AN: Hi, guys! I've finally finished the new chapter, as you can see. I bet you thought you were rid of me, but here I am, ready to torment you some more! The chapter is as long as ever, of course. I'm starting to suspect my style might be a bit…verbose. What do you think?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think about it if you have got the time!

Thank you to all of you!

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.

/

Chapter eleven – In which an adventure beckons our heroes and the night is full of secrets

Hermione added one more tome to the growing pile in his arms and Harry stifled a sneeze as the dust collected on its cover over the years flew in his face.

"Do you really need all these books, Hermione? Term just started."

"Of course I do!" she said in a loud whisper.

Her hair looked frizzier than ever. Black ink stained the tips of her fingers and she sported a big smudge on her cheek, as if she had scratched herself with a dirty hand. Though he couldn't see them from behind the tower of books, he knew there were similar dark flecks on her white shirt.

"Professor Vector gave us a three-foot long essay on the origins and use of Arithmancy from Ancient Greece to modern times. And I need to consult a book on Animagi to write the essay for McGonagall."

Harry rolled his eyes, stumbling behind her as she walked by the shelves, her fingers trailing over the spines of the books. "You need to drop a subject or two. It's been barely a week and you're already stressed out by the workload."

Hermione levelled a hard stare at him. "I'm not going to drop anything. Arithmancy is far too fascinating and I absolutely love Runes and –"

"What about Divination, then?" he interjected, "Trelawney is a fraud, anyway – you said so yourself. Or Muggle Studies. It's not like you need someone to teach you about muggles."

"I need them for my career!" she protested, removing another book from its shelf. She cracked open the cover and studied the table of contents with an intense look on her face.

"Clearly," Harry muttered under his breath. Then, in a louder voice, he added, "What career would that be?"

"I don't know yet." She put the book back in its place, for which Harry was grateful. His arms already felt weak under the strain. "That's why I need to take as many OLWs as possible. Anything could prove useful in the long run!"

They rounded the corner and their table came into view. Ron was half-heartedly working on his essay, his head lolling forward every few seconds, but he looked up when Harry dumped his load on the desk.

"Was starting to think you'd gotten lost." He yawned hugely, carelessly dropping his quill: it fell on his essay, spraying ink all over it. "Those are quite a lot of books. Do you really need them all?"

Hermione huffed, shoving tome after tome into her leather bag.

"I asked her the same thing," Harry said, smoothing the creases out of his own disjointed and messy essay on Boggarts. He didn't actually plan to present it to Lupin, of course: the last thing he needed was for the professor to think he was unable to even complete his homework satisfactorily, since he already seemed convinced he was too weak to face his fears. It was just a draft.

"I just think it's best to be prepared," she said, trying to push one last book in the bag. One of the stitches in the seam popped out.

"Whatever." Ron shrugged. "You won't last until the end of the year."

Hermione glared at him, but Harry distracted her by tugging the book out of her hands. "This one's mine," he said, waving it in front of her face.

Ron followed the motion with his eyes, looking worried. "You're not turning into another Hermione, are you? One is more than enough."

"Real funny, Ronald," she said, swinging her bag on her shoulder, "but you have nothing to worry about: I have given up hope of you two ever paying attention to your studies!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "There is a difference between 'paying attention' and 'being obsessed', you know?"

Hermione flushed. "I'm not –"

"We should leave," Harry interrupted loudly, "before Madam Pince comes to kick us out."

Both his friends glanced at the desk by the door, where the stern librarian was just putting the final touches to an official-looking document. It wouldn't be long before she started her last patrol of the day and Harry wanted to be far away from there when it happened, especially as the couple he and Hermione had caught making out behind a shadowed shelf had yet to leave. He didn't want to be an innocent victim of the crossfire.

"Harry is right," Hermione said, sounding calmer, "Let's go."

They waited for Ron to gather his parchment and quills and then slipped out of the door just as Madam Pince disappeared behind the first shelf.

"What's that book, then?" Ron asked once they were a corridor away from the library. Though curfew was still an hour away, he spoke in soft tones, possibly leery of alerting the few students still about of their presence. He raised an eyebrow when Harry showed him the title. "Greatest Dark Wizards and Witches of the Twentieth Century. Is there something you wish to tell us?"

Harry raised his eyes heavenward. "Yes, Ron, I've been so deeply impressed by the dark wizards I have met in the course of my life that I have decided to follow in their footsteps. What do you think?"

Ron raised his hands. "No need to get touchy, mate."

Harry sighed, feeling a bit guilty. He was still in a foul mood thanks to Snape and, in part, Lupin and his boggart, but taking it out on his friends probably wouldn't make him feel better. "I just thought there'd be something about Black in it. He's a dark wizard, after all. I was thinking about what Malfoy said in –" he bristled when he saw the loaded look Ron and Hermione exchanged. "What? I have the right to know –"

"I'm not saying you don't, Harry," Hermione placated, "but…are you honestly going to trust something Malfoy, of all people, told you?"

"She's right, mate," Ron said, looking perturbed, "He just wanted to get a rise out of you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that. You think I'm stupid? He just made me realize I really don't know anything about Black. Malfoy's father supported Voldemort – Oh, stop that, will you?" he rolled his eyes at Ron's and Hermione's over-the-top reactions, "Listen, I just think it's worth a try. Malfoy could know something no one has told me about Black. Wouldn't be the first time I'm kept out of the loop," he finished bitterly.

They fell silent as they crossed path with a group of prefects discussing patrol rounds. The older students stared at them suspiciously, with the exception of a tall, dark-haired boy Harry vaguely recognized as a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and who waved at him in a friendly manner. Harry responded in kind, ignoring his companions. He was used to it: rumours flew at Hogwarts and most students had at least a vague idea of what the three of them had gotten up to during their first two years of school, even if Dumbledore had tried to keep it under wraps.

"I understand, Harry," Hermione said once they were out of earshot, "Just promise me you won't do anything you'll regret."

"The only thing I'll regret doing is reading a history book outside of class," he said drily. Ron laughed. "Really, Hermione. I simply want to know why Malfoy seems to think I should be out there looking for Black. Nothing more."

Hermione didn't seem appeased, but she let Ron move the conversation to his essay on Boggarts, which led to one more re-enactment of his fight against the fake-spider.

Harry smiled and nodded at all the right moments, but his mind was miles away. His friends might not agree, but he knew Malfoy enough to suspect he hadn't been lying. Whatever Black had done, it was serious enough that he thought Harry would willingly risk his life to apprehend him on his own.

There was a lively atmosphere in the Common Room when they got there.

Unlike Hermione, most of their housemates seemed convinced it was too early in the school term to do anything more productive than gossiping loudly about the latest break-up or exchanging chocolate frog cards with their friends.

