Disclaimer:I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot.


Truth and Lies

The Third Tale
(in which the pieces come together)


"Wotcher, Remus!"

"Tonks?" Remus asked. "Hello—why are you here?"

"Dumbledore sent me, of course." Tonks grinned, though she lowered her voice slightly. "Snape says You-Know-Who's got a new spy in Hogwarts, and we don't know who. Best to be sure, Dumbledore said. We'll have to keep on the lookout. He—he says there might be an attack."

"On Hogwarts?" Remus was astonished. "Could Voldemort be that foolish?"

Tonks shrugged. "Who knows? But once we get to fourth year, everyone's got to believe Harry, and if You-Know-Who's going to have to be in the open, why not announce it with a visit to the school?" she asked sardonically. "Oh—wotcher, there, Snuffles!" She grinned, scratching the large black dog—first cousin once removed, really—between the ears.

"Have you seen Professor Sprout?" Tonks asked brightly. "Haven't seen her in a while—she's brilliant, she is!"

"Oh—she's in the Hall already, I think," said Remus, slightly surprised by the abrupt change of subject; but then, this was Tonks. "Go on, then."

"Alright," she said, and bounded into the Hall, nearly knocking over a suit of armour in her hurry. Remus shook his head in exasperation, but he couldn't help but grin as well as he followed her. Nymphadora Tonks (who would hex him if he called her such a thing, even if it was only in his head) had an absolutely contagious smile.


"Hagrid! Hagrid!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into the small hut. Their faces were beaming, and Hagrid felt his own heart warm. Bless them, he thought, bless them, great kids.

"We heard—we heard—" Hermione said breathlessly.

"Lupin told us—is that right?" shouted Harry. "You've been cleared?"

The thought brought another grin to Hagrid's face, and he looked out the window. "So I 'ave," he said slowly, trying (in vain) to reel in his excitement.

"That's brilliant!" roared Ron as Harry hugged him—he barely got above Hagrid's stomach, but Hagrid got the idea—and Hermione squealed; and their joy for him alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes. "Not surprising at all, really, but with people like Fudge running 'round the place..."

"Ah, well," he said, sniffing slightly and swiping at his eyes, "be nice ter be able ter use magic freely again."


Harry stared between the two last true Marauders. Lupin's face was twisted in a scowl that was more like the wolf than the professor, and Snuffles was growling, hackles raised, looking quite like he would like nothing more than to rip the book into shreds and throw the pieces into the Gryffindor common room fireplace.

He sighed. And this was only the introduction of Aunt Marge.

As the book prattled on, the anger did not fade off their faces, and Harry knew that once Aunt Marge started insulting his parents, they would have a similar reaction as he had had; and no matter how satisfying it would be to scare Umbridge and the rest of the school out of their wits, it wouldn't exactly be prudent to have Sirius transform back and Lupin to start screaming profanities at a Muggle woman.

When the Aunt Marge of the book began asking Harry with all the casualness of simple conversation whether Harry was being beaten at a non-existent school, Harry stood up. He couldn't help but notice that Lupin and Padfoot both seemed ready to explode.

"Come on," he said loudly, and several faces turned to look at him. "Er—Professor Lupin, I really need to talk to you. In private."

Lupin frowned, turning to look at him quickly, as though coming out of a daze. Padfoot's ears jerked up. Amazing, how one could look murderous even in dog form.

"Excuse me?" said Umbridge immediately. "You were not given permission to—"

"May we please go now, then, Professor?" Harry said abruptly, too fed up to fight another verbal war with the woman. "Honestly, ma'am, it's only for one chapter."

Umbridge opened her mouth wide to inevitably decline, but McGonagall interjected: "You may go, Potter."

Harry didn't wait another word. He dragged Lupin and Padfoot out of the Hall, knowing every eye of the Hall was trained upon them and not caring one bit.


"What now?" Sirius demanded as Harry pulled him into an empty classroom. "C'mon, I wanted to hear about that..."

"You don't," Harry said shortly. "Trust me."

"Why?" Remus asked, and Sirius knew he was just as worried as he. "What happened with your aunt? Does she... Is she... Did they ever beat you, Harry?"

"What?" Harry said, his stubborn stance broken; he looked a little unnerved by Remus's words. "No, of course not... I mean, well, I—I s'pose I got pushed around a bit, but it's definitely not what you're thinking."

Sirius wondered how much of it was a lie. "So why did you drag us off here, then?" he asked instead.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "Aunt Marge... When she visited, she tried a different tack to get to me—she kept insulting my parents. What you heard—that was just the start of it. I didn't think it would be very prudent if the two of you ran to the front of the Hall and started ripping the book to pieces..."

"Just the start? What we heard was just the start?" Remus snarled. If there was one thing that got him angry, Sirius knew, it was when people spoke badly of his friends.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, well, she got to me too, if it's any consolation."

"What did you do to her in return?"

"What?"

"What did you do to her in return?" Sirius repeated. "Don't tell me you let her get away with this!"

Harry blinked, and then a small, superior grin emerged on his face. "I blew her up," he said. "Like a balloon. All by accident, of course, but that's a minor detail..."

Remus stared at Harry with his mouth open. Sirius burst out laughing.

"I s'pose that was what all the noise I heard from Number Four was about," he said with a grin. "That is it—I am not missing this wonderfully executed prank of yours—I'll behave as much as you want me to as long as I get to hear that!"

He had turned back into Padfoot and was already shooting down the corridors before the other two had even started to walk.


"You were seeing Grims everywhere before the school year even started? But that means—"

"It wasn't a Grim," said Hermione tightly. "It's just a dog, nothing to worry about."


"Oooh," said Hannah Abbott. "You rode the Knight Bus? I've never ridden that before—"

"Lucky you," muttered Harry.

"Uh, sorry—what?" said Hannah, bewildered.

"Harry's experience with the Knight Bus wasn't very..." Ginny giggled, still searching for the right word, "pleasant."

"Well, of course it wasn't!" said Harry, flushing and laughing nervously. "I thought I was going to get expelled, I was getting knocked around everywhere, and—how did you know I didn't like the Knight Bus, anyway?"

Ron snorted. "We've ridden it before. Doesn't take a genius to know it's worse than the Floo."

"Oh, come on," whined Fred. "It was fun."

"Yeah, 'cause you decided to redecorate the thing with flowers!"

George sniggered. "Ah, memories..."

Neville, meanwhile, was concerned with other matters. "How come you pretended to be me?"

Harry bit his lip. "Er—moving on, I think..."


By dinner, Harry noticed that Sirius was no longer by his side. He frowned. "Professor," he whispered (he still wasn't ready to call his former teacher by his first name), "have you seen—"

Lupin smiled at him sadly. "He said he'd like to take a break," he said. "And he said he'd see you. I don't think he found the last chapter very interesting, what with you thinking back to when you first met him as Padfoot so often and the rat being mentioned so extensively..."

Harry's stomach plummeted. Since the start of the book he'd wondered how Sirius would take to being spoken ill of every other page, and now he realized that it probably wasn't very easy to overlook; being branded a murderer when you weren't one, and being reminded of that very fact, had to have been disheartening no matter how badly you tried to come to terms with it.

"Right," he said somewhat distractedly. "I'll see him."


"Hey," said Geoffrey Hooper in a low voice, "d'you reckon... d'you reckon Potter's not all bad?"

His voice was casual and his posture suggested disinterest, but Natalie McDonald knew better. "You think?" she said, not willing to guide him in his blindness. If he was going to turn to Harry's side only now, she wouldn't be helping him. She'd tried to since the start of the year, and she'd had quite enough of his stupidity.

"Oh, what are you snapping at me for?" asked Geoffrey grumpily. "I was just asking."

