A/N

Thanks for all of the reviews, especially those where you tell me what you like or dislike. Thanks to AFC for help with this and the last chapter.


"Now, now, little Harry, don't cry. The Dementors like it when you weep."

The chilling voice penetrated the horrific nightmare he was immersed in – the sound of his mother's screams intermingling with Hermione's cries as he burnt Ginny's face again and again.

He lay in a dingy cell, a quarter the size of the one they just dragged him from, judging by his blind wanderings. The icy coldness of the Dementor's presence sunk deep into his bones; freezing his blood and making him shake uncontrollably.

The hex removing his sight was starting to wear off, but the dim light coming from the end of the wand of the voice's owner was not enough for him to make out anything about the man.

"Perhaps you will feel more at home if I show you around. Welcome to the real Azkaban, Mr Potter, not that parody of detention you briefly visited before."

"You will find the accommodations here much more suitable to somebody of your standing, but let me introduce your neighbours – not that I expect you to be alive long enough to make friends with any of them."

"In the cell to your left, you have Augustus Rookwood. Amongst his many crimes, he was convicted of spying for the Dark Lord while working in the Department of Mysteries. Not very exciting, I know, but let me assure you – it was the least of his 'activities'. I happen to personally know he was a fan of using kidnapped Muggles for his unsanctioned experiments. Quite nasty some of those tests were too, and usually fatal. I understand the Dementors sometime make him think he has taken the place of his victims."

Harry's head swam. He focussed, trying to fight off the effect of the Dementors and the multiple shocks to his system. Pain from a dozen different places was crushing his thoughts, making it even harder to concentrate. It felt like Dudley and his gang had caught him, but a lot worse.

"In the cell directly opposite yours, is Bellatrix Lestrange. Torturing Muggles is only a sideline for her - she prefers wizards. Amongst her many famous and notable victims are the parents of one of your classmates – Neville Longbottom. They are now permanent residents of St. Mungos, and will no doubt have already made acquaintances with your friend Ronald Weasley."

"Best you watch out for Bella though, she might be a bit upset at you. You see, her dear husband formerly occupied this cell, but we felt it was a better choice for you, so he has been moved elsewhere. I think that might make Mrs Lestrange a bit hesitant to befriend you, Harry. After all, she is clearly missing her beloved partner in crime."

An inarticulate roar emerged from the cell where Lestrange was kept, shocking Harry with its mindless animal ferocity.

"But I've saved the best 'till last," crowed the guard. "In the cell to your right is none other than the notorious Sirius Black. He's rumoured to be second only to the Dark Lord amongst the Death Eaters. Black doesn't talk to the others much – I guess he finds their company too far below him to bother with. He does occasionally say hello to the Minister of Magic though; very polite of him really."

"Sirius is famous for convincing two of his best friends to give him the key to their safety, and then promptly handing it over to his master. The Dark Lord was most interested in finding the happily married couple after they defied him on numerous occasions, although Mister Black's present had some rather unfortunate consequences, as we all know."

"Pay attention, Harry," snapped the voice, a foot nudging Harry as he found himself losing the battle to stay conscious. "This is important. You see the people Black betrayed were none other than James and Lily Potter – your parents."

Seeing the anguished look on Harry's face must have pleased the man, as he let out a chuckle and leaned closer. The putrid stench of his breath was barely noticeable above the decay stink of the cell.

"Oh but that's not all, Harry. Sirius Black was, and remains to this day, your godfather."

The feeling of being suddenly dragged to consciousness made Harry's head spin. As his thoughts cleared, recollection of recent events flooded back, and panic set in.

He had been discovered and stunned, which mean he was likely heading back to Azkaban soon, and so was Sirius, if he was lucky. A visit by the Dementors was more likely.

Still in bird form, he rolled over and stood up, ruffling his feathers in reflex.

Instantly he became aware of two redheaded boys pointing wands at him.

"We know it's you, Harry," said one of the Weasley twins.

"So just change back into a regular, non-feathered type person, if you can," said the other one.

"If you can't change back, because of a spell or something, blink six times quickly," said the first.

"If you don't understand what we are saying, blink fourteen times," said the second one.

"Or try to fly away, in which case we'll stun you again and take you in."

Heart racing at a pace that threatened to overload it, Harry considered his options.

He was locked in a room, on the ground, with two wizards covering him with wands. They had already proven capable of incapacitating him, but hadn't turned him in, yet. Nobody else knew where he was, and he didn't know what his captors wanted. They could want revenge for Ginny's condition, but he really didn't know.

The instinct to escape was overwhelming.

Every fibre of his being screamed to cut and run, to get to Sirius and Remus, and then make a break for it, getting as far away as they could as quickly as possible.

Both Marauders had prepared for the possibility of having to flee with little or no notice. They had plans, a few fall back hideouts, and even some stashes of supplies to help keep ahead of the law, if worse came to worse.

None of it was any good if Harry couldn't get away.

"Doesn't look good," one of them said, after a prolonged silence. "I think maybe we should just hand him in."