The twins had grouped a number of couches in a corner and they were showing a bunch of mystified first-years something Harry could not see. Whatever it was, it popped unexpectedly, showering the children in pink and purple sparks. They shrieked in surprise.

Parvati and Lavender had taken over the table to the twins' right and they were noisily giggling behind the glossy cover of a Witch Weekly magazine, which earned them Hermione's scornful glares.

"Honestly," she huffed, "You'd think they'd spend their time more productively than squealing over clothes and boys."

Ron caught Harry's eye and they shared a grin behind Hermione's back: they still remembered her obsession with Lockhart, even if the girl herself seemed determined to forget about it.

"Harry!" came a loud voice from the other side of the room.

Harry turned around. He individuated Neville at once. The other boy sat at a table not far from the hearth, a sheet of parchment spread open in front of him. Seamus and Dean occupied the remaining two seats. They were building a tower out of Exploding Snap cards: already, it stood taller than their heads and Harry estimated it wouldn't be long before it exploded and crumbled.

"Let's join them," Ron said, staring at the construction keenly.

Harry followed him, scanning the circular room. He had thought his cousin would be with their roommates, but he was nowhere to be found.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked him.

He glanced at the portrait of the Fat Lady, scratching the back of his head. "Percy isn't here."

Ron looked at them over his shoulder. "Maybe he's sleeping."

"Or maybe," Hermione said, a slight hiss entering her tone, "you shouldn't have let him come back alone."

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing an empty chair from a nearby table. "You can't expect me to follow him everywhere, Hermione."

Seamus made space for him without raising his eyes from the cards in his hands. "Follow who everywhere?"

"Percy," Ron answered, settling himself between Dean and Neville, "He didn't stay for dinner and now Hermione thinks we're heartless jerks for not worrying."

She sniffled, pulling Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms out of her bag, obviously intending to study.

"That's because you are," she sentenced before disappearing behind her book.

Harry briefly entertained the idea of doing the same – he could work on his sloppy Defence essay or start on the research on the uses of mandrake roots in potions for Snape, something that was probably going to take him days to finish – but then he remembered that, unlike Hermione, he and Ron had taken their bags up to the dormitory before dinner and he felt too lazy to go get it now. He eyed Greatest Dark Wizards and Witches of the Twentieth Century contemplatively, but in the end decided the mystery could wait until he was more awake.

Dean sniggered. "She's got you there, mate." He carefully placed another card on top of the tower and they all waited with bated breath to see whether it would explode. Nothing happened. "I'm sure your cousin is okay, anyway," Dean said as he waited for Seamus to make his move, "I doubt he has been kidnapped on the way here from the Great Hall."

Harry, who had seen worst things happen in much shorter distances, couldn't find it in himself to be as certain of it. "You saw him when you came back from dinner, right?"

Dean and Seamus sneaked a look at each other over the edge of their cards.

"What?" Harry said, "You didn't?"

"Well," Seamus began hesitatingly, "not exactly. We didn't go upstairs. Maybe he's in bed."

Yeah, he was definitely regretting leaving Percy alone now.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Should I go check on him?"

Ron snorted, peering at Neville's essay over the other boy's shoulder. "Let him be: you can mother him tomorrow if it makes you feel better."

He winced when Harry kicked him under the table.

"I don't mother anyone," he said stiffly.

"Ron's right," interjected Hermione, her face still hidden behind the heavy book, "not about your mothering tendencies, of course, Harry –" Ron sniggered and Harry kicked him again, "– but about Percy. Promise me you'll talk to him tomorrow, though. He really needs to do his homework and he could be lonely."

Harry rolled his eyes, smothering the tiny voice at the back of his mind that insisted she was right. "Percy doesn't need a baby-sitter, Hermione."

Despite his words, he inwardly resolved to do better. He really hadn't spent enough time with Percy since they got to Hogwarts, even though he had promised himself he'd help make him feel welcome.

"Er, guys?"

They faced Neville as one and the boy went red as a tomato, as he always did when he found himself the object of the attention of other people.

"It's just that…umh…" He tapped the inky point of his quill against the table in a nervous manner. "Percy isn't in the dormitory."

Harry's stomach sank to his feet. "What?"

Neville took a deep breath. "Percy isn't in the dormitory," he repeated slowly. His voice shook, as if he thought being the harbinger of the bad news would automatically make him guilty of it.

"Are you –?"

A small explosion cut him off. A cloud of sickly green smoke enveloped their table; its rancid smell assaulted Harry's senses. He pressed the sleeve of his button-up against his face, his breath cut short.

"Sorry, sorry!" said a raspy voice he recognized as Seamus', barely audible above the choked coughs of the table's other occupants. "I forgot I was – no matter, sorry." He pulled a hand back into the large sleeve of his robe and used it to push the smoking, sizzling remnants of a card off the table, careful not to touch it with his bare skin.

Harry ignored his apology. "Are you sure he wasn't there, Neville?" he asked, squinting at the other boy through the smoke, "Maybe he was in the bathroom."

Neville shrugged apologetically. "I don't think so. I stayed up for a few minutes and he didn't come out. I didn't hear anything either."

Ron and Hermione exchanged grim looks.

He wondered if they felt as nauseous as he did.

If Percy wasn't in the dormitory, he could be anywhere. He could've gotten lost in the maze that was Hogwarts. He could've been caught 'loitering', as Filch liked to say, by a professor – by Snape. It was a disaster.

If McGonagall didn't kill him, then Sally would for sure (and she'd kill Harry, too).

"Wait." Seamus' eyes slid from Harry's face to Ron's and to Hermione's and then back again. "You guys aren't joking. You really don't know where he is."

Ron gave him a withering look. "Jokes were supposed to be funny last time I checked."

Seamus shrugged. "Yeah, well, yours rarely are."

Ron nodded absently and then his brain seemed to catch up with his other senses. His ears flamed up. "Hey!"

"Guys, please." Harry rubbed his right temple – a headache had sneaked up on him. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "What do we do?"

"Go look for him?" Ron suggested, "I mean –" he glanced at Harry's arm: his sleeve had ridden up, exposing his watch, "–it's only a few minutes until curfew. Maybe we should take the –" he glanced meaningfully at the stairs.

Harry understood at once. The Invisibility Cloak that had once been his father's, the faithful enabler of most of their illicit adventures, would allow them to look for Percy far longer, undisturbed and hopefully unpunished.

He looked at Hermione. "Are you in?"

"I really don't know," she said, wringing her hands, "Oh, it's all my fault. If we had come back here soon after dinner instead of stopping by the library then maybe…but no, I just had to have that book for McGonagall's essay, didn't I?"

