Dudes, I'm back. Hola.

'Kay, several things. One, I nearly died writing this chapter. It is so long. 54 pages. 20 pages more than the last one. GAH. Second, yes, Ulquiorra will eventually get his hollow powers/ninja awesomeness back, starting this chappie, actually. Yay! Third, yes Ulquiorra is kind of OOC. He is a human, thus a no longer completely emotionless (but awesome) douche. Plus, he is in a teenage body, the years of hormonal indecision.

Thus, I think: Ulquiorra + humanity + hormones = a barely friendly (though still kinda emotionless) Ulquiorra/Harry

My opinion, but whatever.

We do have winners for the very small pride contest! Yay!Lady Queria, you guessed correctly! Unfortunately, you didn't really tell me gender, so I'm going to assume you're a girl. If, for some reason, you are a guy who decided to call him Lady Queria, my apologies. Enelvon, you also guessed right (and are the only one who gave a vague description of who you are)! Ulquiorra's 'pride' was discovering that he is a true Gyriffindor, ect. Twilighteer1211, came up with great ideas about Ulquiorra's pride of being a intelligent human and Ulquiorra ignoring Ginny thanks to pride. They were better then mine.

I own nothing. Absolutely nothing! Well, I own stuff, but nothing Harry Potter or Bleach related. Except the books, which I paid for.

Ahem. So, I don't own Harry Potter or Bleach.

Enelvon, like I said, you get a cameo appearance, which will be highlighted in bold. Your fictional cameo will have a odd and amusing fear of pink. Lady Queria, you will also get a cameo, though probably less descriptive since Enelvon actually went beyond my request and told me a little about herself. Enjoy ;)

Year 3: Sloth

Ulquiorra Schiffer was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer more than any other time of year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret. And finally...

...He was the former Quatro Espada of Aizen Sousuke's Elite Army of Arrancar, and the only Arrancar to ever achieve second release.

So, in other words, he was pretty badass.

Oh, and he was a boy wizard in training.


Ulquiorra's summer had been, per usual, really sucky. There was the Phone Incident-

"Vernon Dursley speaking."

"HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I WANT TO TALK TO HARRY POTTER!"

"WHO ARE YOU?"

"RON WEASLEY! I'M A FRIEND OF HARRY'S FROM SCHOOL-"

"THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE! I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

"HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE -PEOPLE LIKE
YOU!"

-And the Recover Stolen School Supplies Mission-

Ulquiorra fiddled with the lock as his Muggle 'family' boasted loudly to the neighbors about their new car. They did not have cars back in his day, you could just easily walk. The lock springing open (finally), Ulquiorra snatched up a few supplies, locked the cupboard, and quickly walked back up the stairs. Closing his door quietly, he pulled up his loose floorboard and placed his belongings carefully inside.

"The things I must do to maintain my sanity and intelligence..."

-And, once again, his birthday forgotten. Now, Ulquiorra really didn't care about his birthday, but to the average human it was a big deal so he added it to the list. Deciding to leave his homework for tomorrow night (or if you think about, tonight since it was around 1:00 am), he carefully put away his ink bottle and quill into his makeshift bag (pillowcase) and placed them underneath the loose floorboard. Glancing out the window for Hedwig, he noticed a oddly shaped creature flying in his direction. Raising an eyebrow, he thought, like on several other occasions;

Do not be some type of hollow mutation, do not be some type of hollow mutation...

It turned out to be three owls, two of them carrying the unconscious third. Ulquiorra immediately recognized his owl Hedwig, a white beacon of...whiteness. The middle one that was unconscious looked vaguely like a feather duster, and the one on the right was a handsome tawny. The feather duster was Errol, the Weasely family owl. The tawny was carrying a letter barring the Hogwarts crest. After relieving the owl of it's delivery, it ruffled it's feathers and flew off. Turning to Errol, Ulquiorra removed the package and put him in Hedwig's cage for some water, and then removed the package Hedwig was carrying. Opening the package neatly, Ulquiorra revealed a present wrapped in gold with a birthday card. Deciding to open the card first, two pieces of paper fell out. The card and a newspaper clipping. Reading the clipping, Ulquiorra (for a reason he could not explain, since it was not happening to him) felt the corners of his lips tug up slightly. His bumbling companion had a stroke of luck, and his family won a Daily Prophet contest, earning seven hundred galleons.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday!

Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted.

Really? Ulquiorra thought, amused.

It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff. I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year.

We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?

Don't let the Muggles get you down!

Try and come to London,

Ron

P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week.

(Metaphorically) Sweat dropping, Ulquiorra glanced at the newspaper clipping photo, noticing Percy looking particularly smug, his glasses flashing.

Well. He is certainly drunk with power. That will not end well.


Ulquiorra unwrapped Ron's present with precise and efficient movements, revealing what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. Raising a eyebrow, Ulquiorra read the note that came along with it.

Harry — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.

Bye — Ron

Hmmm...Ulquiorra mused, placing the Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it balanced perfectly. That will be useful. I could have used one of these when I was under Aizen's command. Shame.


Dear Harry,

Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right. I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you — what if they'd opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating. There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long — it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for.

Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!

Love from Hermione

P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it.

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes at her letter, amused. Opening the package, he fingered the sleek leather broomstick kit. Ulquiorra loved Quidditch, mainly because he got to fly. He missed having wings, even though he never really thought about flying when he did have them. Ulquiorra would greatly enjoy this gift, for he was very neat and precise, and liked to keep his possessions clean and orderly.


Ulquiorra warily eyed the growling package that Hagrid had sent him. Unwrapping the final coverings, he noticed that it was attractive book with green velvet and a gold title of The Monster Book of Monsters.

It was a lovely gift.

Well, it would be if it didn't move across the floor like some type of crab, and snarl at Ulquiorra. This could be... problematic. Noticing that its front and back cover worked as a mouth, Ulquiorra walked over to his dresser, and took out a belt from one of the drawers. After shuffling around and searching, Ulquiorra walked towards his desk, crouched down, and stuck a ruler into the dark space beneath. Feeling a sharp tug on the ruler, Ulquiorra pushed the ruler forward, drawing the demonic book into the open. Diving, Ulquiorra snatched the book, and with inhuman speed belted the book shut. The book shuddered furiously, but could no longer move its 'jaws'. Ulquiorra set it down on the bed and picked up Hagrid's card.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday!

Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you.

Hope the Muggles are treating you right.

All the best,

Hagrid.

Ulquiorra got a bad feeling from the fact that Hagrid thought a biting book would be useful. Nevertheless, he put Hagrid's card with Ron and Hermione's, ripping open the last envelope from Hogwarts. It was thicker then usual.

Strange...


Dear Mr. Potter,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock. T

hird years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

A list of books for next year is enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Ulquiorra frowned at the slip of paper; his ticket to Hogsmeade. Ulquiorra had never really set foot into the wizarding village, and he now desired to greatly, realizing that he could. It would be a wonderfully efficient way to study the wizarding world and to see a pure wizard environment. But the Muggles would never sign it. He glanced sideways. Two o' clock. He liked the night, and preferred to stay up late in the dark, true to his previous batlike nature. Unfortunately, Ulquiorra decided it would be best to retire, for the Muggles got irrationality irritable when he slept in. Facing his birthday cards, Ulquiorra felt something in his chest that was warm.


'Aunt' Marge was coming.

If Kurosaki were to randomly burst in here, I am certain that I would impale myself on his sword. Ulquiorra thought bitterly.

At least he successfully blackmailed his Muggle Uncle into signing his permission form when Marge was officially gone.


Marge despised Ulquiorra.

...It was quite mutual. She loved to rant about why Ulquiorra was such a failure and unsatisfactory person.

Ulquiorra loved to mentally picture all the way she could painfully die.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it." Ulquiorra kept his calm facade, though he was twitching with anger from within. Marge reached for her glass of wine."It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup —" Ulquiorra snapped, a scowl marring his features, and the wineglass exploded in a shower of glass, leaving Marge spluttering and blinking stupidly as wine dripped all over her face.

"Marge!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip."

The Dursleys knew better, and Ulquiorra chose this time to honorably retreat.

And thus, he got the hell out of there.


It was Marge's last day at the Dursley residence and Ulquiorra could've danced with joy.

Well, he wouldn't because he's, you know, Ulquiorra.

And the author is unsure if Ulquiorra even knows how to dance.

Anyway, for her last night Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Vernon opened several wine bottles. They made the whole dinner without mentioning Ulquiorra (nonexistent) faults and during dessert Vernon bored them all with a long talk about his drill company. Ulquiorra itched to leave the table and perhaps continue reading about witch burnings, a topic he found quite interesting, surprisingly enough. Vernon brought out brandy and Petunia made coffee while Dudley worked on his fourth piece of pie. Ulquiorra resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Glutton.

"Can I tempt your Marge?" Vernon asked merrily and Ulquiorra eyed Marge warily. She already had quite a lot of wine, and her face was red. Ulquiorra had seen alcohol's effects before and they were rather...embarrassing.

"Ulquiorra!" The woman exclaimed cheerfully, swaying a little bit. Ulquiorra edged backwards. "What is wrong with you?" He asked, cautious of the weird turn of events. The woman staggered towards him, confusion muddled in her glassy eyes. "I don't know." she mumbled, looking up at him through her eyelashes, looking like a innocent lost doe. Warmth pooled in Ulquiorra's stomach and his legs tensed, though he had absolutely no idea why. He could not desire the woman that way. It was impossible. "I was eating, like you told me too," Ulquiorra's eyes flicked over to her empty plate. "and then I drank some water, but it tasted funny and now I feel really weird." Ulquiorra turned to face her, tilting his head down to meet her fuzzy eyes. "Breathe." He commanded and she complied, her breath ghosting across his face. Ulquiorra could smell it, someone had spiked her drink with sake. Probably Grimmjow or Nnoitora, either for fun or for less...innocent reasons. Removing his hand from his pocket, he guided her over to her couch. "Sleep, woman." he ordered before turning away to leave.

