Malfoy was sneering down his nose at the trio, and then he turned and observed the teachers. *The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking.

Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile.* except when he as looking at his student, then a frown contorted his face.

*And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions. "It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Trans-mogrifian Torture — I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her. …"

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened: She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"… I remember something very similar happening in Oua-gadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once. …" The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all — all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore.*

"Petrified?" exclaimed Draco, who up to this point had been bored with the antics of the teachers and was sneering at Harry. "Who would want to go around petrifying a cat? If I were the Heir of Slytherin I would want to kill the mangy thing just for cluttering up the halls of this school." He folded his arms importantly and stuck his nose in the air.

Filch rose from his chair, his hands prepared to choke the little shit for daring to say that about his precious cat. Dumbledore laid his hands on the man's shoulders and held him back. "Now, Argus, he is just spouting nonsense," the old man said.

"Silence, Draco," came the Potions Professors soft voice from the shadows at the back of the room, "you don't know what you're saying. Keep your peace, you foolish child." Sometimes this little boy was so daft that Snape had no idea how he became Slytherin.

"Now, Severus, it is only child boosting. Do not fret so," Dumbledore mused, letting go of the caretaker and looking at the stiff cat. He turned back to Filch and said, "Take her to the Hospital Wing and tell Poppy the mandrakes will be mature a few months for the restoration potion. She can then…"

*"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep —"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school,"

There was a very awkward pause.*

Filch finally stood, glared accusingly at young Malfoy, took his precious cat and left the room with her.

"Headmaster, why are we here?" Hermione asked again, still confused. The boys nodded, equally confused.

"I will be with you in just a minute, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, a bit abruptly. He then turned to the blond Slytherin. "Mr. Malfoy? It is my understanding that you were spouting vile names at your fellow students. May I ask why you would do so when it is clearly against school policy?" Dumbledore asked, disappointed look on his face, but that thrice-damned twinkle was still in his eyes.

Draco looked at the aged man a minute. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor. I was as scared and confused as everyone. What I would like to know why Potter and his friends weren't at the feast. Isn't it mandatory?" he asked with a smirk, turning everyone's attention away from him and to his enemy.

Professor Snape was giving a silent applause in his head for such quick thinking. Perhaps he should be in Slytherin after all, the man thought.

"We were at the Death Day party. Right, Nick? Not our fault he died on Halloween," Ron snapped, defending his friends quickly. "We're starved, there wasn't any food there. But hundreds of ghosts saw us, even Moaning Myrtle." He was desperate to get the blame off of them.

"You should know you made her cry," Sir Nicolas scolded, he then turned to the waiting professors. "They were all at the party. I was remiss in not informing them that they should have eaten before they attended, nevertheless, they were there. They only left five minutes before we came upon the crowd of students. They stayed behind to cheer me up. Party crashers, you know. I should be used it, it happens every year," the nearly headless ghost sighed, depressed again. He was gaining sympathetic looks from the three second year Gryffindors.

"Ah, yes, I remember the same from my youth. Very well then, you three may leave," the Headmaster smiled at Harry, who just glared at him a minute and then the children left the room in a great hurry, still not sure why they had been signaled out in the first place. But that was a mystery they wouldn't solve until their sixth year.

"I still want to know how Mrs. Norris got up on the torch holder," Hermione mused as they walked through the empty halls, not liking unanswered puzzles and determined to solve this one.

"Why is that so important?" Harry asked, not understanding this girl's priorities sometimes.

"Well, think about it. If something came along and froze her. Then that something had to have opposable thumbs to put her up on the holder. Of course, they would have to have those anyway, to write on the wall. But, why?" she asked, pushing her bushy hair away from her face, frustration clear in her voice.

"Well," Ron started, scratching his head in thought, "she could have jumped in fright or something and got caught there." His mind pictured the cat jumping and getting suck. It seemed logical to him.

Hermione gave him a rather doubtful look. "It might be possible, yes, but highly unlikely. I am also wondering about the elevation of the holder. It could be anyone. However, an adult would have hung her on the torch above the words —not below it. With that clue and how high the words were on the wall, we are probably looking for a student," she deduced, as she ran the thought through her head.

"It could have been Peeves," suggested Nearly Headless Nick, who had ghosted besides them, "He is always making mischief." He nodded his head firmly and it of course, teetered to the right. To him all mischief-making that happened in these walls could usually be blamed on that poltergeist.

"I suppose that's true," Hermione conceded with a nod to the ghost. "I'm probably just making too much of it. But if there is a monster in the castle that is going around petrifying people, or in this case, animals, then it truly might be a clue as to who it is." She still remembered almost dying at the hands of a troll on this very night one year ago.

"I think Hermione it right, it's a student and from the height of the letters and Mrs. Norris—it's someone close to our age," Harry concluded, his mind had not paid close attention to the conversation after Hermione made that statement.