Seamus' head snapped up. "Essay? We had an essay for McGonagall? What –?" he yelped suddenly, turning around to glare at Dean. "No need to kick me, mate," he grouched, leaning down to massage his ankle.

"You know what? It doesn't matter whose fault it is," Harry decreed impatiently, "Let's go look for him. If something happened…" he trailed off.

"What could've happened?" Dean asked, "Hogwarts is a school!"

A school where half a dozen people were petrified just a few months ago, the cynical part of Harry thought.

"W-what if he met Malfoy?" Neville said hesitantly, "After what Percy told him before the feast…"

Ron scoffed. "Yeah, they didn't exactly hit it off. Can't blame Percy – Malfoy's a git."

Seamus shook his head. "He's too busy faking an injury to do anything."

But Malfoy doesn't need to do anything. Not when he has Crabbe and Goyle at his beck and call, Harry's mind supplied unhelpfully.

Anxiety shot through him, making his fingers go cold. He pushed himself to his feet, swallowing with difficulty. He was vaguely surprised, and thankful, when Hermione did the same with not even a moment of hesitation.

Her next words were quick to dispel any feeling of gratitude.

"I really don't think this is a good idea, Harry," she muttered, low enough to exclude the other boys from the conversation. Harry saw Dean lean forward slightly, trying to eavesdrop. "We'll be in even more trouble if we're caught with him. We should call McGonagall and tell her he got lost."

Ron got up too. "New student or not, she'll take away points, Hermione. You know that. I say we go look for him ourselves."

Harry nodded, thinking that option was far more to his liking.

Hermione scoffed. "You just can't wait for an excuse to break rules, Ronald. We wouldn't even know where to start. He could be anywhere!"

"We last saw him by the Great Hall," Ron pointed out, "We could start from there and try to retrace his steps!"

"Oh, yeah?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "In which direction?"

"Er, guys?" Seamus swiftly inserted himself in the conversation, eyeing Hermione's discarded bag hopefully, and Harry didn't know whether to thank him for putting a stop to what would've been an epic fight or jinx him for his untimely interruption. "While you go looking for him, do you mind if I –?"

A stern voice interrupted him. "Go looking for whom, exactly?"

Harry swirled around, feeling as if his insides were being squeezed. Percy Weasley was staring down at them from the top of his long, thin nose, looking positively disgruntled. Seamus yanked the book out of a protesting Neville's hands and hid his face behind it.

"And where?" the Head-boy added.

Ron rolled his eyes. "None of your business, Perce. Go bother the first-years."

Harry cringed – he knew the older Weasley well enough to know that was the wrong approach. Unfortunately, Ron could never be anything but confrontational with his brothers, especially this one.

Percy's eyes narrowed behind his horn-rimmed glasses. "I would, if they were half as badly-behaved and irresponsible as you are." Harry clasped Ron's wrist firmly, shaking his head. Ron glanced at him and deflated. "You remember what Mother told you, I trust?" Percy asked with a sigh, "No troubles from the three of you this year. No more going out after curfew; no more meddling in things that do not concern you; no more…adventures. It is especially dangerous considering –" he glanced at Harry, "– the presence of dementors," he finished, evidently believing he had been subtle enough. "She told me to make sure you toed the line and I plan on following her instructions to a 't', if you will."

Ron opened his mouth, outraged, possibly about to insult his brother so badly they'd never be allowed out of his sight again, but Percy ploughed on relentlessly.

"Hermione, I expected better from you." He shook his head, looking supremely disappointed, and Hermione flushed. "You're not letting my brother lead you astray, are you?"

Ron spluttered indignantly.

"N-no," she stuttered, "In fact, I was just – I mean, we were just, er –" her eyes flitted around the room beseechingly; they settled on the pile of books obscuring Colin Creevey's tired face and she brightened. "Books!" she said, "Harry and Ron left theirs up in the dormitory and –"

"– and we really need to study!" Harry jumped in.

Percy looked like he believed that about as much as Harry himself did. "We're less than a week into the term. I've never seen the two of you, especially you –" he pointed at Ron, who was appearing a little baffled by this point, "– study unless it's finals week." Harry thought that was unfair: he might not be as obsessed with studying as Hermione or Percy himself, but he still tried to do his best in school, all things considered. "What's really going on?"

Harry's left eye twitched. "Nothing, really," he lied through clenched teeth, still smarting from the older boy's insinuations. "We just want to do better this year."

"Yeah, Perce," Ron said and Harry thanked every divinity known to man he had stopped gawking at them like an idiot and was actually helping, "you're always going on about how Ginny and I should be more like you and less like the twins. You should be happy Hermione is forcing –" Hermione glared at him, "– spurring us to, er, study harder."

Percy seemed torn, his wary gaze moving from one wide-eyed face to the other. He evidently wanted to believe that his insistence was actually yielding the expected results, while the rational part of him was probably urging him not to trust anything that came out of their mouths. Harry wondered if it was a by-product of growing up with Fred and George.

Just when Harry thought they had him, a sudden intuition brightened his gaze. His eyes swept the Common Room, his lips twitching thoughtfully, and Harry's stomach dropped to his knees.

Percy's eyes widened triumphantly. "Where is your cousin, Harry?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Harry had to hand it to him: he was a better actor than he had thought. The twins were probably to blame for that, too.

He inhaled sharply. "Upstairs," he said before he could think about it, "He's upstairs."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both Ron and Hermione nod enthusiastically.

"Upstairs, eh?" Percy deliberately glanced at the stairs. "Maybe I should go check on him then."

Harry's expression froze. "Wait!" he exclaimed loudly before Percy could take more than a step towards the stairs.

The older boy swirled around and stared at him expectantly. "Yes, Harry? Is there something I should know?"

Nothing I'm particularly keen on telling you, Harry thought. "Well, er, it's just that, er –" he looked at Ron and Hermione, hoping for a useful input that didn't come. "You see, he's –"

"Not feeling well," a feminine voice said suddenly, sounding certain beyond doubt. Harry's head whipped around: Ginny was standing by Hermione, looking as if she had been there the whole time. "He had a terrible headache. Didn't even come to dinner, right guys?" she gazed up at them, her brown eyes impossibly wide.

A sort of admiration he had never before felt for Ron's little sister bubbled up in him.

It was difficult to believe this girl brazenly lying to her older, stuffy brother was the same one that usually couldn't even string two words together if Harry was in the same room.

Ron got the hint. "Yeah, he was worried he might've a fever. Said he wanted to rest."

Percy frowned. Now that Ginny had intervened, he didn't seem as inclined to distrust them. "Maybe we should take him to the infirmary."

"Oh, no," said Hermione, "I'm sure he just needs a bit of sleep."