"Well, you should know how I'll answer by now," she said shortly. She glanced down her table, but Harry wasn't there. She supposed she'd be pretty sickened too, if she'd had to come back to school surrounded by slander and rumors. Grimacing, she turned back to her best friend.

Geoffrey was gaping at her. "I—"

Natalie raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Geoffrey threw his hands up. "Oh, all right then—you win! Potter wasn't a liar, I believe everything he says, I believe You-Know-Who's back and all that stuff!"

Natalie gave a satisfied smile. "Good enough."


"Snuffles?" Harry asked. But the classroom was empty.

"That doesn't make sense," he mumbled to himself. If the map was right—and the map had to be—then Sirius was supposed to be standing right... about...

"Ow!" Sirius jumped up, the Disillusionment charm wearing off. "That was my foot!"

Here.

"Sorry," said Harry, but he was grinning. Quickly, he checked the door and made sure no one would barge in on them. "How come you left?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Ah, well," Sirius shrugged. "To be honest, I don't think I could bear to hear about myself any longer. Bad memories, you know..."

"I know," said Harry. He had had enough experience with having people talk about him when they thought he couldn't hear to know what Sirius was feeling, at least a little bit. "Sorry—I know I was—well, in the book, I mean... I was thinking... all sorts of things..."

"Don't apologize," Sirius said firmly. "Most people are only curious, anyway; you can't really blame them. But enough of me. Are you still holding up, eh?"

"I'll be fine," Harry said dismissively, though when Sirius frowned he added, "Better than you, anyway. I'll be... alright. To be truthful, this is the best book by far. Maybe I'm getting used to it."

"You shouldn't have to," said Sirius. He smiled a little bitterly. "You know, I reckon you think I'm some sort of coward, running away from those books—"

"No, you're not!" said Harry indignantly. "I'd love to throw those things in the Forbidden Forest too, but I don't think Umbridge'll let me."

"Yeah, probably not." Sirius grinned. "I'll be leaving for a while, alright? I've nothing to do here if I'm not going to be at the reading, anyway. But I'll keep in touch with the mirror, and I'll be back for my cleared name." He winked.

Harry laughed. Sirius made the process of proving his innocence look as if it would be so simple, so possible, so easy. But then, he thought, Sirius hadn't been the first person to escape Azkaban for nothing.


He thought, again, of the long, winding corridor... The door would be right in front of him... He only needed to get in... But he needed to dispose of the foolish Order's guards, first, and the Ministry's feeble defenses... They should be easy enough... He was so close, so close! If only—

"Harry!"

With a gulp of air, Harry jolted awake. Ron was shaking him. "Wha—"

"You were talking in your sleep again," said Ron grimly. "Was it that corridor?"

"Yeah," said Harry shortly. "I... thanks for waking me up." His curiosity of why Voldemort so wanted with that place and what was behind that door had not quite disappeared, but he knew Ron meant only well. He leaned back again into his pillows, but though the sun was not even out yet he doubted he could fall back asleep again.

"You should tell someone about this, you know. Dumbledore—"

"I told you, Ron, he already knows about it—"

"McGonagall, then."

Harry looked at Ron. It was unnerving to see him so serious. Wasn't the nagging Hermione's job? But all he said was, "I don't want to worry her."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Lupin, then. It's not like he'll go berserk."

Harry opened his mouth but then froze, realizing he had no excuse. He groaned. "Fine, then. But I'll tell him later. At the reading."


Although there were quite a few snickers scattered all over the Hall (with a good part of it focused on the Slytherin table), the majority of Hogwarts was strangely silent.

"Harry?" mumbled Cho; she was staring at Harry as though afraid of him. "What—what memory was that? The screaming woman?"

Harry stared at the table, tracing out a groove in the woodwork with his eyes. He did not feel particularly like answering, but he said, in as controlled a voice as he could muster, "That was Mum."

And as though suddenly woken up by his words, the Hall broke out into small, feeble whispers; Harry felt stares of pity upon his back, and tried his best to ignore them. It would end with a hex otherwise.


"That's impossible," murmured Marietta. She turned to Cho. "How did she do that? She can't attend two classes at once! She was with Weasley and Potter all day, but then she says she's already gone to Arithmancy! How did she do that?" she demanded.

Cho groaned. "I already told you, Marietta, I don't know," she said. "Just wait it out. I'm sure it'll be explained at the end of the book."

Marietta frowned. Didn't she realize how big a matter this was? "I don't like it," she said. "Something doesn't fit. It's just not possible."

"Nothing's impossible," said Luna dreamily from her side. The loony girl was looking straight at the book with what seemed like mild interest. Marietta stared at her, disgusted, but Luna said nothing.


"Trust Potter to be the only one reckless enough," Minerva muttered under her breath.

"Oh, but that's impressive!" laughed Wilhelmina beside her. "Hippogriffs are a fine judge of character, and Buckbeak doesn't seem to be a patient one..."

Minerva blinked. "Yes, well," she said quietly, a smirk now starting to curl around her mouth, "I suppose that explains what happened to Mr. Malfoy."

Wilhelmina snorted. It was biased, she knew, but Minerva remembered all the worry the Malfoys had given Hagrid that year; Draco deserved it if nothing else.


"Five points to Gryffindor," called Professor McGonagall out unexpectedly. Ron jumped, coming out of his stupor.

"What?" Snape said abruptly, twisting in his seat. "And why would you—"

"The points you took was uncalled for, Severus," McGonagall said mildly. Ron grinned. "As are much of the points you take. It's time some of them were given back."

"It was two years ago!"

"All the same."

Snape was glaring at Gryffindor's Head of House, and Ron sniggered. "Ah, justice," he sighed contentedly.


"Him? He's going to teach Harry? That git, teach my godson?"

"If you truthfully expect me to agree in actually aiding that mediocre boy to Occlude you are sorely, sorely mistaken—"

"Hear me out," said Albus, raising his voice by just a fraction, and immediately both wizards fell silent. "It is only reasonable," he began again. "Severus is the best choice to teach Harry; he is one of the best Occlumens the world has seen—"

"Yeah," said Sirius angrily, "but on the other hand he's also one of the worst teachers the world's ever seen!"

"He is the best choice," Albus continued, talking over Severus as the man drew his wand, features contorting in anger. "Harry's dreams—visions—are getting worse. Harry may learn Occlumency under the pretence of extra Potions lessons. If you have a better idea, please say so."

Sirius and Severus were silent for a moment, both men silently seething.

Then Sirius announced, "Remus."

Albus frowned, not quite understanding what he meant.

"What?" Remus, who had been sitting quietly on the sidelines throughout the whole conversation (having presented the problem and now wanting nothing to do with it) interrupted. "What are you talking about, Sirius?"

"Remus," Sirius repeated, with the satisfied air of having solved a great problem. "Remus can teach Harry Occlumency."

"No, I can't, Sirius, I'm not good enough myself at Occlumency, I can't possibly teach—"

"Of course you can," said Sirius bluntly. "And I know you've studied Legilimency, too. No one'll doubt it, since you're here for the readings anyway, and you've already given Harry private lessons before. Of course you'll teach Harry."

Remus gaped at him. Severus merely raised an eyebrow but refused to comment, which, Albus knew, meant he agreed but would never admit it. Sirius was leaning triumphantly back in his seat.

"Well," said Albus. "That is as good a plan as any… Much better than my original plan, I daresay. If you will, Remus…?"

Remus gaped some more. Then, in a small voice that reminded Albus of when the werewolf had first come to Hogwarts, Remus said, "Well… alright."


Severus snarled, but it was lost in the laughter of the crowd. Oh, Lupin and Longbottom would pay. He would ensure it.

"Albus," he said angrily.

The Hogwarts Headmaster raised his eyebrows. Were those eyes laughing at him? "Yes, Severus?"

"Your students," Severus said dangerously, "are getting out of hand. Might I suggest trying to control them?"

