AN: I know this Sirius may be a little different than the Sirius you guys are used to, and there are a lot of reasons for that. First of all, I really don't think there are many fanfics out there that treat HP characters very realistically (not that the original books treat them very realistically either). That's not a bad thing, of course –we all need our fantasy dose from time to time. And we have to keep in mind that the HP books were written for kids (I wouldn't want them changed for the world). But I personally wanted to take a stab at writing a story that was believable, with somewhat realistic characters that had realistic motivations. That's what I've tried to do, though the story is and will remain somewhat over-the-top because it is, in the end, a fantasy fic. So I've made an attempt to treat Sirius realistically (along with all the other characters, though I have made liberal use of artistic freedom). I'll try to explain why he is as he is: I used to read Harry Potter growing up and I always thought the Marauders must have been very cool and smart and popular when they were in school (I think there are a lot of great fanfics that are based on the Marauders).

Anyway, Sirius (as I've always seen it) came from a high-profile family and he had a lot of expectations placed on him. Children who bear the burden of so many expectations are known to do one of two things: they fold and give in and do what is expected of them or, if they are made of stronger stuff, they rebel and insist on being themselves (which was Sirius). They also tend to develop self-esteem issues. Arrogance is nothing but an inflated sense of self – it's a form of protection against vulnerability, human weakness and failure. Sirius believed he would only be loved by his family if he became perfect in every imaginable way (perfect looks, OWLs, manners, friends, etc…). And then he went to Azkaban for 10 years after losing the people that loved him, which should, at the very least, have given him existential depression and a host of other mental health issues that I can only begin to imagine. He's only holding himself together at the moment because he has a job to do. Harry, on the other hand, was treated with apathy by his relatives all his life. It was if his existence didn't matter at all and if he died, no one would miss him or even care. He was just a burden. Consequently, he has very little self-worth, is a people pleaser and is starving for acceptance (that is why he is so quick to latch on to the one person who truly cares about him). His upbringing is also a big reason why he's so willing to sacrifice himself for the cause and be a "hero". He subconsciously believes he has no value apart from what he can do for others.

Okay, that was a really big AN and I think I may have just destroyed my childhood. Anyway, I should stop now before I cause any more damage. Also, thank you for your reviews, guys, and for reading this story. Your reviews really make me want to get off my lazy butt and want to update faster. And Zicou, mate, your review always cracks me up.

I hope you enjoy the story :)

Chapter 11: Back to School

It was a dark, gloomy night. A cover of spent white clouds blanketed the sky, filtering out the light of the moon. There was hardly a breeze to be felt, though the weather was still bearable up on the open terrace of the beautiful manor. The manor was surrounded by acres of tall trees that stretched out in every direction as far as the eye could see. A small strip of a Muggle road wound itself through the trees - the only connection the manor seemed to have to civilization.

More than a dozen cloaked, hooded figures watched as a hideous, disfigured person – of no more than four and a half feet – stood naked in the center of a perfect pentagram that had been drawn in blood. The man was whispering a complex incantation under his breath, his eyes shut and body held erect, the pentagram gleaming with an unearthly light as he chanted. One of his hands held a wand pointed to the ground, while the other was held up in front of him clenched tight in a fist. Fat droplets of red seeped out through his fisted fingers, falling to the pentagram below.

The pentagram seemed to swallow the offered blood eagerly, giving off discernible pulses of pure white light as it did so. The light seemed to flow into the man, surrounding his body and seeping into his very being. The man was going about the ritual with the practiced movements of someone who had done something a thousand times before. He accepted the magic that was flowing into him as if it was his due.

After several minutes, the man stopped the whispered incantation and lowered his wand. The pentagram gave off a final flare before it stopped pulsing entirely. The man took a deep breath, and then let it out with a sigh.

"Bring me my robes," he ordered, his eyes still shut.

A hooded figure stepped forward and handed the figure a set of plain black robes. The man slipped them on and then turned to face his followers, opening his eyes as he faced them. His eyes were a chilling blood red and the very air around him seemed to thrum with magic. He appraised his followers coldly, his face – such as it was – an emotionless mask. None of his followers dared to meet his eyes for long.

"Lucius, how go your efforts to weaken the Ministry?" He inquired.

"It is proving to be a difficult task, my Lord," Malfoy said respectfully, clearing his throat, "This Black affair has placed the Ministry on high alert and there is only so much I can do without rousing suspicion. Dumbledore also has reconvened his Order, and they are proving to be quite a nuisance. It's almost as if Dumbledore knows that you are back, my Lord, and his Order are doing everything they can to prevent you from gaining a foothold in the Ministry."

"As ever, the old man is a thorn in my side. But then, he won't be an annoyance much longer now, will he?" Voldemort questioned him, his voice cold. They both knew he was referring to the journal that was now in Hogwarts.

"If everything goes according to plan, he won't," Malfoy said with a nod of acknowledgment. "Though I daresay the presence of the Aurors at Hogwarts may make things difficult for us."

"It wasn't something we had planned for," Voldemort acknowledged, "But my agent can work around them."

Malfoy nodded again. He then took a deep breath before he spoke again, "Ah and, my Lord, if I may be so bold, have you considered my request to have Arthur Weasley punished? He still continues to push that ridiculous Muggle Rights Bill of his at the Wizengamot. It is a mockery of our traditions and our society and…"

"You have made your views on the matter clear to me before, Lucius," Voldemort said, his voice darkly amused.

"I… Forgive me, my Lord…"

"I have decided to have our agent at Hogwarts make an example of one of his children," Voldemort interrupted him smoothly, "Do not think I give this order lightly – there are so few Pureblood children left that the loss of even one is something we can ill afford."

"Thank you, my Lord," Malfoy said quickly, bowing to him. "Your gesture is deeply appreciated."

"What news do you bring me about Azkaban, Nott?" Voldemort said, dismissing Malfoy and turning to the Death Eater who stood next to him.

"It's the same with Azkaban, my Lord, like we talked about earlier," Nott said, his voice a throaty rasp, "It has lost the majority of its Dementors and we will be hard pressed to take it now. It's being guarded by Aurors who won't be so eager to join us, unlike the Dementors. I have managed to turn a couple of Aurors who are sympathetic to our cause, but most that guard the prison remain loyal to the Ministry."

"No matter," Voldemort said, "I can be patient for a while longer. The Ministry itself shall soon be within my grasp, as soon as I get rid of that old fool Dumbledore. Meanwhile, you are to continue your efforts to recruit more Aurors to our side."

"Alright, my Lord," Nott nodded.

Voldemort ran his gaze over the rest of his Death Eaters, asking them for reports about the various tasks they had been assigned. Most of the reports he received seemed to satisfy him. After a while, his eyes fell on a man that stood at the edge of the group, standing a little apart from the rest, almost as if he did not quite belong there. The man was small and heavily built. What muscle the figure may have once sported had long since turned to fat.

"We have a guest with us today," Voldemort said softly, red eyes glinting with contempt as he looked at the man, "A man who is eager to rejoin our fold… a man who claims he can help our cause. Step forward, Peter Pettigrew, and make your case."

"I have valuable information for you, my Lord," Peter Pettigrew began hesitantly, his eyes darting this way and that as he spoke –almost as if he was seeking an escape route, "I have spent more than decade spying on a prominent Pureblood family, the Weasleys, at great personal risk to myself…"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the words. Peter stopped talking at once, sensing he had just put his foot in it. He was too late, though – Voldemort was already pointing his wand at him.

Pettigrew fell forward with a surprised gasp, his knees buckling under him as a great weight was dropped on his shoulders. His hands shot forward instinctively and stopped his forward motion, but they soon began to shake under the strain. It was clear for all to see that it was difficult for the man to even draw breath.

"You dare speak to me of personal risk, Peter?" Voldemort inquired in a quiet, dangerous voice, "All I see before me a man grown fat and soft with self-indulgence. I do not recall you coming to my aid when I was forced out of my body."

"I… I…forgive me, my Lord," Peter managed a whisper, not daring to look up at him. "I thought you were dead…"

"I do not care to hear what you think, Peter," Voldemort snapped, his voice like a whip crack, "If you wish to live, tell me of what you know. Be warned: you will not leave this place alive if I do not find your information useful."

In a terrified voice, Peter began telling Voldemort and his gathered Death Eaters everything he had overheard when he'd been in the compartment with Harry Potter during the train ride to Hogwarts. He told them about how Sirius had trained him and how the boy was being groomed into becoming a fighter. He told them everything that he had seen or heard about the boy during the first year he had spent at Hogwarts. He also told Voldemort about everything he'd been able to guess about the Order of the Phoenix's movements from the time he'd spent spying on the Weasleys.

Voldemort's face was a blank mask as he heard the man make his report.

"Even if Potter is being trained, I do not believe him to be a threat to us. He's just a second year, a child, no more. You are to go back, Peter, and continue to spy on the boy," Voldemort said finally, coming to a decision. "I find myself in need of a new spy, since my old one has been taken from me. You will also to assist my agent as he fulfills his task at Hogwarts."