The lingering effects of the mail delivery locating spell gave Harry the vague feeling it was Fred, although that could have been his stress-driven imagination.

"Well, the reward money certainly won't go astray," answered George.

He was out of time. With a soft pop, he transformed back into his human form.

"Wicked," both redheads said at the same time, but neither lowered their wands.

"Well guys, you caught me," said Harry, standing up slowly and casually, while covertly looking around the room for possible ways to escape. He tried to sound calm, but inside his panic was reaching a crescendo. "Now what?"

His wand was tucked inside a pocket of his robes, but he had no chance of getting to it without a distraction. The twins answered with their usual horribly distracting, tennis match style of talking.

"Now you tell us how you managed to escape Azkaban-"

"-Why you apparently did so with Sirius Black-"

"-How you became an Animagus-"

"-Why you are here pretending to be a professor's familiar, and -"

"-Not to mention-"

"Exactly what happened to our little sister?" they both asked together, suddenly looking more dangerous than ever before.

A thousand scenarios ran through Harry's mind. They obviously felt they had a right to hear first hand the story of what happened to Ginny, and Harry agreed, but there was just too much to risk. If he told them everything, they might choose to disbelieve him and hand him over for the considerable reward.

Even if they promised to keep his presence secret, there was always the chance they would slip up; it's not as if either boy could be considered reliable.

Nope, he could only see one real chance of gaining control of the situation.

"Okay, but first, can you do something to make this a bit more private?" he asked, looking meaningfully at the door. "I don't want Filch or anybody else to hear us and come wandering in."

"I got it," said George, turning to mumble a spell and flick his wand at the door, causing it to click loudly.

"Can you do a couple of layered silencing charms too?" asked Harry, ready to offer if neither of them knew how.

George nodded and started adding the spells, and Fred automatically turned his head slightly to watch.

The moment Fred's eyes left Harry, he leapt into action.

Jumping to the side, he pulled his wand and fired off a stunner. Unfortunately the hastily aimed shot was off target, and the red light whistled past Fred's ear.

Fred yelped loudly and fired his own spell back at Harry, missing by a good two feet and making a desk glow bright green.

George was a bit slower on the uptake, turning back from the door with a look of confusion on his face at seeing Fred throwing himself to the floor.

Harry fired another stunner directly at him, confident one of his opponents was about to be neutralised. It was a shock when the spell slammed into a weak looking Protego shield George incredibly managed to get into place.

A sickly orange curse from Fred grazed Harry's lower leg. A sharp pain in his foot made him stumble and fall behind another desk.

Thankful that at least one silencing spell was erected, Harry banished the closest chair at the twins and rolled.

The chair flew across the short distance and slammed into Fred, who was just starting to rise from where he dived after Harry's first attack. It wasn't moving particularly fast, but it hit hard enough to knock the boy over again.

George threw a hex towards Harry, who hastily dragged another chair between him and the incoming hex. The unfortunate seat sagged to become a messy gloop that splashed sluggishly over Harry and smelled like melted sugar.

Harry barely managed to get out of the way of George's second spell with the toffee-like remains of the chair stuck to his hands like glue. The curse zoomed passed and impacted on the desk behind him, causing sickly green bat-shaped things to erupt from under it.

The bats began viciously attacking the desk they came from, so Harry ignored them and rolled behind another desk, gaining a few seconds to scrub the sticky mess off with a cleaning spell.

Through the legs of the furniture between them, he saw George overturning desks before dragging Fred behind them.

A quick flick of Harry's wand welded two overturned desks together to give him better cover. One more fast spell and the barrier was impervious to transfiguration and most other moderate spells, making it good enough for a few minute's protection, at most.

Through the gaps, he could see the twins staying together instead of spreading out to flank him the way Sirius and Remus would usually do.

He was more experience than his two opponents, and usually fought tougher competition in the form of his two mentors, but it was not often he came out on top in a mock two on one match.

Actually, it was never.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, Harry?" yelled one of the twins, from behind his protections. "If we were going to turn you in, don't you think we would have done it before waking you up?"

Harry's temptation to bang his head against the desk until it bled was almost too great. He may have just made a right royal mess of things, once again leaping into action before using his brains for more than a moment.

Of course, if he had managed to stun them both quickly, it would have seemed like a brilliant strategy.

"Okay. Well then, just lower your wands, and I'll explain everything," suggested Harry as calmly as he could.

"Not bloody likely," called back George, firing a strangely coloured spell at him.

For a brief second, Harry thought it sounded like a hair growing spell Sirius showed him, but who would use a basically harmless and slow acting spell like that in a real fight?

His initial idea was proven correct however, when long dreadlocks sudden sprouted from the impact site on a far wall.

"Yeah, you're the nutter who went and took a shot at us to begin with!" added Fred. "And we weren't even threatening you!"

Harry cursed, using many of the swear words Sirius made sure he now knew, and few Remus didn't realise he once used within Harry's hearing.

"Look, I made a mistake, all right?" said Harry, trying to sound reasonable. "Besides, I distinctly recall waking up after you knocked me out first, so don't start with 'you shot me first' crud. You just don't realise what's at stake here."