Albus tilted his head amiably. "Oh, I should think it nothing, Severus," he said. "There is a reason you are Mr. Longbottom's Boggart, after all. He had to make you seem humorous somehow."

Severus gaped at him.

"Of course, as for this control you ask of, I am sure Madam Umbridge is doing well enough a job."

She is not doing 'well enough a job'! thought Severus furiously. She's jumping up and down and screaming orders like a maniac while the students are ignoring her!

Somewhere in the Hall, someone who Severus was sure was a Weasley twin shouted, "S-Snape in—in that dress—and that red handbag—bloody brilliant, Neville!"

His earlier suspicion of who the speaker's identity was confirmed when an answering voice roared, "Excellent, Professor Lupin—Merlin, I wish I was in that class—"

Gryffindors, Severus thought grumpily, slumping in his chair. Get away with murder.


"Flight of the Fat Lady," the book read out in a clear voice.

"Oh, yeah! That was when Sirius Black tried to kill Harry, right?"

"No, stupid, Ron Weasley was the one he attacked that night—"

"Everyone was so scared—"

Disgusted at himself, Snuffles pulled the Extendable Ear out from beneath the Great Hall's double doors. They didn't understand, they didn't know—it wasn't like he was proud of it! Shame and self-loathing pooled in his stomach, and he took off, deciding that even Grimmauld Place would truly be better than having to hear about himself.


"Wow. Wow."

"Seriously?" George breathed. "You asked McGonagall if you could go?"

Harry shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"I don't believe it," said Fred wonderingly. "How... how..."

"Hey," said Harry a tad defensively, "it didn't hurt to try, alri—"

"No, no, you misunderstand us completely, Harry," said Fred woefully. "It's not that. We sympathize. We're so sorry."

"Er... what?"

"Such a brave soul," said George, shaking his head. "Such nerve, going to McGonagall like that..."

"A true Gryffindor, Gred... we always knew you were a courageous man, Harry, old chap. We wouldn't have been able to do the same."

"Imagine the humiliation, asking the Cat Lady herself if he could go out to Hogsmeade—a moment of silence for our dear brother, everyone—"

"Misters Weasley," said McGonagall through gritted teeth.


George flopped down into one of the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. Merlin he felt bad. "That was the most depressing chapter we've had in a long time."

"A long, long time," agreed his twin.

"You know, Harry, half of that is your fault. You and your pessimistic thoughts."

"Shut up," snapped George's brother-except-for-the-hair, but even the dark-haired boy seemed too tired for banter. "I didn't think reading about losing a Quidditch match would be that bad."

"Well, considering you fainted because of Dementors, it's not really all that surprising," remarked Ginny. George agreed; he quite preferred not to have all the morbid details of the Boy Who Lived's life laid out for him to know. And he wished, more than he'd wished for anything in his life, that he still didn't know what Harry heard if a Dementor got too near. God, how did the guy ever manage to conjure an entire Patronus whenever he was faced with a mess like that?

"That, and Cedric Diggory got a nice long mention," mumbled Ron, uncharacteristically sober. "Half the Hufflepuffs are sobbing."

"It's not a surprise," whispered Hermione. "He never deserved to—to—" She could not finish her sentence. She did not need to; the unfinished die hang thick in the air.

"And I called him thick and a pushover at the practice," said Fred, his face screwed up in painful guilt. "Hell, he was so far from a pushover he actually tried to ask for a rematch. I wouldn't have had the guts to be that fair."

George winced. The Hufflepuffs had not, originally, taken well to being looked down on, but remorse had been evident on the Gryffindor's side; they'd let it go—just this once.

He bit his lip and chanced a glance around the common room. All the faces were still downcast—including his own, this time. Not even the best of pranks would fix this.


"You're going to poke around in my head, sir?" Some small part of him told him to just be glad it wasn't Snape, but he wasn't feeling very grateful at the moment.

"I won't force my way into any memory you don't want me to," Lupin promised. "And you may use the Pensieve. Any memories you think are too private for me to see... think of them, touch your wand to your temple, and put it in the bowl." As he said it, Lupin himself put the tip of his wand against his temple; what looked like several silvery hairs followed his wand when he withdrew it, and he placed the memories into the Pensieve.

Harry stared into the swirling depths of the Pensieve. 'Too private'? His life was the definition of 'too private'. Nevertheless...

There was no hope in keeping anything from the first two years at Hogwarts; Lupin already knew about those thanks to the books... but the graveyard would never be something he wanted the man to see, and Harry definitely didn't want him to see any more of the Dursleys... Slowly, Harry held his wand to his temple, thinking only of those memories, and was just slightly surprised when a thick white bundle of wisps remained attached to his wand as he removed it.

He looked up, resolute. "How do I Occlude then, Professor?"

Lupin seemed momentarily taken aback, but he said, "Try to empty your mind. Make it clear and file any unnecessary emotions away. If you can, try to imagine a shield guarding those thoughts you've locked away."

Harry nodded, more to himself than to his former professor, the words ringing in his head as he tried to concentrate. Imagine a shield. No unnecessary emotions. Right.

"Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He clutched his wand tightly. He met Lupin's eyes.

"Legilimens!"


"Lupin?" Everyone was muttering again. Ron rolled his eyes.

"You asked for Professor Lupin to help you with the Dementors?" someone called loudly. When Ron's best mate remained utterly mute, the person said skeptically, "Did he really manage to teach you, then?"

Thus was Ron's breaking point. "Of course he did!" he exclaimed indignantly. That guy's got some nerve, he thought angrily. "Don't you question it!"

The other boy (a Ravenclaw not in Ron's year) frowned but mercifully kept his mouth shut. Ron wished duelling was possible in front of the teachers. Never before had he regretted shouting "Get away from me, werewolf!" in his professor's face that night in the Shack quite so much.


"Ah, the introduction of the Marauders," said Fred Weasley, grinning. "Owe them very much."

"Yes," sighed George Weasley. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, we are eternally grateful whoever you are."

The rest of the school broke into confused whispers. Harry, on the other hand, was looking gloomier than ever. "We really can't delay this, can we?"

Remus could see a twitch in Severus' eye, and he swore that Minerva's lips had completely disappeared. Nevertheless, he could not quite help the small smile that crossed his lips.


"Mr. Potter!" barked McGonagall. "You were forbidden to enter Hogsmeade—"

"I know, Professor, I get it," Harry said quickly. "Er, see, I couldn't, ah, let down Fred and George—yeah, that's it! I couldn't let down Fred and George after they'd given me that map!"

"Hey, no pinning it on us!"

McGonagall's lips were pursed. "I shall have to take back that map, Potter."

"But Professor Lupin already took it halfway through that school year!"

"And did he not give it back?"

Harry gulped. "Erm—it... has sentimental value! That's right—it's got a lot sentimental value for me."

"Sentimental value?" McGonagall asked tensely, but Harry knew that she was completely aware of what he was talking about.

"Yeah," he nodded. "And... and it's an heirloom, too, so it really does belong to me. You can't take it."

The professor looked ready to explode, but she said, "We shall see, Potter."

Harry sighed with relief.


As soon as Tonks got through the excruciating task of not tripping in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, she let out a laugh. "Sirius!" she called, rushing into the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Mad-Eye."

Mad-Eye eyed her carefully; Tonks rolled her eyes and changed her hair to a dull green and back to prove herself.

"Tonks! Finally!" Sirius rushed into the room. "Have you got any news, then? What part are they on? Is the book almost finished?"

"You're too impatient," scolded Tonks lightly, before saying, "No, we're not finished, we're only about halfway, I bet. Harry's already found out about... about what the Ministry thinks is the truth about you," she said, stumbling only slightly. "And it was about the worst possible way he could've found out. He'd overheard Fudge and some of the teachers talking about you when he snuck into the Three Broomsticks."