"Go back," Peter croaked, white-faced. "But…the Dementors…The Aurors...Sirius…"

"Crucio," Voldemort hissed.

Peter toppled forward on his hands with a scream, his body shaking and shuddering helplessly with agony, as if thousands of squirming, searing needles had lodged themselves deep inside his skin. Involuntary tears began to trickle down his cheeks as his body spasmed, struggling to deal with the soul-wrenching pain.

"It was not a request," Voldemort said coldly, lowering his wand after a few moments, looking down at the man who lay prostrate on the floor with narrowed eyes. "Do not fail me again, Peter. That was just a taste of what you will endure if you do."

"I… I… It shall be as you say, my Lord." Peter whimpered, defeated.

The two-storey Muggle house was deathly still at that time of the night. It sat on the outskirts of a charming little Muggle village, a good distance away from most of the other houses there. The house was surrounded by an open field, which connected to a small wood at the back. There was a placid pond to its left, a stone's throw away from the front door. A patch of soft green grass and tall reeds grew along the edge of the pond. The croaking of the frogs at the pond was the only sound that disturbed the quietude of the place.

A trio of wizards appeared with muted pops on the path the led up to the house. They were wearing black robes and their faces were hidden behind fearsome Death Eater masks. They looked, from the way they held themselves, ready for action. Two of them were male, while the third was female.

"This is the house, right?" One of the figures whispered to the other two, looking around him. "I have been told I make too many assumptions too quickly."

"Yeah," a beautiful female voice muttered in reply, sounding grouchy. "Of course it is."

"Right, right. Are we ready, then?" He asked them, walking up to the front door, the other two figures trailing behind him.

"Yeah," the other two nodded, one of them doing so more reluctantly than the other.

The figure in front turned, pointed his wand at the door and said, "Expulso."

The door broke and burst backwards with a deafening crack. It flew away and shattered against the wall of the hall, large chunks of wood clunking heavily to the carpeted floor. They heard the sounds of a muted scream and a shouted oath coming from somewhere upstairs.

The trio, meanwhile, strolled inside the house.

"Well, I think they'll be coming down at any moment now," the woman muttered, looking at the stairs leading to the second level of the small house. "They're very good duelists, like I told you before, so you better watch out."

"Don't worry, I have it covered," the lead figure muttered, his mouth stretched in a grin that was swallowed by the Death Eater mask. "You just play your part, and you do it right."

The woman nodded, seeming very ambivalent about the whole thing. The other figure merely sighed, "Let's just get this over with."

The two males followed the woman – who seemed to know her way around the place and had now taken the lead – deeper inside the house. They made their way into a small but comfortable-looking kitchen. The woman, after she flipped a Muggle switch to turn on the light, went and immediately sat down at the table there, looking very relaxed and at-home. She removed her mask with a sigh and ran her hand through her luxurious length of black hair. She had a very attractive face, with high cheekbones and alluring violet eyes.

The two men looked at each other. One of them – the one who had taken the lead before – nodded to the other, who nodded back and went and sat down at the table with the woman. He didn't remove his mask. The remaining masked figure went and stood behind the table, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"…the door, it was a powerful blasting curse that did it," A male voice floated to them from the hallway. "There's no one here though at the moment, or the wards would have told us otherwise. Don't know what they were thinking, destroying our door like that. I'll just take a look outside, though, just to be sure. You check downstairs. Be careful. Floo the Aurors if you need to…"

"I will. You be careful too," A woman's voice said in response. She sounded tired, but she didn't seem scared.

There was a moment's silence. Then they heard the sound of cautious footsteps headed in their general direction. There was the unmistakable sound of the living room door opening and, after a few moments, closing – the interval being just long enough for someone to have thrown a cursory glance around the room. The footsteps then approached the kitchen.

A tall woman, clad in a flowing night gown, entered, her wand held before her defensively. She was of middling age and there were streaks of grey in her hair, but she was still just as beautiful as the woman sitting at the dining table. She, too, had dark hair and alluring eyes, just like the other woman - though her were a light blue instead of violet. In fact, to a casual observer, the two women could well have been related. The newly-arrived woman appeared haggard, though, for all her beauty, as if she hadn't slept well for several weeks. Her beautiful eyes were sunken and bloodshot, almost as if she had been crying for hours on end.

The woman's eyes widened as they fell on the three frightening figures clad in Death Eater regalia occupying her kitchen, staring at her. The wards had not registered the presence of the intruders.

"TED," she screamed out, panicking, her wand now pointing at the figures. "TED!"

"DROMEDA, what's wrong!?" Ted's voice came from outside the house. They could hear him rushing back inside.

"Hello, sister," the woman sitting at the table, meanwhile, addressed Andromeda Tonks in a high, mocking voice. "I would like to say you're looking well, but that would be a lie. Marrying Muggle filth hasn't agreed with you. I can't say I'm surprised."

"Bella?" Andromeda whispered, shocked, her wand shaking in her hand as she took a better look at Bellatrix Lestrange. She was too surprised at seeing her sister, alive and out of Azkaban, to be able to throw a curse at her. "How?! I…,"

The sound of pounding footsteps interrupted whatever she'd been about to say. Ted Tonks appeared in the kitchen, carrying a gleaming black Muggle shotgun – of all things - in his hands.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the three Death Eaters that were occupying his kitchen. One of the Death Eaters was twirling his wand in his hands, surveying both him and his wife with steel-grey eyes from behind his Death Eater mask, while the other two – a man and a woman – were sitting at his dining table, looking quite at ease. It was the woman at the table who caught and held his attention. She, to his shocked surprise, looked very much like a younger version of his beloved wife.

The strangers didn't seem to be interested in offering violence, but Ted placed himself protectively in front of his wife anyway, his finger curled around the shotgun's trigger. He took comfort in the solid weight of the weapon he carried. Most wizards tended to underestimate Muggle guns, in his experience, and did not defend against them as well as they should.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Ted demanded, his voice gruff from sleep but alert enough, "How did you get past our wards? Get out, now, I'm warning you – or I will shoot you."

"Your Muggleborn pet here certainly has spunk," Bellatrix Lestrange said with a disdainful sniff, staring at him, "I can see his charm, though he seems to have forgotten his place."

There was a moment's silence. Ted scowled and began to say something cutting, but stopped when his wife placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"The Bellatrix I knew would never have complimented my husband, even in that backhanded way you just did…,"Andromeda said suspiciously, her eyes boring a hole through Bellatrix Lestrange's. "In fact, she wouldn't even have acknowledged his existence. You can't be Bellatrix, you're an imposter!"

"Who else would I be, foolish sister?" Bellatrix Lestrange sneered at her. "You clearly don't know me as well as you think."

Andromeda didn't appear convinced and continued to stare at her piercingly. Bellatrix, for her part, shifted nervously in her seat but stared back at her determinedly.

"Nymphadora?" Andromeda breathed out finally, her eyes lighting up with recognition, "You? How? But you…You're alive! Oh, my baby girl, my poor Nymphie! I thought I had lost you."

Andromeda shouldered past her shocked husband and bore down on her only daughter. Nymphadora Tonks, wearing the form of Bellatrix Lestrange, was engulfed in a tight motherly hug a moment later.

"Merlin," Sirius Black muttered from behind the table, "That didn't take very long. And I was hoping to witness some more drama and angst tonight."

"I thought you were dead, honey!" Andromeda, meanwhile, wailed, "I thought Sirius Black must have murdered you…"

Bellatrix's beautiful face wore now an expression of guilt that appeared alien on it. She stroked her mothers back consolingly as the woman sniffled into her shoulder.

"I really thought I had lost you!" Andromeda continued to wail, squeezing all the air from Tonks' lungs.

"There, there, mom," Tonks whispered, now sounding very guilty and small, "I'm here, I'm okay. You have nothing to worry about. I'm very sorry for scaring you."

"I think you have a lot of explaining to do, young lady," Ted Tonks spoke up, frowning at her sternly, though the relief was clearly evident in his voice.

"Right, well," Sirius said cheerfully, unbothered by the somber atmosphere in the house. He removed his mask and stepped forward, grinning at the room in general, "Now that I have reunited you with your parents, Nymphadora, my job here is done. There's no need to thank me - you're family, after all, so it was my job to look after you. Well, I can see you all have some catching up to do, so I'll just leave you to it… It was nice seeing you again, Andy, Ted. Ted – I'm your wife's cousin, if you didn't know, by the way."

Andy and Ted just stared at Sirius Black, the wanted mass murderer and notorious kidnapper, looking gobsmacked to have him turn up in their home in a sleepy little Muggle village, of all places. The last they had heard, Sirius Black was believed to be running amok somewhere in Belgium.

"Well, I had better get going, I have a country to take over, you know," Sirius said offhandedly, before either of them could recover from their shock and try to stop him. He made as if to leave – beginning the motions of Disapparition – before he paused, as if he had just remembered something, and turned to Tonks, "Oh, and don't forget to introduce them to your boyfriend there, my dear Nymphie. He's the reason why you ran away from home in the first place. If I hadn't found you both and taken you in when I did, who knows what might have happened to you?"