Hermione beamed at him, "Thank you, Harry. That is my reasoning exactly. Now all we have to do is figure out who else in our year wasn't at the party." She quickly gave him a firm hug.

The trio went to bed, all thinking on who it could be. They would have to ask everyone who was at the feast and who wasn't. This turned out to be a relatively easy task, the only other two who were not there were Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. They brought their findings to McGonagall one evening right before curfew.

"Professor, we have a theory about who petrified Mrs. Norris," Hermione started, after they entered her office. They had waited until they were sure they were correct, so the teacher wouldn't blow them off this time. They hoped.

"And what makes you think that you would know something the professors here do not?" the stern woman replied, looking over her glasses at her most second most troublesome group of students, the twins, Ron's brothers, being her first.

"Ya know, Professor, it was the same thing you said to us last year, when we came to you about someone stealing the stone. It turned out we were right then. Not sure why you keep doubting us," Ron said in a firm voice, but with a confused look on his face. Don't adults ever learn? he wondered.

The woman looked thoughtful for a moment, "Very well, tell me what you think, and if I feel it needs to be passed on then I will let the Headmaster know." She folded her hands and placed them on her desk. She would hear them out, but she had little doubt they actually were correct in anything. They were only children.

The other two looked at Harry, who sighed and stated, "Well, we were wondering who put Mrs. Norris on the torch holder. We figured from the tallness of the words and the holder, it must be someone our age. So we did some asking around and found that the only other two who weren't at the feast was Miss Lovegood, a first year Ravenclaw, and Ginny." He nodded firmly and folded his arms in a manner that suggested that she should not question them.

"Are you trying to get your own sister in trouble Mr. Weasley?" the Transfiguration Professor asked, turning her tight gaze to the youngest male Weasley.

"Of course not. Don't be daft —ummm, sorry," he said sheepishly, realizing who he was talking to. "But there's something wrong with Ginny. She's not doing anything but mooning at Harry here and writing in a black diary. I'm not sure where she got that book either. Mum didn't buy if for her. She looks terrible, her hair is all uncombed and there are dark circles under her eyes," Ron said, looking pleadingly at his Head of House and hoping she would do her job and help his sister. "When we asked where she was that night, she said she didn't remember. Looney, I mean Lovegood, was locked in her dorm. She said the nargles did it. But some of her dorm mates confirmed that's where she was. Makes me worry about Ginny even more, what with her not remembering anything." There were lines of worry etched on his young face.

McGonagall frowned at that. She thought over what they were telling her and finally broke the silence by saying, "Very well, I will pass your message on to the Headmaster. However, you three keep out of this from now on. Don't go around spreading any rumors. We will take care of it. Now go back to your dorms." She made shooing motions with her hands and got up from her chair.

The three did as they were told. "You know, Hermione, it's a good thing you like to ask questions," Ron said. "Don't think the adults ever ask enough anymore."

"Thanks Ron, I'll remember this for the next time you call me crazy for asking something," she replied giving him a hug. Hermione was happy with this praise from the usually complaining redhead.

Because of these questions Ginny was found with the Diary and to have hung Mrs. Norris on the holder. The staff couldn't get the Chamber of Secrets reopened, because she didn't remember where it was. The Diary was unhelpful and finally destroyed. No students were harm. Malfoy lost face to the student body. And the Basilisk was never found. Harry had a good year.

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Thus ends the first one-shot, and now on to the second.

That Can't Be What Happened

Summary: Someone questions how Peter survived the blasting curse that killed the muggles and had enough time to cut his finger, turn into a rat and disappear without injury.

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Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were in the Shrieking Shack with two Professors, a rat-turned-man and an escaped convict. The convict in question was explaining how he had been framed for the murder of, and by, the said rat-turned-man.

"…Just before he transformed," said convict, keeping Ron's wand pointed at the traitor, but trying to tell the story from his point of view. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats. …"

"Wait, what?" Hermione interrupted the man, confusion in her voice. Her logical mind was finding fault in that one statement. "How did he survive the blast, and how did he have time to cut off his finger then transform and then scurry down the sewers? I mean, think about it. If he blasted the street, then even with a shield, he would have been thrown several feet away or seriously injured. You didn't mention any other spells, except the blasting spell. His finger was found right next to the hole in the ground. You didn't even mention he cut his finger. None of that makes sense." she pushed her hair away from her face in frustration. She hated sketchy descriptions.

"Hermione is right," Harry agreed with a nod. He had seen enough explosions on the telly to know that nothing stays around the area of the blast. "He would have been thrown away from the explosion."

"Are you sure that's what you saw?" Hermione questioned the very dirty man in the torn and equally dirty prison garb.