His body stiffened like a board and he stood rigidly straight as Orihime hugged him from behind. He could feel her deliciously soft breasts press against his back, her painfully delicate arms wrapped around him. He painfully aware of the hot bubbling desire frothing in his lower stomach and felt himself stiffen in another more ...sensitive place. Orihime sighed giddily. "You know, you're really cute Ulquiorra." Ulquiorra stayed exactly where he was, not trusting himself to move. "You make me feel really odd sometimes," she continued obliviously (and drunkenly) "and I don't get why I feel so hot and tingly around you." She giggled, reaching up and tugging the horn of his mask with a soft pale hand. Ulquiorra bit his lip to stop from moaning, eyes sliding shut.

For a finishing touch, the woman stood on her tiptoes and nuzzled her face into his neck and sloppily kissed his jaw, where his green tear stain ended. Ulquiorra's mask broke and he inhaled sharply, eyes wide. He waited in hot anticipation for the woman's next move, but he felt the woman go limp. She had passed out, still hugging him, though she was rapidly falling to the ground. Catching her, he carried her bridal style to the couch and set her down. Backing away from her sleeping form, he quickly exited, the door slamming behind him.

He quickly made sure afterwards that Grimmjow and Nnoitora were permanently banned from the kitchens.

Ulquiorra knew this would end badly, and Ulquiorra was hardly ever wrong.

"Aah," said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…" She burped richly and patted her great stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…"

"Now this one-" Jerking her head at Ulquiorra and he snapped to attention. Do not show anything. Emotion is weakness. Ulquiorra thought to himself.

"This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred."

Emotion is pointless, emotion is pathetic, emotion is-what the hell do you mean by weak? I was the Cuartro Espada! I killed Kurosaki Ichigo. Twice!

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" She patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us." Ulquiorra fumed then calmed. Think of the woman. Remember how she used to smile...

For Kurosaki.A snide little voice spoke up and Ulquiorra's anger spiked.

"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He — didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Ulquiorra's (seemingly) impassive face. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —"

"He was not." Ulquiorra coldy interrupted, his anger seeping through. His hands were clenched in fists in his pockets and his was rigid and trembling lightly with fury.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on —"

"No, Vernon," hiccuped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk, I expect-"

"They did not die in a car crash." said Ulquiorra icily, who found himself on his feet. He felt a pressure building...

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little —" She stopped suddenly, choking. Pressure rained on the room, paralyzing it's occupants except for Ulquiorra. Eyes shadowed, he snarled and the pressure increased. The table collapsed under it's weight, the glasses shattering. "Marge Dursely." Ulquiorra spoke, voice cold and echoed across the room and when he raised his head, his eyes seemed luminescent with deadly power. "Never speak of my parents again." Marge choked, foaming at the mouth.

Ulquiorra turned on his heel and walked away, up the stairs, and after kicking the cupboard door down and getting his things, marched straight out the door and into the cold damp streets.


Ulquiorra stared at the large triple decker purple bus that had just appeared out of no where. The Knight Bus was spelled out in gold lettering on the windshield. A conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—" He stopped his obviously rehearsed speech and looked down at Ulquiorra, who was sprawled on the ground from when he jumped out of the Knight Bus' way when it nearly ran him over.

"What were you doin' down there?" said Stan, dropping his professional manner.

"I fell over," said Ulquiorra quietly.

"'Choo fall over for?" sniggered Stan.

"I did not do it on purpose," said Ulquiorra, annoyed. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.

"'Choo lookin' at?" said Stan. Ulquiorra frowned, turning away towards Stan slowly. "...Nothing."

I must have imagined it. I do not think dogs are that large anyway.


There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Ulquiorra found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling himself up, Ulquiorra stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Ulquiorra's stunned face with great enjoyment.

This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," said Ernie.

"And Muggles do not hear this." Ulquiorra stated as Stan nodded. "Yup. Don't hear anything, them muggles. Can't see properly, either."


Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

"That man." Ulquiorra said slowly, forgetting his troubles for a moment. "He was on the Muggle news." Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled. "Sirius Black," he said, nodding. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville." Ulquiorra twitched at the mention of his classmate, Neville Longbottom (and his alias) "Where you been?" He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Ulquiorra's face, removed the front page, and handed it to him."You oughta read the papers more, Neville."

Ulquiorra held the yellowish paper up in the dim candlelight.

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?" While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow. "Thirteen people with a single curse?" he questioned curiously, handing the paper back to Stan. "Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," said Ern swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Ulquiorra. "Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said mysteriously. Ulquiorra blinked. "Ah, Voldemort." As Ulquiorra grabbed on to his bed for the sake of not getting slammed into a window due to Ernie's sudden jerk of the wheel, Ulquiorra reminded himself to remember that wizards were weird and were afraid to say Voldemort's name, which was quite ridiculous if you asked Ulquiorra.

"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. "'Choo say 'is name for?"

"Sorry. My bad."


"Right then, Neville," said Stan, clapping his hands, "whereabouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley."

"Righto," said Stan. "'Old tight, then."

BANG. They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Ulquiorra sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter as the dawn approached. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off. Perhaps he would return to the human town of Karakura, or possibly Germany. For some reason, he had always wanted to go there. Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. "Thank you." Ulquiorra said to Ern. He strode down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement. "Well," Ulquiorra murmured. "Goodbye." But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. "There you are, Harry," said a voice.

Fuck.


"I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic."

Yes, Ulquiorra knew that thanks to spying on him in his second year.

Ulquiorra decided it would be wise to not mention that.

The innkeeper (Tom, correct?) reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Ulquiorra and left the parlor, closing the door behind him. "Well, Harry," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think… but you're safe, and that's what matters." Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra stared at the plate of crumpets and looked back at the minister his eyes dully incredulous.

"Now then… You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate suffocation of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been revived and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done." Fudge smiled at Ulquiorra over his cup and Ulquiorra blinked slowly.

"Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow.

"I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," he said, "and I do not ever want to go back to Privet Drive."

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other — er — very deep down." Ulquiorra (inwardly) rolled his eyes at his naivety. "So all that remains," said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and…"

"Excuse me?" Ulquiorra asked. "What will be my punishment?"

Fudge blinked. "Punishment?"

"I broke the law." Ulquiorra reminded him. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry."

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for pushing down their aunts!" That was a severe understatement, and this did not really match up with Ulquiorra's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic. "Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house." he told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said I would be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there."

Fudge looked awkward. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "Circumstances change, Harry… We have to take into account… in the present climate… Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

"Of course not." Ulquiorra said.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" laughed Fudge. "Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you." Fudge strode out of the parlor and Ulquiorra glared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he had done? Surely it wasn't usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic? And what did he mean, 'take the present climate into account'? And he changed the subject so hastily...

Sirius Black, perhaps?


"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaked a boy much younger than Ulquiorra, who was swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!" A large witch in front of Ulquiorra moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the glorious broom:

** THE FIREBOLT **

THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST.

Ulquiorra's lips tugged down. The broom looked magnificent and wonderfully fast. Despite the nimble speed of Ulquiorra's Nimbus Two Thousand, Ulquiorra always longed to soar higher and faster. Turning away, Ulquiorra walked off disappointed. Never had he wanted a physical item this much.

He blamed it on teenager-hood.


The days dripped by, and Ulquiorra saw no signs of Ron or Hermione. Though he did come across several of his classmates, such as Dean, Seamus and Neville. Walking down the streets of Diagon Alley, he thought that after he stopped by the Quidditch shop he might stop by the pet store and continue his chat with a charming young fruit bat he had met several days ago. Hands in his pockets casually, his posture perfect (as always) he was passing Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor his head turned at the sound of his 'name'.

"Harry!" There were Ron and Hermione, Ron looking abundant with freckles and Hermione sporting a dark tan. Giving them a brief nod and small smile (he had an image) he walked towards them elegantly. "Finally!" said Ron, grinning at Ulquiorra as he sat down. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and —"

"I purchased all my school materials last week," Ulquiorra explained. "And how come you knew I am staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," said Ron simply. Ulquiorra nodded. Ah. "Did you really crush your aunt?" Hermione asked seriously while Ron laughed his head off. Ulquiorra stubbornly looked at his shoes. "She deserved it." He muttered, not really caring how childish he sounded. Ron continued to laugh hysterically.

"It's not funny, Ron," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

Ulquiorra agreed. "I wonder why they were so lenient? It it is not in their nature." Ron snorted. "They can't expel you! Famous Harry Potter! I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!" Hermione nodded, beaming. Ulquiorra nodded approvingly.

"Excellent."


Ulquiorra stared in horror at the creature that lay smugly in Hermione's arms. Ron was furious as well, though he had a more valid reason, Ulquiorra supposed. The demon (Hermione's new pet) did try to eat Ron's rat. The thing's yellow eyes glared at Ulquiorra and Ulquiorra glared back. It's fur was orange, it's eyes were yellow, and it was a cat.

Kurosaki, Kurosaki's hollow, and Grimmjow.

The three things Ulquiorra hated most combined into a compact lump of fur for Ulquiorra's inconvenient misery.

...Great.


Ulquiorra sighed and silently backed out of Ron and Percy's room as they began to scream at each other over the subject of Percy's Head Boy badge. Like a phantom, Ulquiorra walked ghost like towards the parlor to retrieve Scabber's tonic. Halfway down the passage to the bar, Ulquiorra heard voices arguing and soon recognized them as the Weasley parents. He decided to not get involved until he heard his 'name' pop up.

"… makes no sense not to tell him," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and —"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happy not knowing!" No he is not.

"I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!" retorted Mr. Weasley. "You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But Harry mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him." ...That is a tad insulting.

"But he's not dead, he's fine, so what's the point —"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after —"

"But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts."

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry —" There was a thud on wood, and Ulquiorra was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table. "Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Blacks been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…" Ulquiorra leaned against the door, eyes narrowed. So he was correct in thinking something strange was going on with himself and Sirius Black. Edging forward, he strained his (pathetic) human senses to hear more.