"She's right, mate," Seamus piped up. Harry rolled his eyes: he should've known they'd listen to the whole conversation. "He was sleeping like the dead when Neville went upstairs. Wasn't he, Nev?" Neville stuttered something none of them heard, looking flustered at having been put on the spot. "See? There's no reason to disturb him."

Percy sighed. "Very well, but I want to know if he gets worse, okay? Mother would be displeased if she knew we didn't do anything to help him. And you three –" he wagged a finger, "–are going straight upstairs. I don't want to see you laze about, is that clear?"

They all nodded and Percy re-joined his classmates after one last warning look.

Harry drew a sigh of relief.

"Well, that was close," Hermione commented under her breath.

Harry hummed. He turned to Ginny with a smile. "Thank you. I don't think he'd have believed us without your help."

The girl blushed furiously and shrugged, not meeting his eyes. Harry was a bit disheartened to see her revert to her painfully shy and awkward behaviour.

"It was nothing," she whispered.

"What are we going to do about your cousin?" Ron asked, "We can still sneak out if we use the –" he glanced at Ginny, "– you know what."

Harry was grateful for his discretion. Admiration or not, there were things he didn't want getting out. "We are going," he decided, ignoring Hermione's disgruntled expression, "We'll go back to the Great Hall. If we are lucky, we'll meet him along the way. If not –" he grimaced, "– well, we'll make do." He glanced at Hermione defiantly. "What about you?"

She bit her lip. "Oh, you're terrible! Of course I'll come. I can't leave you two alone, can I?"

"Good," Harry said, "We'll wait for the Common Room to empty a bit and then we'll go."

/

/

Percy was just beginning to wonder how far from Hogwarts they planned to take him when Firenze announced, in a grave voice, "We are here."

He thought they had been walking for almost an hour by then, but he couldn't be sure. He never wore a watch and the thick foliage hid the stars and moon from sight, so he couldn't rely on his limited knowledge of their movements either.

He had tried to keep track of the places they passed, in case he needed to make a run for it and get back on his own, but they seemed to possess no distinguishing details to set them apart. It was all trees, trees, shrubs, trees, oh, a puddle, how very helpful.

The only thing he remembered for sure was the fairly deep stream they had had to wade through – so perhaps his sense of direction was horribly skewed, but at least he knew a weapon when he saw one.

The centaurs made him stop in front of a large cluster of weeping willows. They weren't as tall or as majestic as the ancient-looking trees he had gotten used to since setting foot in the forest, but their dangling branches and whispering leaves created a mysterious and foreboding atmosphere pines and beeches just couldn't hope to achieve.

"You're going to meet our leader," Bane said. The dark-skinned centaur had left the lead of the group sometime during their trek to walk by them, always keeping just a few steps ahead of Firenze. Percy had seen enough posturing from arrogant demigods to recognize what Bane was doing and he found it mildly amusing. "His name is Magorian and I expect you to show him the utmost respect."

He gave him a hard, probing stare. Percy kept his expression carefully blank: there was no reason to risk losing Firenze's flimsy support by openly antagonizing his leader.

Yet.

Apparently assured of his compliance, Bane motioned with his head to Firenze, who moved forward, pulling Percy along. They went through the prickly green wall – he brushed aside the coarse leaves scratching his cheeks, forehead and nose – and exited on a clearing, rather smaller than the one the Thestrals had claimed as their own.

Possibly the first thing Percy noticed about it, aside from its size, was that it was completely devoid of any sign of life. The leaves on the ground looked mostly undisturbed and there wasn't any building that could offer shelter to a centaur, let alone a herd of them. Even birds and other small animals seemed to avoid it, which Percy found strange.

Though he wasn't surprised they hadn't taken him to their village, he still felt a peculiar sinking sensation in his stomach. Despite the worry and the fear, he had been curious to see where they lived.

Firenze squeezed his shoulder gently, pointing at a lone tree stump standing forlornly off to a side. "Wait for us here," he said, "we shall come back with our leader."

"You, too, right?" Percy asked, painfully conscious of the suspicious looks the rest of the herd was still giving him, "You'll come back, too?"

Firenze's smile was sympathetic. "Don't fret. I won't leave you to deal with Bane on your own. The gods know I wouldn't wish that fate on my worst enemy."

Percy snorted with laughter and glanced at the centaur in question. He was standing by the dangling branches, deep in conversations with two other members of the herd. Even from that distance, Percy would've had to be blind to miss the dark scowl etched on his wide face.

Yeah, being left alone with the possibly murderous Bane wasn't high on his list of things to do and though he trusted Firenze about as far as he could throw him, he was the only one who hadn't been openly aggressive towards him and Percy would take what he could get.

"Your leader," he said, turning back to Firenze, "is he as welcoming as Bane?"

A flinty look entered Firenze's eyes. "Magorian is…rather strict, for sure, but he's fair, too. I don't always agree with him, or with his methods, but I know he wants what's best for our people. Just do me a favour and remember to be polite." He gave him a pointed look. "You are capable of being polite, aren't you?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Not when I'm being threatened with pointy weapons."

Firenze sighed. "Fair enough. I did tell Bane there was no need to be so aggressive." He shook his head and Percy got the impression he was rather used to having his advice be dismissed. "But don't judge him too harshly, young human. Too often has the race of wizards threatened our way of life and our very existence. It has made my brethren suspicious of you."

Percy swallowed his instinctive defence of wizard-kind – just because Harry and his friends seemed cool and open-minded, it didn't mean they all were. He certainly didn't know enough of their history to understand what had gone wrong between centaurs and wizards, much less to judge which party was in the right.

He guessed he could kind of see where Firenze was coming from: hadn't the Greek world been pushed into hiding by the mortal one, after all? However, while demigods were free to keep living among humans if they so wished, centaurs didn't seem to have been afforded the same courtesy by wizards.

For this reason, even if he didn't like the way Firenze's herd had treated him, he conceded, "I guess I can try to be a bit more cooperative."

"We can only hope," Bane said.

Percy turned around, thinking that for a creature endowed with hooves, Bane could certainly move in a freakishly silent way, and he noticed with some modicum of relief that his scowl had lessened somewhat and that his bow was back on his shoulders.

"Danaus will remain here with you, young human," he said with a nod in Danaus' direction. The younger centaur raised his bow in salutation, grinning at Percy as if they were buddies. "Don't make me regret it. Either of you," he added as Danaus trotted over.

He rolled his eyes. "I think I can subdue one measly human if the need arises, Bane."

Percy's hand twitched in response, as if longing to reach for Riptide. "Why don't you try?" Asshole, he added in his mind.

"I'm quite certain that's not what Bane meant," Firenze quickly interjected, pulling Percy back against his side.

