“Pretty, isn’t it?” Bill asked, climbing out onto the roof to join Ginny in the warm night. She shifted over to make room for him, but didn’t look away from the sky; above her, thousands of stars glittered like diamonds over the busy markets below.

“I like it,” she said, nodding. “I don’t want to leave.”

 His existence – while markedly better of late than it had been for many months – still mainly consisted of time spent in a meditative sort of state, somewhere caught between dreaming and thinking. Once or twice a week, if he saved his strength, he was able to awaken, and remain awake and alert for a few hours.

As he clambered out of the carriage and joined the rest of the students heading up the front steps and into the castle, Harry couldn’t help but feel like he’d been hit by the Hogwarts Express, rather than just been riding it.

The mood was an odd one; students here and there were subdued from the Dementors, and their friends were quiet too, either out of fear, or out of concern. Others were less subdued. 

"My dear... You have- The Grim!"

Trelawney staggered back from their table as if struck, holding Harry's teacup in a shaky hand.

Lavender and Parvati gasped. Harry tried to see into his cup, but Trelawney held it away from him.

“Five points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Potter,” Severus said irritably. “Take a seat – beside Miss Bulstrode will do.”

Potter shot Bulstrode a wary look, but he didn’t look as displeased as Weasley, who was with Greengrass. Granger – who was over with Davis – was doing her best to stare a hole in the side of his head, but Potter didn’t look at her. Or at any of them, and Draco decided they’d corner him on the way down to Care of Magical Creatures.

Harry had expected several things upon his arrival at the Hospital Wing; Madam Pomfrey’s exasperated look and chiding questions, the overpoweringly sterile scent, and to be ushered over to a bed. He did not expect to be greeted by an exhausted looking Hermione, and an irritable Draco.

“Found us, have you?” Draco asked. He was lying on a bed, with his arm draped over his eyes – he’d lifted it briefly, when they came in.

It wasn’t Moony that Harry had written to, or Padfoot he’d spoken to, regarding his last Defence lesson; it was Tonks. Her reply arrived on the weekend – so quickly, that Harry wondered if she was in France at the moment, or perhaps visiting Britain.

They'd moved upstairs, into the 3rd year boys' dormitory. From the sounds of things, Seamus was in the shower; faint though it was, Ron could hear him singing. Ginny, who'd followed them up, cast an amused look at the door, before settling herself on Ron's bed. Ron bit his tongue; she’d never have dared try it at home. He suspected, from the smug look she gave him, she knew what he was thinking.

Draco was examining a cockroach cluster with a look of mild revulsion. Harry doubted he’d ever seen one before; it was not something he could imagine ever making its way into the Malfoy household.

“Where’s Hermione got to?” Ron asked, from beside the sugar quills.

“Merlin knows,” Draco said. He dropped the cluster back into its barrel, and went to inspect the shelf of sour snidgets. 

Ginny was still sleepy in a well-rested sort of way – she’d had a whole six hours of sleep the night before! - as she shuffled down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She mumbled a vague greeting to Percy as she passed him on the stairs, and was walking down a first floor corridor, trying to decide whether she felt most like eggs or pancakes this morning, when she heard laughter.

“Ah, Sirius, thank you for coming.”

“No worries,” Sirius said, settling himself in the seat opposite Dumbledore’s. “What’s this about?” He thought Harry was all right - they’d spoken just that morning after his dream - and wasn’t sure what else the Headmaster could want.

“I visited Petunia this afternoon,” Dumbledore said.  

“All by yourself today?” Padfoot asked, pushing off of the wall of the Hog’s Head.

“Hermione and Ron are Christmas shopping,” Harry said, pulling off his scarf as he followed Padfoot into the pub.

It was a lot quieter than the Three Broomsticks, and not quite as cheery. A group of seventh years were huddled at a table in the corner, but otherwise, Harry was the only Hogwarts student in sight.

“Harry!” Hermione, Ron and Draco looked up from the couches in the common room, but Harry had eyes only for Hermione. “Are you-?”

“I need a favour,” Harry said, waving off Ron’s questions and ignoring Draco’s stare. “Your timeturner, how far back does it go?” 

The lift slid open and Barty and three others shifted to make room for Black and Robards. Attached to the latter, by a dainty silver chain was a quivering house elf, and Barty glanced at it with nothing more than fleeting curiosity, before reaching past a tiny, grey-haired witch to jab the button to close the doors. The lift jolted sideways.

The moment the portrait hole snapped shut behind Potter and Weasleys One and Two - who’d seemed rather stressed about a last minute Quidditch practice that would cut into their packing time - Weasley came and deposited himself in a seat at the table Draco and Granger were occupying.