"I think we have a fair idea," said George, sarcasm practically dripping from his words. "We either manage to fight our way out of here-"

"-or we get to spend some serious no-quality time sharing a ward with our sister!" finish Fred, punctuating his sentence with another round of spells that slammed into the upturned desks shielding Harry.

An unrelenting wave of angry frustration engulfed Harry. It was all going wrong, again. Not only had he failed to knock out the twins with his surprise attack, he had now turned them against him.

Several desks suddenly started quickly sliding towards Harry from behind, summoned by one or both of the twins to crush him against his own fortifications.

Transforming as he leaped up, the falcon's powerful wings swept him into the air directly above where he had been. Before they could properly react, Harry transformed again, taking a pop shot while still in midair before changing back again and twisting violently out of the way of any return spells.

Unsurprisingly, the wild attack missed its target, slamming into a chair behind the twins and leaving a long burn mark in its backrest.

George returned fire with a bewildering series of hexes. Harry recognised more hair growing, colour change, and other weird spells. Luckily George's aim left something to be desired, and all of the shots went wide of the weaving falcon causing more chaos than harm.

Harry dropped behind another strangely transformed desk and changed back just in time to see the door to the room swing open.

In the few seconds while Harry was distracted by George's onslaught, Fred managed to cast the countercharm to the door locking spell, and was making his escape.

But as the exit opened wide, Harry saw the way out was not clear.

Standing in the way, as if summoned by the disturbance despite the silencing charm, and clutching his faithful familiar to his chest, was Argus Filch, caretaker of Hogwarts.

"What in the name of Merlin's hairy goat is going on here?" yelled the cantankerous squib angrily.

Harry only hesitated only for a second. The temptation to curse his foul luck was great, but the need to act quickly was greater.

"Accio Filch!" he cast, summoning the man and his cat directly into the fleeing Fred.

All three collided with a dull thud, and Harry banished several nearby desks into the still open door. The desks slammed it closed, piling up on front of it in a tangled mess.

Mrs Norris screamed her feline outrage as Filch and Fred toppled to the ground. Leaping free of them, she bolted deeper into the room while wailing like a wounded banshee.

A blue light from George just clipped Harry, before he could dodge completely out of the way after summoning Filch. It left a tingling sensation that quickly became a frustrating itch; annoying, but ignorable.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that neither of the twins had used anything more potent than the Stupefying charm they had already hit him with.

For a moment he was grateful that years of poor defence professors had left the boys ill prepared for a fire fight.

Either that or they were purposely trying to not hurt him.

Some other hexes they had could incapacitate him just as easily as Sirius's favourite bone breaking curse though, but none were out-and-out designed to seriously injure or incapacitate.

Of course, any advantage in knowing many painful and permanent spells wasn't all that helpful to Harry when he didn't actually want to seriously injure them.

Dashing behind another desk closer to the door, Harry cast and held a Scourify spell at the point where he was expecting George to appear.

Anticipating your opponent's moves was something Sirius drilled into him time and time again, and this time it paid off.

While the instant hit or miss of the magically draining Stupefy spell was best suited to when he had a clear shot, the easier and longer lasting Scourify gave over a full second for George to move into its area of effect, and he did.

The cleaning charm hit George right in the face, making him yell out in pain. It wasn't that bad, but anybody who has ever had soap in their eyes knows exactly how distracting a Scourify to the face can be.

Harry noticed Filch fearfully trying to hide behind a chair as Fred jumped to his feet and yelled a mixed bag of spells. Practiced reflexes burst into life and a shield sprang into existence before the hexes could reach their intended target.

The shield reflected the curses back, spraying them all over the room. The red light of a stupefy spell hit Filch as he tried to run from behind his meagre cover, knocking him over several feet from the barricaded door.

Another spell flew back at Fred, who dodged but was unable to get out of the way.

White bubbles began to pour from the redhead's mouth, muffling any further spells he tried to cast with a foaming broth of soap.

Harry was about to finish him off with a stunning spell when George rejoined the fight, eyes now bright red and weeping. A desk came off the barricade and flew at Harry, smashing into his back painfully. Another joined it before he could properly get out of the way, whacking into his arm and shoulder and knocking him down.

As a chair started to fly off the pile towards Harry, he recognised the other danger in George's attack. Not only was he physically punishing Harry with the furniture, he was also clearing the way to the door again.

Rolling under one of the few remaining upright desks for its protection, Harry aimed a spell behind George.

The targeted desk came alive like some four legged parody of a spider. It scuttled towards George, who was caught off guard by the animated furniture.

In a burst of panic, the older boy cast a hex at the desk to stop it. Unfortunately, he chose a tooth growing curse.

The fanged desk was now a real threat as it raced to latch onto his arm and bite down hard. George screamed and began flinging it around wildly, trying to smash it off.

Harry took advantage of the momentary distraction to race towards the door, determined to close it off as an escape route.

He managed to quickly cast a stronger locking charm before George used a tickling hex to force the desk to let go, and then destroyed it with a Reductor curse.