"It wasn't," Bane said, "Just behave. Firenze, let's go. Magorian will be wondering what's taking us so long."

/

By the time Firenze came back, Percy was maybe a few seconds away from murdering Danaus, consequences be damned.

In the thirty minutes they had been alone, he had managed to get on Percy's nerves like no one ever before. The young centaur was as excitable as Grover on enchilada day and about half as funny as Annabeth had been when they first met, which was saying something.

He also happened to have troubling opinions about humans and no problem sharing them.

As such, it was a relief when his unofficial advocate reappeared from behind the willows' branches.

Most of their original group had been left behind; only Bane and two new centaurs accompanied Firenze. One of them was red-haired and bearded, with a horse's chestnut body. Percy thought he looked older than his brethren: deep wrinkles mapped his weathered face, as if his skin was so used to frowning it had finally gotten stuck that way, and his hair and beard were streaked with grey, the former beginning to turn pale orange with age. In a different situation, with different people, Percy would've been fooled into thinking he was their leader, but two things pointed him in the right direction. The first was that, despite his sturdy built, he didn't possess the looks of a warrior, but rather of someone committed to a life of study.

The second was the other unknown centaur.

He walked at the forefront of the little group, straight-backed and imposing.

The scars were the first thing Percy noticed about him. Thick and white, they crisscrossed every exposed inch of his otherwise smooth dark skin.

Percy was torn between horror and admiration at the sight. At Camp Half-Blood, only those who had distinguished themselves in battle could hold the title of leader. Judging from the leader's – Magorian's – proudly displayed scars, the same ideology ruled centaurs' society, which meant he was the very best in a people of warriors.

It surprised him – he had always imagined Chiron to be a good example of his race, but both Bane and Magorian certainly disproved that theory.

Magorian's expression wasn't as removed as his second-in-command's. He seemed as curious about Percy as Percy was about them and he made no secret of that. His dark eyes studied him keenly, as if he had never seen something quite like him before, and in his gaze there was a hungry glint that Percy didn't like one bit.

He circled his tree stump a few times before coming to a stop directly in front of him, motioning to the other centaurs to stand back. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Firenze paw the ground nervously.

"So, you're the demigod," Magorian said, tilting his head to a side. A waterfall of small braids fell over his shoulder. "You look…very human. Not at all like I imagined you."

Percy fidgeted on his tree stump. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say or even if Magorian expected an answer at all. 'Sorry, I'll try to look more godly next time'?

He glanced at Firenze, but all the blond centaur had to offer was a subtle, and entirely useless, warning look. If he survived this ordeal, Percy would be sure to tell him his definition of 'help' needed a serious revision.

"We saw of your arrival in the stars, godling," Magorian went on, clasping his hands behind his back. If he had noticed Percy and Firenze's silent conversation, he wasn't bothered by it. "Though some of us were sceptical." His gaze flickered to Bane, who kicked at the ground, carefully avoiding his leader's eyes. The older, red-haired centaur scoffed loudly. "Well, sometimes even our eyes are too concerned with the mundane to appreciate the truth that can be found only in the skies."

Percy's eyebrows twitched upwards and he quickly schooled his expression into one of polite indifference. He thought Bane had the right idea: he wouldn't place too much stock in what the skies told him, not unless Zeus himself sent him a signed message from Olympus.

"If you foresaw I'd be coming to Hogwarts," he said dubiously, "why the need for this welcoming party?" He waved around at the assembled centaurs. "You know who I am. You know I mean you no harm. Just let me –"

"Do we?" interrupted the red-haired centaur, "Do we really know you mean our people no harm?" He took a step forward, relieving Magorian of his position at the centre of the group. "Dark times await us, child. Both our worlds are about to experience turmoil the like of which hasn't been seen in many years. We cannot afford to be generous with our trust, especially when faced with someone of your blood."

Percy frowned. "You can't trust me because of who I am?"

The centaur stared at him piercingly. "We cannot trust you because of who your father is."

Goosebumps raced up Percy's arms. If there was one thing he had learnt since becoming part of the mythological world, it was that this kind of conversation could never end well for him.

"How do you know who my father is?" he asked, "How do you even know my father is a god, and not my mother?" he was at once reminded of his first proper conversation with Annabeth and he added, "That's pretty sexist of you, guys."

Magorian shook his head, smiling, and Percy felt any hope he had of derailing the conversation deflate. "As I already said, godling, there's little the stars can't tell you, if you know what to look for. It was especially easy for us to divine your parentage. Do you know why that is?"

Percy numbly shook his head. The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably and he wondered whether he'd need that escape plan, after all.

"Your name, like your cousin's, shines brightly in the stars and so does your future," Magorian said, "You have an important role to fulfil in this life, whether on the side of Olympus or the Titans, we yet do not know. Maybe you do not know either. That's why, as Ronan rightly said, we cannot afford to trust you: the stars have told us nothing of your true intentions."

Percy bristled. That was exactly what he had suspected and feared, but he wasn't going to sit there and let them insult him, not even if it made his already delicate situation worse. "My only intention," he said firmly, "is to learn magic, possibly without getting expelled before the end of the year." Not that he was having much luck respecting rules. "I didn't even know you guys lived here! And even if I did," he added, "it wouldn't have changed anything. I'm not helping Kronos." Unease visibly spread across the group of centaurs. They pawed the ground restlessly, grumbling darkly amongst themselves; the sound of swishing tails filled the air. Percy ignored it all. "Gods, I risked my life only weeks ago to stop his plans and save Olympus!"

Okay, mostly to save his mom, but a small part of him had been thinking about Olympus, too. Honest.

At the back of the group, Bane and Danaus leaned closer, muttering. Percy couldn't discern what they were saying, but judging from the harsh glare Firenze aimed at them, it was nothing nice. Bane already hated him, of course, because he was just that much of an asshole, but he had no idea what Danaus' deal was.

"Perhaps you truly do not intend to help him now," the red-haired centaur – Ronan – said and silence fell back on the clearing, "perhaps your denial is sincere. But can you assure us you won't change your mind a few years from now? How can we know you won't become a danger for our people?"

Percy got up from the stump, looking straight at him. "I'm not stupid enough to think whatever he intends to do would improve life for us demigods. My loyalty –" The Gods do not deserve your loyalty. He faltered. "I'm as loyal to my people as you're to yours."

Ronan cocked his head to the side. "I don't think you even know who your people are," he said lightly, "Yet," he added more forcefully when Percy opened his mouth to protest. It was a good thing, because he wasn't sure what would've come out. "Then again, no child ever does." He turned to Magorian. "We have no choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt." Something heavy lifted from Percy's chest; he took a deep, liberating breath. "He hasn't done anything to warrant our retaliation. Even if we were wrong, there would be nothing we could do."

