A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter. Quotes from the movie aren't mine.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

-This chapter has been revised for the second time, on July 20th 2016. More detail was added.

Harry smiled at his friends as they sat at the long table in the dining area of the Leaky Cauldron. Ron sat on his right and Hermione was on the other side of the table, in front of him. In her arms, was a complacent feline named Crookshanks - which was much uglier than any other cat he'd ever seen - and Ron seemed to be holding onto Scabbers for dear life. He also glared at the feline, like it was some evil monster.

Ron procured a newspaper clipping, of a photo of him and his family in Egypt, dressed in Egyptian clothing and smiling at the camera. Mr. Weasley had won some prize at work and the whole family was able to go away for the summer hols to visit their son Bill would was working for the Egyptian Gringotts Branch. Everyone looked happy as they waved for the people to see.

Ron made sure to explain who the two men in the photo were. The two Harry didn't know. His brothers Bill and Charlie. Charlie was everything Harry had expected of someone who dealt with dragons on a day to day basis.

For several minutes, Ron jabbered on excitedly about how amazing Egypt and all the different magical things he'd gotten to see. Hermione then made a comment about Egyptians worshiping cats and Ron snorted, claiming they were a bit nutty back then.

Scabbers and Crookshanks did not get on very well and Harry was certain that all future happenings between the two were going to cause trouble.

Two identical faces appeared a moment later, their familiarity a small relief to Harry. The two sent him a simultaneous wink before taking the photo from Ron and making teasing remarks on their brother's obvious need to tell everyone he saw about where they went for the summer. Harry couldn't fault him for it, Egypt sounded amazing. Besides, he knew that Ron felt that he didn't have much to brag about, though Harry would disagree. Still, he let his friend have his moments of excitement.

Harry stood upon seeing Mrs. Weasley entering the room, and gave her a smile. For one of the people who was always nice to him and had even taken him into her home despite the fact that her children and he had not asked, he would smile always. She smiled back and placed a hand on his head, giving him a once over.

"Good to see you dear! You're looking a bit peaky."

"It's good to see you too!" he grinned. Mrs. Weasley was probably one of the greatest people he'd ever met. Generous with her heart and always supportive. Even after the flying car incident. And always wanting to feed everyone.

"Now, have you got everything you need? All of your books?" she asked, making sure.

"Yeah," he said, motioning to the ceiling with a hand, "it's all upstairs."

"All of your clothes?" she tried again. This was probably something she had to do all the time with the amount of children she had in her house. Merlin forbid someone forget something and they would have to go back again - much like they had last year - in order to get it all.

"Everything's there," he reassured her.

"Good boy!" she smiled, patting his cheek affectionately.

The teen briefly flashed back a couple of weeks where another person had called him a 'good boy'. Harry found that he did not like being called a 'good boy'. It made him uncomfortable to remember what happened the last time someone referred to him as such.

He was brought back to the present and managed to say, 'thank you' in time. He didn't want to be rude.

Mr. Weasley appeared beside his wife and offered a hand as he greeted the teen. "Harry Potter, you look excited for Hogwarts."

Mrs. Weasley patted them both on the back and went to bother Percy about his shiny Head Boy badge. She was cooing with pride.

Harry nodded to the red-haired man, "Mr. Weasley." They shook hands. Harry hadn't shaken many hands in his life, but he knew that a firm handshake was supposed to show good character or inner strength of some sort. He didn't really understand when his old Primary teacher said a handshake could tell a lot about a person. He had always insisted on making it firm.

"Harry, I wonder if I might have a word?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Yeah, sure," the teen acquiesced.

Mr. Weasley led him to a dark corner of the room, all the while nodding and greeting some people in passing. The man's countenance took a downward turn, his previous cheer and good attitude seemed to bleed away. He looked fearful, worried, and determined all at once. Harry was pretty sure he was a about to be given some very bad news.

"Harry, there are some in the Ministry who would try to discourage me from divulging what I am about to reveal to you, but I think that you need to know the facts."

Harry was struck in that moment. All his life, people had assumed that because he was a child, he did not need to know certain things. Because he wasn't an adult, it wasn't his business to know. People made decisions for him all the time, regarding his own experiences or life in general.

Someone was actually going to tell him what was going on! Mr. Weasley's wicked meter has just gone up several points.