Fred had his wand jammed into his mouth, trying to wash the soap out before it choked him. A thick stream of water poured out, carrying a river of soap bubbles across the debris littered floor of the room.

Running to get behind what meagre cover remained while shielding himself, Harry was momentarily surprised by George throwing something towards him. A patch of the wet floor in front of Harry suddenly turned into what looked like a small swamp.

Trying to veer away, he tripped and was well on his way to landing face first in the muddy water when he managed to again change into his falcon Animagus form.

A beat of his strong wings lifted him up, but then an unnatural gust of wind cast by a soap-spitting Fred blew Harry out of control towards the roof.

Colliding painfully with a rafter, he quickly changed back into a human and grabbed onto the beam with his arms and legs, continuing the motion to swing himself onto a narrow ledge behind the thick upright.

Spells from both boys slammed into the wood as Harry struggled to keep his grip while using the beam for cover.

A particularly powerful synchronised blast from the twins smashed large chips out of his wooden protection, flaying him with jagged edged splinters and knocking him completely off his perch.

Plummeting downwards, Harry had just enough time to change and spread his wings before making a painful re-acquaintance with the ground.

He screamed as his thin bird's wings almost snapped from the impact, but shifted back into human form and rolled away, just as more spells hit the spot where he had fallen.

Through pain blurred eyes, he saw a broken piece of desk right in front of his face. Reacting on instinct, he transfigured it into the first weapon he thought of.

The small, angry bludger tore through the chairs and desks, knocking them aside as it made a beeline for Fred.

A momentary flash of surprise on the boy's face change to one of joy, as he conjured a beater's bat and gave the incoming ball a solid whack.

"That was a silly move, Harry," the Gryffindor beater laughed, as the ball flew back and ricocheted off the floor where Harry was just a second before. "Did you think we'd get distracted by a game of Quidditch or something?"

Harry scrambled away as the bludger rebounded off the wall and headed for George, who also conjured a bat.

"I do believe young Harry may have forgotten that we are the best beaters Hogwarts has seen for a generation," he said, lining up the bludger.

Harry didn't wait for him to connect, but shattered the undefended flying ball with a Reductor curse, unexpectedly sending exploding debris to violently strike at both boys.

"Shite!" yelled Fred, getting a shield up while George was thrown backwards by the blast.

A banished chair ended Harry's brief reprieve and bashed him sidewards.

George recovered from the exploding bludger and joined Fred in continuing to rain various curses down on Harry, putting him completely on the defensive.

Dodging, shielding and summoning desks and chairs into the path of the incoming spells, Harry was forced to retreat behind the dusty old professor's desk. The smashed remains of furniture where making quite a pile around him.

Seeing the way to the door clear, the pair started edging towards it. They continued to lay down a barrage of minor hexes as covering fire while carrying a couple of chairs as shields.

Unable to hit them directly, Harry managed to fell George with a tripping jinx cast just in front of his foot. The boy went flying into the conjured swamp from earlier.

"Aarrrggghh," yelled George, his cry cut off by the muffled splosh of the shallow swamp.

Harry paid for his minor success though. Luckily it was only a hair growing spell clipping him and immediately starting to lengthen his unruly hair.

Fred took the moment of Harry's distraction to grab one of George's flailing arms and pull him out of the swamp while keeping up a shield.

Seeing he wasn't going to get anywhere hitting them directly, Harry fired a powerful exploding hex into the middle of the foul swamp. The resulting wave swept George into his brother, and knocked both of them off their feet.

Harry flipped the large wooden desk over onto its edge and cast several spells to make it impervious.

The fight was taking its toll on him and he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep up this pace. A dozen minor wounds bled copiously and his arms felt like they had been wrenched out of their sockets, several times.

Keeping the desk between him and the twins, who were already throwing hexes at his barrier, Harry pushed it along to get between them and the door, blocking off their escape.

The hair growing hex was acting much faster than a normal one, and started to become a problem. His hair was already down to his shoulders and began to get in his eyes. With the aid of the desk's cover, Harry took a few seconds to cancel the curse and shear off the excess hair with a cutting charm.

The twins' bombardment stopped, so Harry risked taking a peek around the side of his barrier to see what they were doing.

It appeared they had the same idea as him, and were hastily constructing a barricade out of broken chairs and desks.

Exhaustion was beating down on Harry like waves on a beach, and he started to feel strangely light-headed.

Punch-Drunk Sirius had called it.

"Hey guy's," laughed Harry, as he fought off exhaustion and got ready to start again." Do you think the House-elves will murder us for messing up the room?"

"Nah mate, Dobby will fix it all up. He's good like that," answered Fred.

"Dobby!" said Harry surprised. He had not seen the strange little elf since it had arrived with Lucius Malfoy after Harry returned from the Chamber. "Dobby is here? Why?"

A loud crack startled all three into firing the spells they had being preparing.

Unfortunately, Dobby the House-elf had chosen to appear exactly in the middle of the waring parties.

Harry caught a brief glimpse of the excitable elf's ecstatic expression, then a stunner, a jelly legs jinx, and something that caused large boils to appear on every square inch of exposed flesh, all collided with him at the same time.