Magorian sighed. "Not the foal thing again, Ronan," he said imploringly.

Ronan looked miffed. It was the most human expression Percy had seen him wear all night. "Might I remind you that the protection of children of every race stands at the very foundation of our –"

"Yes, yes, of course," Magorian cut him off quickly. Percy got the impression he had heard that very same spiel many times before and had no wish to hear it again. "We'll let him go, don't worry."

Firenze made to take a step forward, glancing inquisitively at his leader, but a hard look from Magorian made him fall back in line with Bane. "I just meant to say," he began warily, "that I believed letting him go was the plan from the start. Otherwise I –" he ground to a stop, looking like a man who knew he had said too much.

Bane smiled coldly. "What, Firenze? Would you have let him ride on your back the way you did with his cousin?"

Percy frowned. That was the second time they mentioned Harry in just a few minutes and always with familiarity. "You helped Harry?" Firenze nodded and Percy's estimation of him rose once again. He couldn't be annoyed with someone who had helped a member of his family, especially as it seemed he had done it in spite of his people's – or maybe just Bane's – anger. "When? What happened?"

Magorian didn't let Firenze answer. "It's a long story and not one we are about to get into now."

Which meant they didn't want him to know. No matter, he'd ask Harry one of these days and find out exactly what Magorian was hoping to hide.

"You have nothing to worry about, Firenze," Magorian continued, "Your cooperation did not endanger the child in any way. No one can interfere with a prophecy, not even us. We can just wait and hope it will work out in our favour."

He couldn't quite hide a grimace at the thought.

It was the sort of expression Percy had seen on many a camper after he had been claimed and even, for a brief moment, on his own father. It was so nice to be trusted, he thought moodily.

"There are a few conditions, of course. You are not to set foot in the forest ever again – unless it's a matter of life or death, in which case you'll be excused. Not many monsters roam these lands, but should one be attracted by your presence, you'll be allowed to follow it into our territory." Magorian frowned and then corrected himself, "In fact, you'll be expected to deal with it. I won't have my people put in danger just because some hellish beast thinks you'd make for a delicious snack."

Percy's jaw clenched. He entertained the idea of making a hand gesture the centaur couldn't possibly mistake, but then decided he wasn't rude enough for that. He hadn't been raised in a barn, after all.

"That's our second condition. The third is that you may not talk of this conversation with any wizard. I do not care what you choose to tell your fellow demigods or your trainer, but we're aware of the relation that bonds you and Harry Potter and also of his…penchant for breaching your school's rules. We don't wish to give him another excuse to visit our forest, thinking there won't be consequences."

Ronan cleared his throat loudly, levelling a pointed look at the other centaur.

Magorian's left eye twitched.

"Not that we would hurt him, of course. He is a…foal," he spit out the word as if it were the disgusting aftertaste of a particularly stodgy meal.

Percy grinned.

The conditions Magorian had set were really quite easy to respect, especially as he had no wish to find himself in such a situation ever again. There was only one thing that gave him pause. He bit his lip, wondering whether it was a good idea to bring it up. He didn't want to get back on Magorian's bad side so soon, but he had made a promise…

"Er, about that 'don't set foot in our forest ever again' thing," he began slowly, "I kind of promised the Thestrals that I would, you know, visit. Would that be, er, possible?"

Magorian raised his eyes skyward, mumbling something under his breath. Percy suspected he was asking for the patience to deal with him without committing murder. His mom did it often.

"We could allow him to," Firenze said, "As long as he doesn't leave their territory, of course," he quickly added upon noticing Magorian's exasperated expression, "He made a promise, after all."

"Very well," Magorian conceded with a defeated sigh. He then seemed to realize something and brightened up considerably. "Firenze will make sure you respect these rules when you visit. Is that agreeable, Firenze?"

If Magorian thought he was doing a disservice to the blonde centaur, he was wrong.

Firenze bowed in a deferent manner, but he couldn't quite hide his smile. "I shall do it."

Well, at least someone seemed to appreciate his presence, Percy thought.

"Can I leave now?" he asked. His roommates were bound to have noticed his absence by now and he really had no idea what he was going to tell them. Though unlikely, he hoped they were already asleep: it would give him more time to cook up some sort of explanation.

Firenze glanced at Magorian before answering. "Yes. I'll take you to the edge of the forest. We don't want you to get lost – not all those who live here are as friendly as us."

His definition of 'help' obviously wasn't the only one that needed revising, Percy thought.

He sighed. He was still slightly sour over Firenze's apparent complacency, but he wasn't going to turn down the offer. If he went alone, he probably wouldn't find his way back to Hogwarts until winter break.

"Well, let's go, then," he told Firenze, "no offence, but I've got enough of this place to last me a while."

/

/

They stumbled out of the portrait hole like some sort of clumsy, six-legged creature, feet tangling and sharp elbows digging into sides.

"Blimey," Ron muttered, far too loudly for Harry's tastes. He gripped the edges of the Invisibility Cloak, pulling it more securely around them. "It's getting tight under here, isn't it? And kind of stifling, too." He sniffed and a curious expression crossed his face. "Which one of you smells like rhubarb pie?"

Harry felt Hermione stiffen against his side. "Do you ever think of anything but food, Ronald?"

"Guys, please. Now is not the time," Harry said, guiding them past the portrait of a young witch strolling along the beach. She turned to stare wide-eyed out of her frame as they shuffled by and then ran into the neighbouring painting, whispering excitedly.

Great, thought Harry. In less than an hour, the whole floor would know she had heard something invisible traipse about. He guessed they had been lucky enough to sneak out of the Common Room with Percy none the wiser (that boy had definitely inherited his mother's bat ears) – it couldn't last forever.

"Not my fault she uses rhubarb shampoo," Ron mumbled moodily as they slowly descended the stairs.

Harry resisted the urge to stomp on his foot, but only because he knew it would cause even more ruckus.

Hermione wasn't as considerate: she leaned over Harry and jabbed Ron in the ribs. "It's not rhubarb!" she hissed.

"Guys," Harry said again, a pleading note entering his voice, "Can't you –?"

A soft meow interrupted him.

They froze as one.

Right in front of them, having just turned the corner, was Mrs Norris. Her yellow eyes glinted menacingly in the darkness as she stared at them with uncanny precision, her mangy tail swaying softly from side to side. For the first time since he had received it, Harry felt his father's Cloak was far too much of a flimsy cover.

But, of course, it didn't let him down.

Mrs Norris purred loudly one last time and then went back the way she had come, either looking for other rule-breaking students or for her master.

Harry drew a sigh of relief.