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that… but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Harry —"

"– then I will never say another word against them," said Mr. Weasley wearily. "It's late, Molly, we'd better go up…" Ulquiorra heard chairs scraping against the wooden floor and silently retreated back, dismissing Ron's tonic. Hiding in the shadows, he heard the parlor door open and his emerald eyes gleamed at the retreating backs of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Ulquiorra moved upstairs, tactfully dodging Fred and George, who were vandalizing Percy's badge. Ghosting into his room, he lay back on the bed.

So, Sirius Black was after him. It made perfect sense, and everyone's behavior fit with it. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed in irritation. He did not like special treatment; never has, never will. Ulquiorra was not afraid of Sirius Black. Ulquiorra was hardly afraid of anything.

Except the woman when she was upset. That had always made him very uncomfortable for some reason.

Did the no one think he was capable of defending himself? Did they think he could not handle such trivial information? Even though they were ignorant of his previous (and more noteworthy) achievements, he still fought Voldemort on several occasions, despite his pathetically weak body. Which he was training to be a humanly perfect as possible. Ulquiorra scowled.

"I am not going to be murdered by trash."

"That's the spirit dear." His mirror replied sleepily.


Ulquiorra woke to Tom's toothless grin and a steaming cup of tea (which he politely declined) and got up to get dressed. As he was finishing buttoning his white top Ron barged in looking irritated and pulling on a sweatshirt. "The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…" Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow in bemusement. "I have something to tell you-" He was cut off by the arrival of Fred and George as they heartily clasped Ron's back roaring with laughter at another unintentional and successful act of annoying Percy. They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasely was reading the Daily Prophet and Mrs. Weasely was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a girl and Ulquiorra shudder went unnoticed. Like she needs any ideas. Ulquiorra thought with some degree of horror, eying the youngest Weasely. She was very immature, and completely lovesick to the point of possible worship. It was annoying, but he couldn't help but notice her anyway. She was like a ridiculously bright light that screamed, Hey Ulquiorra! Look at me! I'm a pale and obnoxious reminder of your woman and that you'll never see her again or be with her! How's it going?

Deliberately avoiding looking at Ginny, Ulquiorra walked passed and sat down to start his breakfast. Once again, he avoided tea.


Ulquiorra stared at the obviously enchanted cars that they were forced into quite hurriedly. Ulquiorra sighed and shook his head. Could they be any more obvious?


"Harry," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "come over here for a moment." He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasely. "There's something I've got to tell you before you leave —" said Mr. Weasley tensely. Taking pity on the awkward man, Ulquiorra interupted. "It is fine, Mr. Weasley, I already know."

"You know? How could you know?"

"I overheard you and Mrs. Wesley talking last night." Ulquiorra informed. "I apologize for eavesdropping."

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," said Mr. Weasley looking anxious. "No. It is absolutely fine. This way, you have not broken your word to Fudge and I know what is going on."

"Harry, you must be scared — "

"I am not," said Ulquiorra sincerely. "Really," he added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. "I have desire in trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black cannot be worse than Lord Voldemort." Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name, but overlooked it. "Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but —"

"Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"He's coming Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice, "Listen, I want you to give me your word —"

" That I will be a good boy and stay in the castle?" Ulquiorra sighed.

"Not entirely," said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Ulquiorra had ever seen him. "Harry, swear to me you won't go looking for Black." Ulquiorra stared.

"...What?"


The Trio finally found a mostly empty compartment on the train. The only one inside was a scruffy man sleeping in the corner. He looked tired and worn, his robes patchy and unkept. Ulquiorra cocked an eyebrow. "Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin." whispered Hermione and Ulquiorra at once.

"How'd you know that?"

"It's on his case," she answered, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters. "Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway…" he turned to Ulquiorra expectantly, "what were you going to tell us?"


Hermione gasped "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry… you'll have to be really, really careful. don't go looking for trouble, Harry!"

"I do not go looking for trouble," said Ulquiorra, quite nettled. "Trouble just has a knack for finding me."

"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily. They were taking the news worse than Ulquiorra had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was. Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow. They fear him more, yet he is trying to kill me.


Ulquiorra frowned at the flashing whirling Sneakoscope. He doubted it was broken.

Who here could he not trust?


Ulquiorra peeked out the door as the train jerked to a sudden halt. He noticed many other student heads poking out their own compartments, the hall full of mumbling confusion. Ulquiorra blinked as the lamps suddenly blew out, draping them in complete darkness. For some odd reason, Ulquiorra could see perfectly, despite his human body. Like he had night vision again...

"What's going on?" Ron asked as he stood up and walked up behind Ulquiorra, stepping on Hermione's foot in the process. "Ouch! Ron that was my foot!" Ulquiorra strode back to his seat and slowly lowered himself down.

"D'you think we've broken down?" Ron asked curiously.

"I am unsure of the situation…" There was a squeaking sound, and Ulquiorra saw the shadowed form of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the condensated window and peering out. "There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard…" The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Ulquiorra's legs.

"Hello, Neville."

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry —" Ulquiorra pulled Neville up by his cloak to his feet. "Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea. Sit down —" There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain as Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks. Ulquiorra smirked, though it was unseen. "I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice from her seat across from Ulquiorra's. Ulquiorra watched her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then there was a thud and two loud squeals of pain as she crashed into Ginny.

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?" Probably looking for me to save her. Ulquiorra thought irritably, rolling his eyes.

"I was looking for Ron —"

"Come in and sit down —"

"Not here!" Ulquiorra snapped hurriedly. "I am here!"

"Ouch!" exclaimed Neville.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly. Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Finally. Took him long enough.


"Stay where you are." he commanded in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with a handful of fire held out in front of him. But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. A cloaked figure that towered over them all to the ceiling hovered inches above the ground, it's tattered black cloak ghosting the floor. It's hood was pulled up, it's face thankfully covered in pitch black shadow. Ulquiorra's eyes darted to it's hands and felt repulsed. It's hands were grayish green and scabbed, like a corpses' that had decayed in water for several years. It drew a cold rattling breath and Ulquiorra felt something that he had not felt in a very long time.

Despair.

It filled him like a poison, and his limbs felt numb. He couldn't think, couldn't smell, see, feel, or hear. All he could do was remember and drown in the agony and misery that seeped into his heart.

He didn't feel himself slide off his seat and crash to the floor in a crumpled heap. All he could do now was hear the screams.

Kurosaki-Kun! Kurosaki-Kun!

Ulquiorra...

Help me! Kurosaki-Kun!

Ulquiorra, can ya hear me?

What is the heart?

It's me. You remember my name, don't cha?

Ohhhh, I wish I could live life five times over. Then I'd be born in five different places, and I'd stuff myself with different food from around the world... I'd live five different lives with five different occupations... and then, for those five times... I'd fall in love with the same person...

C'mon, focus Batboy. It's me. -

KUROSAKI-KUN!


"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?" Someone was bitch slapping his face desperately. Ulquiorra's face twitched and his eye shot open furiously. "Why," he growled. "are you slapping me?" Ron drew back sheepishly. "Sorry, mate. Didn't know how else to get you up." Ulquiorra blinked and noticed that he was on the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him concerned, while Neville and Lupin were standing behind them with worried faces. Ulquiorra sat up and placed a hand to his forehead. Cold and clammy. He fumbled for his glasses and slid them on and everything blurred back into focus. He tried to sit up but his body was still numb from the attack so Ron and Hermione dragged him up and sat him down. "Are you okay?" Ron asked and Ulquiorra nodded slowly. "I suppose. What was that? Where's the woman?" They all blinked. "What woman?" Ron asked nervously.

"I heard a woman calling me-"

"There was no woman." Ron said and Ulquiorra frowned. He turned to Lupin, hearing a loud snapping noise coming from his direction. He was breaking up a large bar of chocolate. Ulquiorra blinked, was now really the time for sweets? Ulquiorra didn't really indulge in sweets, and now did not seem like a good time to start. Lupin handed Ulquiorra the largest piece. "Here. It will help." He smiled kindly at Ulquiorra, who accepted (but didn't eat) the chocolate. "What was that thing?" he asked Lupin.

"A Dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban." Everyone stared at him. So those are the guards of Azkaban... Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. "Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…" He slid past Ulquiorra and strode down the corridor. Ulquiorra blinked down at his chocolate. "What happened, exactly?"

"Well — that thing — the Dementor — stood there and looked around...I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face. And you...you...I-I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…"

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again…" Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Ulquiorra felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.

"But no one else collasped?" asked Ulquiorra softly. "No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though…"

Ulquiorra frowned unperceptively. Everyone seemed fine, more or less. Why did he fall so easily? Defeat was something that Ulquiorra did not like to associate with and the fact that was broke down form that Dementor's attack made him feel weak. He hated feeling weak, he especially hated being defeated without a fight. It was shameful. Ron suddenly perked up. "Oh yeah! During your...you know," Ron said awkwardly, "you kept muttering 'onna' over and over." Ulquiorra's cheeks tinted pink.

Thankfully, at that moment Lupin rejoined the group and smiled tiredly at the teens. "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…" Ulquiorra took a small bite of the chocolate to please the man that had obviously saved his life and was surprised to feel warmth spread to the very tips of his body. "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Lupin continued, looking at Ulquiorra searchingly. "Are you alright Harry?" Ulquiorra nodded stiffly.

"Perfectly fine, sir."


"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…" Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business." He paused, and Ulquiorra recalledd what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore being unhappy with the Dementors guarding the school. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added mildly and pointedly, and Ulquiorra and Ron glanced at each other. Damn. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors," he said. Out his peripheral vision Ulquiorra noticed Percy's chest puff out superiorly and scoffed. "On a happier note," The old Headmaster continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was some scattered, and rather unenthusiastic, applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped with any effort. Ulquiorra among them clapped respectfully. Professor Lupin looked especially shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes. "Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Ulquiorra's ear. Ulquiorra turned his attention to the sallow skined and oily Potions Master. His mouth was pressed in a thin line and his black eyes were glaring at Lupin with a look of hatred usually reserved only for Ulquiorra.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the halfhearted applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."Ulquiorra's eyes widened before he brought his hands together in loud steady applause, along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Hermione was cheering and Ron whooped. "We should've known!" he roared, grinning madly. "Who else would assign us a biting book?" Ulquiorra might have smiled.

"Who indeed."