"Of course I know that's what I saw, the whole thing played on my mind for twelve years. Over and over and over; again and again and again," Sirius Black replied with a crazed bite to his voice, put out from being questioned when all he wanted to do is kill the rat. He raised his stolen wand to do just that.

"No, Sirius, wait. They're correct when you think about it. Here, let me stun Peter and we'll suss this out," Remus stayed his friend's hand, once more. He cast a stunning spell on rat-turned-man and turned back to the conversation. "Now, try and remember, Peter is running from you," he started the turn of events as it ran like a picture in his head. "Then he turns in the middle of a Muggle street and starts yelling that you killed Harry's parents, which might be when he cut his finger off. That is when you said he cast the blasting hex and blew up the street. Right there is where you must be muddled, because the students are correct, if he did blast the street from behind his back, he would have flown straight at you," he surmised with a shake of his head.

Sirius just thumped onto the ground in confusion, the stolen wand now in his lap. He knew what he saw, didn't he? Well, his was kinda out of it with anger and depression at the time, and after Peter disappeared, he was beyond hysterical. Did he see what he saw? Was he remembering it right? Beside with magic anyone could have changed his memories. He hadn't been paying attention to who did what to him between the time he saw the rat disappear and him waking up in Azkaban.

The shack groaned and Ron groaned with it, his leg still hurt from when the crazed killer had pulled him and his rat, Scabbers, into tunnel that lead to the most haunted house in England. Now he was trapped with said killer, his most hated professor, Scabbers-turned-Pettigrew and another professor that could turn into a werewolf at any minute. He and his best friends were in great danger and all they wanted to talk about was semantics. Barmy, the lot of them, he thought as moved his leg, causing it to ache. He groaned again in pain and his eyes fixed on Lupin brimming with worry. If this man turned, they were dead and with his injured leg he would be first.

Hermione looked at her hurting friend and saw him eye Lupin, like the professor was going to bite him at any minute. It reminded her that Professor Snape said that the werewolf hadn't taken his potion and the full moon was rising. "Professor Lupin, you either need to check to see if Professor Snape brought your potion or you need to get out of this shack before you kill us all or worse —turn us," she said in a shaky voice.

"Oh Merlin," the greying man said and rushed to check to see if the Potions Master had his potion on him. He didn't.

"Oh Merlin," echoed the trio when he came up emptyhanded, now very frightened.

"I've got to go, Sirius… Sirius… SIRIUS… snap out of it," Remus yelled, shaking his friend. He didn't have time for hysterics; he needed to get the hell out of here. He could feel the moon's pull. He noticed the vacant look in Blacks eyes dissipate a little and then thrust his wand into the convict's hand. "Here take my wand. I've got to go now and get as deep into the forest as I can." And with that all but flew up the tunnel out of the shack.

Sirius got up with a shake of his head and started pacing. Out of habit, he cast a shield on the tunnel entrance to make sure that nothing could get in. They were going to have to send a message if they wanted to rescue the kids.

He started to pace back and forth, mumbling to himself ignoring everyone for a few minutes. He was trying to get his chaotic thoughts together. He dredged up his grief and seeing James died. He recalled handing Hagrid his keys to his motorbike, so the gentle giant could get baby Harry to safety. He remembered tracking down the traitor. He was standing in the middle of the street, wands raised, and then Peter shouted for all to hear that he, Black, was the traitor, which stunned him so much that he faltered. He remembered the blast, but everything is topsy-turvy until he sees Peter in rat form scurrying down the drain. Why, why, why? Can't he remember? Since he had already served time for a crime he didn't commit, he had to make sure he was going to kill the correct man.

"I need Snape!" Black declared suddenly, startling the children huddled on the bed. They had gathered there to protect Ron, when the man started talking to himself. Now, they raised their wands at the man, the few curses they knew on the tip of their lips. He ignored them and stalked over to his childhood nemesis and cast a spell to tie ropes around the hated man. Then he revived him. "Shut up, Snivellus," he sneered when Snape opened his mouth, the borrowed wand pointed directly at him. "You were a spy, right?"

Snape looked at the chaos that was Blacks eyes, there was little sanity there, and reluctantly nodded. He felt as though he had just signed his death warrant giving this information to the supposed secret right hand man of the Dark Lord. But going through the ways he could get him and the children out of the shack even if he had to kill the man in front of him, not that that would be great burden.

"Good," Black said, ignoring the shocked look on the Potion Master's face. "So you can read minds, right, I mean retrieve memories?" Snape nodded again. "I want you to look at my memory of that night and tell me what you see between the time Peter yelled and the time he escaped." His eyes were mass of crazy, but there was a bit of calmness in his voice.