There was a shocked silence as the combatants temporarily forgot their battle to gaze in disbelief and shock at the twitching elf.

"Bugger," said George.

"What did you do, invite the whole school along to watch?" asked Harry.

"Just the ones that don't sleep regular hours," answered Fred. "Mind you, Filch was an unexpected bonus."

The three boys smiled at each other, then realised what they were doing and simultaneously resumed the battle.

Harry found himself overwhelmed by the onslaught, and was quickly reduced to simply holding his strongest shield against their attack.

The twins evidently decided brute force was the only way they were going to overcome Harry, and opened up with everything they had.

"Reducto!" cast George.

"Flagrate!" cast Fred.

The shock of the blow hadn't faded before George was at it again. Both used spells Harry had hoped they didn't know.

"Bombardia!"

"Diffindo!"

The desk that was helping protect Harry became pulverised by the relentless bombardment, and soon the only thing between him and oblivion was his desperately held shield.

"Stupefy!" cast George, switching back to the powerful but draining stunning spell.

"Stupefy!" cast Fred as George's spell impacted on Harry's shield.

The constant exertion was catching up with them all. He was suddenly tired, so tired he could barely raise his arms to keep the wand level. Both hands clutched it desperately, forcing it to withstand the combined strength of the two older, pureblood wizards.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

Each spell was like a physical blow against him, rattling him from his teeth down to his toes as they smashed into the shield. The attack forced him backwards until he was hard up against the piled desks.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

Both boys were taking turns firing single spells now, stunners. It was tempting to give in, to let the darkness that was creeping into the corners of his visions overtake him, but he grimly held on.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. To quit now would mean returning to Azkaban for a slow death for him, and probably immediate death by Dementor kiss for Sirius.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

Harry gritted his teeth and began to push back. His shield, that seconds before was wavering on the verge of collapse, hardened and started to glow slightly. His wand grew hot in his hand, beginning to burn his palm as he forced every iota of his magical strength and will power into it.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

The pain from his blistering hand started to grow unbearable, but Harry noticed both of the twins struggling to continue shooting non-stop; the pauses between their spells becoming longer and longer. They were both pushing themselves every bit as hard as he was.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

When Fred fell to his knees, Harry dropped the shield and stuck out at George.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled, the force of the spell knocking George off his feet.

His wand sailed through the air to land in Harry's outstretched hand.

Fred's wand dropped from his fist as he fell back into a sitting position. He no longer had the strength to hold it.

"Sorry, Fred," said Harry, trying to hold his shaking wand steady.

Blood ran from his damaged palm, drenching his sleeve before dripping onto the floor.

"Sure you are," spat Fred, as viciously as he could manage.

All traces of humour were gone now; as much collateral damage victims as the ruined desks or disfigured House-elf still twitching on the ground near them.

"I am, really," said Harry, feeling even guiltier at seeing the betrayed look in Fred's eyes, "but I just can't take the risk."

"Stupefy!"


"So, back again, Albus? Have you finally decided to take my advice and make use of my wonderful tools?" said the painting, in a civil tone that somehow still sounded menacing. "Hundreds of lives went into creating those magnificent weapons. It seems a waste they all died for nothing…"

"I will never take your advice, as you well know," answered Dumbledore, limping over to one of the lavish chairs that sat in front of the desk. "The murders you committed to manufacture those monstrosities has ensured they can never be used."

It was always the same chair he sat in – the same one that he had slumped into after proving the Dark Wizard was in fact dead, and had been for months. The corpse of the would-be dictator was no longer rotting behind his desk where it had fallen, but the room somehow still smelt of death.

The painting kept up the illusion after the real man collapsed and died, broken and alone inside his fortress, by using the same device that allowed the living Grindelwald to control his armies and run his empire without leaving the confines of his barracks.

Fortunately, the painting was not able to make outgoing calls, but it was able to respond when one of the inner-circle called in. This major obstacle in controlling the strict hierarchical organisation explained many of the allies' unprecedented victories leading up to the final infiltration of the fortress.

Albus's capture of the crystal ball meant a complete loss of command for the enemy, and without their brilliant and ruthless leader, the armies faltered and fell.

The fortress was resealed with different wards and protections, many borrowed from the originals set by Grindelwald, and abandoned, with Albus vowing to one day find a way to complete the task.

"Still having trouble with your little Voldemort then, Albus?" asked the painting. "All you would have to do is release the wards on a few of the smaller machines, and they would hunt down and eradicate your annoying problem in no time. Why do you persist in allowing pride to keep you from saving lives? Don't you have any compassion left for those you are supposedly protecting?"

Dumbledore was far too old for the barbs and verbal tricks of this incarnation of evil to affect him, but he still chose to reply.

"Do you believe, after all of these years, that your perversions would suddenly tempt me?" he asked. "Do you think I am not fully aware of the level of evil that would be impossible to avoid should I control even one of your devices? I may not be able to destroy you, or your machines, yet, but I will not tempt fate by trying to control anything you have had a hand in creating."