He then Disapparated with an evil laugh, leaving chaos in his wake.

Three pairs of eyes, two of them accusing and one of them speculative, landed on Remus Lyall Lupin. Remus' eyes widened, much like that of a deer's caught in the path of a rampaging Hippogriff. He tried not to squirm in his seat as he faced their accusing stares, realizing he'd been set up by his so-called best friend. The joke had been on him all along.

"You… my baby girl is d-dating a D-Death Eater?" Andromeda whispered in shock, staring from Remus to her daughter, her eyes wide, "Are…are you one of them now? Is that why you look like your aunt Bella and you're wearing those robes? Oh Merlin, I think I need to lie down…"

"What?! No, it's not like that Mother," Tonks said hastily, quickly morphing back into her normal self.

Remus was speaking at the same time from behind his Death Eater mask: "No, Mrs. Tonks, we're not dating… of course not! I'm not a Death Eater… It's just… All this was just a joke, you see. It was Sirius' idea…" he finished lamely.

"I see," Ted Tonks said in a flat voice, the shotgun in his hand rising to point directly at Remus Lupin, "So you're saying you were just leading my daughter on for the past few weeks, then, because that bastard Black told you to."

Remus Lupin gulped audibly as he met the incensed man's stare. He had been left holding the bag, it looked like. Again.

"I'll get you for this, Sirius Black, you Merlin-forsaken traitor, even if it's the last thing I do," he vowed under his breath, sweating a river as the intimidaxting Muggle waited for an explanation, looking as if he would like nothing more in the world than putting a gaping hole through Remus Lupin's chest.

Sirius heard the pop of Apparition that signaled Moony's arrival into their clearing. The man appeared to be deeply traumatized.

"That wasn't funny, Sirius Orion Black," Remus said in a threating voice when he'd walked up to where Sirius was sitting. He was breathing heavily and was scowling, having discarded his Death eater mask somewhere.

"Oh Merlin, he's breaking out the full name," Sirius muttered, and then spoke louder, "I'm sure it was. But I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That wasn't what we had planned," Remus said accusingly, "We were supposed to prank Andromeda!"

"Prank that poor woman?" Sirius asked him innocently, acting surprised, "After all she's been through this summer, when her only daughter went missing? What do you take me for?"

"You… you… I have no words! I'm going to wring your scrawny neck one of these days. I almost died, for Merlin's sake!" Remus exclaimed, sinking into the chair beside him, looking wrung out.

"Don't be so dramatic, Moony. I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Sirius sniggered, "Did they make you apologize for eloping with your girlfriend without their permission?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Remus protested, "And no, worse. They invited me to dinner. If I don't go this Saturday, Ted has threatened to track me down and shoot me."

Sirius laughed out loud.

"Tonks is coming back, though, right?"

"Yeah, she said she'll visit this weekend, after she reports back to the Ministry."

"Good, good."

"And she's still skeptical about Pettigrew. She doesn't believe the Ministry could make a mistake that big."

"Well, they did."

"I know that, but she's having trouble accepting it."

"She's young and idealistic,' Sirius said dismissively, "She probably still thinks the Ministry cares about everyone and that the Minister is competent at his job and all."

"Well, yeah… She told me she's not happy about the way you're going about all this, Padfoot. She wishes you would work with Dumbledore and not against him."

"I know she isn't. But she'll help us, regardless."

"Yeah, but she'll only do it because she cares about Harry," Remus told him. "And only as long as you don't force her to choose between you and Dumbledore."

"That's not even a difficult choice, but I'm sure it won't come to that. At least, not just yet," Sirius said with a snort.

"Not just yet?" Remus said, raising his eyebrow, "Need I remind you of what happened the last time we went up against Dumbledore?"

"I was careless, and I wasn't expecting him to show up when he did, but it won't happen again," Sirius said, waving Remus' concerns away, "Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts, we have time to make new plans to remove Dumbledore from the picture. It's just too bad Tonks wasn't able to tell us anything about how Dumbledore knew I was coming to visit Harry on his birthday."

"I don't think Dumbledore confides his secrets to anyone, let alone an eighteen year old, no matter how capable she seems to be," Remus said wisely.

"You're right," Sirius nodded. "Well, the important thing is keeping Harry safe and happy. I'll figure out how Dumbledore knew eventually."

"It is disconcerting how he knew, isn't it?" Remus frowned. "How do you think he does it? Do you have any theories?"

"None that I care to mention," Sirius said, "Whatever he seems to be doing, it seems to be effective. He knew to send Snape after me when I was in Spain. I really needed that vacation, you know."

Remus just snorted, "It doesn't seem to have slowed you down one bit."

"Yeah well…" Sirius began, and then trailed off, looking grim.

"What is it, Sirius?" Remus asked, taking note of the way his friend was clenching his jaw.

"My little stint in Azkaban has really messed me up, Remus," Sirius admitted slowly, "It's been weeks since I broke out, but I haven't recovered as well as I would have liked. And, left to my own devices, I don't think I ever will. There's nothing wrong with my magic, but my body… Well, that's a different story…"

"Is it really that bad? We could… we could get you to a healer," Remus said slowly.

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head, "I know what a healer would tell me, that there is only so much magic can do for me. A decade being tortured by your worst memories is not something you ever recover from fully."

"What are you saying, Padfoot?" Remus asked him, concerned, "Are you… are you saying you can't do all this anymore?"

"Merlin no," Sirius snorted, "I just need the Philosopher's Stone to be finished quickly. The elixir should restore my body back to how it was, given time."

"Oh alright," Remus nodded, relieved, "So a few months more and you should be okay."

"Yeah," Sirius said, "Until then, you're just going to have to do the heavy lifting around here."

"You talk like it would have been any different even if you were healthy," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

Sirius just snorted and didn't choose to dispute his words. Both men just sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, lost to their own thoughts.

"What do we do about Pettigrew?" Remus spoke up finally. "Nobody thinks he's still alive. They all looked at me as if I had grown a second head when I asked about him."

"He's always been good at hiding," Sirius acknowledged, frowning, "But when he does turn up – and he will, you mark my words - we're going to capture him and I'm going to kill him."

Remus said nothing. He personally thought that it would be better if they handed Pettigrew over to the Ministry, so that Sirius could be proved innocent – at least of some of the crimes he'd been accused of.

"And Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Should we have told Harry about the prophecy?"

Sirius let out a sigh, staring out into the trees, "I don't know, Remus. I just don't know. I don't know if he can handle it. Merlin, I don't think anyone would be able to handle something like that. He's been through so much already…"

When the Auror had come back to the compartment, he'd appeared impressed that Harry had managed to pull off so much advanced magic and single-handedly incapacitated three students. Unfortunately, he'd also immediately notified a Prefect – he didn't have the authority or obligation to handle a disciplinary matter, he'd told Harry, and it wasn't his job to revive Malfoy. The Prefect had been displeased, to say the least, and had given Harry a stern dressing down for fighting on the train. He'd also given Harry a detention. Harry didn't really mind, because Malfoy and his cronies had been given detention as well.

Afterwards, Harry and his two friends had gotten off the train and had ridden the carriages up to the castle. The Auror had ridden with them, charming the carriage to expand on the inside so that it would fit them all. While they hadn't had the opportunity to interact much, Harry sort of liked the Auror – he was solid and clearly very competent at his job. If it chafed that he'd been assigned as a guard to a twelve year old, it didn't show in his demeanor. The Ministry was taking the safety of the students at Hogwarts seriously, it looked like - the carriage had to pass through a check-point that had been set up by Aurors near the school.

Harry loved being back at Hogwarts. He had missed the strong, sturdy walls; the beautiful paintings; the winding stairways; that castle's resident ghosts and the presence of all the heady magic that seemed to permeate every pore of the place. The old castle was home to him, more so than any other place in the world.

At the Sorting ceremony, Gryffindor got a handful of new, tiny-looking first year students. Harry clapped along with the rest of the house as they welcomed them into their fold. One of the first years that had been sorted into Gryffindor had been Ron's youngest sister, Ginny. She had appeared confident and composed when McGonagall had called her name for the sorting, unlike many of her fellow students. She had waved to her brothers at the Gryffindor table cheerfully before she donned the Sorting Hat. What followed had been an unusually long sorting. Harry had felt Ron fidgeting at his side and he'd wondered if he was about to see a Weasley sorted in a house other than Gryffindor for the first time in more than a century. But the hat had proclaimed "Gryffindor", in the end (much to Ron's apparent relief), and she had made her way, beaming, to their table. Harry happened to meet her gaze as she came up to the table. He could swear her face had become as red as beetroot in response. She'd gone on to sit beside Fred and George, both of whom had made a great show of welcoming Gryffindor's newest Weasley member.

One of the other first years that was sorted into Gryffindor had been carrying a Muggle camera, of all things, with him and had stared around him in awe – though he had been apparently banned from taking pictures without asking for permission from the students first. The boy asked a lot of questions in a loud, piping voice and had seemed to be excessively interested in Harry.