Mr. Weasley prodded him forward a bit and said, "You are in danger, Harry. Grave danger."

Harry glanced to his right and saw the photograph of the screaming convict on the wall. He had to wonder though, when was he not in danger? It seemed that every year at Hogwarts would be filled with some life altering trauma one way or another. "Has this anything to do with Sirius Black, sir?" After all, Harry wasn't daft and could easily tell when had set the man before him, on edge.

That seemed to do it. Mr. Weasley looked around again, his hands twitching. "What do you know about Sirius Black, Harry?" he asked, leaning against the wall, blocking Harry from the view of the others in the room who were looking over with interest.

Harry shrugged, "I know that he's escaped from Azkaban and that's he's the only person to have ever accomplished such a feat."

"Do you know why he broke out?" the red-haired man asked suddenly. He looked faintly ill.

Harry shook his head in the negative.

"Twelve years ago, when you stopped…"

"Voldemort," Harry supplied.

"Don't say his name!" the man urged, looking petrified.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, remembering that a lot of people weren't okay with it like he was. Strange, since he had more reason to fear the name than others did. But then again, Harry had never lived during the era of the war, so he didn't really know just what saying it would do.

"When you stopped... You-Know-Who, Black lost everything. But to this day, he still remains a faithful servant and in his mind, you are the only thing that stands in the way of You-Know-Who returning to power."

Mr. Weasley pulled him along once more, until they were further from the rest of the people in the room. "And that is why he has escaped from Azkaban. To find you."

Harry filled in the words that the man seemed reluctant to say. "And kill me." Each year something or someone was always after his head. He was beginning to expect that someone had either put a hit out for him, or the bloody universe just hated him. Either was extremely possible. Maybe whatever deity/ies that presided over the universe wanted to ruin his life.

The older wizard frowned, but did not disagree.

"Harry, I want you to swear to me that whatever you might hear, you won't go looking for Black," the man asked, his desperation loud and clear.

"Mr. Weasley, why would I go looking for someone who wants to kill me?" Harry asked with an incredulous tone.

Honestly, he may be a Gryffindor and he might have a problem involving rescuing people, but he wasn't so foolish as to go looking for someone who literally wanted to kill him.

The next day, Harry had joined Hermione in her shopping for her school things. Ron wanted to stay in bed and soak up the last days of the summer holiday, so Harry was the assistant. If they hadn't been allowed to use magic in Diagon Alley - due to their magical signatures being mixed in with everyone else's - Harry would have been stuck carrying too many bags. Luckily, Hermione knew the shrinking charm, which saved him a lot of grief.

It was in Madam Malkin's that he found out something frankly disturbing. It was amazing but also terrifying.

The teen had accidentally cut himself on a nail. A bloody nail! He'd been waiting for Hermione and had sat himself on one of the upholstered chairs in the room. He found himself fiddling with the arm rests and the seat in his boredom. And then he accidentally cut himself on a stray nail, how pathetic. Done in by a piece of metal not even an inch big.

What had happened after that though, was horrible.

The chair collapsed beneath him and he looked around in shock. Harry knew that he wasn't heavy - not by any stretch of the imagination - so why did it happen?

Sitting on the floor, he grabbed at the broken chair and turned it over. The wood that had been holding the legs on the right side of the chair, had completely corroded away by something green. There was a green substance on the floor, hissing and smoking, eating a hole right through the wood of the floor.

Harry gaped, because that was not good! That was in fact, very bad. He leaned forward to look down the hole and could see whatever the green was, corroding the rock a floor below. Luckily, nothing worth money was below him.

He winced and looked down at his hand, which was bleeding a green substance! The very same substance! Why did this always have to happen to him?!

The cut was clotting already, but that didn't stop his shocked gasp. That stuff had come from him! From his cut! It was like an acid. ACID! He hadn't even thought it was possible for a human body to have acid inside and for it not to like, melt.

When Ollivander said something about the venom and tears 'changing' him he hadn't paid it much mind, but was this what he meant? Were they turning him into some odd creature? Was he becoming a freak now?! Like the Dursleys always told him he was?

He stared for another moment, before pulling out his new wand and vanishing the chair. Or rather, it took his three tries to vanish it, but he had eventually gotten it. Though he'd only ever seen Snape use the spell on potions before, so it wasn't like he even knew anything about it.