"Oh," said Sirius heavily after a moment. "Well, it wasn't like he didn't know—he was furious with me when we first met..." He trailed off; Tonks wished he would not brood.

Mad-Eye, though, remarked, "At least he knows why someone other than Voldemort's after him. Sure, it's Wormtail, but at least he's got a bit of a warning—"

"Not helping, Mad-Eye."


"That," called one of the students in a disgusted voice, "is the most unfair, most biased, and most corrupt thing I've seen in my life."

Cornelius felt a flush cover his face. "Excuse me?" he tried to say, but his voice felt feeble even to his own ears.

"But—Buckbeak honestly didn't do anything wrong!" someone shouted; Cornelius didn't dare look up. "You can't give him a hearing—I'd like to see how you do when people insult you like that!" As he said it, the student sent a murderous look at the Slytherin table, where the Malfoy scion was looking supremely unimpressed.

"All hippogriffs are a little prideful, everyone with some sense knows that!" said Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank in righteous indignation, and Cornelius could think of no argument. "A little practical lesson never hurt anyone as long as there was caution, which Hagrid exercised well enough!"

"Now, the Committee wasn't able to go through with it anyway," he said, attempting to placate. "Buckbeak, you see, managed to get away—"

"That is hardly the point," said Minerva irritably.

"I suppose I shall see to it," responded Amelia gracefully. "It is neither Buckbeak nor Hagrid's fault."

Cornelius looked down at his hands. He wondered how damaged his reputation was now; he knew—he was not as ignorant as he was stupid—that he was hanging onto his position as Minister with barely more than a thread, and the Wizarding community held the shears.


"Wow. That was how you got the Firebolt?"

"And without a note or anything, too! Talk about one hell of a present..."

"Your Christmases are really wacky, aren't they? First you get an Invisibility Cloak, second you brew Polyjuice Potion, now you get a Firebolt..."

Normally he hated these books, but this chapter was really only a reminder of his first connection to Sirius, even if he had thought him a murderer then, or if McGonagall had confiscated the beloved broom afterwards... Harry ducked his head, fighting the grin threatening to surface on his lips. It was a futile battle.


"What?" Remus said, startled. The Patronus... that probably meant the first private lesson to ward off the Dementors. Remus shook his head. Were they that far into the book already?

He thought back—and suddenly wished he hadn't eaten so much. He wished Tonks wasn't here to see his face. Hell, he wished it was night and the full moon, just so he couldn't be here. Patronuses were all fine to read about, but the thing was, were there were Patronuses there were often Dementors, and Dementors were a different thing entirely.

Was it just him, or was the book reading faster than normal?

He glanced at Harry, whose expression was slightly shaky but nonetheless reassured, and Remus thought that if he had half the bravery his former student had he'd probably die happy. It was not everyday you were forced to hear your parents in their moments of death, especially not moments that would inadvertently lead to you surviving when you shouldn't have.

Lily had been bad enough. Her final pleas featured regularly in Remus' nightmares. But James... His long-dead friend's last words might just destroy him.


"Oh... So those were you're Dad's last words..."

"That must have been horrible to hear, huh?"

"Of course it was, how would you feel if it had been you?"

For once, Lavender did not feel any need to join the conversation. It was all so disgusting, so crude, she realized now, late as it was, how they invaded Harry's privacy without a second thought... Didn't they think that maybe, just maybe, Harry'd like to keep it to himself? She marvelled at her Housemate's self-control. Why hadn't he hexed anyone already? More specifically, why hadn't he hexed her? She knew she hadn't exactly been the most supportive of people. But that was about to change. Or at least, she'd try to.


"That is... impressive," said Amelia Bones slowly. "It is not every day one is able to produce an incorporeal Patronus on the third try."

Damn right it's impressive! thought Tonks, wide-eyed. I couldn't get one like that for nearly a week!

Remus was grinning, the prat. Harry's face was red, though a corner of his lips twitched with pride, and he mumbled something vaguely resembling a thank-you. Tonks shook her head in wonder.


"Not another Quidditch match," moaned Hermione.

"What? What's wrong with Quidditch?" demanded Ron, insulted.

"Well, nothing," said Hermione, "except that the last chapter there was Quidditch involved, it wasn't really a good one."

"But this is different," said Ron stubbornly. "We won this time."

Hermione rolled her eyes.


"Oh, I remember this," said Padma, grinning.

"The Big Bang," said Dean, rolling his eyes.

"Shouting matches!" cried Seamus. "Everywhere!"

"I remember my ears hurt," mumbled Neville.

"Like an old married couple, only louder," giggled Lavender.

"You know, it's not so funny when both parties are your friends," said Harry glumly.

Suffice to say, both Hermione and Ron were both very red now.


"Oooh," cooed George.

"Harry's got a crush," continued Fred.

"Pot-ter and Cha-ang! Pot-ter and Cha-ang!" they sang simultaneously, and wolf whistles and catcalls covered the Hall.

Harry rolled his eyes. He was surprised to find he was less affected than he expected to be. At the Ravenclaw table, he saw Cho flush furiously, but he couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed. Subconsciously, he felt his gaze drift to Ginny, and felt his stomach flip. That was when he blushed.


"Really, Potter?" Draco hissed under his breath. "Distracted because the enemy Seeker screamed and pointed at the ground—you'd have thought he was used to that—"

"Well, at least he's scared of Dementors and not Patronuses!" someone snarled into his ear; enraged, Draco turned and saw a dark-haired, icy-eyed girl looking sharply at him. A Greengrass, no doubt; she looked too much like her sister, and two of them were enough for one school, in Draco's opinion. The Greengrasses were purebloods, yes, but so disgustingly neutral.

"Excuse me," he said in a lofty voice, "But are you defending Potter? You should know, surely, that doing something as idiotic as that"—he sneered at her for good measure—"isn't appropriate behavior for a worthy snake."

To his surprise, the girl only raised an eyebrow. "Of course I wasn't defending Potter," she snapped. "I was just stating that actually pretending to be a Dementor was about the most foolish thing you could have possibly attempted."

Draco bristled. "Who do you think you are—"

"Someone sensible enough not to sabotage the Gryffindor Quidditch team in such a blatantly un-Slytherin way, that's who," she cut him off and turned back to the book.

Draco's cheeks pinked as a few of the older students snickered.


Hermione was right again, in the end. The reminder of the match against Ravenclaw might have been an excuse for celebration (though not for the Ravenclaws), but any happy feelings were soon quashed as the chapter brought up another event: the time when Sirius Black had, successfully, broken into the dormitory and tried to kill Ron (or Pettigrew, but very few people knew about that).

All in all, none of the students really enjoyed that part very much.


"So!" Malfoy shouted. "You did do that, then! You—"

"Harry what, exactly?" Seamus shouted. "Threw mudballs at the back of your head for being a prat?"

The Gryffindor table laughed, but Ron felt only dread. Harry, sitting beside him, looked the same way. Harry hadn't even been allowed in Hogsmeade then, and this was the second time he had snuck in. They would be in so much trouble for this.

Sure enough, The Toad soon made herself known again. "Well," Umbridge said sweetly, "I am sure that this deserves at least some punishment."

Snape, who sat a little close to The Toad, smiled vindictively. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, perhaps?" he said lazily, but Ron knew it wasn't a question; he could almost hear the rubies being removed in the Entrance Hall.

Git.

"Yes," Umbridge said, "and a detention ought to do it, I think."

Toa—

Then Ron froze. Detention? Again? Across him, sheer fury crossed Hermione's face. Helplessly Ron glanced at Harry, who glared defiantly at Umbridge, then at Harry's hand, where the horrible words were still etched. Dumbledore frowned, looking suddenly thrice his age. Ron glanced to McGonagall, but while his Head of House stared angrily at Umbridge and Snape, there was nothing to be done.