"Then why are you here, old man?" snarled Grindelwald, his voice rising in anger and bitterness. "Come to gloat over your supposed victory over me? You know if you do not destroy me, in a thousand years my machines will be free. Your victory is but a fleeting moment against the eons the Last Reich will reign!"

"Or have you come to retrieve your pretty stone?" it asked, with a sudden change of tone.

Albus's eyes involuntarily flicked to the display case that had been empty until a mere year or so before. Inside, a blood red stone pulsed quietly with the promise of everlasting life.

Nicolas Flamel, the leader of the light during that dark time when Grindelwald sunk the planet into war, agreed to allow Albus to store the stone here, rather than destroy it. While the potential for its abuse was enormous, the possible benefits, should humanity ever rise above their petty wars and indiscretions, was far greater.

Albus doubted he would ever live long enough to see that day dawn, but he was content to know that the greatest contribution his friend made would live on, and that in this place, in the very heart of an evil that brought death to so many, amongst weapons of enormous destructive potential, a ray of hope dwelled.

He had plans to eventually bring down the wards and destroy the machines of war, and the painting that was somehow innately linked to them, but, for the moment, there was nowhere on the planet more secure for him to leave the stone.

"Not today," Albus answered, regaining control of his thoughts in preparation for the undoubtedly long mental struggle that was to follow. "Today I have a specific topic for you, one that I know from personal experience that you are intimately acquainted with."

"Tell me what you know of Horcruxes."


"You've done the right thing," Remus told a very weary and half healed Harry Potter.

Harry looked down at the stunned and bound forms of his best friend's brothers and felt differently about it. The unfortunate House-elf and caretaker were unconscious nearby, but he didn't feel too worried about them. Dobby was back to looking normal, or at least as normal as any House-elf.

"I think they only wanted to talk," he said, trying to explain his regret. "They could have just handed me in and collected the reward, but they didn't."

Sirius paced silently up and down behind the prone bodies, like a caged animal.

"It doesn't matter, Harry," the older Animagus said. "Once they found you out, it was only a matter of time before they let something slip to somebody."

"He is right," agreed Remus. "Don't worry. Removing their memory about you won't hurt them at all."

"It just doesn't feel right," complained Harry. "They are my friends, and they trusted me enough to give me a chance to talk, and now we are going to take something away from them."

"We don't have a choice," said Sirius. "We can't risk it."

A pang of loneliness throbbed in Harry chest. For a moment, he had been looking forward to have some of his old friends back, but Sirius was right.

Nothing was worth the risk of either of them being found out and sent back to Azkaban.

"How are you going to cover up what's happened here?' asked Harry, nodding at the rest of the classroom.

Around him, the remains of desks and chairs littered the floor. Burn marks and various other signs of spell damage peppered the walls. It may not be currently in use, but such devastation was unlikely to go unnoticed for long.

"It's going to be hard to make a believable memory that covers all of this."

Sirius stopped his pacing. "You're kidding right?" he said with a ghost of a smile. "We have a Squib, a House-elf, and two practical jokers, and you can't think of a way to make it all fit? It's like an old joke come to life – A Squib and an Elf go into a bar…"

"Well, look what I found," interrupted Remus.

He lifted a slightly tattered and worn looking square of parchment from one of the twin's robes.

"No. Is that what I think it is?" asked Sirius, sounding awed. "Incredible."

"It is indeed, Mr Padfoot," agreed Remus. "I never expected to ever see this again."

"What is it?" asked Harry, trying to see what it was on the seemingly blank parchment that had the two Marauders in wonder.

"That there is one of the finest magical artefacts ever created," said Sirius. "Once, it was considered by some very knowledgeable people to be the very pinnacle of magical device manufacture."

"And no doubt a lot of the reason why your two friends managed to gain the reputation they previously enjoyed," added Remus.

Then he stopped and looked thoughtful.

"This how they discovered you, Harry," he said.

Sirius nodded in agreement. "Brilliant deduction, Mr Moony."

"Here," said Remus handing the parchment over. "Tap it with your wand and say "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Harry was sceptical, half expecting it to explode or something, but did as told.

Immediately, thin lines raced to fill up the page, covering it in a map that showed every corner of the school, and every person in it. Tiny footprints walked across the page, tracing exactly where everybody was at that precise moment.

"Wow," said Harry appreciatively.

"Wow?" asked Sirius. "Is that all you can say? Wow? Mr Padfoot fears, Mr Moony, that this uneducated lout fails to recognise true greatness when he sees it."

"Mr Moony agrees, and blames it on the failings of the younger generation," answered Remus.

It was then that Harry read the words across the top of the page.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are proud to present

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

"The Marauders," whispered Harry reverently.

"Ahh. It would seem young Mr Tweety has some inkling of how special an item he is holding, after all," said Sirius proudly. "I told you he had potential."

"Indeed, Mr Padfoot, indeed," agreed Remus. "Unfortunately it complicates the memory we need to create, since we can't let the Weasley's keep it."