The teen stopped what he was doing in order to acknowledge his foolishness over using a spell he really didn't know anything about. Perhaps he shouldn't do that anymore.

Harry stood and cast a quick Episkey - Hermione had taught him that last year because he was always getting into trouble - on his wound, sighing in relief when it healed.

With a reluctant sigh, he moved toward the back of the shop, where he knew Hermione and the women of the store were. He pulled ten Galleons out of his coin purse and handed them to Madam Malkin.

"I sat in your chair and it broke. Sorry," he said sheepishly.

She gaped for a moment, but took the money and handed seven Galleons back. "It wasn't that expensive, dear."

Harry smiled gratefully and looked at his hand again. If his blood was really acidic now, then he'd have to take extra measures to not get cut on anything.

"Madam, do you have any pairs of Dragon-hide Gloves?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes. But they're sixty-two Sickles," she answered.

He handed three Galleons back over, knowing that he was about one Galleon and a few Sickles over the price. "Just keep them. Can I get a pair in black, if you have them?"

The woman nodded and scuttled off to get what he asked for. Hermione was giving him a questioning look and he shrugged, "Just extra protection for Care this year. You know how Hagrid is."

Honestly, Hagrid would definitely make their class interesting.

When their venture for clothing was finished(finally!) they moved on to Flourish and Blotts before finally returning to the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry pulled Hermione aside as they waited for their dinner, in order to ask her something that had been bothering him for weeks.

"Mione, I have a question and I figured you'd know the answer because you get out of the house more than I do."

She frowned but nodded. "What's wrong Harry?" she asked as she leaned forward so they could talk more privately.

"Uh... adults aren't supposed to touch kids, right?" he queried, looking uncomfortable and refusing to meet her gaze. He promptly stared at the table between them.

Hermione was no idiot. She got where he was going and gasped in horror, looking him over for any possible signs of injury or something along those lines. It made him feel warm and fuzzy to think of how much she cared.

"Did your uncle touch you?!" she asked in fear.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't know the... man. He pulled me into an alley and then he... touched me and called me all these weird names… and I was scared and he had a knife and it was dark. And he kept telling me I was a 'good boy' and then I couldn't breathe no matter how hard I tried. And then he fell over and I'm pretty sure I used accidental magic to knock him out."

Harry may have fibbed on the knocked out part, but he wasn't about to tell her he killed someone. It was self defense, but he wasn't risking it just yet. Hermione would probably be the kind of person who who scolded as she patted his back.

The witch shifted to the seat closer to his own and pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Harry! You're right, adults aren't supposed to. Those that do things like that are called pedophiles. And since you obviously didn't want him to do it, it's called rape. He was a rapist, Harry. He was a very bad person and I do not want you to feel bad for him in any way. There is no excuse to rape someone. Even if they dress inappropriately, no one has a right to another's body."

Rape. That's what it was! He'd nearly been raped! Dear Merlin, why?! Why did people feel the need to just... touch others without their consent?

"Are you okay? He didn't get very far... did he?" she asked warily.

"No! No, he only had my trousers half off before I really started panicking. It was just so creepy because he was asking for my name and age and telling me it would be 'good' and I have never felt so helpless before." He was shaking a bit, but she was calm for him. She was like a solid rock that he needed to lean on. He wasn't sure anyone else would be able to handle this information so calmly.

The curly-haired girl frowned and ran her fingers through his messy hair. "Well, we can be glad that nothing else happened. Harry. If you ever have any questions, don't be afraid to ask me. I will do my best to explain everything I can to you."

He nodded and sat back. "Isn't it bad for guys to be doing what he wanted to do to me? My aunt and uncle don't like it and they say that it's... unnatural." They usually said things that were a lot worse, but Harry wasn't in the habit of cursing.

"Harry, your relatives are some of the worst people that have ever been born and you shouldn't listen to anything they say."

Hermione's thinking face was on now. "Now I personally don't believe that homosexuality is wrong. If you only like the opposite sex, you are heterosexual. If you are attracted to both men and women or two or more genders at once, then you are bisexual, and if you like your own sex, you are homosexual. Now the muggle world is very against such relationships and deliberately put those who like their own gender, down. They use words like, 'ponce', 'faggot', 'poof', and 'queer' especially in Britain, and most worldly used would be 'gay' to usually describe men who like other men. 'Lesbian' and 'dyke' are used to describe gay women. Yes, they have warped the meaning of regular words and made them into hurtful insults."