"Wait a minute," Fred said. "Snape said his full name?"

"Oh, dear," whispered George gleefully. "Wonder what'll happen now?"

Harry glanced at the staff table worriedly. Snape's face was growing rather red...

Fred let loose a rather loud giggle, and Harry glared at him. "Not funny," he hissed. "I'm on Snape's hit list already!"

"Sorry, mate," said George. "Do you even know what's going to—?"

"Of course I do," snapped Harry. "Nearly gave me a heart attack, didn't it? I was sitting right in the bat's office, trying to come up with one good alibi, and then suddenly this supposedly random piece of parchment starts insulting him like mad!"

Fred couldn't help it. He giggled again.


"Oh, let it go already, Minerva," Pomona sighed. One hour. One hour after that dreaded chapter and the Deputy still hadn't calmed down. It was starting to drive Pomona mad.

"How can I?" her old friend all but shrieked. "How Potter can do that for the second time when a murderer was supposedly on the loose—reckless, foolish, inconsiderate—"

"You mean he's a teenager," Pomona said gently. "Honestly, would you have resisted the temptation when you were thirteen, with an Invisibility Cloak and a map that showed all of Hogwarts and its residents?"

"You must admit, that map's not a bad piece of magic," put in Filius. "Silly and mischievous, but it could prove helpful if you needed it."

Minerva scowled. "Still! It was stupid, careless—"

"I very much agree," drawled Severus.

Minerva glared.

"Shut—up, Severus! I would have taken points from Gryffindor if—"

"By all means," Severus said.

"—If you hadn't already done it," Minerva finished dangerously.

"Oh, don't let me stop you," said Severus in a would-be pleasant voice. "I quite think Potter deserves much more than—"

Minerva glared harder. Severus wisely chose to shut up.


For about the fiftieth time that day, Ron turned to Hermione. "I'm s—"

"Oh, it's fine, Ron, I forgave you a thousand times over already," cut Hermione in with honest exasperation. "It doesn't matter."

Ron shrugged, ducking his head and looking away. "Still."

He did not notice the small smile tugging at the corners of Hermione's mouth.


"How'm I supposed to hide this from Lupin now?" Harry wondered out loud. His right hand, still bleeding badly from Umbridge's detention, was soaked again in Hermione's murtlap essence, but the words I must not tell lies were cut deeper than ever into it. "And Tonks! She's an Auror—how do I keep this inconspicuous? It was hard enough covering it up before..."

"Tonks doesn't always sit at the Gryffindor table, and Professor Lupin sits far away enough, you'll be fine," Hermione assured him, deciding not to mention that she actually wished Tonks would find out, or Lupin or Professor McGonagall. Harry didn't deserve this.


"Just what we all need," said Pomona Sprout cheerfully. Dolores couldn't quite tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. "Another Quidditch match!"

"It's definitely not what I need," she heard Severus sneer. Slytherin must have lost, then. Pity.

"Do keep quiet, Severus," Minerva muttered under her breath. "It's only the most unfair match of the century."

Dolores raised her eyebrows. Interesting.

"You won!" the Potions master nearly snarled.

"And yet it was still incredibly undignified on your part. But of course, that only makes our victory all the better."

"Why, you—"

"Excuse me?" Dolores piped up sweetly. "Might I care to join in your conversation?"

Dolores thought she might have heard Filius Flitwick mutter "oh, dear" in the background, and Severus and Minerva both glared at her for a moment.

"Never mind, Professor Umbridge."

"I'm afraid, Dolores, it just ended."


"Whoa," said Cormac McLaggen. A table away, Justin Finch-Fletchley felt a pang of annoyance. "You heard Trelawney make a prophecy?"

Harry shrugged dully. "Had to be some reason she was the Divination professor."

McLaggen was now gazing at Harry as though he were some kind of interesting specimen. Justin vaguely wondered if he could get away with slamming his fist into the guy's face with the professors watching. This was the DA's leader the guy was having a go at, after all.

"Does that mean You-Know-Who really is back, though?"

Well, he's only tried to tell you that all year! Justin thought impatiently. He remembered belatedly that Harry most likely had to deal with people like these daily, and winced on his behalf.


As soon as Dumbledore had decided to give the school a break, Ginny cornered them. "What's going on?" she demanded. "I thought Buckbeak wasn't dead—you said he was Witherwings—"

"Don't say it so loud, Ginny," Hermione said, "but yes, Buckbeak's alive. He got away. He really is Witherwings. Just—you'll see."

"What? How—"

"You'll see," said Ron, looking very uncomfortable.

Ginny frowned. She really did want to know what happened, but if it would keep getting Harry and the others into trouble, well, she wouldn't be pushy. Of course, the rest of the school didn't seem to care about that. It was Sirius Black this and Buckbeak that, and Harry was in the thick of it, too; everyone seemed to talk about him almost as much, but then that shouldn't really be all that surprising.

"You saved him, though, didn't you," she said. She looked at Harry, making sure not to glance at his right hand, where she knew there would be scars. (Stupid, secretive git. She'd noticed it the day after the new detention Toadface had given again. Lupin and Sirius didn't know yet, but they'd figure it out soon enough for sure.) "I don't know how you did it, but you did."

Harry flushed, glancing at her somewhat covertly. "Well… sort of."

Tomorrow they'd continue the reading; tomorrow she'd know what had happened.

Ginny snorted, but she turned firmly away as well, in case her face went red too.


Harry heaved a deep breath; he looked around at Ron and Hermione. Were they as anxious as he was?

Stomach churning, he stared at the rest of the students in the Hall, now avidly listening. They didn't know, he realized with a panic. They didn't know how close it was; that, in a few chapters or so—if all went well—Sirius could (possibly, hopefully, maybe) be free.


"Hey, what happened to Scabbers, anyway, if he wasn't really dead?" asked Dean. "I still don't see him around anymore."

"Oh, he ran away again after that, and I thought it was just, you know, best to let him go," Ron said carelessly, but when no one was listening any longer he said under his breath, "Good riddance."


"And here we go again," said Eddie Carmichael in a sing-song voice.

Harry Potter blinked at him. "What're you talking about?"

"It happens every year, you know," said Eddie as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Some time before the school year ends, you three get into some kind of adventure wherein something big happens. First year—the Stone. Second—the Chamber." He listened to the book for a few seconds. "See—you're getting beat up by the Willow now. Five Galleons this year has something to do with Black."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all gawked at him, and Eddie smirked to himself.


"There's a passage?" shrieked Lee. "But—but it's impossible to get through the Whomping Willow—unless you want to get beaten to a pulp, anyway—"

Fred's mouth was open. "There was a knot at the trunk—that—that—"

"That bloody tree actually had a sort of secret code to get in?" George was exactly the same.

Ron tried very hard not to grin.


"That's how," said Fudge with wide eyes. "He trapped them... An unregistered, dog Animagus..." He whirled on Dumbledore. "You knew, didn't you? You knew—"

"No," said Dumbledore. He was a pretty good actor, Harry thought. "This comes to me as much of a shock as to you, Cornelius."

Cornelius glared and sat down, which should've been entertaining, but Harry felt only panic. It had taken him too long a time to believe Sirius was innocent before. The book was from his point of view: it would be too detailed, too thorough, fleshing out each event for the students to know. Normally that wasn't a problem, but to prove Sirius' innocence Harry needed it to be faster—the Ministry did not yet need to know about his initial hate for Sirius, or Lupin's involvement, or how they had hexed Snape; all they needed to know right now was that Sirius was innocent, because that was the most important thing, and Ministry needed to know that and only that, simple and straightforward.

Not that Harry could do anything about it.