"It'll be a darn sight easier to find the Rat if he comes back into the school though," said Sirius, looking at the page in Harry's hand almost hungrily. "Pity we never got to cover the forest and Hogsmeade."

"Guys," interrupted Harry, thinking quickly. "How about letting the twins meet a Marauder?"

Sirius immediately looked dubious, and Remus worried, possibly considering the effect it could have on his professional reputation at the school.

"Even without them knowing about Sirius and me, they could still be really helpful," said Harry quickly, rushing to explain his idea before they decided against it. "They can help get things, like more food and supplies from the kitchens without making the elves think you have an eating disorder, Remus. It won't take much of an excuse to ask them to do it for you, and think of the pranks we can do with a bit more help."

Sirius looked at Remus, and a smile slowly grew on both of their faces.


Ron banged on the door to Hagrid's cabin as hard as he could.

Inside he could hear a soft sobbing, as if the man was crying, but he refused to answer Ron or Hermione's calls.

"Open up, Hagrid, or I'll use my wand and blow your door open," threatened Ron, taking his wand out.

It was a new wand, gifted to him after his release from hospital by his guilt ridden parents. Even though it felt great to have one that matched him perfectly, he couldn't help have some negative feelings from how he came to own it.

"I mean it, Hagrid," shouted Ron, starting to lose patience. "We are not going away until you open up and let us in. I'll give you until three."

Hermione took out her own wand, nodding to Ron to signal she would open the door, probably in a less destructive manner than how he was currently planning.

"One."

They heard a change in the noise from inside, but the door remained shut.

'Two."

There was a scraping on the other side of the door, as if somebody was fumbling with the lock.

"Three-"

Just as Ron started, the door swung open to reveal a bleary eyed and possibly still drunk Rubeus Hagrid.

"Go away," the giant of a man mumbled. "Don' wan' yer 'ere! Don' wan' 'yer seen visitin' a criminal."

"Don't be silly, Hagrid," said Hermione, somehow pushing past the huge man. "Let's go inside and have some tea."

Ron quickly followed, startled at Hermione's rather rash seeming actions.

Some time later, the three sat around Hagrid's table holding bucket sized cups. Neither Ron nor Hermione knew the sobering charm yet. It was not taught at Hogwarts until seventh year, and the lucky recipients kept it a secret from everybody younger.

Hagrid sat swaying slowly in his seat, telling them his woes.

"So they're gonna kill Buckbeak, without a trial, and probably lock me up again," wailed Hagrid. "All because I let 'im attack a student."

"Hagrid, we were there, and so was Grubby-Plank. We saw what Malfoy did, he deserved what he got," argued Ron. "It's not like you were the professor in charge or anything."

"Obviously that doesn't make a difference to Malfoy senior," said Hermione disgustedly. "He will do whatever he can to discredit Professor Dumbledore. Look, Hagrid, we'll see what we can do. Surely the fact there was so many witnesses must carry some weight for the Headmaster."

"Maybe," conceded Hagrid wearily. "But he's got a bit on his plate at the moment, trying to find a way to prove 'arry's innocent an' all. McGonagall's gonna go to the Ministry to try and fight it, but they're all messing 'bout with this vote thingy - bleeding Lockhart."

Ron shot Hermione a look, and she took the hint. Carefully taking the fang from her bag, she laid it on the table and began to unwrap it.

"Hagrid, we found something, something we think could be important," she said, removing the last layer of cloth so that the fang lay uncovered on the table. "Can you tell us what creature this came from?"

"Careful," she warned, as he clumsily reached out a massive hand. "We are pretty sure it's deadly. You can see poison still leaking from the end."

Hagrid withdrew his hand quickly, and squinted his eyes in concentration.

"She's a right beauty, Hermione. Where'd ya get 'er?" he said, looking closely at the fang.

"Er, we'd rather not say, yet," answered Hermione.

Hagrid didn't even blink, but stretched out his hand again to pick up the fang, turning it carefully to examine every inch of its surface.

"I ain't ever seen a fang like this one," he said, his slightly slurred voice full of awe. "It's a bit like a snake, but no snake's big enough to grow 'at monster. It's not dragon – too fine a grain. Look at the age lines – It's 'undreds of years old!"

Suddenly he looked up at the two students.

"Where'd you say you got this then?" he asked, penetrating beetle-black eyes looking far more sober than they had just a moment ago.

Hermione gulped, and Ron realised Hagrid wasn't quite as dim as people generally thought he was.

"We can't tell you, Hagrid," said Ron, "but I think you know what it is, don't you?"

"It's a Basilisk fang, aint it?" asked Hagrid, his hands starting to tremble. "You've gotten it from the Basilisk that 'arry killed."

"Not us," answered Ron. "Somebody has, but not us."

"I told 'em it was me that let the beast out, just like they reckoned," said Hagrid, putting the fang back down on table and suddenly sounding very tired. "When they said it was 'arry, I tried telling 'em they were wrong, I said t'was me, but none of 'em took me word for it. Laughed and kicked me out on me behind."

Hermione gasped, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth as Ron felt his stomach twist into a knot.