She sat up a little straighter. "However in the magical world, homosexuality isn't considered shameful because wizards, if they are powerful enough, can bear children. Yes, I know, strange but completely possible. It took me a while to believe it but with magic, nearly anything is possible. Besides, the magicals believe in soulmates and you can't help it if the one you are destined for, is of the same gender as you. It doesn't work like that."

Harry nodded his understanding and threw his arms around her again. He liked hugs. He'd never gotten any before Hogwarts and intended to get as many as he could. "Thanks, Mione."

She smiled, returning the motion, "No problem. Now, do you want to talk to an adult about his, or are you comfortable with it remaining between us for now."

"Just us, for now," he sighed, not wanting to let anyone know just yet.

He wasn't in the habit of spilling his secrets to everyone without a good reason.

The blowing of the whistle of the Hogwarts Express alerted everyone on the platform that the train was leaving. Harry saw Ron hanging out the window as poor Mrs. Weasley fought through the crowd to give him Scabbers, whom he had accidentally left behind. Again. The second time that morning actually.

"Ron! Ron! Oh, Ron! Don't lose him!"

Ron nodded as he grabbed the rat and waved farewell to his mother as the train got further away from the station.

Hermione led them down the corridor and into a compartment. "Come on, everywhere else is full." She slid the door open and took a seat.

Inside, there was someone. An adult from the looks of him, and he was pressed into the corner of the seat nearest the window, a brown coat covered most of his frame. A lone suitcase was on the rack above his head. There was a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey near the window.

"Who do you think that is?" Ron asked randomly, plopping himself in the seat opposite the man. "A new professor?"

"R. J. Lupin," Hermione answered immediately.

"Do you know everything? How is it she knows everything?" Ron asked Harry in astonishment.

Hermione sent him an exasperated look, "It's on his suitcase, Ronald."

"Oh."

Harry frowned. "Do you think he's really asleep?" he asked.

"He seems to be, why?" the only girl in the compartment queried.

Harry took a deep breath and slid the door closed. "I've got to tell you something."

Over the next few minutes, Harry told his friends everything Mr. Weasley had warned him about. Ron looked like he was going to be sick and Hermione looked intrigued.

"They'll catch Black, won't they? Everyone's looking for him," the witch pointed out.

"Sure," Ron nodded skeptically, "except that one's ever broken out of Azkaban and he's a murderous, raving lunatic."

Harry sent the teen a bland look. "Thanks, Ron."

The train jerked suddenly and they all looked to the window, which was fogging up.

"Why are we stopping?" Hermione asked as Harry stood slowly to peer out of the compartment. "We can't be there yet."

Harry slid the door open and looked out into the corridor, just like every other student on the train. The locomotive was jerked once more and Harry fell back into the compartment and into his seat with a thump. The door slid closed on its own.

Harry winced at a dull pain in his bum. They needed better cushioning for the seats, really. A seven hour plus ride and they expected people to be comfortable sitting in the same position for so long?

"I don't know," Harry said in answer to Hermione's question, "maybe we've broken down." Though the train have never broken down before according to Hogwarts: A History.

Just then - like in a cliche, horror film - the lights went out, leaving them in darkness.

Hermione let out a yelp. "Ouch! Ron, that's my foot!"

The lights flickered on and off as they could see Ron pressed against the window. He didn't seem all too concerned about Hermione's pained appendage. "There's something moving out there!" he squeaked in fear.

Once again, the lights disappeared and they were plunged into darkness.

"I think... I think someone's coming aboard!" Ron wailed in a piercing whisper.

Harry's breath came out in a puff of white air as the air suddenly froze over. Something white crept along the window and Ron gulped. Ice.

The entire train was moved once more and they all grasped their seats in worry.

The bottle of liquor that was resting by the window, probably belonging to the unknown man, froze over immediately and Harry put his hands together to try to conserve his warmth. His breath was visible in big, white puffs.

Ron gave a yell when the train moved again, knocking him into Hermione who nearly fell off the seat. "Bloody hell! What's happening?!"