The Start-of-Term-Feast had gone off without a hitch. Harry had made sure to take double helpings of his favorite treacle tart after the main dishes were cleared. Tonks was a good cook, but she was nowhere near as good as the Hogwarts house elves.

After the feast had ended, Harry had sleepily trudged off in the direction of the Gryffindor tower with the rest of his house. He was looking forward to talking with his two best friends without the Auror listening in. When he had clambered into the Gryffindor Common Room, though, he'd been immediately ambushed by his housemates. Now that the intimidating-looking Auror was away – he'd opted to stand guard outside the Common Room – Harry seemed to be fair game to them. Harry had had to answer a hail of questions about his summer, about Sirius and also about the Auror who was now standing guard outside. Some of the seventh years who had never deigned to talk to him before had also demanded answers from him.

Harry was careful to tell them all a doctored version of the events of the summer, making sure that his account matched Lockhart's. He had no doubt that the rest of the school would also hear what he was telling his housemates by tomorrow. News always spread like wildfire around the castle.

By the time the unofficial interrogation session had come to an end, Harry was feeling wrung out. After wishing Hermione good night and promising to talk to both Ron and Hermione together later, he walked up to his dorm room with Ron. He changed out of his school robes quickly and got into his huge, comfortable four-poster bed. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

Harry woke up early the next day, before any of his dorm mates had – he'd gotten used to doing it over the summer and he saw no reason to break the habit. He dressed quietly and efficiently, so that he was dressed in under five minutes. He gathered his bag - making sure to place some spare clothes in it along with his books – and left his dormitory. He made his way down the stairs and into the common room, which was empty that early in the morning. Through the windows, he could see a faint tinge of orange that was spreading across the sky. It would be daybreak soon.

He pushed the Fat Lady's painting open and crawled out to the other side. To his surprise, Auror Randolph was waiting outside, fully dressed and ready, almost as if he had been expecting Harry.

The Auror took in the way Harry was dressed – in Muggle sports wear – and raised his eyebrows. "What's this, then?"

"Err… I was planning to go for a run around the Quidditch pitch... You don't have to come with me, you know, I don't think I'll be in danger or something," Harry said quickly.

Randolph just snorted, "A run? Merlin, kids these days… When I was your age, even a Stinging Hex wouldn't have gotten me out of bed at this time."

"Err… right. You don't have to come with me, like I said," Harry tried again.

"It's my job to watch over you," Randolph told him bluntly, rolling his eyes. "Even when you insist on getting up at the crack of bloody dawn and going for a run. So lead on, kid."

"Okay…alright.," Harry said. He thought it was stupid the Ministry had assigned him protection in the first place – it wasn't like Sirius was a threat to him. But then, he could hardly tell them that without giving Sirius away.

They were out of Hogwarts in five minutes – they hallways had been deserted, just like the common room - and heading for the Quidditch pitch. Once at the pitch, Harry left his bag and supplies on some seats. The Auror sat himself down by them and told Harry he would watch over him from here. Harry nodded at him and left him there.

After a quick warm up, he began running laps around the Quidditch pitch, his breath steaming out before him – Hogwarts was always chilly, even if they were still in summer. It felt strange to have someone watch him exercise, but Harry got caught up in his daily routine and was able to ignore the man's presence after a while. After running a few laps around the pitch, he went through all the other exercises he'd been taught, including some stretches and strength building exercises that focused on his legs and his upper body. He also went through a chained series of basic fighting stances that Sirius had picked up from somewhere and taught to him. At the end of it, Harry's entire body was drenched with sweat and his muscles felt as if they were on fire. He was exhausted, but in a good way.

"Who taught you those katas, Potter?" Auror Randolph asked Harry as he came to pick up his bag.

"Katas?" Harry asked him, confused. "What's that?"

"Merlin, you don't even know the word," Randolph said with a snort, "I meant those fighting stances you did at the end of your little routine."

"Err… Well, a friend of mine did," Harry hedged.

"Well, whoever taught it to you has done a right shoddy job of it. If you're going to practice katas, you're going to do it right… at least while I'm here," He said bluntly. "We start day after tomorrow. I can't teach you tomorrow because it's Dawlish's turn to guard you."

"Err… Okay, if you say so…"

"Harry, there you are," Hermione greeted Harry as he came up to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. "We were looking for you. Where were you?"

Harry had showered down at the locker room at the Quidditch pitched and changed into his school robes before coming in for breakfast.

"Exercising," Harry said shortly, taking a seat next to her. "Sorry, should have told you I was planning to last night, but I forgot, and I didn't want to wake you up in the morning…"

He began to help himself to some eggs and toast.

"Exercising? Is it something that, you know, your friend taught you?" Hermione asked him meaningfully, daintily buttering her toast and shooting a glance at the Auror who had followed behind Harry. Auror Randolph was now standing a good way away from the table, but he would be able to overhear them if he strained his ears.

"Yeah, my… friend taught me, yeah. He reckons I should stay as fit as I can, because it's supposed to help me channel magic better. And he also says dodging is very handy skill to have while dueling, so I'm supposed to practice that too when I exercise."

"Okay, I suppose he knows what he's talking about," Hermione allowed.

"He does," Harry said. "He's amazing."

"There is still a lot you haven't told us, Harry…"Hermione said, slightly wistfully.

Harry nodded, and then spoke in the low voice, "In the common room tonight, where there is less chance of us being overhead."

Hermione nodded.

Harry began to work on his eggs – he was starving after all that hard work. He spared a glance at Ron as he chewed. The red-haired boy hadn't contributed a single word to the conversation yet. He was looking disheveled, as if he had dressed in a hurry, and, while the plate in front of him was full of food, he wasn't eating. He also appeared to be fidgeting in his seat restlessly and throwing glances at the floor and all around the hall in general.

"What's with you, Ron?" Harry asked him, frowning, "Why aren't you eating?"

"I lost Scabbers," Ron said distractedly.

"He says he can't find him anywhere," Hermione spoke up, seeing that Ron wasn't volunteering any further information. "He turned your room upside down this morning searching for him."

Harry knew Ron loved his rat, even though he always complained he was a useless git who did nothing but eat and sleep.

"He'll turn up, Ron," Harry said sympathetically, "Have you asked Percy for help? Maybe he knows a spell that can help."

Ron just shook his head, "No, I haven't yet. But if he doesn't turn up by lunch, I will."

Breakfast was a quiet affair after that. Ron was clearly not in the mood to talk, and Hermione had disappeared behind a large tome she had decided to lug around with her that day. Apparently, she had decided to win Gryffindor the House Cup that year by knowing everything there was to know about magic in a single day.

It wasn't long before Professor McGonagall came down from the staff table and handed Gryffindor house their timetables for the coming year. Harry saw that their first period was Herbology, which they were to share with the Hufflepuffs.

He made his way back out to the grounds with the rest of the Gryffindor first years after breakfast, his Auror guard following at a discreet distance behind them. His housemates threw a mixture of curious and suspicious glances at the Auror, but none of them spoke to him. They seemed to have figured out they would be seeing a lot of the man that year. The school was under heavy guard, and they all knew about the Dementors that had been stationed at its entrance.

For Herbology, Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff House head, took them to Greenhouse Three and taught them how to pot Mandrakes. Harry got acquainted with a couple of Hufflepuffs he liked, a Muggleborn boy called Justin Finch-Fletchley and his somewhat pompous friend Ernie MacMillan. The After a tiring but productive first period, the Gryffindors headed to the Transfiguration classroom for their next lesson.

In Transfiguration, they were each given a beetle by Professor McGonagall and told to turn it into a button by the end of class. Harry had trouble with it at first, like the rest of his classmates. He grew frustrated as he jabbed his wand at the insect and tried to will it to change, but, after several minutes of stubborn effort, all he managed to do was give the beetle a silvery sheen. Sirius had made transfiguration look so easy that summer, he thought to himself morosely. Thinking about his godfather made him remember his Occlumency training. He tried to still his mind, his godfather's voice echoing instructions inside his head. When his breathing was under control and mind clear, he tried once more to change the beetle into a button, visualizing and feeling his desire for all he was worth. The beetle promptly transformed into a beautiful black decorative button that wouldn't have looked out of place on a set of Madam Malkin's best dress robes.

He was only the second student in class, behind Hermione, who managed to do the transfiguration exercise successfully that day. They were both given five points for their effort, and Harry, for the first time ever, also got an approving nod from Professor McGonagall for a job well done. Ron, for his part, had done the exercise very half-heartedly. The loss of his rat seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.