"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look — they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough
time."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And —" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look, underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?" Ulquiorra's ears perked up curiously.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well then —"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But —"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

While they bickered, as usual, Ulquiorra silently reached over and examined Hermione's schedule. His eyes narrowed. This is utterly impossible. She would have to be able to go back in time...

Ulquiorra resolved to learn if time travel was possible.


Ulquiorra stared at the oddity of their Divination classroom. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

It was like a warm and cozy tea shop run by someone's elderly grandmother.

In other words, Ulquiorra hated it.


Ulquiorra stared at the insect like woman that was his Professor. She was thin and gangly, and wore glasses that made her eyes appear abnormally large. Glittering dangling bracelets and chains hung from her wrists and neck and she wore a gaudy shawl. After they all sat down on the armchairs of poufy pillows meant to act as seats, she herself sat down upon a winged armchair upfront.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye." Ulquiorra blanched. He could see now that he would hate this class. Why had he chosen it again?

"What're you taking next year mate?" Ron asked as he stared at their class list for next year. Ulquiorra sighed. "I do not know. I do not know enough about the magical world to make an informed decision."

"Yeah...Hey, how 'bout Divination? Sounds easy enough, and might come in handy."

"I suppose..."

Damn you Weasely...


Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave Ulquiorra's cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed. There was another tinkle of breaking china, as Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed in pain.

...It was a bit obnoxious.

"My dear boy — my poor dear boy — no — it is kinder not to say — no — don't ask me…" Ulquiorra stared at her exasperated. She obviously wanted them to ask her.

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Ulquiorra and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Ulquiorra tea cup. "My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim." Ulquiorra cocked an eyebrow. In order to perpetrate drama, it is probably some type of death omen.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Ulquiorra hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!" Ulquiorra sighed.

Of course. I saw a large black dog earlier this year...I suppose that means I will die soon.

Ah, well. Cannot say I care that much really.


"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron as the group started to eat lunch. He and Hermione were arguing about Divination class and Ulquiorra's reading, and Ron was starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!" Ulquiorra choked as he accidentally inhaled some pumpkin juice whilst chuckling.

I knew I decided to keep her around as a companion for a reason.


"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, just loud enough for Ulquiorra to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff Buckbeak. "Are you, you great ugly brute?" There was a flash of sharp talons and the next instant Hagrid was wrestling with Buckbeak as the enraged creatrue fought to attack the arrogant Slytherin. Malfoy clutched his arm, withering and screaming as blood bloomed over his robes. "I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —" Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Ulquiorra saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle. Ulquiorra stared at the infuriated and restrained hippogriff as he collected his books. This is not over.


Professor Lupin, beckoned the class toward the end of the staff room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. "Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there." Most people thought this was something to worry about, as they stared, antsy as the wardrobe shook.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione, of course, put up her hand. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, as he was going to be the example, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?" Ulquiorra blinked, ignoring Hermione's frantic waving hand. "Since we are assembled in a large group," Ulquiorra answered easily, "it will be unsure of which fear to turn into."

"Correct!" Professor Lupin beamed as Hermione lowered her hand sadly. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter." Crap. "What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please…riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" The class chorused.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville." The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows. "Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" Neville's lips moved wordlessly. "I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully. Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape." Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful. "Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

Ulquiorra smirked. ...Intriguing.


"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…" The room went quiet. Ulquiorra thought… What scared him most in the world? The first thing that came to mind was Aizen. Despite popular belief, Ulquiorra detested serving that man and the man himself. He was very offputting, and his strength unsettled him. Perhaps I could dress him in hot pink...or rainbows. Ulquiorra mused before something else came to mind. A rotting corpse hand, rattling breath and undying cold with screams of a cherished woman. Ulquiorra's blood grew cold at just the thought.

Ironic...the thing I fear most...

...is True Despair.


"R — r — riddikulus! " squeaked Neville. There was a noise like a cracking whip. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!" Parvati walked forward, her face set with determination. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising to reach for her... "Riddikulus!" cried Parvati. A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off. "Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin. Seamus darted past Parvati.

Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floorlength black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face. A banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Ulquiorra's head stand on end. What a loathsome sound.

"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus. The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. Crack! The boggart turned into a scampering rat. Another crack, and it became a hissing rattlesnake. Crack! A single bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!" Dean hurried forward.
Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab. "Riddikulus!" yelled Dean. There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap. "Marvelous! Enelvon, next!" A girl that Ulquiorra had never noticed before strode towards the boggart, looking bored, wand at the ready. Crack! The boggart transformed and the girl twitched with horror. Ulquiorra could understand, the sight was truly repulsive. The girl could only stare as the life sized animated Ken doll, dressed in a hot pink suit, knelt down before her and said in a sickeningly perky voice, "My greatest love! Will you do me the honor and come away with me to my Dream House?" For a moment she stared blankly. Then she let out a high pitched scream of sheer terror as his proposal sank in and she bolted out the staff room door. They all stared (including the boggart) at the empty door, hearing her frantic feet take down the hall and FAR away. Lupin coughed. "Well, can't say I blame her. Ron, next!"


"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the giant spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Ulquiorra's feet. He raised his wand, ready. "Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack! The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "Riddikulus!" almost lazily. Crack! "Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach.

Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined. "Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone. "Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone… Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I did not particpate in the exercise," Ulquiorra said blankly. "You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me… o be handed in on Monday. That will be all." Ulquiorra left the room with the others feeling disheartend. Why did he not let me face the boggart. Does he think I will faint once more? Does he think I am that ...weak?


"You recall that day we fought the Boggart?" Ulquiorra asked suddenly to Professor Lupin on Halloween as they drank tea in his office. Everyone was enjoying the day at Hogsmeade.

"Yes," said Lupin slowly.

"Why did you not let me fight it?" Ulquiorra asked. Lupin raised his eyebrows. "I would have thought that was obvious, Harry," he said, sounding surprised. Ulquiorra had expected Lupin to deny that he had done such a thing and grew curious. "Why?" he said again.

"Well," said Lupin, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort." Ulquiorra blinked. "Voldemort does not frighten me." Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Fearing Voldemort is like fearing death. It is pointless." Ulquiorra said monotonously, sipping his tea before making a face. "Forgive me, but I have...unpleasant memories of tea and am not very fond of it." Lupin chuckled. "You are something, Harry. To speak of death without fear. It's instinctual to fear death."

Not when you know what's on the other side. "I fear only True Despair." Ulquiorra confessed and seeing Lupin's blank look he clarified, "Dementors."

"I see," said Lupin thoughtfully. "Well, well… I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look on Ulquiorra's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is — fear. Very wise Harry."

"Thank you, Professor."


The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him. "We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice. It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry. Ulquiorra glanced up to the annoying pest. "What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He adopted an oily voice that was no better than his normal one. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing." he added quite unconvincingly. "Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly. "Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Ulquiorra's eyes widened. He could not mean...Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."


Ulquiorra stared from the doorway. It was not Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk. It was Snape instead. "This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But Ulquiorra didn't move. "Where is Professor Lupin?" he asked nonchalantly.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

Ulquiorra leaned against the doorway. "What is his ailment?"Snape's black eyes glittered. "Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty." Ulquiorra walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class. "As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —"

"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start -"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked murderous "You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you. I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss —" Ulquiorra watched keenly as he flicked through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered. "— werewolves," said Snape. Ulquiorra, against his will, straightened with interest. "But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks —"

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394."


Ulquiorra took notes with interest on the subject of werewolves. He began to notice something...

...The full moon is tonight. Ulquiorra remembered. And Professor Lupin is absent...his boggart was also an orb that resembled the moon...Ulquiorra's eyes cleared as he realized Lupin's 'illness'.

Ah. So Professor Lupin is a werewolf.

...Huh.


Ulquiorra zoomed after the Snitch, and reached out, the quick golden ball at his fingertips. Suddenly, it was silent. The wind blew as strongly as ever, but it did not howl. No more cheering came from the stands, and Ulquiorra noticed something on the field as numbing cold entered his body. He looked down. At least a hundred Dementors, hoods pointing up at him. He swayed on his broom, the Snitch leaving his sight and mind. Screaming, explosions, the stench of blood...

"STOP!"

Hey.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

It's me again.

"Kurosaki-kun!"

Dude, you're so depressed all the time. Lighten up a bit, ne?

"Ishdia-kun!"

Ulquiorra, my name is...

The woman's room is filled with rubble and destruction. Two Arrancar women stand in her place. "Who did this?"

"...Grimmjow."

My name is...

"Kill me."

The world went black as he tumbled down, down, down into the Dementors waiting hands. He sighed softly.

Ulquiorra! Foucs on my voice, ya Emospda!

"Please...not Harry!"

...Mother?


"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away… He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him —"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…" His voice faded away as he thought of what could have been, but Ulquiorra hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the Dementors had done to him… about the whispering voice that kept calling out to him. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he felt the need to say something. "Did someone get my Nimbus?" Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other. "Er —"

"What?" said Ulquiorra, looking from one to the other."Well… when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly. Ulquiorra cocked his head.

"And?"

"And it hit — it hit — oh, Harry — it hit the Whomping Willow."

Ulquiorra could only stare as his faithful beaten broomstick fell out of a bag onto his bed in only a few twigs and fragments.


Ulquiorra did not let Madame Pomfrey throw his broomstick away. It appeared that he had gotton attached to the piece of wood and throwing it out did not seem an option for him anymore. He inwardly snorted. When did he become so weak?

...Oh right, when the woman gave him a heart and he discovered humanity.


The Trio made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ron with trepidation. "If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," said Ron as they headed toward Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione." Ulquiorra strode into the classroom, knowing it would Lupin, as Hermione whispered to Ron, "It's okay!"

Lupin, naturally, looked even more worn then usual but smiled at the class. Immediately, the class broke out into complaints about Snape's lesson while Lupin had been dealing with his condition. "It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves —"

"— two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly. The babble broke out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind —"

"— he wouldn't listen —"

"— two rolls of parchment!" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. Knowing that Lupin would return the following class, he spared himself the agony of actually doing the essay when he completed the task that Snape had silently sent out to the third years.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay." Obviously.