Harry's attention was drawn to a dark shadow that was passing by the door. He did not like the shape of it. And the absolute depression that overcame him, made him shudder. It was so cold. So terrifyingly cold. He felt like all the happiness had been taken from him. Like he'd never smile again. Like there was no hope for living any longer.

A skeletal hand appeared on the door, coming from the dark figure. The door slid aside with a slow screech and a creepy hand curled around the edge of it, all knobbly and bony.

The creature that opened the door of their compartment, made Harry think of the Grim Reaper or a Wraith. And it made him colder just looking at it. Like death was upon them all.

Crookshanks and Scabbers both had a negative reaction and the cat hissed while the rat squeaked incessantly. Hermione moved away, bumping into Ron as she went.

Harry could only assume that it turned to him, because the dark cowl of its hood got closer to his seat and then his personal space was being invaded and he felt some sort of suction coming from the creature. And he could feel the pressure in his chest.

It was strong and he felt like something was trying to rip his soul from him. It hurt worse than Dudley's beatings had. More than the Basilisk venom had.

Harry could barely see what happened next. All he knew was that a bright,white light appeared and the soul ripping pressure disappeared suddenly. And all he could hear, as if it was coming from a distance, was the voice of a panicked woman, screaming.

"Haaaaaaaryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Everything went black.

He came to when he heard Hermione asking if he was alright. He did not feel alright int he least.

The brunet groaned as he sat up and shook himself off a bit. Something long and brown was shoved in his face.

"Eat this. It's alright, it's chocolate. The best remedy for a Dementor attack."

He looked up to see a man he did not recognize, holding up a large piece of chocolate. His brown mustache twitched. Harry accepted the sweet gingerly and stared at the monster free doorway.

"Why was that thing here?" he asked.

"It was one of the guards of Azkaban. It's gone now. It was searching the train for Sirius Black," explained the man. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to have a little word with the driver."

He placed the rest of the chocolate bar on the seat beside Harry and stood, heading for the door.

He looked back and smiled. "Eat. You'll feel better."

The three teens looked at one another and Harry asked about what had happened and if they had passed out like he did. They shook their heads, though Ron did describe some of what he had been feeling. Like he'd never be cheerful again. Good description.

When Hermione shot down his claim that a woman was screaming somewhere, he sat there for the remainder of the ride, wondering if maybe the venom or the tears were driving him mad. Or maybe it was a reaction to the Dementor thing. Either way, this was not a good way to start the term.

Though a lot of magicals looked down upon muggles, they apparently respected their abilities with literature. And Professor Flitwick, maestro of the Frog Choir, especially respected the books and plays written by Shakespeare. Though the man wasn't uptight like some of the people Harry had been forced to meet.

Harry himself had never been a fan of Macbeth - or any other Shakespearean work - but the professor's take on the first scene of the fourth act, impressed him. And the choir did a fantastic job of singing it too!

Eye of newt, and toe of frog,

Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,

Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,

Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,

In the cauldron boil and bake;

Fillet of a fenny snake,

Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;

Witches' mummy; maw and gulf.

Double, double toil and trouble;

Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Something wicked this way comes!

The frogs croaked at the end and the Great Hall was filled with applause.

Dumbledore gave his annual greeting to the school and introduced the man from the train as Professor R. J. Lupin, who would be taking up the DADA position. Harry wondered if the man would make it to a second year or not. Probably not. No one ever made it to a second year.

The man stood and gave a small bow. He was obviously of the meek type. Harry couldn't help but snicker when Snape clapped a whole two times with no amount of enthusiasm. He looked completely annoyed that he was sitting next to the new professor. That, or the fact that he hadn't gotten to teach DADA again. Whichever worked.

The students clapped lightly, also not really expecting Lupin to last all that long. They no longer held any hope for a professor that would stick around.

Dumbledore moved on to inform them all that Hagrid would be the Care of Magical Creatures teacher that year. It didn't surprise Harry because he'd gotten a note from Hagrid that summer, telling him all about it. The book for the class was pure evil. No book should be able to bite your hand off. None whatsoever.

Harry was horrified to learn that the Dementors were going to be patrolling the borders of the school! Why in the bleedin' hell did they have to be so close?! He found that he did not like Dementors at all. He'd face Voldemort again, so long as he never had to feel that way or hear the woman scream his name so painfully, ever again.