"Oh, what's happening now?" said Susan Bones. She had the odd feeling that a mystery was just about to be unravelled, and they were right on the tip of doing so. "We do know you're a werewolf, sir..." Her voice, while slightly shrill, was solemn, displaying no disgust. "But in league with Sirius Black—?"

"I wasn't in league with him," said Professor Lupin calmly. "I simply came to a conclusion that led me to a few important realizations. It shall be explained."

Susan stared at him. Talk about vague. At the Ravenclaw table, she heard Eddie Carmichael say feebly, "I did tell you something big would happen."


"Wait—Professor? Professor Lupin?" George Weasley's mouth was open. "You were—you were one of—you made the—the—"

"Well, I'm hardly a Professor, really," said Remus. He found he was quite enjoying himself. "But yes, I did hold the title of Moony."

Fred Weasley's mouth was open too. "Merlin."

"And you know about the cloak, too!"

"Our idols—"

"Our heroes—"

Harry snorted and mumbled something to Ron, and the twins turned on them. "That's why you said it was an heirloom!" they cried. "Your dad—and Padfoot—you never told us!"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Well, you never asked," he said. "Now shut up, the bloody book's reading."


"Another unregistered Animagus," said Luna, for once very serious. "Peter Pettigrew takes the name of Wormtail, then. Padfoot and Prongs aren't a rat's name."

"But it still doesn't fit," said Padma Patil. "Fine, so he's an Animagus and so is Black, but what's that got to do with anythi—" Her mouth fell open. "You're not saying—"

Luna shrugged. Sirius Black's Animagus form was a symbol of loyalty. Peter Pettigrew's was not. The book would explain it, in very clear detail, in a few moments. "There was a sewer when those twelve muggles were destroyed," she whispered. "And the Weasley family knows a rat called Scabbers."

The pieces were coming together. Luna watched Padma's face fill with horror, while she hid her own within a mask of absent-mindedness.


"Ten," said Madam Bones tiredly. Hermione saw Dumbledore shoot her a concerned glance. "Ten Animagi this century, not just seven. Or at least, seven registered, three unregistered."

Hermione knew it wasn't appropriate, but unbidden her thoughts flew to a beetle she'd once trapped in a jar. Eleven, she corrected mentally. But you won't know that till the fourth book.


"Oh, lucky," cried one of the students. "Snape just had to show up, did he?"

Furious, Snape tried to search out the speaker, but another voice said softly, "Severus?"

Sighing, he looked to the headmaster. When he met the man's eyes he barely held back a flinch. There was grief there, and sorrow, and horrible, horribledisappointment.

"You did not listen, did you," Albus said, voice so low it was impossible for anyone to overhear, even in the silent Hall. "You are blinded by your hatred once more."

"When you are faced with an alleged murderer and a werewolf, you do not tend to wait for explanations!" Severus hissed. "And I would do the same thing again in a heartbeat!"

He regretted that last statement as soon as he said it. "Perhaps," Albus said, his voice quite cold, "But please keep in mind, Severus, that you are on the same side in this war now."


Harry slumped in his seat. "Shield me," he said, trying to hide behind Ron.

"How can I?" Ron said frantically, his eyes darting to the staff table and back. "He's glaring at me, too!"

"He's glaring at all three of us," said Hermione, looking terrified. "Oh, we're going to be expelled—we should never have done that—"

"What? I don't regret attacking Snape," said Harry. "Knocking him out was okay. I just regret that the book has to bring it up."


Finally, finally: silence, brought on by the ugly, twisted truth. Silence, but not for long—

"Innocent. Black—Black's innocent? You never—nobody ever—"

"Pettigrew's alive—!"

"But then how—why's he on the run, then? Surely Fudge's not that much of a bloody—"

"Enough!"

Harry stiffened in his seat. He hated that voice. Oh, how he loathed it.

"Now," Dolores Umbridge continued, and Harry wondered if he should just let all caution go and hex her already because God, someone had to do it sometime—"I'm sure there's been an error, that's all. Sirius Black is and always will be, a criminal—"

"Well, that's pretty bloody insulting, isn't it?"

Oh, no. Hell, no. Not now.

Sirius was at the double doors, grinning for all he was worth, and by the looks on the whole school's faces, the Notice-Me-Not charm was not on this time. Damnit, Sirius, what are you doing? This wasn't in the plan!

"Sirius Black!"

"It's him, it's—"

"Well, duh." Sirius shrugged like this was a normal conversation. "Honestly, I was hoping for something a little livelier, like, say, you could grovel for forgiveness at my feet, but obviously I was being too optimistic."

"You—you are still an illegal Animagus!" Umbridge shrieked, but Harry saw that as she spoke face-to-face with his godfather she seemed to have lost her nerve. "You still broke the law—"

"Oh, and what are you going to do about it?" said Sirius, a bitter tone underlying his words, his face changing completely. "What, going to send me to Azkaban again? Going to lock me up there for twelve years without a trial?"

"He's mental," whispered Harry. So stupid—did Sirius think the Ministry would listen this time? The Ministry would only lock him up again, back in Azkaban—there would be no going back now—Sirius was throwing himself into a trap—stupid, stupid, so stupid...

He tried to stand up, but Professor Lupin had grabbed his arm, and Harry saw that his former teacher looked just as worried as he. "You can't, Harry. You're already in trouble by association. You mustn't—"

"I don't care," Harry hissed, trying to tug his arm free. He'd get himself into trouble a thousand times over if it meant Sirius wouldn't be back in Azkaban ever. What the hell was Dumbledore doing? Why was he just sitting there, of all things?

"You are an Azkaban escapee," Fudge was saying. "You have no right to—"

"I'm an innocent Azkaban escapee," said Sirius cheerily. Fudge blinked, his mouth falling slightly open. "By the way, I want an Order of Merlin. How come Wormtail got one and not me, anyway? Also"—Sirius snapped his fingers at someone else—"go on, Snivelly. Veritaserum. Get it, pronto."

Snape's face twisted into a sneer. "If you are still of the arrogant belief that everyone is beneath you, Black, then I am afraid I will have to disappoint you—"

"He is quite right to ask for the potion this time, I think, Severus," Dumbledore intervened swiftly, and Harry was relieved. Instead of making the already furious Snape fetch it, though, he merely twitched his wand and said, "Accio Veritaserum."

For the first time, Harry considered the thought that perhaps the Ministry was still a touch redeemable. He knew that Amelia Bones, who was sitting in her seat and scrutinizing Sirius very carefully, would want Sirius free no matter what if the truth was confirmed. He was glad to have his breathing ease out a little, but his worry did not completely disappear.

"Now," Dumbledore said when the vial of the truth serum slipped into his hand, "I believe this would be better discussed in my office. Would that be alright with you, Sirius?"

Harry tried to send him a silent request, but Dumbledore still wouldn't glance his way.


Hermione sighed. She had never felt more anxious in her life. Not when she watched Harry in the First Task, not when she turned back time to save Sirius, not when she waited for Madam Pomfrey to let her in the hospital wing to see Ron after he had gotten knocked out by the giant chess board.

She sighed again. Ron twiddled his thumbs. Ginny gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Even the twins were silent. And Harry? Harry paced.

"Mate?" Ron muttered. "Aren't you tired or something?"

"I am," Harry said, but he kept pacing. It didn't take very long for him to burst out again, "It's been nearly four hours!"

"We know, Harry," Hermione said gently. "We're waiting too—"

"Hi."

Hermione jumped. Sirius was standing at the door. There was no sign of trouble—no Aurors, no Dementors, nothing—but Sirius looked so worn out and desperate and not Sirius that worry and panic bubbled up in Hermione's throat despite herself. It's insane, she thought. They'd never send Sirius back to—

But she found she could not finish the thought. She waited for the news to break, but Sirius was silent. They stared at him.

"Well?" Harry all but shouted, and he looked so very helpless that Hermione could not help but feel bad for him, even though she knew how much Harry hated pity.