"Oh no," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!" Ulquiorra gave her a look of amused exasperation. She actually did the essay? Surly she figured Lupin's condition through it...


"Did you hear of the Dementors?" Ulquiorra asked quietly as he hung back after DADA had finished. Professor Lupin had asked for a word about the Quidditch fiasco. "Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra admitted. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just —?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Ulquiorra's mind. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have." Ulquiorra's lips pressed together as memories flashed. A sickeningly kind smile, cold eyes, blood, pain and the screams of his woman calling in desperation to a man that was not himself.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself — soul-less and evil." Ulquiorra chilled at the word 'soul-less'. "You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of." Ulquiorra stared out the window then back to Lupin as the watery sunlight illuminated every tired line and shadow on his face. Ulquiorra sighed. "Why did they have to come to the match?" He asked bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up… I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high… it was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," Ulquiorra muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheery thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Ulquiorra said slowly. "He got away…" Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.

"Yes," he said, straightening up, "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible… Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…"

"You made that Dementor on the train retreat," said Ulquiorra suddenly, remembering his arrival at Hogwarts. Lupin looked uncomfortable.

"There are — certain defenses one can use," said Lupin. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defenses?" demanded Ulquiorra at once. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry — quite the contrary…" Ulquiorra was persistent. "The Dementors affect me much worse then everyone else." He pointed out. "It would be wise if I had some sort of protection against them."

Lupin looked into Ulquiorra impassive face, hesitated, then seeing the determined glint in his eyes said, "Well… all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."


December slipped in and the castle spirits were high. Christmas was upon them, and teachers had begun to decorate the castle. Students began to discuss their holiday plans, and Ulquiorra was surprised that both Ron and Hermione were staying at Hogwarts but knew it was to keep him company. A thoughtful sentiment. There was another Hogsmeade trip planned, to everyone's joy.

Well, everyone except Ulquiorra.

He just felt kinda pissed about it.

Instead of going to Hogsmeade with everyone else, Ulquiorra decided he would borrow a copy of Which Broomstick from Wood, since he was in desperate need of a decent broom. He had been practicing on a Shooting Star that he was pretty sure was older then he was (counting both lives). It was ridiculous. The snowy Saturday came, and Ulquiorra watched forlornly as Ron and Hermione exited the castle with all the other third years. Turning back, he decided to head up to the common room and start his homework. It was times like this where he missed being part of Aizen's army.

They didn't have paperwork.

Ah, good times.

"Psst — Harry!" Ulquiorra turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch. "What are you doing?" Ulquiorra asked monotonously. "Why is it that you are not going to Hogsmeade?"

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," said Fred, with a mysterious wink. "Come in here…" He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Curiosity peaked, he followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at the (seemingly) uninterested Ulquiorra. "Early Christmas present for you, Harry," he said and Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Ulquiorra, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it. Looked back up at the troublesome twins beaming faces. Looked back at the parchment. "What is that supposed to be?"

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly. Ulquiorra's brows furrowed. "It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."

"And what, exactly, do I need with a bit of old parchment?" said Ulquiorra, becoming a tad bored with this seemingly pointless chat. "A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Ulquiorra had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."

"Well… when we were in our first year, Harry — young, carefree, and innocent —"

Ulquiorra snorted. Fred and George, innocent? Yeah, so was Ichimaru. Ulquiorra blinked.

Pictured Ichimaru, Fred, and George in the same room.

Shuddered.

" — well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason —"

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual —"

"— detention —"

"— disembowelment —"

"— and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous." Finished Geroge gleefully. Ulquiorra felt a smirk pulling at his lips. "You..." said Ulquiorra, smirk growing and eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, what would you've done?" said Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed this."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?" Ulquiorra asked, hands resting casually in his pockets.

"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school." Ulquiorra snorted. "You are not serious."

"Oh, are we?" said George, smirking mischievously. He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Ulquiorra watched in utter fascination as dark ink spread over the parchment like a rapidly growing spider web coming from George's wand. The smooth lines joined together, crisscrossed and Ulquiorra notcied that they formed some type of map. Curly green script bloomed at the top of the page cheerfully.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

Ulquiorra stared at the wonderfully intricate and accurate map of Hogwarts castle. It was a little inspiring. "Genius." Ulquiorra breathed as his fingertips ghosted over the map, brushing the worn map, and coming to rest on the little ink dot that read Harry Potter located on the map. As well as showing everyone's location, it also showed passages that Ulquiorra had never known about. And a good deal of them led-

"Right into Hogsmeade," said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four" — he pointed them out — "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in — completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly. "Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it —"

"— or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly, wagging a finger in Ulquiorra's direction.

"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."

"So, young Harry," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself."

"See you in Honeydukes," said George, winking. They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. Looking after them, Ulquiorra then turned his attention on the small wonderful map. His lips twitched, before blowing out into a somewhat demonic smirk.

Heh.


Ulquiorra wandered around the sweet shop curiously. It was alive with laughter, bright colors adorning the walls, and candies, sherberts, lollipops and any other sweet imaginable on display. He could practically see the woman running around energetically, a wide and gleeful grin on her face as she zoomed around the shop, making sure she investigated each item possible. It was jam packed with Hogwarts students, so Ulquiorra did not need to worry about being discovered. It did not take him long to locate Ron and Hermione, who were standing underneath a sign that read "Unusual Tastes" and examining a tray of blood flavored lollipops.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying, nose wrinkled at the thought of blood flavored candy. "How about these?" said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose. Ulquiorra stared at them in disgust.

"Absolutely not." He deadpanned. He watched with mild glee as Ron nearly dropped the jar and Hermione spun around, gaping like a fish.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing here? How — how did you —?"

"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!" Ulquiorra stared at him with a blank look on his face. Hermione turned to Ron, disbelieving that he would say something that ridiculous. Ron looked back and forth at the two. "What?" Ulquiorra turned to Hermione. "Shall you? Or I?" Hermione shrugged. "I prefer to settle things with words." she admitted. "It seems like you want to more anyway." Ulquiorra nodded in agreement. Ron was confused. "Huh? What're you talking- OW!" Ulquiorra slid his hand back into his pocket as Ron rubbed his head ruefully. "Fine, you didn't learn how to Apparate, but did you have to hit me?"

Ulquiorra and Hermione exchanged glances. Turned back to Ron.

"Yes."


Ulquiorra crouched under the table uncomfortably. Sensing the teacher and Minister's reiastu approaching the Three Broomsticks, Ulquiorra had calmly slid under the table with his drink, to his two friends bewilderment. Now, he crouched on the floor, listening to their conversation of Sirius Black. To be honest, he wasn't very interested in their talk, and hoped they would be done soon.

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!" Ulquiorra's eyes widened and his jaw, in a bout of uncharacteristic shock, dropped open.

...Sirius Black...and Father?


"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," said Fudge. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Worse even than that, m'dear…" Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding." Ulquiorra remained low to the ground, eyes wide and listening keenly. "Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall.

"And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed —"

"Black betrayed them?" breathed Madam Rosmerta.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it..."

Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!"

"Alas, if only we had," said Fudge bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew — another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew… that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Madam Rosmerta.

"Hero worshiped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I — how I regret that now…"

"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…" Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy… foolish boy… he was always hopeless at dueling… should have left it to the Ministry…" Ulquiorra's ears deafened to the rest of the conversation and soon enough the teachers and Minister's chairs were scraping against the floor and their feet marched them out the door, cloaks billowing behind them.


Ulquiorra stared at the photo of the laughing man next to his smiling parents on their wedding day. Something cool and icy roamed his body and through his blood. It wasn't the firey and passionate wrath he was accustomed to.

It was hatred.


Ulquiorra stared at the Ministry notice on Hagrid's table as the man sobbed. Picking up the notice, he read it aloud curiously. Buckbeak was to be put on trial, and most likely to be executed.


Christmas morning dawned, and Ulquiorra was awakend by Ron, who as usual, woke him up by throwing something at his face. This year it was a pillow. "Oy! Presents!" Ulquiorra sat up, and put on his glasses (he really needed more fashionable ones) and looked around.

"Another sweater from Mum… maroon again… see if you've got one." Ulquiorra had indeed received the annual Weasely/Ulquiorra sweater. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front (shame, he preferred green), also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. As he moved all these things aside, he saw a long, thin package lying underneath. "What's that?" said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hands. Ulquiorra circled the mysterious gift, frowning. "I do not know."

Ulquiorra neatly opened the package and stared as the magnificent shining bromstick rolled onto his bed. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look. "I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. It was the Firebolt, and Ulquiorra eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it to you?" said Ron in a hushed voice. Ulquiorra searched the package thoroughly and found nothing. No note, no card. Ulquiorra frowned. "Nothing."

"Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?

"Who knows..."


It was one of the most challenging things he had ever done, really. Taking the prized broom in hand and reporting it to McGonagall. Handing it over was even more difficult, and it must have shown (for once) since McGonagall gave him a sympathetic and reassuring stare. "Don't worry, Potter. You will have it back once we are sure it is jinx-free." Ulquiorra nodded dumbly and left the office, feeling like he had done something very, very stupid.


Ron thought he was absolutely insane. Ulquiorra did not disagree.


"Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like." Ulquiorra nodded curtly. Lupin took out his wand and Ulquiorra followed his example eagerly. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry — well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?"

"Well, when it works correctly, It conjures up a Patronus," said Lupin, "which is a kind of anti-Dementor — a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the Dementor." Ulquiorra pictured the woman with her brittle shields and six flower fairies. "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"What does the Patronus look like?"

"It's form is unique to every wizard who conjures it."

"An how does one conjure it?" Ulquiorra asked, his interest peaking. Lupin smiled wanly. "An incantation. It will only work if you are concentrating with everything you have on a single, happy memory." Ulquiorra blanched. ...Crap.


Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled. A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Ulquiorra, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out as the Dementor rose from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him —

"Expecto patronum!" Ulquiorra recited loudly, trying to drown out the roaring in his ears. "Expecto patronum! Expecto —" The classroom and Dementor were fading as thick dark fog clouded his vision and he staggered.