"But you know, happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times. If one only remembers, to turn on the light."

That evening, they left to their dormitories. The entrance to Gryffindor Tower had changed over the holidays and Seamus couldn't get the Fat Lady to let them in, no matter how many times they tried the password. She was too busy trying to break the glass in her hand, with just her voice. Harry would swear up and down that his ears were bleeding just from the noise.

"Ah, ah, ah! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Everyone within hearing distance clutched their heads. The woman finally slammed the glass into the wall behind her and she giggled, like nothing happened. "Amazing, just with my voice!"

"Fortuna Major!" Harry said loudly.

She stopped laughing and huffed. "Yes, alright! Go in!" she waved them off as her portrait opened inward.

"Thank you!" he said with a hint of snark.

Whoever decided that she was the perfect guardian for Gryffindor Tower, was obviously mental.

"My dear, you have... the Grim."

That sentence completely ruined Divination for Harry. The poor teen was doing just fine with sitting there, pretending that he knew what was going on, and then the batty woman had to read his cup and predict that he was going to die. And now everyone was throwing him these odd looks. Like they pitied him or something. Someone even commented on Sirius Black.

As they walked down to Hagrid's for Care of Magical Creatures, Hermione and Ron argued over how many classes she was taking that term. A 'fair few' seemed to hit Ron hard and he pointed out that two of her classes were at the same time and she'd have to be in two places at once.

She scoffed at such a thing and rolled her eyes.

Hagrid led the class into the forest and told them to open their books to page forty-nine. He then proceeded to tell Malfoy how to open it, in a very slow tone. Obviously questioning his intelligence. It made Harry snicker to see someone who thought so highly of himself, being taken down several notches.

When Hagrid was far enough away, Malfoy began to complain about his teaching of their class and said he was going to tell his father. Again. Like he didn't tell his father enough already.

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, you tell your father everything. He's pretty much your bosom buddy, for Merlin's sake. I wonder if you go shopping for lingerie together as well as gossip like old hags with nothing better to do, as well."

The surrounding students who heard, began to snicker. Even some of the Slytherins, because that was how they were. Draco flushed and huffed. "Oh! Finally learning proper English, eh Potter?!" With a sneer he added, "Just because you're all pretty now, doesn't mean you have anything on me. You will never be better than me, you filthy halfblood."

Harry snorted. "Funny, you wanted to be my friend three years ago, even knowing I was a 'filthy halfblood'. And I must say Malfoy, I'm flattered that you find me so attractive. It means a lot coming from the queen himself."

The blond gaped as his fellows laughed at him. Harry threw in a wink. "And the truth is Malfoy, you will never be good enough for me. Your friendship isn't even worth half a Knut in my eyes."

Hagrid started the class before the blond could retaliate.

Harry got to ride a Hippogriff and it wasn't nauseating like he'd thought it would be. He liked Buckbeak. He preferred Hippogriff to Flooing any day.

Malfoy didn't like Buckbeak, but the animal breaking his arm was all his own fault. He ignored Hagrid's instruction and paid the price.

Their first DADA class was interesting. Professor Lupin introduced them to a Boggart. Which apparently could take the form of whatever the person feared the most.

Harry had to pause. What did he fear most? He truly didn't know. His life wasn't filled with much things to be scared of. Not snakes like some students, or spiders, like with Ron.

Riddikulus was the spell that would help defeat a Boggart. All you had to do what make it something funny. Something that would make people laugh. Laughter defeated Boggarts. How did someone turn something they were terrified of, into something funny? Ho wound they concentrate long enough to do such a thing?

Ron had a large spider that he put on skates so it couldn't move. Harry hadn't even known that wizards knew about roller skates. Parvati Patil had a King Cobra that she turned into a jack in the box.

Harry's Boggart was indecisive for a while. It just couldn't seem to choose a form. It flickered back and forth between what looked to be a man and what seemed to be a floating, black mass.

It finally stopped on the man and Harry blanched. He recognized those eyes and that smile. That knife. He flinched as a demented grin spread slowly across the man's face. "Hello, little Hadrian."

Dear Merlin, why?! Why was he here?! Why, out of everything, did his greatest fear have to be him?!