A steady, triumphant smile gathered at the edges of Sirius' mouth. "Full pardon," he said quietly, and by the time the words had registered into her mind, Harry's arms were already around his godfather, joy in his face, and Hermione laughed a laugh of delight as everyone cheered.


Harry's defenses were thick and strong, but there were too many chinks in his armor, and Remus slipped through all too easily. Fleeting memories shone in his mind: Harry's first sight of Hogwarts; a Bludger, pelting out of nowhere, smashing into Harry's arm; Harry, being congratulated for getting a spot in the Tournament, something he never wanted in the first place—

He withdrew. Harry had collapsed on the floor, staggered by Remus' onslaught, and Remus gave a wince his student couldn't see. "Here," he said, taking him by the shoulders and steering him into a chair. He offered the teen a goblet of water, knowing full well it would not help by much.

Still, Harry accepted it grudgingly but did not drink, instead staring blankly into it. Remus watched him uncertainly. He knew Harry was frustrated by the subject; it certainly wasn't an easy one.

"I'm not progressing at all."

Remus could've laughed. He doubted he would've been any better at Harry's age. Occlumency, in his opinion, was a lot like flying or Potions: some people were simply born with an affinity for it, while others would have a much more difficult time in mastering the art. He himself had been one of the former.

"Of course you're progressing. I think it's like what happened with the Dementors. Your memories, once brought up, are too vivid—too distracting—so it's much harder to ignore them and focus on what you're supposed to do."

If anything, Harry looked even more miserable at this prospect. "But if I can't even focus, then I'll never learn—"

"Definitely not, with that attitude," Remus said sternly. Harry fell silent.

To be honest, Harry wasn't bad at all. His defenses were inexperienced, but that didn't mean they were useless. Remus thought back to all that he knew about Occlumency. "There are other ways of Occluding," he said thoughtfully. "It's true that Occlumency is very precise, but for some wizards it turns out to be more trial-and-error than anything. There are other methods, albeit rarer. If you're willing to try..."

"Of course I'll try them," said Harry immediately. "I want to learn as fast as I can."

The determination in his gaze was disarming. Remus blinked, before nodding briskly, but inwardly he laughed. Harry Potter was as stubborn as his parents.


Sirius grinned, stretched, whooped, looked out the window (it was still dark), and yelled.

"FREEEEEEEEE!"

"Sirius!" Remus jerked up, startled, and glared at him. Ah, Moony, Sirius thought fondly. Always did like his beauty sleep.

"What?" he asked innocently.

Remus scowled. "You know, just because you've been granted pardon by the Ministry it doesn't mean you're allowed to wake up half the castle."

"Yes it does." Sirius grinned even wider. "Come on, help me freak out the school, I bet they don't know yet—"

"Dumbledore announced it last night. And the muggles are informed too."

"Oh," Sirius sighed. "Spoilsport. Well, I reckon they'll still be surprised."

He got up, a very manly spring in his steps, and took in his surroundings. They'd been allowed to sleep in one of the old classrooms, and Sirius relished in being in Hogwarts again. He smiled. James would have called him a sappy old man.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Let's go, the reading will start in a few hours—"

"Hey!" Sirius stopped. "You said the muggles know I'm innocent?"

"Yes..."

"I can visit the Dursleys then, have a nice long chat!"

"What? No, you can't, Sirius, you—"

"Right after this book," Sirius declared. A thousand devilish thoughts were already running through his head. "Yeah, and a curse here and there..."

Remus looked mortified. "Come again, Sirius? You can't curse them, they're—"

"All right, then, just a nice long chat it is," he shrugged, grabbing hold of Remus and starting to drag him off to the Hall. "A Howler here, a Howler there..."

Remus groaned; Sirius grinned.


Harry hesitated, and then called out, "Do we really have to finish this? I mean, everyone already has a good idea of what's going to happen, so—"

"Of course we do!"

"'A good idea of what's going on'? Sorry, but we're actually clueless!"

"Yeah, like how come Black wasn't proven innocent then, or how did Pettigrew get away, or—"

Harry groaned and said loudly: "Oh, alright"—and then there was a loud thunk as his head connected with the table.

Sirius laughed.


"Oh no," whispered Angelina. "The full moon—and the potion—Wolfsbane—" Bile rose in her throat, and she tried desperately to force it down. So that was how it had happened, then; that was the one, fatal flaw of the plan. She stared at her former professor; Remus Lupin would have looked perfectly fine, perfectly cool and calm and collected—except his face was too pale, and his hands shook too noticeably, and his stance was too tense.

"What about Pettigrew, then?" said Alicia quietly, and Angelina wondered how her friend found the nerve to speak, to break the damning silence. "Did he—"

"Got away," snarled Sirius Black, and the joy from only a few hours ago was gone. Angelina's gaze snapped to him; not yet used to the thought that the man was free and innocent and misunderstood, she shrank away, more by instinct than real terror—

—And then she shook herself. This was no one's fault.


He crept near the walls, listening. To be sent to hear about this book was physical pain. All his lies, all his betrayals, all the things he'd done for the wrong side—all laid out for Hogwarts to know. And the Dark Lord knew it.

He didn't dare go near the Gryffindor table. He always hid near the hole by the Slytherins' part of the Hall, keeping his silver paw away from sight, making sure he never saw Sirius or Remus or anyone.

He especially avoided Harry.

They were reading of the night Remus had transformed in the open, because who could remember to drink a potion in a mess like that?—and how he had deserted them instead of facing the consequences of his own sins, running away with his own heart screaming "Traitor!" in his ears...

He knew he should pay attention; the Dark Lord would ask what he heard later on... but everything in this book just translated into pain—pain pain pain, and he wanted out already—

But that didn't matter. He'd chosen this; deserved it if anything. He'd betrayed the Potters when he'd first looked to the Death Eaters and not to the Order, he'd betrayed Remus when he'd found his way into the Weasley family and left his last friend to grieve alone, and he'd betrayed Sirius when he'd destroyed those twelve muggles and his own humanity.

The students are shouting again, he noticed vaguely. But it was no doubt about the book again, and he didn't want to hear about that bloody thing, didn't want to know that everyone knew his mistakes now, didn't want to think that he could have avoided all this if he'd just trusted his friends like they'd trusted him. He was afraid of the Dark Lord, yes, and he was afraid of the Cruciatus Curse, that was true, but he was terrified, utterly terrified, of his once-friends.

His stomach turned again, like he was about to vomit, and his paws shook convulsively no matter how much he tried to stop it, and his throat wanted to scream even though all that would come out was a rat's harmless squeak, he knew, and his mind wanted to transform back, transform back because you deserve the Dementor's Kiss and you know it, and his heart ached ached ached

Had Peter Pettigrew been just one shade wiser, he'd have known the feeling was guilt.


"The Dementors tried to Kiss you?" said McGonagall faintly.

There it was again, that guilty half-shrug from her student, that apologetic expression that shouldn't be there because this wasn't his fault, why couldn't that just sink into his great stubborn mind?

However had they gotten out of it with a soul? Almost unconsciously, she slumped into her chair. She'd been a horrible Head of House, and not because she was strict. She should have known. She should have realized the strain on her students' shoulders, the growing bigotry between the four houses (just two, actually—damn you, Severus!)...

She should have known.


The chapter ended.

"...I still can't believe it!" shrieked one particularly hysterical student. "You were almost Kissed! Kissed..."

"Incredible, really," murmured Remus, "that you actually managed to keep them at bay until," he furrowed his brows, searching for a way to word it without giving anything away, "until help finally came."

"But it still wasn't him, was it?" a seventh year yelled. "Someone else saved them—who? It couldn't have been Potter, because he was about to lose his soul, Black and Granger were the same, Weasley's leg is broken, Pettigrew's clearly a coward, Professor Snape couldn't have found them that fast, and Professor Lupin's still a werewolf, still a werewolf, so who?"