"That was close," Ron whispered, blissfully quiet, "Let's go before she comes back with Filch."

They reached the first floor with no further incident – though Ron almost knocked over an ornamental vase just outside the tapestry that hid the secret passage they had used as a shortcut – but they were forced to stop again on top of the marble staircase, the entrance door so close Harry considered making a run for it.

Two distinct voices moved closer and closer, coming from the direction of the Great Hall, and Harry's stomach plummeted – they sounded awfully familiar.

"– someone inside the school," said a slimy voice Harry had learned to despise in the years since he had started Hogwarts. He cringed: of all the people to meet while sneaking around, Snape was probably the worst. "As I already told the Headmaster –"

"I'm well aware of what you told Albus, Severus," came McGonagall's trademark stern tone. Hermione whimpered loudly. "My answer is no different from his and I ask you to put a stop to this nonsense."

The two rounded the corner.

Despite the danger, Harry couldn't help but smile gleefully when he saw Snape's sour expression. Whatever the two were discussing, it was obvious he didn't like McGonagall's response; it was just as obvious that he knew he couldn't change her mind.

"I'm simply worried, that is all," Snape said, not quite managing to keep the anger out of his tone, "We all know how…danger-prone Potter is. It would be terrible if something were to happen to him –" there was a glint in his dark eyes that belied his words and Harry almost snorted: oh, yeah, he could see how broken-hearted Snape would be if Black got his hands on him, "– and all because certain…unsafe individuals were allowed near him and his classmates."

Harry didn't think he had ever seen McGonagall's lips so tight. "How glad I am to see you worry about Mr Potter's wellbeing," she said, voice shaking with fury, "I was under the impression you didn't much care about the boy." Snape spluttered indignantly, but McGonagall didn't give him the time to compose an adequate retort. "But there is something we happen to agree on, Severus: some people shouldn't be allowed near children."

Snape froze with a foot on the first step. McGonagall came to a stop, too, and turned around to stare at him imperiously.

Harry had often witnessed McGonagall's anger – had even been the cause of it a few times – but this sort of cold fury was new and far more terrifying. If it had been anyone else but Snape at the receiving end of it, he would've felt sorry for them.

"But while you would suspect and punish someone for something they have no control over," she went on, her voice so close to a hiss Harry wouldn't have been surprised if she had slipped into parseltongue, "I only care about a person's choices." She resumed walking, passing just a few centimetres from their hiding spot. Harry, Ron and Hermione flattened themselves against the wall, holding their breath. "And talking about choices, Severus – should we bring your own to everyone's attention and see who they'd suspect of helping Black?"

Hermione gasped.

Fortunately, Snape chose that moment to stomp up the stairs, pale and tight-lipped. "My past choices are not the issue here. The Headmaster knows why I'd never help that – beast!"

He was so furious he was spitting. Harry didn't think he had ever seen him in such a state, which was saying something. He wasn't embarrassed to admit he'd be worried of getting cursed in McGonagall's place.

McGonagall, however, didn't back down in the face of his anger. Harry felt a fierce rush of pride for his Head of House. "Just as he knows why no one else in this school would. Respect goes both ways, Severus: you can't demand it without first showing it." She straightened her tartan cloak around herself, looking impressive and dignified. "This is the sort of conversation I'd expect to have with a second year, not with an adult man."

Snape flushed and his face seemed to swell. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but the words seemed to be stuck.

Harry would've laughed if he didn't know they'd get caught. Witnessing McGonagall chewing out Snape was the best thing that had happened to him in months. He wished he had Colin's camera to record the moment.

"Now, let's finish our rounds. I want to go to sleep sometime tonight."

She marched along the corridor, the tap-tap of her footsteps echoing against the walls. Snape stalked after her, sulking but silent.

The two disappeared behind another corner.

Harry, Ron and Hermione waited for a few moments to make sure they wouldn't be coming back and then inched away from their hiding spot.

"I think I'm in love," Ron whispered, a dreamy smile on his face.

"Who do you think they were talking about?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Snape mentioned someone inside the school. I don't think he was talking about Flitwick or Sprout and there is only one new member of the staff."

Ron looked sceptical. "Lupin?"

"It makes sense," Hermione admitted, "The question is – why? What reason does Snape have to suspect him? Lupin doesn't seem the type to do something like that."

It went without saying, Harry thought, that neither had Lockhart or Quirrel, though for different reasons.

"Everybody knows how badly Snape wants Lupin's position," he said, "maybe that's enough for him."

Hermione shook her head. "You heard McGonagall: it's about something Lupin – if he was the one they were talking about – has 'no control over'." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder what that is…"

"Does it matter?" said Ron impatiently. "Let's find Percy. I want to get back to the Common Room before dawn."

"Ron's right," Hermione said, "I don't want to stay out more than necessary."

They walked down the stairs, careful not to step on the Cloak.

The landing was empty and so was the corridor from where McGonagall and Snape had come. The doors to the Great Hall were closed.

"You don't think he's inside, do you?" Ron asked, eyeing the doors speculatively.

Hermione shook her head. "The professors wouldn't have closed the doors with him inside and I don't think he would've been able to open them on his own from the outside."

"What about…" Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes at the window on the other side of the corridor. He swiftly marched up to it, pulling a protesting Hermione and a confused Ron along.

Just as he had thought, there was a small figure climbing the slope, aiming straight for the entrance doors. Even through the stained glass and despite the feeble light offered by the crescent moon, Harry easily recognized the windswept hair and swift stride.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione hissed, "What is he doing out there?"

"Doesn't matter," Harry said, "Let's get him inside and under the Cloak before someone sees him. You can question him later."

He ignored her muttered 'Oh, I will' and pushed the door open just enough to allow a person to slip through.

Percy's bewildered and slightly suspicious face appeared a few moments later. He glanced inside, looking unsure.

"It's us," Harry whispered, silently enjoying the surprise and then the astonishment that spread across his cousin's face, "Don't ask anything," he added quickly when Percy opened his mouth, "Just come inside and under the Cloak."

"What Cloak?" he asked, ignoring Harry's order.

"Oh, stop wasting time!" Hermione harrumphed. Percy leapt back. "Yes, we're here, too. Come on!" she thrust a hand out from under the Cloak and grabbed Percy by the wrist.

Percy stared open-mouthed at the disembodied hand and offered no resistance when Hermione tugged him beneath the Cloak.

He visibly shivered as he walked under the liquid-like cloth, as one might do when touched by a ghost.

"Hey, mate. You okay?" Ron asked.

Percy had gone pale and Harry wondered if perhaps the shock of seeing them appear out of thin air hadn't been too much for the other boy.

"Don't worry," he said softly, pulling him between himself and Ron so that they were all covered, "I know it's unexpected, but you'll get used to it."