Granger glanced up for just a moment, and that was all the acknowledgement Weasley received from her before she returned to her homework. Draco marked his page and shut his book. Granger glanced up again, distinctly wary this time.

“Draco?” Father’s voice came through the ajar door of his study.

“Ha,” Hydrus said; it was after lunch, and the pair of them were heading back upstairs. Draco had every intention of shutting himself in his bedroom with his book for the rest of the afternoon. “Someone’s in trouble.” Father did sound awfully serious, but Draco just arched an eyebrow at his brother and poked his head into the study.

Father flicked his wrist; a gesture to come inside. Draco did, closing the door in Hydrus’ smug face.

“I need to talk to you,” Dudley said, and then knocked insistently on the door.


Harry set his quill down, rolled off the bed, and opened the door. Instead of looking annoyed and uncertain like he had when he’d left the park, Dudley looked determined, and he pushed past Harry into the room.

“I want you to know I’m trying,” Dudley said, “and so’s Mum and Dad.”

“Okay,” Harry said, bewildered.

“And so I think it’s only fair that you try too.”

“Here,” Draco growled, shoving his wand into a baffled Ron’s hands. “I don’t trust myself with it, right now.” He looked furiously at Hydrus, who was talking loudly and proudly with Crabbe and Goyle about Buckbeak the hipporiff’s hearing with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures; Hagrid had shown Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco the letter at the beginning of the lesson.

“What was the statue in the Chamber?”

“What?”

“Answer the question!”

“There were a few,” Sirius said, baffled. “Snakes, mostly, and a massive one of Slytherin.” A thought struck him - a grim one, but if this was the only way to let someone know, even if help would never come in time.... “And Harry Potter,” he added loudly. The mirror in his pocket warmed ever so slightly. “But he’s not a statue.”

Hi Harry,

I hope this got to you. Mr Quentin said it would. If you write back, send it to him at Smeltings. Piers is cool but Anthony would freak out if there was a bird in our room and probably tell a teacher.

How’s school? Probably more interesting than mine, all we seem to do it maths and science and more maths and homework.

Harry flooed into Grimmauld’s kitchen on the second day of the holidays. Kreacher - who’d been decidedly standoffish to Sirius that morning - shoved a plate of toast at him and went to greet Harry, beaming.

“Where’s Draco?” Sirius asked, pulling Harry into a hug. “I’d sort of expected him to be with you-”

“I thought I’d make sure we were allowed,” Harry said. He returned the hug, but it was a little stiff.

Mrrow! Crookshanks said plaintively, looking first at Hermione, then up at the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“Got yourself closed out, have you?” Hermione asked, and Crookshanks mewled again. “Butterwort.”

“Indeed,” the Fat Lady said, swinging open. Crookshanks dashed inside. “Exam go well, dear? Which one was it - I can’t keep up with all of you!”

To start with, Draco hadn’t thought much of his friends’ tardiness. Granger was prompt by nature, but neither of the other two were; Weasley was too laid-back to get worked up over things like the time, and Potter had the most incredible ability to get side-tracked. Between mirror-calls with Black, Wood and the Quidditch team, Creevey and his camera and his questions, strange conversations with Lovegood or Zabini, and Potter’s own - occasionally dangerous - curiosity, it was frankly astounding that he ever made it anywhere.

Wormtail was on him as soon as he stepped through the doorway.

There was a shriek and a muffled shout from somewhere behind Wormtail, but Harry couldn’t afford to look that way, not when Wormtail’s long fingernails were digging into his arm, and he was lazily lifting his wand...


“Relashio!” There was a flash and a squeak and Wormtail let go. Harry raised James’ wand at Wormtail, who had his own wand pointed at Harry. He was panting, though he hadn’t done anything Harry would call strenuous.

The dementors had retreated but weren’t gone; if Harry strained his ears, he could still hear them. And, with the patronus gone and Padfoot and Wormtail both transformed, Harry’s human emotions were sure to draw them back in.

That’s easily fixed, though. And he transformed, without hesitation this time, since there was no one around to see him do it except the dementors, and they didn’t have eyes.

“Weasley?” Draco pushed the door open and looked around the dormitory. Longbottom was making a token effort to pack, while Finnigan and Thomas sat on Thomas’ bed, their heads bent together over a magazine.


“He’s not in here,” Longbottom said. He had a sock in his hand, and was looking around without hope for the other one. After a moment he sighed and set it down and picked up a pair of shoes instead. “He said something about needing fresh air.”

 “Hermione.” Her name was followed by a firm knock on the door, and not a darling or a dear. She knew immediately what it was about, had been expecting this conversation since she stepped off the train, but only Dad had come to pick her up, so it made sense that they’d waited until Mum finished up at work and come home.
“Yes?”

The door opened and her parents came in.