After Transfiguration, the Gryffindors had Defense Against the Dark Arts with their new teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry had mixed feelings about attending the class. He had been told by Sirius that the man was a fraud, and Lockhart had pretty much confirmed Sirius' words when he'd lied so masterfully in front of Harry at the Ministry. Because of that, Harry neither trusted the man nor liked him. But he knew Lockhart would do whatever his godfather told him to and was technically on their side. In fact, Remus had told him that Sirius had given the man strict orders to watch over him. So he went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with the rest of the Gryffindors, burying his many misgivings for the moment. He did make sure to grab a seat at the very back of the class, though. Hermione gave him a look and took a seat at the very front, looking excited and somewhat apprehensive. Harry had tried to tell her the man was a fraud. She had looked skeptical and told him Dumbledore would never have hired him if that was a case. She had only changed her viewpoint after Harry had made the argument that Lockhart had "rescued" him from his godfather and had been given an Order of Merlin for it. Harry hadn't been rescued, of course - and that proved the man was a fraud. She had looked mightily displeased and she had said wanted to verify it for herself.

Lockhart appeared in the classroom - which he had decorated with many smiling pictures of himself doing a number of improbably things - a few minutes later. He was wearing a set of well-fitted dress robes of a deep navy blue that went beautifully with his thick mane of golden hair. His face was free of bandages, though it still wore noticeable bruises. All the girls in the class were making cow eyes at the man, and he smiled winningly as he introduced himself:

"I know you all know who I am," Lockhart beamed, "But I'll introduce myself anyway, on the off chance you've been living under a rock. My name is Gilderoy Lockhart, winner of the Order of Merlin, First Class. My achievements are many, as I'm sure you all know, but my most noteworthy achievement by far is successfully rescuing young and innocent Harry Potter from the clutches of the evil Dark Lord, Sirius Black."

Whispers broke out in the classroom as the gathered students turned to stare at Harry, who was occupying the desk at the very back and doing his best to pretend he didn't exist. Harry's cheeks burned as they all looked at him. He deftly built a tower of Lockhart's many books, which Remus had bought for him, and hid behind them as the Professor continued to talk.

"But I didn't manage that by dint of good looks alone," Lockhart continued, waggling his eyebrows at the girls (one of them actually giggled and blushed). "I also had some very advanced magic at my disposal."

"Professor, is it true that you dueled four of Black's followers at once, while fending of Fenrir Greyback's attacks at the same time?"

"That would be telling, now, wouldn't it?" Lockhart smirked at Hermione, who had asked the question with a raised hand. "You will just have to wait for my newest book, like everyone else, to have all your curiosity sated."

"But didn't you also have Harry with you? Didn't they try to attack him?"Hermione asked him, looking determined to ferret out the truth.

Harry tried to glare a hole through her back. Why did she have to bring him into it?

"Of course they did," Lockhart answered, unfazed. "But I was there to protect him, wasn't I?"

"And how did you escape Sirius Black's lair exactly?" Hermione tried a different tack. "What was the lair like?"

"You're an inquisitive one, you are," Lockhart told her with a charming smile. "Your questions are just like the questions I answered for the Aurors at the Ministry. You know what, as a special treat, I'm going to reenact some scenes of my daring escape from Sirius Black's lair, with Harry's help. I hope that will answer some of your questions for you. Harry, come forward, will you?"

Harry, extremely reluctantly, went to the front of the classroom. Hermione shot him an apologetic look as he passed her seat. The rest of the period was spent with Harry being cast as a hapless victim who could do nothing right, while Lockhart singlehandedly dueled Black's many followers in an effort to extract him to safety- all the while keeping a magically-resistant Fenrir Greyback away from them with a combination of high-level transfiguration and charms. By the end of the class, Harry thought he would die of shame and humiliation. His classmates were giving him universal looks of pity and sympathy. His performance, though, seemed to cheer up Ron – watching his best friend make an ass of himself in front of everyone wasn't something he got to see everyday.

"Harry, maybe you should tell your… friend about Lockhart, you know," Hermione said later, struggling to keep up with Harry as he walked as fast as he could away from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and Lockhart. "Maybe he can do something about him."

"Tell S… my friend about what just happened?" Harry almost yelled out before he calmed down, "Are you mental? He would never let me live it down."

The rest of the week, thankfully, went much better for him. He was able to talk to his friends about his summer in private several times. They were both eager to learn everything Sirius had taught Harry. Hermione, in particular, had looked scandalized when she had realized wizards could read her mind and had insisted that he teach her Occlumency at the earliest. Ron found Scabbers hiding in one of the greenhouses during their next Herbology class and it put him in a much happier mood for the week.

Potions, which the Gryffindors shared with the Slytherins, was a new experience for him. Slughorn was a much more agreeable teacher than Snape. Unlike Snape, Slughorn didn't look like he wanted to murder Harry. He was also very knowledgeable and a patient teacher- he didn't even yell when Neville melted his first cauldron that year during their first Potions lesson. At the end of the class, Slughorn had asked Harry, Hermione and Malfoy to stay behind and had invited them to come to a small get together he was holding in an empty room on the seventh floor on Sunday. If he noticed the frostiness with which Harry and Malfoy treated each other, he didn't choose to comment on it.

The rest of the week passed by quickly. Harry seemed to have picked up a follower who seemed to have memorized his schedule and was always asking him for pictures - the Gryffindor first year who was called Colin Creevey. Luckily for Harry, he was able to avoid Colin with Fred and George's help. They knew all the shortcuts in the school, thanks to the map they carried, and had willingly shared their knowledge with him.

It was after dinner on Friday that Professor McGonagall cornered him and told him that Dumbledore wanted to meet him up in his office. Harry had known that this would happen – he had been dreading the meeting all week. He had gone over the eventuality with Sirius, who had waved away his concerns and just told him to go with the truth. Harry walked up to the man's office, feeling as if his insides had been twisted in a knot.

"Ah, Harry, my boy, do come in," Albus Dumbledore said, his voice as kind and friendly as always.

Harry entered the office hesitantly, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him as he gazed at the man who was smiling at him. The man was still treating him the same even though Harry had cursed him to his back, stolen his wand and run away with his godfather that summer. If his actions had hurt the man in any way, though, he did not show it as he surveyed the boy with his twinkling blue eyes.

Harry, as he entered, saw that they were not alone. A stern-faced witch was sitting at the desk facing Dumbledore. He knew she was one of the teachers in the school who taught an elective to the upper years.

"Come and sit, Harry," Dumbledore said to him encouragingly.

Harry hesitated, looking between him and the teacher, wondering why she was there with them.

"This is Professor Vector, Harry," Dumbledore told him, having understood his hesitation. "You may have seen her at the staff table during mealtimes. She teaches Arithmancy to the older students. She's here at my request. Don't worry about speaking your mind in front of her – she has my full confidence."

Harry slowly went and sat beside the older witch. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment, which he returned.

"How do you do, Professor" Harry greeted her politely.

He'd overheard the upper years discussing the teacher and her subject before. From what he knew, the woman was very strict – perhaps as strict as Professor McGonagall – and she almost always gave the students a lot of homework to do.

"I'm well enough, Mister Potter," She said with a small smile. Her face was austere, and she wore her hair in a tight bun behind her head. Her eyes, he noticed, were a vivid green, though they were a softer shade than his own.

"You may have wondered why I asked you to come see me in my office, Harry…," Dumbledore began, looking at him.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry blurted out, interrupting him, "I'm sorry about cursing you this summer, sir."

He'd been dying to say those words all summer. He really liked and admired the old wizard before him, and he didn't want Dumbledore to think badly of him.

"Don't let it trouble you, my boy," Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling merrily, "It is water under the bridge, as far as I'm concerned."

Harry didn't reply – he just stared at his feet, wondering what the catch was. Living with the Dursleys had taught him that people were petty and never forgave people for their mistakes.

"It seems you do not quite believe me," Dumbledore said gravely. "But know that I do not hold grudges against the people I care about."

Harry fidgeted, not knowing how to respond to that.

"You stood up for what you believed in this summer. Perhaps it was for the best, what you did…" Dumbledore continued with a sigh, "I have thought deeply about what you said at your aunt's house, my boy, about Sirius not deserving to go to Azkaban. I now believe you spoke the truth. Sometimes it takes the innocent perceptions of youth to point out an old man's folly. Perhaps I was asking too much of Sirius when I requested that he surrender himself to the Ministry. I don't believe - quite rightly, I might add - that he trusts them to do right by him."

Harry nodded at him slowly.

"I do not agree with his methods, Harry," Dumbledore said, "But I cannot deny the sincerity of his intentions, at least as far as you are concerned."

"Before we begin, Harry, I must ask if you happen to have my wand with you," Dumbledore said, blue eyes piercing.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said, shamefaced. "Sirius kept that with him."

"Perhaps it was time for the wand to find a new master."

Harry said nothing, not understanding him.

"Tell me, did you enjoy your summer with your godfather, Harry?"

"Yes, professor," Harry said, unable to keep from smiling, "I guess I did. He taught me a lot. He says I need to be trained, so I can protect myself better if Voldemort ever comes after me again."

Dumbledore nodded, "And what impression do you have about your godfather, Harry?"

"Err… I don't know, professor," Harry said slowly, thinking it over. "Sirius is… well, he's not like other people… He's not exactly normal, I think. He's, well… he's dangerous. But I know he really cares about me and he would never do anything to hurt me."