"Harry!"

He turned and caught Hermione's eyes. She mouthed, 'that the man?' and he nodded.

'Drag' she mouthed back.

Harry knew about that. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went on and on about their 'unnaturalness'. He could do that. He turned and faced his fear again and could tell where she got the idea. And then it hit him. He raised his wand and said, "Riddikulus!"

The pedophile's outfit changed into a very gaudy, hot pink, mid-thigh dress with bright, yellow heels. He also had a large black wig on and dark makeup that was piled on thick.

It was humorous, because he had severely hairy legs and a very masculine physique, making him look strange in his new skin-tight outfit. He didn't even passably resemble a girl.

The class roared with laughter and Harry moved over to Hermione's side, who patted him on the back.

"You did it. You faced him," she muttered encouragingly.

He nodded. "Yeah, I did. That's good."

It really was. He just never wanted to do it again.

The first Hogsmeade weekend was on Halloween. Harry remained in the boy's dorm, writing letters to the various shops in the small village. If he was placing orders, he'd have to do it some time soon. And why not when he had the time?

He paused briefly and looked at his glove covered hands. Several students had questioned him about them, but he always skirted around the issue. He wasn't allowed to wear them in Potions, because Snape said the gloves could negatively affect some ingredients.

Even Snape had asked why he needed them. He just said he was cold, though he knew the man didn't believe a word of it. Snape had some sort of eighth sense or something. He knew everything abut everything.

Harry hadn't had any accidents as of late and he could only hope things stayed that way.

It was later in the evening, when he was sitting in the Common Room, reading a book, that he heard some commotion. With a shrug, he moved to the portrait hole and opened it up to see Dumbledore and several Gryffindor students, staring at him in shock.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking at the various faces.

"Harry, how long have you been up here?" Dumbledore asked.

"Since everyone left for Hogsmeade, sir. My uncle didn't sign the slip, so I couldn't go," he explained quickly.

"You've been inside the entire time?"

"Yes, sir. I've been busy writing letters and then I moved to the Common Room for some reading by the fireplace and I could hear all of you out here. What's wrong?"

"The Fat Lady's portrait has been ruined. She was attacked and we're going to have to round up every ghost in the castle to look for her," Dumbledore said.

"No need for that Headmaster," the voice of Filch caught his attention. "She's up there."

Harry was told to stay inside the doorway for a moment, until Dumbledore could settle things. In the meantime, Ron and Hermione nudged their way passed several students to come stand by him and tell him how their day was.

"Bloody hell!" Ron said. "Who would tear up a portrait? It's not like they can feel anything."

Hermione didn't answer. She was too busy feeling the shredded material that was once the Fat Lady's portrait.

"These were made by claws," she mumbled. "But why would an animal attack a portrait? I mean, it must have passed several others on the way up here, so it couldn't be because it was moving."

"I believe I can help you there."

The girl stepped out of the entryway and looked around for the voice.

The portrait right next to where the Fat Lady's portrait resided, was frowning. The woman was in a long, flowing, blue gown, holding a fan in the left hand, and was fanning herself. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun and she looked rather stern. She huffed, "It was a large, black dog. It kept growling at the poor woman. What I did notice, was that it was unnaturally intelligent. When poor Jocasta told it to go away, it attacked."

"'Jocasta'?" Ron repeated.

"The Fat Lady," the portrait clarified. "She does have a real name you know. She wasn't always called, 'Fat Lady'. Anyway the dog was very large, I'd say four to four and a half feet tall. Four or five in feet in length. And its eyes!"

The woman shivered. "Like a fog, or maybe a stormy grey. Either way, they had a certain shine to them that just spoke of intelligence."

Hermione looked at Ron and then both looked at Harry.

"Mate, I know Trelawney is nutters, but do you think the whole you having a Grim in your tea leaves was true?"

Harry leaned against the doorway and sighed. "I don't know. At first I thought she was mad but now that I think of it, on the night I left the Dursleys I saw a very large, black dog only a few feet from me. If the Knight Bus hadn't shown up, I'm pretty sure it would have attacked. It was huge and growling, teeth bared and all."

Hermione obviously didn't want to believe that anything Trelawney said possessed any credence, but she said nothing. It was too much of a coincidence anyway.