We've gotta stop meeting like this.

A warm hand on his head. Cold brown eyes smirk down. Helpless, trapped. "Welcome. Ulquiorra."

Can't believe we're doing this. Like Shinigami, ne? My name-

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything —"

My name is- you know, how come all important women in your lives are red heads? I've been wondering that for awhile...

"Harry!" Ulquiorra's eyes snapped open to see the ceiling. He was lying spread eagled on the floor. He had collapsed. Again. "I apologize." He murmured, feeling cold perspiration on his forehead and his pushed himself up. "Are you alright?" Lupin asked worriedly.

"Been better."

"Here," Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had." Ulquiorra accepted the frog warily. He did not really like Chocolate Frogs, to be honest. They tasted alright, but he found it distasteful that it was shaped like a frog. Sighing, Ulquiorra bit it's head off. "You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on," Lupin suggested, "that one doesn't seem to have been strong enough…" Ulquiorra nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to find a memory that he could consider happy.

Becoming a wizard. Leaving the hellhole that was his offical 'home'. That was happy.

...Right?


The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Ulquiorra, feasting on his despair. "Expecto patronum!" Ulquiorra exclaimed desperately. "Expecto patronum! Expecto Pat —" Familiar white fog obscured his senses… big, blurred shapes were moving around him…

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off —" The sounds of someone stumbling from a room — a door bursting open — a cackle of high- pitched laughter —

Yellow eyes, glowing with power, stares at him within emerald. Black lips whisper to him, "Ulquiorra." Marble white skin, marked by bold black tears. "Ulquiorra..."

"Harry! Harry… wake up…" Ulquiorra blearily opened his eyes. "Father..." He whispered and Lupin's eyes widened. "Foolish man...taking on Voldemort single-handedly..." Tears mingled with his sweat and he made no move to wipe them away. He wore his despair proudly, a long time ago. He felt no need to hide it now, and he supposed it was as they said. Old habit died hard.

"You...heard James?" Lupin asked in a odd voice. Ulquiorra turned to him. "Yes. Did you know my father?"

"I — I did, as a matter of fact," said Lupin. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry — perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced… I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this…" Ulquiorra's eyes flashed. "No." He shot Lupin's idea of stopping down immediately. "Once more. I must not be thinking of something happy enough..."

Something happy...something happy...

I'm not afraid.


Lupin pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Ulquiorra panted. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!" The screams and voices inside Ulquiorra head had started again — except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio. It was softer then louder then softer again… and he could still see the Dementor. It had halted, hovering several feet from Ulquiorra. A huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, to hover between him and the Dementor, and though Ulquiorra's legs felt like water, he was still on his feet . He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand, but as he continued he confidence grew and his protronus grew more defined though barely. It morphed into a long vertical shape that could have been a person's silhouette.

"Riddikulus!" roared Lupin, springing forward. There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor and Ulquiorra sank into a chair, completely exhausted. He watched tiredly as Lupin fought the moon shaped boggart and forced in back into the packing case.

"Excellent!" Lupin said, striding over to where he sat. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!" He handed Ulquiorra a bar of Honeydukes best chocolate. "Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?" Ulquiorra nodded, biting into the chocolate, grateful it wasn't shaped like any type of animal. A thought occurred. "Professor Lupin?" he said. "If you knew my father, you must have known Sirius Black as well." Lupin turned very quickly. "What gives you that idea?" he said sharply. Ulquiorra blinked at the slight overreaction. "Nothing. I knew they were friends at Hogwarts as well…" Lupin's face relaxed.

"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, it's getting late."


"What is under the Dementors' hood?" Ulquiorra asked suddenly after his weekly Anti-Dementor lesson while he and Professor Lupin nursed bottles of butterbeer. "Hmmm… well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."

"What is that?"

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and — and suck out his soul." Ulquiorra choked. "That's repugnant."

"It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him." Ulquiorra sat in his chair quietly. "Repugnant." He repeated to himself softly. Lupin 'Hmmm'ed in agreement.


Ulquiorra stared at his rival Seeker in the match. Cho Chang, a aisan fourth year that was about a head shorter then him. She smiled at him. Nerves streaked through him, and not because of the match.

Ulquiorra might've blushed.


A Hogsmeade trip was scheduled. Ulquiorra pondered on going.

...Nah. He was reckless, not stupid.


Ulquiorra sat in Snape's simply repulsive office warily. He had absolutely no idea why he was here. None at all. "Mr. Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter," said Snape. Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"Mr. Malfoy saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?"

"I can imagine many things," said Ulquiorra, now annoyed. Seriously, why was he here? "I doubt they would be relevant to the situation."

"It was your head, Potter. Floating in midair." Ulquiorra blinked. Blinked some more. And then blinked a few more times. "...Are you serious?" Ulquiorra asked blankly. "What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" said Snape softly. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade." Ulquiorra sighed. "I am perfectly aware. It appears that Malfoy is trying to get me in trouble. Perhaps to prevent my participation in the next Quidd-"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations," snarled Snape, and he bent down, a hand on each arm of Ulquiorra's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart, a fact that Ulquiorra found quite uncomfortable. "If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I have been in the library." And he had. Ulquiorra had been in the library researching time travel. It was possible, with an object called a 'Time Turner'. Ulquiorra now knew how Hermione was getting to her classes. "Can anyone confirm that?" Snape asked silkily and Ulquiorra looked up in thought. "Hmmmm...well, there was that 7th year. Ravenclaw, I think." Ulquiorra thought aloud, and according to Snape's falling face, he was becoming less and less convinced that Ulquiorra had broken any rules. "And Madame Pince. Ah, there was also-"

"Turn out your pockets, Potter!" he spat suddenly. Raising an eyebrow, Ulquiorra did, pulling out the Marauder's Map. Snape stared at the old innocent looking parchment. "What is this?" Ulquiorra stared at him like he was an idiot. "Parchment." He said bluntly. "A material commonly used for writing. It is often associated with the quill, a utensil-"

"I know what parchment is Potter!" Snape snarled furiously. He picked it up and moved to the fire. "Surely you don't need such an old piece of parchment? Why don't I just throw it away..."

"No." Ulquiorra said coldly. Snape's eyes flashed. "So!" said Snape, his long nostrils quivering. "A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors?" Ulquiorra sighed. Snape's eyes gleamed. "Let me see, let me see…" he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the map out on his desk. "Reveal your secret!" he said, touching the wand to the parchment. Nothing happened. Ulquiorra took his right hand from his pocket and checked his watch. Lunch would begin soon. "Show yourself!" Snape said, tapping the map sharply. It stayed blank. Ulquiorra looked around the office, disgusted at the various jars lining the walls. "Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand. Words appeared smoothly on the map as the a invisible hand was writing on it.

"Mr. Mooney presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

Snape stared, furious. Ulquiorra stared, trying his best not to smirk.

"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Mooney and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."

Ulquiorra snorted, which he quickly disguised as a cough. This was truly quite hilarious, Snape's outraged face adding to the fun.

"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."

I think I am dying. Ulquiorra thought as his insides burned from remaining so impassive.

"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimball."

"So…" said Snape softly. "We'll see about this…" He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames. "Lupin!" Snape called into the fire. "I want a word!" Utterly bewildered, Ulquiorra stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. "You called, Severus?" said Lupin mildly.

"I certainly did," said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this." Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin's face. "Well?" said Snape. Lupin continued to stare at the map. Ulquiorra had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking, though not completely sure why.

"Well?" said Snape again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?" Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Ulquiorra's direction, warned him not to interrupt. Like he was that stupid. "Full of Dark Magic?" he repeated mildly. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop —"

"Indeed?" said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" Lupin said. "Harry, do you know any of these men?"

"No," said Ulquiorra firmly, checking his watch again. Damn, lunch would be over soon...

"You see, Severus?" said Lupin, turning back to Snape. "It looks like a Zonko product to me." Snape glared.


"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. "Ah, Harry. I'd like a word about the vampire essay. Excuse us, Serverus." Lupin then hustled Ulquiorra out of the room. They made it to the entrance hall when Ulquiorra turned to Lupin, face impassive.

"Professor-"

"I don't want to hear explanations," said Lupin shortly. Ulquiorra blinked. He wasn't planning on giving one, he just wanted the map back and to get lunch. Lupin glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said as Ulquiorra's eyes widened slightly. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry." Yeah, once Ulquiorra realized that Lupin knew what it was, that was pretty obvious.

"Why did Snape think I had received it from the manufacturers?"

"Because…" Lupin hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you know them?" said Ulquiorra, impressed. The map was quite extraordinary, after all.

"We've met," he said shortly. After Lupin was done with his guilt trip that absolutely no effect since Ulquiorra had been in the damn library, Ulquiorra walked in to get lunch.


Buckbeak was to be executed.

...Well, that just sucks.


Hermione bitched slapped Malfoy.

Hermione. Bitch slapping.

And it was Malfoy.

Ulquiorra wondered if he had acted like such a bastard when the woman slapped him.

If he had, he really couldn't blame her, sad to say.


Ulquiorra won the game. The Quidditch Cup was Gryffindors'.

Now if only Wood would stop sobbing on his shoulder, things would be perfect.


Final exams were easy, as always. Ulquiorra, funnily enough, had a great skill for Potions, much to Snape's displeasure.


Divination was simple. Ulquiorra made some shit up about Buckbeak and it was over. He got up to leave but whirled around just as fast when a loud harsh voice rang out through the room.

"IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT." Ulquiorra blinked. "Excuse me?"

Professor Trelawney looked like she was about to suffer a serious seizure. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth was sagging and her eyes began to roll.

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT… BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT… WILL SET OUT… TO REJOIN… HIS MASTER…"

Minutes later, as Professor Trelawney ushered the very confused Ulquiorra out of the classroom, dreamy and completely normal, all Ulquiorra would think was;

What the fuck just happened?


Ulquiorra grunted as the gigantic dog pinned him to the ground, but he hadn't spent the entire summer and year conditioning his body for nothing. Using his legs, he kicked the dog's belly and pushed it off of him. Sitting up, he saw the dog bound away for a new attack. The dog fastened it's jaw into Ron's arm and began to drag him away like a rag doll. Ulquiorra grabbed some it's fur, but it had no effect and he was thrown back as something slapped him in the face.