"I see."

"Why do you ask, sir?"

"We have not done right by Sirius, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said gravely. "And now the Wizarding world may have to pay a steep price for it."

"What do you mean, professor?"

" Do you remember our conversation, Harry, from when you were recuperating in the Hospital Wing last year? When you asked me why Voldemort would choose to come after you, of all people?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said slowly. It wasn't a conversation he was likely to forget. Was Dumbledore going to tell him why Voldemort was after him now? Harry's breath quickened in anticipation and he gripped the edges of his chair tightly as he focused on Dumbledore's words.

"There was a prophecy made before your birth, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "It claimed that a baby would be born to people who had thrice defied the Dark Lord, and that the baby would be marked as the Dark Lord's equal. The baby would be the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. He would have a power the Dark Lord would know nothing about."

"So that's me, then?" Harry said, white-faced. "I was that baby and I'm supposed to defeat Voldemort on my own?"

"You are supposed to defeat Voldemort, I am afraid so," Dumbledore said softly, "He has marked you as his equal, there is no doubt of that. And it is a heavy burden for someone so young to bear. But no, Harry, you don't have to do it on your own. Never alone, my boy…."

"How do I defeat him?" Harry asked him urgently, uncaring. His palms were sweaty and it was all he could do not to bolt from the room. Dumbledore's words were cold comfort to him. He thought back to how Sirius had explained about how powerful Voldemort was. He wasn't stupid. He knew he had no chance of matching the Dark Wizard. He was only twelve years old. "He's too strong for me!"

Fawkes had sensed Harry's distress. He flew from his perch to Harry's lap and began crooning a soft, sweet melody in an effort to calm him down. Harry's heartbeat slowed down noticeably, but he still stared at Dumbledore in distress.

"There is always a way, Harry," Dumbledore said, "Please take heart and know that it is not an impossible task. I am what you would call an Arithmancer. Arithmancy is an obscure branch of magic that deals with predicting the future through the study of magical patterns. Unlike Divination, however, which it is related to, Arithmancy deals with probabilities. A skilled Arithmancer is able to analyze several probable futures and pick one that best suits him or her by acting a certain way in the present. I was able to isolate a pattern that would get allow you to defeat Voldemort without too much trouble. I wouldn't even have had to tell you about the prophecy until you were older and better able to handle the pressure it would no doubt place on you. But now, I'm afraid, Harry, I have no choice."

"What happened to the pattern, professor?" Harry asked him, struggling to keep the panic from his voice. He had managed to follow Dumbledore's explanation, somewhat, but it all seemed impossibly complicated to him.

"It was Sirius, Mr. Potter. He changed the balance by breaking out of Azkaban," Septima Vector said, speaking for the first time in a surprisingly gentle voice. "It has introduced several probabilities that weren't present before, and many of them are grim."

"What does that mean?"

"That means I will begin training you, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "With the help of Professor Vector here. I will be teaching you magic that will better help you defend yourself."

"But... I can't fight Voldemort and hope to win, can I?" Harry asked him quietly.

"I am working with Professor Vector to isolate a new pattern which could spell the end for Voldemort, forgive me the pun. It will take time, but I am hopeful that we will succeed," Dumbledore said. "But you must know how to protect yourself in the interim, Harry."

"Alright…" Harry whispered, feeling sick to his stomach as the hopelessness of his situation struck him. It was almost like a Dementor had entered the room and was sucking all the life out of him. He had to talk to Sirius about this as soon as possible. He had been planning to do that tomorrow anyway, while serving out his detention with Lockhart.

"Sir, did... did Sirius know about this prophecy?" Harry asked Dumbledore, feeling the sting of betrayal deep in his chest. Was that why his godfather had insisted Harry learn how to protect himself?

"I don't know, my boy," Dumbledore said, "It is possible he did."

"Why didn't he tell me then?" Harry asked him, unable to keep the pain from his voice.

"I can only speculate as to why," Dumbledore said, "But I imagine he didn't want to worry you needlessly, my boy... He cares about you deeply."

"Okay," Harry said, digesting this. The hurt in his chest eased a little.

"I believe we should conclude this meeting here, Harry. I'm sure we have given you much to think about."

"Yes, sir."

"And, as always, my door is always open to you, if you need someone to talk to."

"Thank you, sir." Harry got up slowly, "Sir, before I go... there is something I have to ask you."

"Go ahead, Harry."

"It's about the Dementors, sir. One came close to me on the train, and I just fainted… Why did I faint when it came near me? No one else did… I heard my mother, screaming… "

"I see…," Dumbledore said, looking at him sadly, "It is not unusual for someone to have such a reaction to them, my boy, but the people who do are usually older and have witnessed many horrors in their lives."

"But does that mean I'll always faint when one is near me? How do I protect myself against them?" Harry said, a note of desperation in his voice, "If they come at me again, I am powerless to stop them."

"I will endeavor to teach you the spell that holds them at bay," Dumbledore told him, "It is called the Patronus Charm. It is an advanced spell that few master, but you have the impetus needed to learn it."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said gratefully.

Harry moved to the door, "See you later Professor Dumbledore, Professor Vector."

"Mr. Potter, I will expect you in my office on Friday after dinner at eight. Don't be late."

"Yes ma'am."

Harry made his way to the Gryffindor tower, his mind in a daze. He was destined to defeat Voldemort? A cloud of fear clogged his thoughts as he tried to accept the scary reality of his situation. He really needed to talk to his godfather and soon.

"Come to me… come… let me tear you… let me rip you… let me kill you… " A low, sinister hiss floated up to his ears.

"What was that?" Harry blurted out in surprise, staring around him, heart thudding in his chest.

"What was what, Potter?" Auror Randolph asked him gruffly.

"That voice, Auror Randolph," Harry told him, "It said something about tearing someone… and ripping."

Auror Randolph stared at him for a second, his face expressionless.

"I heard nothing, Potter. Perhaps you haven't had enough sleep this week... you insist on getting up every bloody morning at an unholy hour."

"I know what I heard," Harry said stubbornly.

"Do you hear it now?"

"No, it's gone."

"It could have been a student playing a prank on you, perhaps. Maybe it was one of the castle ghosts..."

"Yeah, maybe."

There was one more thing he had to tell his godfather.

Saturday morning - it was supposed to have been his day off - Harry was woken by an zealous-looking Wood. He dragged Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team to the locker room and proceeded to give them a long lecture on some new tactics he had come up with that would enable them to win the cup that year. Most of the team were too sleepy to take it in. Harry, for his part, was in a bit of a daze. He couldn't believe normal things like Quidditch existed while there was a Dark Wizard out there who was after his blood.

Wood got them changed and into their Quidditch robes, eager to try out some of the new moves he thought he had just drilled into them. Harry, as he followed Wood out onto the pitch. He could see a few spectators sitting out on the stands, come out to see the Gryffindor team practice. Ron and Hermione were among them. To his surprise, Ginny was there too, as was Professor Slughorn. Was the professor a Quidditch enthusiast? He also noted that Colin Creevey was there with his camera. He waved at his friends in the stands. Ron and Hermione waved back - and so did Ginny.

Just as the Gryffindor team was about to take to the air, a group of figures in Slytherin green invaded the pitch.

"Clear off, Flint. We've booked the pitch today," Wood yelled at the figure who was leading them as they came up to talk.

"I have written permission here from Professor Slughorn there," Flint said, waving a note in Wood's face with one hand and using the other to point towards the Professor, who was sitting in one of the seats and waving at them. "He says we are allowed to share the pitch with you today."

"Here, give me that," Wood said irritably, snatching the note from the boy. He read through it quickly, and his expression morphed to one of outrage, "Everyone in your team got new brooms?"

"Yeah," Flint gloated. The entire Slytherin showed off their brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones to the Gryffindor Team. "You Gryffindodos don't stand a chance against us this year."

"If you think you're going to win just because you have new brooms, you have another thing coming," Wood snarled, "And what's this bit about a new seeker? The note doesn't say who it is."

"That would be me," Draco Malfoy shouldered his way through the Slytherin wall and shot a triumphant look at Harry. "I'm their new seeker."

"Draco's father was the one who so generously supplied us with the new brooms," Flint said, slapping Draco on his back.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny had also walked up to the pitch. The three of them had wondered why the Slytherin team had invaded the Quidditch pitch.

"Your father bought the Slytherin team seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones?" Ron said, having caught the tail end of the conversation and looking as if he didn't believe what he was seeing with his own eyes.

"What's the matter, Weasel?" Draco sneered, "Never seen a new broomstick in your life before? I bet your family would have to save up for years to be able to afford a single twig on this model."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron said, scowling. Fred and George Weasley hefted their heavy-looking beater bats glowered at Draco. Draco, however, didn't seem to be intimidated by them, probably because he was surrounded by the bulk of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Well, at least no one of the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione said cuttingly, "They got in on talent alone."

"Nobody asked you for your opinion, you stupid Mudblood whore," Draco spat at her.