"Are there any sort of magical dogs that can be trained?" the girl asked Ron.

He shook his head. "There are Crups, but they don't get big. The only other dog like creäture that's small, is a Werewolf and they lose their minds when they transform. Besides, it's during the day and the full moon isn't until late tonight. So it can't be that."

"Do Grims really exist?" Harry asked. "Or is there some sort of magic to transforms people into animals?"

Hermione gasped and looked at Ron who was gaping. "Yeah, they're called Animagi. Bloody hell!"

Hermione's mind was already working. "Only some witches and wizards can manage to become Animagi. It takes time and discipline. Many don't want to waste their time by doing such training. If you become one, you have to be registered in the Ministry and tell them your distinguishing characteristic. Like Professor McGonagall. She has her spectacles outlining her eyes when in cat form. So then, someone who actually spent the time to do it, attacked Gryffindor Towers' entrance. It makes more sense. The intelligence, the eyes, and the fact that the dog ignored every other painting and portrait and went straight for the Fat Lady, proves it was a person, who knew where the Gryffindors reside."

Harry huffed, "We can't blame Snape. He has really dark eyes."

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected instantly. "And you're right. None of the professors have grey eyes. And it takes years to achieve an Animagus form. So if it were a student, it would most likely be a seventh year. But the Prefects are only allowed to know where their own House is. Only the Head Boy and Head Girl are allowed to know all the entrances and passwords to all the Houses. So most likely, it was someone from outside the castle."

Ron gasped. "Sirius Black!" he whispered.

"Why would you think of him?" Harry asked.

"HE'S HERE! SOMEWHERE IN THE CASTLE! SIRIUS BLACK! AAAHHH!"

The Golden Trio looked at one another as the strident voice of the Fat Lady rang through the stairwell.

"Well that answers that," Harry murmured with a huff. How anticlimactic.

"But how did he know where Gryffindor was?" Hermione asked, touching the ripped canvas again.

"Merlin! He must've been in Gryffindor while in school!" Ron whispered. "Even the best can go bad!"

"Ronald, anyone can go bad. The House you are in doesn't determine that. It's your decisions that make you who you are, not your House. And anyway, I read all about the Black family. Apparently it was a long line of dark witches and wizards who were all sorted into Slytherin. If he was a Gryffindor, did something make him go bad? Or was it like when Harry was sorted? The Hat wanted him in Slytherin and he maybe asked for Gryffindor. Maybe it was all a ruse to lower people's guards," Hermione suggested with a shrug.

"And I'm more inclined to believe it was Black who tried to get in, since everyone believes he's after me and it would only make sense if he knew I was in there alone," Harry pointed out.

"But how did he get out of Azkaban if he's an Animagus?" Ron asked, looking lost.

Hermione's mouth pursed. "What if he was unregistered?" she suggested.

When she received bland looks, she continued.

"Okay, after the Dementor incident, I decided to read upon them, because I was curious. A person in Animagus form is not hindered by the lifespan of the animal they turn into. Like cats live about twenty years minimum. A cat Animagus who remains in feline form for many years, would not die after only twenty. They could remain as a cat for several decades without death occurring. Dementors cannot feel emotions from animals, so they pass over them without a second thought. If Black was unregistered, that would mean the Ministry wouldn't know and therefore the Dementors guarding the prison, wouldn't know either. That could have been how he escaped."

Ron was staring at Harry. "Sometimes I feel inadequate with Hermione around," he said. "She knows everything."

Harry nodded. "I understand the feeling."

Before they could continue, Ginny came running down the stairs. "We're to move to the Great Hall," she said. "The Headmaster is going to lock the school down."

Harry disappeared back into the dorm and ran to get his bag, where he grabbed all his books and work and even shoved his Invisibility Cloak in it. He may need it. After stuffing his letters into the bag also, he ran back down to the Common Room and out the portrait hole.

Sleepover in the Great Hall. Wonderful!

Not!

A/N: Another done!

-In case anyone doesn't know, the Harry Potter Wikia states that Dragon-hide Gloves are 62 Sickles. 29 Knuts to a Sickle. 17 Sickles to a Galleon. Someone bitched about my pricing for the gloves being 'too much' when I used the literal charge for them.

-I don't own Double Trouble.

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