"Lumos." Pale wandlight illuminated the darkend night. And Ulquiorra knew what had pushed him back.

They had chased the damned rat straight to the Whomping Willow.


All they could see now was one of Ron's legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog from pulling him farther underground — but a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, his foot vanished from sight. "Harry!" Hermione panted, cut in the shoulder. "We've...got to get help." Ulquiorra glared at her. "There is no time. That thing is large enough to consume him without trouble."

"We'll never get in if we don't!" Hermione wailed. Ulquiorra ran forward. "If that beast can get in, so can we." Darting back and forth, his human body was still not strong or fast enough to get past the Willow, and it punched him back. "Oh, help, help," Ulquiorra heard Hermione whisper frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, "Please…" Crookshanks darted forward. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk. Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook. "Crookshanks!" Hermione whispered uncertainly. She now grasped Ulquiorra's arm painfully hard and he winced, extracting himself from her painful clutches. "How did he know —?"

"He is a comrade of the dog," said Ulquiorra grimly. "I have seen them together. Come on. And keep your wand out ."


On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron. Harry and Hermione dashed across to him. "Ron! Are you okay?"

"Where is the dog?"

"Not a dog," Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap —"

"What —"

"He's the dog… he's an Animagus." Ron was staring over Ulquiorra's shoulder. Ulquiorra wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind them. Ulquiorra's eyes widened.

Sirius Black.


"You betrayed Mother and Father." Ulquiorra accused. And Hermione trembled. "No Harry!" Ulquiorra ran forward, and Black, not expecting him to do something this moronic, stood defenseless. Ulquiorra spun on his heel and roundhouse kicked Black in the jaw, sending him crashing into the wall. Hermione squeaked, and Ron gaped. Ulquiorra strode over to Black, cold hate in his eyes, and pulled him up by the collar. Black moved to grab Ulquiorra's neck, presumbably to choke him. Ulquiorra's hand darted out and caught his wrist and they glared at each other. "I've waited...far too long." Black rasped and Ulquiorra stared down at him coldly. Ulquiorra suddenly let go of Black as Crookshanks sank his claws into his leg. Eyes narrowed, Ulquiorra shook the cat off. I hate cats. So much.


Ulquiorra stared in astonishment as Lupin and Black embraced each other like they were long lost brothers. Ulquiorra's eye's narrowed. "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed. Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You — you —"

"Hermione —"

"– you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down —"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you —"

"Hermione, listen to me, please" Lupin shouted. "I can explain —" Ulquiorra turned to Lupin, eyes shadowed.

"I trusted you," he said quietly to Lupin, "and all the time you have been his friend."

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain…" Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. Please do. This...does not make sense. Their conversation...

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he's a werewolf!" Silence blanketed the room and Ulquiorra blinked. "Well, yes." agreed Ulquiorra blankly, receiving many stunned stares. "He is indeed. I do not see what that has to do with the situation." Everyone gaped at him. "You knew?" Hermione asked incredulously. Ulquiorra shrugged, his hands had returned to his pockets. "Oh yes." He admitted easily. "It was very obvious. Was not all that hard, to be honest." Silence. Black leaned over to Lupin. "He inherited more of Lily's genetics. Didn't he?" Lupin nodded. "It appears. How long have you known?"

"Since Snape taught us about werewolves in class. I did not have to do the essay, it was quite obvious just from the chapter description."

Lupin forced a laugh. "You certainly are much more clever then I thought Harry!" Ulquiorra's eye twitched. Is he implying that I looked stupid?


"If you have not been helping him," Ulquiorra said, with a cold glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —" "

You know how to work it?" Ulquiorra said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony . That was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"You wrote —?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?" He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. "You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry, but even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Ulquiorra. "No. There was no one else."

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Ulquiorra's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us. No one but the rat..." said Ulquiorra, trailing off. Eyes darted to Scabbers, but Ulquiorra's eyes were on Sirius Black. If he was an Animagus...then is it possible...?


"But apart from my transformations," Lupin continued, explaining how it all happened, "I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father, Harry — James Potter. Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth… And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi." Ulquiorra's eyes widened again.

"Father too?" said Ulquiorra, astounded. Such advanced magic... "Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled. "They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed… Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus." Black growled, eyes trained on the rat, hunger in his eyes. "Yes, I'm getting there," Lupin said absentmindedly, "well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."


Ulquiorra stared in irritation at Snape. How dare he lay his (filthy) hands on his father's cloak. Bastard. "I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you…" Ulquiorra twitched. Ugh. Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus —" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him. "I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout —"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything. I can explain — Sirius is not here to kill Harry —"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. Ulquiorra stared warily. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this… He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin… a tame werewolf —"

"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?" BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. "Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will." Black froze, eyes glaring with uttermost loathing. Hermione took a hesitant step forward. "Professor...It wouldn't hurt to hear what they have to say..."

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."

"But if — if there was a mistake —"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…"

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle," he jerked his head at Ron, "I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay… " What little color there was in Black's face left it. "You — you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat — look at the rat —" But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that Ulquiorra had seen many, many times.

It was the same insanity that plagued Szayel Aporro. That glinted in the Espada's amber eyes until his final moments.

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him too —" Ulquiorra stepped in front of Snape. "Stop. You are not thinking clearly. Professor Lupin had plenty of opportunity to end my life. Yet he did not. Release him. Do not act like pathetic trash."

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black — now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!" Ulquiorra stared at the deranged man. His eyes closed.

"How troublesome." Moving so fast that he blurred, Ulquiorra raised his wand. "Expelliarmus." Snape immediately released Lupin, and Ulquiorra used his shock to his advantage. Pulling his leg upwards, he swung it horizontally, feeling his foot slam into Snape's head. He flew backwards, unconscious, and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Ulquiorra smirked and Hermione whimpered. "Harry...you attacked a teacher..." Ulquiorra pointed his wand at Black. "It was worth it. He is a brainless piece of trash." Smirk slipping off his face, he stared menacingly into Black's sunken (and approving) gaze. "Talk."

"Mmph!" Lupin struggled against his bonds. Ulquiorra sighed and still pointing his wand at Black said, "...Release him. Then talk."


Ulquiorra believed Black, as absurd as it sounded. Ulquiorra was an analytical kind of guy, and usually followed the more logical and reinforced path. Everything they said, it made sense. As ridiculous as it sounded, everything fit.

"So simple… so brilliant… he cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," said Black. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" said Lupin. "The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger."

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right —"

"Twelve years, in fact," said Lupin. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We — we've been taking good care of him!" said Ron. "Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" said Lupin. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again…"

"Yes." Ulquiorra remembered. "He has been ill since summer. Since you were in Egypt." He looked at Ron, who stared back bewildered. "Remember? We met Crookshanks when we went to buy rat tonic." Ron swallowed, piecing it together. Ulquiorra jolted. "Why?" He asked Black. "Why did he fake his death? You admitted to killing Mother and Father."

"Harry," said Lupin hurriedly, "don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down — but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father — Sirius tracked Peter down —"

"He was their Secret-Keeper. He said he killed them."

"Harry… I as good as killed them," he croaked. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me… I'm to blame, I know it… The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies… I realized what Peter must've done… what I'd done…" He turned away.

"Enough of this," said Lupin, and there was a steely note in his voice Ulquiorra had never heard before. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat." Ron clutched the rat to his chest. "What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?" Ron asked Lupin tensely. "Force him to show himself," said Lupin. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

Ron gave in and handed them the madly protesting Scabbers.


A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly. The rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and there was a head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. He was a very short man, hardly taller than Ulquiorra and Hermione (Ron was quite tall). His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Ulquiorra saw his eyes dart to the door and back again. Ulquiorra scowled. All his hatred still flowed through his veins like ice. Only it wasn't towards Sirius anymore.

Ulquiorra watched as the rat bastard attempted to talk his way into appearing innocent. When that failed, he tried to appeal to Ulquiorra, Ron and Hermione. And when that failed, Sirius and Lupin turned their wands on him. Ulquiorra paused. Death...death had potential to lead to power...happiness.

That little bastard did not deserve either.

"No." Ulquiorra said suddenly, halting Sirius and Lupin. "Do not kill him."

"Harry!" gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees. "You — thank you — it's more than I deserve — thank you —" Ulquiorra recoiled in disgust. "Do not touch me!" He snarled, kicking him in the face. Ulquiorra inwardly smiled in satisfaction. That felt good. "We will take you to the castle." The glint in his eyes were growing colder, and he smirked. "Then the Dementors can have you."


"I don't know if anyone ever told you — I'm your godfather." said Black.

"Yes, I knew that," said Ulquiorra.

"Well… your parents appointed me your guardian," said Black stiffly. "If anything happened to them…" Ulquiorra waited eagerly. Did Black mean what he thought he meant? "I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," said Black. "But… well… think about it. Once my name's cleared… if you wanted a… a different home…" Ulquiorra eyes widened. "And live with you? Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," said Black quickly. "I understand, I just thought I'd —" Ulquiorra interupted. "Hell yes." Black blinked. "Huh?"

"Of course I want to leave the Dursleys. Do you have a house? When can I move in?"


Ulquiorra watched in horror as Lupin went through the gruesome transformation and as Ron collapsed and Pettigrew vanished.

"God dammit."


Ulquiorra panted, cold sweat clinging to his skin. "Get...away." He gasped. "Expecto Patronum." His feeble Patrounus hovered between himself and a Dementor. It brushed it aside. Despair consumed him. "No." He moaned as one slimy hand curled around his neck. "He...He..." Ulquiorra felt the rattling breath and went limp.

What is the heart? It was over. He was going to be consumed.

SLAP! Harsh breathing, and she stares at you with anger. There was a light. Growing brighter. He hit the grassy earth.

The air...it was warm.

Ulquiorra let the darkness take him.


"What we need," said Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Ulquiorra to Hermione, "is more time." Ulquiorra blinked. More-

...Oh.