A now very confused Snape was weighing his options. If this man was the right hand man of the Dark Lord then he would be doing him a favor, if not then he would be doing Dumbledore and Potter a favor by making sure the world knew this convict was guilty. On the other hand he hated Black with every fiber of his being. He wiggled a little to see if he could escape. He couldn't. If nothing else Snape was a survivor, he would do whatever he needed to come out of a situation alive. He looked into those stormy eyes, used the passive, wandless Legilimency that he could do and cringed. Everything Black remembered was jumbled; there were no clear memories of that time. He looked away and disconnected the link.

"I am going to need to look at Pettigrew's memories. Your mind is too muddled from all the years exposed to Dementors. They have taken all your good memories, you only have the bad ones left," the professor said with his customary sneer. He looked to the children, they still had their wands in hand, and he scoffed at them, secretly glad they were safe. "Where is the wolf?" he questioned the know-it-all.

"He ran out, when he realized you didn't have his potion," she shakily answered. Her wand never wavered though. It was still pointed at Black, they were not sure who was the bad guy right now. The only person they knew wasn't in the wrong was the Potions Master, and she, for one, felt bad for stunning him.

"He finally did something right then." Snape turned back to Black, "Black, I need to look into Pettigrew's mind," he reminded the man.

"Right," Sirius brought himself back to the present. His mind had been trapped in the memories Snivellus made him see. He was thinking that he would rather die before he went back to that hellhole they called a prison. Shaking his head from his morbid thoughts, he stalked across the room and with strength that belied his near skeletal form he dragged the short fat man by his foot with little effort. He cast the same rope spell on the rat, propped him up against the wall next to Snape, and revived him. "You stinking rotten traitor, you're going to let Snivellus look at your memory of that night, or I'm going to kill you no matter what anyone says. Do you hear me, traitor?" Black said, pointing Remus' wand directly at that rat-like nose.

"Sirius, please, please, I didn't mean…" and he stopped and whimpered when a hand came across his face. The resounding noise of the slap echoed the room, making the children flinch and hold their wands firmer.

"Do it Peter, turn you head an look into Snape's eyes and recall that night, or you die in the next moment," the dead seriousness in that rattling voice was all the whimpering man needed to comply.

The three kids looked on, two were anxious to know the answers; the other was in pain and not caring. Ron groaned again and Hermione had tried to cast a numbing charm, but she hadn't really studied them yet. The groan did remind Harry that there were three adult wizards in the room, but he didn't trust any of them with his friend. He did see how that rope charm was cast though, so he looked around the debris ridden room and looked for some splints. "Hermione, look for some splints, we can't set his leg, but maybe we can splint it up so it doesn't get worse," he whispered to her and nudged his friend to get her attention.

Hermione heard him and started quietly taking a look around. They found some broken pieces of a chair and quietly snuck to get them, the adults disregarded the children as doing nothing of importance. Soon enough they had Ron leg splinted and wrapped, it helped with the pain. So they turned their attention back to the drama playing out on the other side of the room.

Snape had just broken his link with Pettigrew and turned to Black. "Everything you remember up till the blast is exactly correct; however, Pettigrew was thrown to you during the blast. You must have cast a shield when you heard the spell, and he bounced off it. He was injured when he landed right in front of you and a bit dazed. It took only a few seconds for him to snap out of it and then he begged for his life. You, however, were in shock from the explosion and probably the death of your friends and the betrayal of this… rat. You were simply staring at him in shock, so he took advantage of you and cast and confusion charm on you, probably hoping you would remember nothing. But, being the weak wizard he is, he didn't get it correct. Anyway I digress, he then apologized for killing the Potters, cut his finger off, threw it near the hole, transformed into the rat his is and disappeared," the bound man recounted in monotone, hating that he was wrong and his despised childhood enemy was indeed innocent of any crime.

"So I am only a little crazy, well that helps…" Sirius trailed off at the sound of a wolf's howl. The children screamed in fright. "Don't worry he can't get in here in wolf form with that shield up. Snape, we need Dumbledore for the children," he said in a demanding tone. "Can your black heart do a Patronus?"

"Untie me and give me my wand and I can contact the Headmaster, since your brain is too far gone to even conjure up the simplest happy memory," Snape sneered his lip curled in the distaste that not only would be saving Potter, again, but also Black.

"Your word that you will not harm anyone here and that you will tell the truth to the Headmaster," Black said, raising the wand, daring the man to speak the wrong words.

"My word, if you'll have it," Snape agreed with a sharp nod.

So Sirius untied Snape, gave him his wand, backed away from the man with Remus' wand at the ready. Snape glared at Black then raised wand cast the Patronus, and spoke to it, "Black is innocent, Pettigrew is alive, your Golden Trio and I are with them in the shack, the wolf hunts the forest, I await your instruction." The doe shaped Patronus flew through the wall to deliver its message. Snape then turned to Black and said, "Now, we wait."

What happened after that is a new story.

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These are just two quick one-shots about some things that kept me awake one night. My take on how it would only take a small logical question to change the stories. They make good prologues, if someone wants to run with them, just drop me a link.