“Magic?” Blaise’s voice drifted through the open window. “I think I’d know if I had magic.”

Next to Harry, Hermione squeaked, and above them, the window snapped shut. Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm and hauled her away before anyone came to find the source of the noise. They didn’t stop running until they’d reached the library, and found their usual corner at the back, in the quiet reading section.

“Guess we know why the blueprints were stolen,” Sirius said, approaching Hemsley and Brown through the damp tunnels that wound around beneath Diagon Alley.

“Apparently,” Hemsley said, his expression tight. “Did you find anything?” Sirius stepped into their circle of wandlight, hauling his captive with him. Hemsley took a step backward, revolted, and Brown’s mouth fell open.

 “You’re joking, right?” Harry asked.

“No,” Moony said.

“Definitely not,” Padfoot added, looking uncannily serious.

“Walk through it?” Harry repeated. A muggle woman stopped and looked at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak impatiently from inside the cage atop Harry’s trunk on the trolley. Tonks turned and stared at her with the same amount of interest, until the woman readjusted her handbag and hurried away.

“I attempted to attack Mr Remus Lupin knowingly, because he’s a werewolf, and I don’t want him teaching my son,” Sirius read.

“I didn’t have the ‘Mr’ in there,” Paul Morton – the git who’d attacked Remus at the platform earlier that day – said, “but otherwise, yes, that’s my statement.” Sirius set the parchment down on the interview room’s desk, and took a deep breath.

Harry’s second day at Hogwarts was just as dramatic as the first; they had the morning off to sleep in after Astronomy, he’d spent lunch undergoing rigorous questioning by the twins (who’d been shooed away and told not to talk to Harry, by Professor McGonagall), and then had their first Transfiguration lesson after lunch. 

Blaise hacked off a chunk of meat with his knife and tossed it into the bucket. Next to him, Harry Evans Potter – or whatever his name was – was cutting his with more care. Professor Lupin was reading a book in his office; Blaise could see him through the slightly open door.

“So it’s Potter now?”

“Apparently, Zabini,” Potter said, grabbing another slab of meat from the pile at the end of the bench.

“Come in.” Draco twisted the doorknob and stepped into Severus’ office. Severus, who was behind his desk, looked surprised to see him, but lowered his quill and gestured for him to have a seat. “How can I help you, Mr Malfoy?” Draco was rather taken aback by the use of his surname.

“A cork, a blue feather, a Prefect’s badge, a copy of Transfiguration today-”

“What year?” Severus asked. Draco might have rolled his eyes at that, but couldn’t bring himself to; while he was adjusting now – properly – to life in Gryffindor, things were still weird. Spending time with Severus like this, playing odd memory games, was calming.

“I appreciate your apparent need to talk, Sirius,” Remus said as he and Sirius entered the Leaky Cauldron one night in early October, “but I don’t know why you couldn’t have just come to the castle. Harry for one, would be happy to-” Remus’ voice died in his throat when he saw who was waiting for them.

“Wotcher,” she said, and that was all she had time to say before Remus had scooped her into a tight hug.

“Can we stop for a bit?” Brown called, through chattering teeth. Padfoot pulled his head up, snorted to get the snow away from his nose, and trotted back to the other two, stopping once to shake ice and water from his fur. “I can’t feel my fingers,” Brown said. Hemsley bit off once of his mittens, pulled out his wand, and cast a warming charm on Brown.

“Any better?” he asked in a muffled voice.

“Not really,” Brown said, grimacing.

“I won’t apologise,” Sirius said. Albus could only stare at him. Once, Sirius might have said such a thing when asked to apologise to Severus, or for taking a risk to save his friends on Order raids… but those words were no longer accompanied by the slightly nervous look in Sirius’ eyes, or the respectful addition of “Sir” to the sentence. No, this Sirius sat before Albus with his jaw set and eyes defiant.

“He’s a boy,” Albus said softly. “A boy, Sirius-”

Living at Grimmauld Place was about as different from life in the Manor as it was possible to be. Potter and Black were always up early, and moving about the house - usually they would congregate in the library, or down in the kitchen - and so Draco had guaranteed company if he rose early. Weasley, Lupin and Tonks (when she was there) all liked their sleep, so if Draco had a lazy morning, he wasn't singled out for it.

February and March flew by at Hogwarts. Harry, overjoyed by his success with his transformation, could only wish he’d tried earlier, like over the Christmas holidays. At school, the combination of lots of people, and very little time made it hard to find chances to practice. 

“Morning,” Blaise said.

“Just,” Harry replied, checking his watch. Blaise made a face and pulled out the chair Hermione had vacated a few minutes earlier; it hadn’t taken them long to work out that whatever it was the unicorn had died for was Dark, and so not likely to be in the easily accessed books in the library. They were taking turns using the cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section, and Hermione and Ron had gone off to do just that; Harry’d already found something promising. “How were your holidays?”

“Minerva?” Professor Sprout asked, from over by the wardrobe. “It’s not-”

“You Know Who is here,” McGonagall said grimly. Trelawney gasped from the corner, and made a superstitious sign, and panicked whispers broke out amongst most of the others. Flitwick and Sprout looked unsurprised; obviously they’d been aware of that for a while, like Remus. “The Headmaster was attacked in the forest tonight-”

“Can I get you anything?” Remus looked up from Sirius’ wand, which was sitting in his lap, and shook his head. Eric, the man who ran the wand checkpoint, sighed and went back to his desk. Remus appreciated the concern, he did, but as he’d told Dora and Marlene, and Mad-Eye, he’d much rather they were out looking for Sirius than wasting their time trying to make him feel better.

The door to Fluffy’s room was, unsurprisingly, ajar. Harry tightened his grip on his wand and pulled the door open. The other three slipped in behind him, and the dog, which appeared to be asleep just next to the trapdoor, twitched. Harry closed the door – it wouldn’t do for Fluffy to get out, after all – and then held up a hand. Everyone stopped moving at once.

The next room – which had also been empty when Remus was down – contained a large chessboard. Pieces were scattered everywhere – some on their sides, broken – others standing and a little worse for wear, and others completely fine. Remus heard a scuffling sound, and saw a figure drop to the hard marble floor. He started forward, and then diverted when he caught a familiar scent. Harry was, miraculously, still standing, though he had his back to them. Harry took a step forward, and then stopped.