The other students, staff, and Ministry officials shifted, pondering the question. Harry grinned to himself, even though he knew it really wasn't appropriate when reading a chapter like this. He shot half a glance at Sirius, who gave him that same ecstatic, knowing look, and Harry shook his head and looked away. If only they knew.


Amelia Bones was not, as a fact, prejudiced, biased, or partial in any way. That was her motto as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and it would be for as long as she lived. The Bones family was a Light family, yes, but she would listen to all sides, and she would give credit where credit was due.

Therefore, she was rather disgusted at the Minister. It was rather astounding, really, how Cornelius was so very nice to Potter in this book—before danger had truly arrived and the weather had not turned foul. Merlin and Morgana, he spoke so badly of the Boy Who Lived these days it was a surprise such a time existed.

She knew why, of course; Cornelius had always been easy to manipulate, but this was worse. Stupid man, he was just trying to stick with all the strong influences. Justice didn't matter to Cornelius Fudge, and neither, therefore, to the Ministry. Only power, only weakness. Sometimes it was rather disgusting to be in the same Ministry as people like him.

The book was still reading—they were nearing Granger's Time-Turner, and she could help but wonder how the students would react. Only a few from the Ministry knew.

Her gaze wandered to Percy Weasley. Still he stood on the Ministry's side, but there was doubt in his eyes. But she herself had not realized the great gaps in the Ministry's righteousness until the books themselves had pointed them out. A man taken to Azkaban without a trial. A half-giant taken to Azkaban for reasons not even researched well. A hippogriff sentenced to death by bribery.

A most uncharacteristic scowl made its way onto her face. She would not be on Fudge's side any longer.


"A Time-Turner!" breathed Remus. "So that's how..."

"Isn't that... risky?" one of the students wondered—Cho something, Remus thought, but that didn't seem very important anymore. "Meddling with time isn't a good idea..."

"I made Miss Granger promise to only use it for her studies," answered Minerva's voice, sounding more tired than usual. "Though in the circumstances..."

"So you two used it to rescue... who?" another student called: Hannah Abott.

"Sirius," Ron said abruptly.

The other girl's eyes narrowed. "But Professor Dumbledore said more than one innocent life, so who was—" Then her breath caught, and she laughed. "Buckbeak! You saved Buckbeak!"

The students were whispering again; most were looking delighted, but most of the Slytherin table looked sour. At the staff table, though, the rest of the adults were just about yelling.

Fudge was saying something about 'illegal' and 'disapproved of'; not that many were listening anymore. Remus wanted to laugh. If the law itself was in the wrong, then it wasn't a law at all. Dumbledore was his old serene self, putting Fudge and Umbridge down with a smiling mouth and twinkling eyes; Amelia was silent, but her gaze was disapproving, just about ready to erupt; Flitwick's mouth was open in alarm, and Sprout was shaking her head mournfully.

"That is bias," Remus heard Severus hiss, voice carrying despite the turmoil. "You let her handle a Time-Turner just for grades?"

"I made sure the Ministry allowed it," Minerva said airily. "If you wanted one of yours to have one for sensible reasons, Severus, I would not have held it against you."

Severus went red in the face, not only from anger but also embarrassment. Remus looked away. Poor man, he thought, only half meaning it. He looked to Sirius; his old friend was grinning again, and it was infectious. Remus grinned, too.


And the chapter ended. "No way," Anthony Goldstein breathed, still quite a bit in shock. "That—that was so risky..."

He knew the rules of time-travel well; he was not only a Ravenclaw, after all: he also hoped to be an Unspeakable. He knew: one wrong move, one wrong step—you could be erased from history completely. There was so much danger. He'd even read several accounts: a man who had killed his own past self... a lady who had committed suicide after realizing that her future-self had unknowingly killed her entire family... an old Ministry official who had messed with a Time-Turner and simply disappeared, lost in time...

The thoughts made him shiver. Two of his classmates had tried basically the same thing—with the additional threat of dementors, an escaped convict, and a werewolf.

But it was brilliant, really. Harry Potter's past-self thought he was his dad, while it was his future-self all along. The past had seen the future, but had thought it was someone else, allowing the future to be safe and rendering the plan fool-proof—a never-ending paradox.

Didn't mean it wasn't a horribly scary thing to do. He turned his head to the Gryffindor table, which was unusually solemn but at the same time seemingly triumphant. He saw the innocent man—Sirius Black; Anthony still couldn't get over the fact that he'd spent twelve undeserved years in that hell—grinning, while Harry and Hermione wore the smallest of smug smiles. Ron simply watched amusedly on.

Anthony shook his head. Utterly impossible.


"...That is so lucky."

"—he gave it back!"

"First a Cloak, now a Map!"

"—he gave it back!"

"And they're both heirlooms!"

"Heirloom or not," Harry heard McGonagall say clearly, "we will be discussing this, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded with as much dignity as he could muster. He'd expected as much.

...stupid books.


Tonks scowled angrily at her food, all appetite gone. And just after they had finished the third book, too.

Well, okay—so she was hungry, but listening to that toad Umbridge mutter about 'horrible half-breeds' and 'disgusting werewolves' whenever Remus was in hearing range was enough to put anybody off their lunch. Oh, how she wished that woman would just get herself fired already. She almost wished she hadn't chosen today to sit with the Gryffindor house with Remus, just so she wouldn't hear Umbridge's mouth spouting garbage.

She chanced a glance at Remus, who was sitting across her. He was talking calmly with Sirius as always, but Tonks wasn't fooled. As if Remus hadn't heard. He had the hearing of a werewolf, after all.

Remus must have felt her gaze, because he looked up and met her eyes. "What is it, Tonks?" he asked. Tonks felt her face flush.

"Nothing," she muttered. "It's just that—well, it's that old cow!" she said suddenly, nodding to the doors of the Great Hall, where Umbridge had just exited. "Don't tell me you didn't hear her! She's horrid!"

Remus shrugged. "That she is," he said, smiling unconcernedly at her. "There's nothing you can do about my lycanthropy, Tonks. Might as well go with it."

"'Nothing you can do about your lycanthropy'? It's her who's got a problem!" Tonks hissed. "Are you still on about believing you're a monster? You know that's not true."

"Tonks—"

"Come on, you two lovebirds, shut up, will you?" cut in Sirius, grinning. "I just got cleared, for Merlin's sake. Don't ruin it with another of your lovers' spats!"

Tonks and Remus flushed, but to be truthful Tonks' heart gave a little leap at his words.

"Shut up," Remus muttered.

They went on eating, though Tonks mostly just pushed food around on her plate. Once in a while she chanced glances at Remus. Men, Tonks thought, frowning slightly. Couldn't they take a hint? But then, Remus was hardly blind—he was just pushing himself away because he thought it was noble.

Tonks glanced again at the werewolf sitting across her. One of these days, Remus Lupin, Tonks promised. One of these days. You'll see.


AN: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I was hoping to actually have a chapter up before September, but life decided to be irritating and go in the way. That, and I slacked.

It's not rushed, is it? I sure hope not. About half of these was done on the way home from school with other students talking loudly on either side of me, so I'm not quite sure as to the quality of this chapter.

On another note, is it just me, or is there a ridiculous amount of Fred and George in this chapter? Oh well. It's not like they're a bad thing to have in a story. And GAH this was hard to write, but it was fun. Also, I hadn't quite anticipated how unbelievably LONG this would be. I was slightly tempted to cut it in half, but I remember I never really liked seeing chapters with 'part 1', 'part 2' etc on them. Unfortunately for me, GoF will probably be longer.

So what do you guys think, anyway? And I need ideas, I'm running a bit out...