The girls on the Gryffindor team gasped. Fred and George Weasley yelled with outrage and tried to jump on him, but they were -barely- restrained by their girl teammates. Wood scowled at Draco and drew his wand, but Flint just stepped in front of the smaller seeker and glared at Wood.

There was no one to restrain Ron Weasley, however. "You won't get away with that Malfoy," Ron yelled, looking incensed, "Slugulus Eructo."

The curse hit Malfoy dead center. The boy immediately began to retch and uncontrollably spew large, disgusting-looking slugs all over the pitch. The Slytherin team, seeing one of their members cursed, drew their wand and pointed it towards the gathered Gryffindors.

"You will pay for that cheap shot, Weasley," Flint yelled, pointing his wand at Ron. "Deprimo".

Ron managed to dive to the right to avoid that spell. He fired another Slug-vomiting Charm from his prone position at the ground, this time targeting Flint. What followed after was pure bedlam. The Gryffindor team and Ron and the Slytherin team began trading curses by the dozen. Hermione, after she tried to get them all to stop fighting, was hit with an Incarcerous and was taken out of the fight before she had even drawn her wand. Malfoy, meanwhile, had crawled away from the fight on his hands and knees and was still busy belching slugs.

Harry managed to avoid two stunners and was now furiously dueling a Slytherin seventh year that seemed to hold a grudge against him, for some reason, and was targeting him. Both boys seemed to be evenly matched, despite the Slytherin's age and greater knowledge of magic - what Harry lacked in spell knowledge, he made up for in sheer speed and agility.

"Relashio," Ginny yelled to Harry's right, making the Slytherin sixth year let go of her ankle and kicking out at him. She followed that action with a curse Harry had never heard of before,"Lamia Offerre."

The sixth year's face erupted in bat-wings and he fell backwards, gurgling.

"Children, stop!" Slughorn's voice pierced the choas that was the Quidditch pitch. Nobody listened to him.

"Quiscite Movetur," Slughorn cried, pointing his wand at the fighting figures. Whatever he had done was powerful magic - they all stopped fighting and froze in their movements.

"What is happening here?" Slughorn exclaimed. "I have never witnessed such shameful behavior in all my years at Hogwarts!"

Nobody spoke up, or even looked in his direction. The Slytherins, for their part, just glared at the Gryffindors, who glared back.

"Mr. Weasley, I believe it was you who cast the first curse," Slughorn said finally. "Would you care to explain your actions?"

"Draco Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood whore," Ron said stiffly, swiping at a black eye he was sporting with his sleeve.

Slughorn's brow furrowed. He looked at Draco Malfoy, who was still belching slugs. "Draco," Slughorn said somberly, "Is this true?"

Draco Malfoy, looking pale and green, looked up at him and said nothing. That seemed answer enough for Slughorn, though.

"I will have no Slytherin utter that word while I am Head of this house, Mr. Malfoy. Your father will hear about this from me, make no mistake. I am going to deduct 30 points from Slytherin for your behavior, and you are to serve a week's worth of detentions with Filch."

Draco glowered at the ground, but chose not to argue with him.

Slughorn then addressed the Slytherin team in general, sounding disappointed, "Detention to all of you, and five points from Slytherin each. Go to the common room and wait for me there. I do not wish to speak ill of him, but my predecessor seems to have clearly been lax in the way he administered discipline in the house."

The Slytherin team went, looking stunned that their own Head of House had deducted so many points from them. In five minutes, they had lost the early lead Slytherin had gained that week for the House Cup.

"Five points from Gryffindor for every person who was fighting here," Slughorn said, turning to the Gryffindor team. "Mr. Weasley, you too will have serve a week's worth of detention with Filch."

"But Professor…"Wood tried to argue, looking outraged.

"Fair is fair, Mr Wood," Slughorn said sternly, "Be thankful now that I didn't give your whole team a detention."

Wood started to argue again, but then wisely thought better of it.

"Go back to the castle, Mr. Wood, and take your team with you. Needless to say, I'm canceling your Quidditch practice today. And some of you need to go up and see Madam Pomfrey. Miss Weasley, stay behind a moment, if you would. I would like a word with you."

Wood left, scowling. Harry, his friends and the Quidditch team followed behind him. Alicia Spinnet had a twsited ankle and had to be supported by the Weasley twins - she couldn't walk on her own.

"Oh don't look at me like that, Miss Weasley," Slughorn told Ginny, "You're not in trouble."

"If you say so, Professor," Ginny said tentatively, watching her housemates leave.

"I just have a few questions I'd like to ask you," Slughorn said, "Now, you're a first year, aren't you?"

Ginny nodded, "Yes sir."

"Your spell work back there was very impressive, Miss Weasley. Are you self-taught?"

"Well yeah," Ginny admitted with a little shrug and a nervous smile, "I used to nick Mom's wand all the time when I was little to curse my brothers. I have six brothers and they picked on me a lot, you see."

"Most impressive, indeed," Slughorn smiled at her, and then continued, "I'm having a gathering tomorrow, you see, in my office on the seventh floor. It's just a small social event. I want you to attend. You'll get to meet some students, have some good food and have a good time, in general."

Ginny thought it over for a few seconds, but she could think of was no reason to turn him down. "Okay, professor, I'll be there."

Late on Saturday night, Harry was in Lockhart's office and talking to his godfather about the week's events on a small mirror he'd given Lockhart.

"Listen, kiddo,"Sirius said, his voice flat and serious, "I didn't break out of Azkaban for nothing. We're going to find a way to defeat Voldemort and we're going to do it together. I believe in you, Harry. I believe in us. We're a team and we will do this, together. Voldemort won't know what hit him"

Harry believed him, and the feeling of hopelessness he'd been lugging around all week lifted somewhat. Their conversation became light and easy after that. Harry told him about Slughorn and the gathering he was hosting the next day.

"Slughorn?" Sirius asked Harry, "That's who they got to replace Snape? Well, can't say he's a bad choice."

"You know him, I take it."

"Yeah, he was our teacher when we were at Hogwarts. He's a good teacher and he won't favor the Slytherins, like Snape did."

"He's invited me for a small get together - his words, not mine - at his office tomorrow."

"He's invited you for a Slug Club meeting, has he?" Sirius seemed to be amused.

"A Slug Club meeting?" Harry snorted at the stupid name.

"Yeah, he used to host a lot of those back in the day. He loves to surround himself with talented or rich students who are going places, so he can give them a little push and profit from it later."

"Okay… So should I go?"

Sirius shrugged, "It's up to you, kiddo. It's not a bad way to pass the time, and you may meet some people you like form the other houses. Slughorn does know how to pick the "best", I give him that."

"Did you go?"Harry asked him curiously

"Of course not," Sirius scoffed, "James and I had a reputation to uphold – we wouldn't be caught dead in a club run by a teacher. And Remy just didn't make the cut... you know, because of his health problems. Lily used to attend regularly, though. She was his favorite student, that girl."

"I'll go tomorrow and see if I like it."

"You do that," Sirius said agreeably, "And Harry, I want you to look after yourself. Promise me you will."

"I will," Harry assured him, bolstered by his godfather's support.

"Good. And Harry, are you still working on that prank you promised me?"

"Yeah, I am," Harry grinned.

"Good, good. I expect you to tell me how you pranked the whole school by Christmas."

"Okay. I'm still working on some ideas," Harry said. He was actually excited about following in his father's and godfather's footsteps.

Harry said goodbye to Sirius and handed Lockhart the mirror. Lockhart was busy replying to a huge stack of fan mail he had received.

"Harry," Lockhart said, as Harry made to leave his office. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Mr. Black and..."

"Yeah?" Harry asked him warily.

"You said that Professor Slughorn was holding a little get together in his office with some students tomorrow," Lockhart remarked. "A Slug Club meeting, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah, he is," Harry confirmed.

"Well, I can't have that old man be the most popular professor in school, now, can I? It's time I started the Lockhart Club and begin to train young, impressionable minds to follow in my footsteps."

Harry stared at the man, aghast.

"Of course, I want you to be there for the first meeting, which I'm planning to hold here next week."

He was much quieter than she had imagined he would be. He seemed to hate all the attention he seemed to attract wherever he went and didn't really know how to deal with it very well. When she caught glimpses of him at mealtimes, she saw that he seemed to be content with just listening to his best friends talk. One of his best friends was Hermione Granger– Ginny knew she was one of the brightest witches in the school - while the other, to her everlasting surprise, was her brother. She didn't think Ron would ever find a best friend, let alone that it would be the Boy-Who-Lived.

There wasn't anything extraordinary about Harry, at first glance, like everyone thought there would be. She had heard the adults discuss him growing up and to hear them talk, he may as well have been the second coming of Merlin. But for all his supposed greatness, all she saw was an unassuming, ordinary boy who was small and thin for his age. Sure, he did have that famous scar, but it was just a scar, it was nothing special.