"Harry, I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?" Ulquiorra thought. "What were we doing three hours ago?" Hermione blinked. "We were going to Hagrid's...Buckbeak is about to...be...executed..." Hermione trailed off and Ulquiorra sighed.

"This will be challenging."

Hermione made a small noise of agreement.


They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid's house, they heard a knock upon his door. They moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking around to see who had knocked. And Ulquiorra heard his own voice speak monotonously. "It is us. We are wearing the Invisibility Cloak."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly.

"This is the weirdest thing we have ever done," Ulquiorra said fervently. Does my voice really sound like that? I sound like a total bastard. "Let's move along a bit," Hermione whispered. "We need to get nearer to Buckbeak!"


"Where is the beast?" came the cold voice of Macnair (the executioner) from inside Hagrid's hut.

"Out — outside," Hagrid croaked. Ulquiorra pulled his head out of sight as Macnair's face appeared at Hagrid's window, staring out at Buckbeak. Then they heard Fudge. "We — er — have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I'll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, You're supposed to listen too, that's procedure-" Macnair's face vanished from the window. It was now or never.

Here goes...well, pretty much everything.


Ulquiorra quickly approached the relaxed Hippogriff and bowed, not breaking eye contact or blinking (something he was very good at). Buckbeak bowed to him and Ulquiorra nimbly undid the rope tying him to the fence and began to pull on it. Buckbeak didn't want to move, and dug his front feet into the ground as Ulquiorra tugged on the rope.

"… sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair…"

"Come on, Buckbeak," Ulquiorra muttered, "come on, we are going to help you."

"… as witnessed below. Hagrid, you sign here…" Ulquiorra grunted, putting all his weight onto the rope so the damn creature would move. Buckbeak finally began to follow, ruffling his wings irritatedly. They were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid's back door. "One moment, please, Macnair," came Dumbledore's voice. "You need to sign too." Approaching footsteps stopped. Ulquiorra heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster. Hermione's white face was sticking out from behind a tree.

"Harry, hurry!" she mouthed. He gave the rope another wrench. Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot. They had reached the trees. "Quick! Quick!" Hermione moaned, darting out from behind her tree, seizing the rope too and adding her weight to make Buckbeak move faster. Ulquiorra looked over his shoulder; they were now blocked from sight; they couldn't see Hagrid's garden at all.


And there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake. They were moving away from where Ulquiorra stood, to the opposite bank. He thought he had seen his father...would it be truly impossible for him to appear? There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Ulquiorra ducked behind it, peering through the leaves. On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. His Patrounus has died. No one was coming. Ulquiorra raised his head to look at the circle of Dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear ... but no one was coming to help this time. Unless...

Ulquiorra flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" And out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver creature. It definitely had the silhouette of a voluptuous woman with long waist length hair and long horns protruding from her head. Thick fur covered her body from her breasts to taloned feet. Her shoulders were bare, but the same fur cover her hands up to her forearms. Her long tail slapped the ground as her demonic wings carried her into flight as she soared towards the Dementors, wielding a long lance in clawed hands. It charged the Dementors surrounding himself, Hermione and Sirius; swiping at them with her tail and lance. The Dementors fell back, and retreated back into the darkness.

His Patronus flew back to him and touched onto the ground in front of him. It looked at him from large silver eyes and saluted, before vanishing into the air like mist in a windy morning.


"There." Ulquiorra said, spotting Sirius as they rose up beside the window. He reached out, and as Buckbeak's wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass. Sirius looked up and Ulquiorra saw his jaw drop. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked.

"Stand back!" Hermione called to him, and she took out her wand, still gripping the back of Ulquiorra's robes with her left hand. "Alohomora!" The window sprang open and Sirius leaned out of it, completely stunned. "How — how —?" said Black weakly, staring at the two students and Buckbeak.

"Get on. We are running out of time," said Ulquiorra, gripping Buckbeak firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold him steady. "You must get out of here. The Dementors are coming. Macnair has gone to get them."

Black, being as thin as a skeleton, was able to slip thorough the window easily and fling a leg over the Hippogriff, behind Hermione. Ulquiorra tugged the rope still attached to Buckbeak's neck upwards. "Up." He commanded and they soared higher to the top of the West Tower. Ulquiorra and Hermione slid off immediately once they had landed.

"Sirius, you must leave quickly," Ulquiorra ordered. "They will reach Flitwick's office any moment and they will find out you have escaped." Black stared helplessly. "What happened to the other boy? Ron?" croaked Sirius.

"He is fine. Go."

"How can I ever thank —"

"GO!" Ulquiorra and Hermione shouted together. Black wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky. "We'll see each other again," he said. "You are — truly your father's son, Harry…" He squeezed Buckbeak's sides with his heels and Ulquiorra and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more. The Hippogriff took off into the air and hee and his rider became smaller and smaller as Ulquiorra gazed after them. Then a cloud drifted across the moon, and they were gone.


"Excuse me?" said Ulquiorra, raising an eyebrow. "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er — Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'… Thought everyone'd know by now… Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night… He's packin' now, o' course."

"He is packing?" said Ulquiorra, alarmed. "Why?"

"Leavin', isn' he?" said Hagrid, looking surprised that Ulquiorra had to ask (Ulquiorra was surprised he had to ask too). "Resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin again." Ulquiorra stood up fluidly and walked towards the castle. "I am going to talk to Professor Lupin."


Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The Grindylow's (a creature Ulquiorra despised, for the sole reason that it sounded eerily like 'Grimmjow') empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Ulquiorra knocked on the door. "I saw you coming," said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over and Ulquiorra saw it was the Marauder's Map. "I just saw Hagrid," said Ulquiorra slowly. "And he said you had resigned."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

"Why?" Ulquiorra asked. "The Ministry of Magic do not think you were helping Sirius, do they?" Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Ulquiorra. "No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." He sighed. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he — er — accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

"You are leaving just because of that?" said Ulqiuorra incredulously. Lupin smiled wryly. "This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents… They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you… That must never happen again."

"You are the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we have ever had." Ulquiorra protested. Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Ulquiorra was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, "From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned… Tell me about your Patronus." Ulquiorra told him and Lupin looked thoughtful. "Quite an interesting Patronus, Harry. Oddly enough, I'd say it suits you." Ulquiorra looked out the window. "My father...what animal could he become?" Lupin smiled.

"Your father was always a stag when he transformed," he said. "That's why we called him Prongs. Here — I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Ulquiorra back the Invisibility Cloak. "And…" He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It's no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it." Ulquiorra took the map.

"Thank you, Professor."


"It did not make any difference," said Ulquiorra bitterly. "Pettigrew got away."

"Didn't make any difference?" said Dumbledore quietly, "it made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate." Terrible. Greater and more terrible than ever before… Professor Trelawney's prediction. "Professor Dumbledore. Yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney acted very strange."

"Indeed?" said Dumbledore. "Er — stranger than usual, you mean?"

"Yes… her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said… she said Voldemort's servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight… She said the servant would help him come back to power." Ulquiorra stared up at the wise Headmaster. "And then she became normal again, and she could not remember anything she had said. Was she making a real prediction?" Dumbledore looked mildly impressed.

"Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been." he said thoughtfully. "Who'd have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise…" Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. Two? What was the first one?

"I stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Pettigrew. That makes it my fault if Voldemort comes back."

"It does not," said Dumbledore quietly. "Hasn't your experience with the Time-Turner taught you anything, Harry? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed… Professor Trelawney, bless her, is living proof of that… You did a very noble thing, in saving Pettigrew's life."

"But if he helps Voldemort back to power…"

"Pettigrew owes his life to you. You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debt… When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them… and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter."

"I do not want a connection with Pettigrew." said Ulquiorra sullenly. "He betrayed my parents. And he is a worthless coward."

"This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry. But trust me… the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew's life." Ulquiorra couldn't imagine when that would be. Dumbledore looked as though he knew what Ulquiorra was thinking. "I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry," he said gently. "He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it." I see...not why I saved him, but good to know, I suppose.


Ulquiorra certainly wasn't the only one who was sorry to see Professor Lupin go. The whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation. "Wonder what they'll give us next year?" said Seamus Finnigan gloomily.

"Maybe a vampire," suggested Dean Thomas hopefully. A girl tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe...a warrior from a secret society of the dead!" She exclaimed. Everyone looked at her oddly. She blushed. "Sorry. I just ate a lot of candy." she muttered sheepishly. Ulquiorra sighed.


Ulquiorra picked up the letter the small hyperactive owl dropped into their train compartment. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, "It is from Sirius."

"What?" said Ron and Hermione excitedly. "Read it aloud!"

Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post. Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job. I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted. There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt —

Ah. I knew it. Ulquiorra thought smugly.

-Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather. I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you. I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me.

I'll write again soon.

Sirius

Curiously, Ulquiorra tipped the envelope sideways and another smaller piece of parchment fell out.

I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends.

Ulquiorra smirked triumphantly. "That is good enough for Dumbledore. ...Oh, there is a P.S..."

I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat.

Ron blinked. "What, really?"He looked at the minuture owl doubtfully. Then, to Ulquiorra's and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?" Crookshanks purred. "That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine."


"What's that?" Vernon Dursley snarled, staring at the envelope that was sticking out of Ulquiorra's jacket pocket. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another —"

"Do not worry," said Ulquiorra cheerfully, or as cheerful as Ulquiorra could get, which wasn't much. "It is just a letter from my godfather."

"Godfather?" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have," said Ulquiorra brightly, well, as brightly as...you get the idea. "He was my Mother and Father's best friend. He is a convicted murderer, but he has broken out of wizard prison and he is currently on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though. Keep up with my news… check if I am happy…" And, smirking smugly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Ulquiorra strode off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.


A/N: ...so...long...

Well, hope you guys liked it. Can you guess what Ulquiorra's Patronus was? I hope you can, I really do. There will be no contest this time because the only reason the I chose this chapter to be the Sloth was because all the other sins were taken.

...actually there is a contest. Tell me a good reason that this was the sloth and I'll put in cameo appearence. Like before, please tell my your gender if you do. It will help.

Review and chibi Ulquiorra will give you hugs!