"Umh?" Percy's wide eyes took him in. "Oh, sure, don't worry. I was just…" his knuckles tentatively brushed against the Cloak and the same strange expression as before flitted across his face: it was a mix between gobsmacked and horrified. "Surprised." His voice came out in a breathless whisper.

Harry caught Hermione's eye, frowning.

"I'll explain everything to you later," he promised, "after you tell us where you've been."

Percy's head snapped around. The hand that had still been stroking the Cloak fell back to his side. "Oh. Do I have to?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" Percy scratched the back of his neck, sighing. "You can start talking while we go back to the Common Room," he added, pushing the door closed.

Percy groaned. "If you insist."

Harry could tell from his put out expression that he wasn't going to like it. Percy's next word proved him right.

"How come the centaurs who live in the Forbidden Forest know you?"

/

/

Sirius watched as Hogwarts' doors closed as they had opened: on their own.

Of course, he of all people knew that, despite the magic that saturated the very air around the school, its doors did not usually move without either human interference or a very good reason.

No one had been on the threshold as far as he could see, but the dark haired boy he had followed out of the Forbidden Forest had disappeared into thin air right in front of his eyes and there weren't many things that allowed a person, even a wizard, to do that.

He knew one of those things very well.

He wondered, not for the first time, whether James' Invisibility Cloak had found its way to Harry, after all. Magical artefacts, especially family heirlooms as prized as that Cloak had been, had a knack for being exactly where they were needed.

Sirius would ask his godson, if he ever got the chance.

With one last longing glance at the school, he limped back into the forest.

It was out of the way and most people avoided it like the plague, but those were its only redeeming qualities.

It wasn't a good place to hide.

He had visited it at least once a week during his school days and both him and James had often boasted about meeting the most dangerous beasts the forest housed, but the thought of crossing paths with one of them now, alone and mostly helpless, was enough to make him feel sick to the stomach.

It wouldn't do to end up as some slobbery animal's dinner before he could expose the treacherous rodent for what he was.

Animals weren't his only, or most pressing, worry. Though it was only autumn, the air was bitingly cold and Sirius knew it would only get worse come winter.

If Remus hadn't been a professor at Hogwarts, he might've tried hiding out in the Shrieking Shack, but he couldn't risk it with his former friend there and on the look-out for him.

He could only hope Padfoot's thick fur would protect him from the weather.

As if that wasn't enough, there were the centaurs to deal with.

It was because of one of them that he had ventured so far out the forest. He knew of their scorn for humans and he was well aware they wouldn't help one without a good reason. When he had seen the strange couple – the blonde centaur and the black-haired boy – traversing the forest together, he had grown suspicious. Wanted or not, he couldn't let a kid get hurt just to keep himself out of the public eye, especially as he was fairly sure the boy in question was one of Harry's friends.

Sirius had seen them together on the evening he had arrived at Hogwarts, the only other time he had allowed himself the pleasure of leaving the relative safety of the forest to see his old school.

Catching a glimpse of Harry had been an added bonus – one that had soothed the bitter feelings their first sort-of-meeting had left. Harry looked much happier and healthier now that he was at Hogwarts and he certainly seemed to have good friends.

Of course, many people would've said the same thing about his own friends and one of them had turned out to be a stinking traitor, but he wanted to believe Harry would be luckier.

As he trudged closer to his hiding spot, so deep into the forest he didn't think anyone, human or otherwise, had ever discovered it, he heard the unmistakable howl of a wolf.

Sirius barked in response, making sure the sentinel recognized him.

He had always known about the wolves that lived in the Forbidden Forest, though it was supposed to be a secret. His parents had told him before he started Hogwarts in the hopes of discouraging him from visiting the forest, but also in what later turned out to be a last-ditch attempt at instilling in him that hate for 'half-breeds' that was so common in his wretched family.

Sirius was proud to say it had backfired spectacularly.

As the legend went, these particular wolves were the result of a union between two transformed werewolves, something that had happened only twice in wizarding history.

Albus Dumbledore, always the champion of lost causes, had brought them into the forest when they were still cubs, hoping they would grow and thrive far away from humans.

And grow they had, Sirius thought as the sentinel appeared.

It was twice as big as a normal wolf and twice as intelligent. In his grey eyes, there was that spark of awareness that other animals lacked, but that was common in human beings.

Some days, he thought they might actually be more intelligent than humans. After all, they had known he was innocent as soon as they had met, unlike his friends…

Not that he was bitter or anything.

He stepped past the imperturbable wolf and over a fallen branch, careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg.

The rest of the pack wasn't far. Some paced by the edges of their territory, grey shadows in the night; the younger members ran in circles, playfully snapping at each-others; and a few slept under an oak.

The oak was the heart of their home.

It hid the entrance to their den quite well. It was entirely plain: not taller or smaller than the surrounding trees, not particularly old nor young. If anyone ever stumbled upon this place, they wouldn't spare it a second glance. By now, though, Sirius would be able to find it with his eyes closed, simply by following the pungent scent of wet dog and old blood.

Under a section of un-earthed roots, half hidden by small branches and leaves, was the den itself. It was a large hole and inside it lived their newborn pups.

Normally, no one outside the pack was allowed to go near it, but the wolves seemed to have made an exception for Sirius' newest ally.

The ginger cat crouched over the opening in the ground, staring curiously inside, his bushy tail twitching every now and then.

Sirius sighed – or at least he made a sound as close to a sigh as he could while he was a dog.

No matter how intelligent or evolved, these magical wolves still shared the common wolf's propensity of giving birth hidden deep into the earth. That meant the pack never travelled far from the den and that Sirius was stuck there too if he wanted to be safe, miles away from Hogwarts and his godson. It also meant he had to rely on a cat's help to catch the man that had killed his best friend and his wife, ruining both his life and Harry's.

He barked softly.

The cat's tail stilled and he spun around nimbly. He purred loudly when he saw Sirius, slinking closer.

To Sirius' undying shame, his dog-like mind thought it would be a good idea to start wagging his own tail. Pathetic.

He shuffled to a spot a bit removed from the pack and laid down with a soft whine. The cat joined him a few seconds later – he leaped onto Sirius' back, his padded feet sinking into his fur, and rubbed his head against him in welcome.

Just a few days ago, Sirius would've shrugged him off, but now he found he didn't mind quite as much.

They gazed contemplatively at the wolves and Sirius felt at peace, if only just for a moment.

Yeah, he was further away from Harry than he'd have liked, but he was still close enough to know when something went wrong and safe enough to plan without worries.

Most importantly, he had an ally who could move undisturbed inside the school; an ally no one would ever suspect of.

Peter wouldn't know what hit him.

/