From what she had observed, he seemed to be a gentle person –she had never heard him raise his voice to anyone and he was unfailingly polite. But for all his gentleness, Ginny intuitively sensed that the boy had a deep core of inner strength to call upon. The boy would always do the right thing, no matter what. He was just… noble - she knew of no other word for it. The boy was a true-blooded Gryffindor. She had always been good with her feelings – she got that gift from her mother – and she trusted them when it came to Harry. Harry's friends,too, seemed to sense that about him and they were very loyal towards him, as a result. It was like Harry was the glue that held the trio together. Ginny had yet to see a tighter-knit bunch of friends, at least in their year.

Harry also had the most striking green eyes she had ever seen. It was the eyes that had gotten to her the first time she had seen him, more than a year ago on Platform 9 and 3/4, when she had come to see her brothers off. She had thought of the strange boy with the green eyes for more than a month, but her memory hadn't done his eyes justice at all. Meeting his gaze again after she had been sorted had sent her heart leaping in her chest.

"I trust that you are enjoying the party, Miss Weasley?" Slughorn asked her solicitously, interrupting her reverie. He had come up to where she was standing beside a small table in the corner of his office. The table carried glasses of colorful-looking, fizzy Wizarding drinks.

"Yes, sir," Ginny nodded quickly. "I am."

"I know you are the only first year here, and it can take a while to build camaraderie with the upper years." He said kindly, noticing that she was alone. "Well, here's Harry, he's only a little bit older than you. Why don't you try talking to him for a bit?"

His comment caught Harry's attention, who had been walking by somewhere, a glazed look on his face. Slughorn nodded at the two of them encouragingly and left to talk to some of the upper year students, leaving Ginny and Harry alone in the corner. There was a long moment's awkward silence as the two preteens stared at each other. Ginny could feel her face beginning to heat up.

"So you're Ron's little sister, then?" He asked her finally, his green eyes locking onto hers.

She looked away at once, unable to hold his gaze. Her heart clenched tight in her chest and she could feel the blood rushing in her cheeks, her face becoming as red as beetroot. Her palms became sweaty and all she wanted to do was run as far away from him as fast as she could. What was happening to her?! She hung out with boys all the time- she had six brothers, for Merlin's sake! Why did he make her feel so bloody awkward and self-conscious?

"Err… y-yes," she breathed out, her voice barely more than a squeak. It was all she could manage in his presence.

"Err…I'm Harry, Ron's best mate," he said, needlessly introducing himself to her. "I don't know if he told you about me."

His words brought up a conversation she had overheard between Ron and her mother. Ron had been so serious when he'd discussed Harry with her. According to Ron, Harry didn't like to talk about himself. And he'd also said Harry barely mentioned his Muggle relatives, but when he did, he didn't paint too good a picture of them. Her mother had been distressed by that, she could tell.

"He's mentioned you a few times…" she managed, when she saw that he was looking at her expectantly.

"Err…Well, right. Err... I hope he said something good," Harry grinned at her weakly.

"Yeah, he did," she squeaked out. His grin seemed to make the churning sensation in her stomach even worse.

"Harry," Hermione had come up to him and was tugging on his arm, "Would you come with me for a moment? Oh, hi Ginny, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!"

"Hi Hermione, it's okay, don't worry about it," Ginny said, her face still aflame.

"Err… It looks like Hermione wants me," Harry told her awkwardly.

"You can come with us too," Hermione told her, shooting glances between her and Harry.

"Err… No, don't worry, you guys go. I can see you want to talk him alone. And I wanted to try drink some of this anyway," She lied, waving vaguely at the glasses beside her.

"Right, okay… See you later then, Ginny," Hermione said with a wave. "You come find us later, if you want."

"Okay."

Harry waved at her too as he left, unable to hide the look of relief on his face.

"Bye," Ginny said in a small voice to his retreating back. He didn't seem to hear her.

It took a long while before her rapidly beating heart quieted. Ginny wasn't a stupid girl. She could tell she had it bad for one Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the hero of the Wizarding world. And she could also tell that he didn't feel the same way about her, not in the slightest.

"So what do you think Harry heard?" Remus asked Sirius. Both men were sipping bear straight out of the bottle as they sat in their customary chairs in the clearing.

"I don't know. It could be related to what that house elf, Dubby or whatever his name was, was trying to tell us a few weeks ago."

"You think there was something to it? What do we do, then?"

"We can't do anything," Sirius said, "Seeing as nothing horrifying has happened yet, like Dubby said it would. All Harry heard was a scary voice in a corridor, which is something that happens all the time at Hogwarts.

"Yeah, true."

"And Harry is under constant guard. There is one Auror with him at all times. He's probably the best-protected student in the whole school."

"Yeah, you're right."

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Remus picked up a book, flipped it open to where he had left it the last time and began to read.

Sirius decided to take a nap and closed his eyes. His plans were interrupted by the sound of yelling and screaming from Snape's corner in the clearing.

Sirius just sighed and muttered in an aside to Remus, his eyes still closed. "Looks like those two are at it again."

"Stupid greasy-haired wizard broke Kreacher's wand…" the Elf was screaming in a high-pitched voice, sounding very angry indeed.

"You need to see this, Sirius," Remus said, sounding worried.

Sirius opened his eyes reluctantly and looked in the direction of all the noise. He saw that Kreacher clinging to Snape's back like a limpet, his arms wrapped tightly around the man's neck, while Snape did all he could to shake him off.

"Back away, you dratted Elf," Snape was yelling, using all his strength to keep the elf from strangling him. "I have had enough of your trouble mongering."

"Kreacher will not!" Kreacher yelled, his old voice hoarse from exertion, "Greasy haired wizard broke Kreacher's beautiful wand!"

"And I would do it again! It serves you right for cursing me."

"Kreacher was only following orders!"

"Err… I think you better go break that up, Padfoot," Remus prompted.

"Maybe they'll kill each other and save me the trouble of doing it later myself," Sirius mused, unmoving, still lounging in his chair and now staring at the ruckus with a hopeful expression on his face.

Remus swatted him on the back of the head, hard.

"Alright, alright, Remmy. Hold your horses! I'm going, I'm going."

He got up with a sigh and did a lazy stretch, wincing as some of his muscles popped. He then trotted up to the barrier that kept the Potions professor locked into a corner of the clearing. Remus followed behind him.

"KREACHER, I ORDER YOU TO RELEASE HIM AND GET OFF HIM AT ONCE," Sirius roared when he got near the two figures, which were now locked in a tussle. "THEN STAND UP AND LOOK AT ME."

With an expression of deep loathing and hatred on his face, the tiny elf did as he was told. He moved away from Snape and looked at Sirius balefully, murder in his eyes. His tin body was quivering with rage.

Snape, meanwhile, collapsed beside on the ground beside his cauldron, massaging his neck deeply. The pale skin around his neck was marred by two huge bruises where Kreacher's hands had been. He was now shooting the elf a murderous gaze.

Sirius took a look around the clearing. He found and summoned the pieces of Barty Crouch's wand, which Snape had apparently managed to take from Kreacher somehow.

Kreacher, for his part, stared at the broken pieces of the wand in Sirius' hand with abject horror. His ears drooped and his weathered face became forlorn as the loss of his most treasured possession finally registered. His eyes became huge and he began to slur, "Kreacher lost his wand… Kreacher lost his wand… Kreacher has nothing left to live for."

"Shut up, you miserable creature!" Sirius scowled at him.

Kreacher did as he was told, his old shoulders drooping miserably. Fat tears bean rolling down his cheeks as he stared at the broken pieces of his old wand, a look of deep grief on his face.

"Oh, fine, if you're going to be like that," Sirius huffed. He summoned a box from inside the tent. He then rummaged around inside it for a moment before he drew a wand from it. Kreacher stared between him and the wand, new hope in his eyes.

"This belonged to Dumbledore. I won't touch anything that old man has used, but you might as well take it."

"Okay, Master, thank you Master," Kreacher blabbered, his whole body quivering with anticipation.

Sirius, rolling his eyes, tossed the Elder Wand to him.

Kreacher caught the wand eagerly, a hungry look on his face. As soon as he grasped it, though, something strange and unexpected happened. The elf gasped with shock and stood ramrod straight, almost as if an electric current had jolted through his ancient body. His eyes became huge - wide and clear – and, in the next moment, they began to glow from within with a deep yellow light. An exulted smile replaced the look of sadness on his face.

Slowly, the elf was lifted clear off the ground, until he was hovering a foot in the air.

"Kreacher feels great power!" The elf proclaimed, his voice sounding evil and excited all at once, as he grasped the Deathstick and the Wand of Destiny tightly in his wands. "Kreacher's new wand sings to Kreacher!"

The three wizards in the clearing stared at the tiny elf in shock. They could all feel the magic coming off the creature in gigantic waves.

Remus broke the spell by swatting Sirius on the back of his head again, hard.

"Ouch, what was that for?" Sirius yelled, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"Look at what you did!" Remus exclaimed, pointing at the crazy house elf that was floating in the air and buffeting them with waves of his magic.

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Sirius whined, "He did it all on his own!"

Remus groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh Merlin, why does this always have to happen to me?!"