"Hagrid! How could you do that?" Hermione asked. "How could you risk being convicted? You could have been given the Dementor's Kiss if they had believed you!"

Ron didn't have to ask. He knew why Hagrid had done it. If he was ever faced with a similar situation, he could only wish that he would have a tenth of courage the gentle giant displayed in trying to take the blame for Harry.

"I 'ad to, Hermione," Hagrid slurred tiredly, tears welling in his eyes as his voice started to fade and his head drooped towards the table top. "I couldn't let 'em take little 'arry away without trying sum'in."

"And Dumbledore wouldn't let me thump 'em-"

Then his head fell onto the table with a noisy thump.

As loud snores reverberated through the room, the two astounded teenagers cleaned up and left quietly, only disturbing the sleeping man slightly when Hermione insisted on draping a thick woollen blanket over his shoulders, and impulsively placed a gentle kiss on his enormous hairy cheek.


The hospital wing of Hogwarts was not an interesting place, especially when you weren't actually hurt anymore.

It was one thing to be allowed to spend the whole day in bed, away from classes and being pampered by the fussy nurse, but it only took a day of it before most were 'chaffing at the bit' to get out.

Even for Draco, skiving off classes was only been fun for the first half of a day. Get well cards and the perverse amusements to be had watching the endless cavalcade of students visiting the nurse for any manner of supposed 'ailments', grew tiresome very quickly.

Many of those visits took place inside the nurse's private office, behind closed doors. Draco was quite interested in what embarrassing or scandalous secrets might be airing in the room, but not enough to try listening in, lest he be caught and gain a detention.

After being discharged, he had managed to get out of quite a bit of work by insisting on keeping his slightly aching arm in a bandage and sling. It had been good for a lark, and even gained him a bit of sympathy here and there.

Now it was time to take it off, but instead of the visit to the infirmary taking ten minutes for the bumbling woman to declare him fully healed, he found himself waiting while she consoled a plain looking seventh year Ravenclaw girl, probably weeping about some mystery ailment or another.

The opportunity presented while nurse and her charge locked themselves in the office and performed whatever meaningless functions were required in these pathetic situations, was too good to pass up.

On his first night in the hospital, something suspicious happened, with lots of hushed whispering and people sneaking about at odd hours.

When he woke the next morning, there was apparently nothing different in the room, and there weren't any other patients that could have been part of the late-night hustle and bustle.

It wasn't until much later that he realised something was wrong with one of the beds, or rather, he discovered that he hadn't been able to notice it at all. The long boring hours with nothing to do left him wondering about that, but no opportunity to investigate came up.

Concentrating now, he could tell there was a bed in the far corner enclosed in curtains that were trying very hard not to be noticed.

Luckily, Draco was used to things trying to hide themselves while in plain view, and he knew a few tricks to make sure the existence of the mystery bed and its occupant did not slip his mind.

Careful not to stare at it directly, he approached the corner and moved the drapes away without looking at them. As he suspected, behind the heavily charmed curtains, the bed carried a single patient.

What he wasn't expecting was for it to be the Weasley girl, Ginny.

Initially, he thought having the lard-brain weasel-boy and that ugly Mudblood cow back at school would be great fun, but both were proving difficult to torment adequately.

It was infuriating that, with his father rapidly gaining unprecedented authority and prestige, Draco found himself almost powerless to affect the three people in the world he despised the most.

The weasel just laughed whenever Draco tried to taunt him about his time spent in the lunatic asylum or his poverty, and the Mudblood usually just plain ignored him, as if he wasn't worth the effort of responding to!

Potter was just plain missing of course, the coward. Hopefully his naked, mutilated corpse would show up sooner rather than later. That'd give him some ammunition they would have to respond to.

However, things were steadily declining since Potty-head's two sidekicks came back. The Gryffindors were rallying behind the pathetic duo, treating them like heroes or something.

Even the useless 'puffs and stuck-up 'claws were starting to show cheek, after nearly a year of being solidly trodden underfoot in every possible way.

Not helping the situation was how somebody seemed to be getting away with playing an inordinate number of pranks on his house, and Draco in particular. It hadn't taken the boy long to discover professor Snape was blaming the new DADA teacher, Lupin, for the targeting of Slytherin, but the quiet man didn't appear to dislike Draco especially.

Draco realised Snape hated Lupin for some reason he was not at liberty to discuss, but couldn't agree that the fairly straight-laced professor could be responsible for everything that was happening, even if his pet mutt did seem overly intelligent and was patrolling the school like Filch's scrawny cat.

Now though, Draco had a fourth target for his hatred, one that was not only helpless, but intimately connected to his other three foes.

She lay on her back on the bed, both arms across her chest, as if already dead and ready for a coffin. Her skin was deathly pale against the shock of red hair cascading over the cushion. She appeared to have lost a lot of weight since last being seen at the school, although her face somehow seemed older for it.

Cautiously, he gave her shoulder a little shake, to see if she would wake up. When she didn't respond, he grinned and shook her steadily harder, eventually rocking her head from side to side with his rough pushing, but still not eliciting any reaction.

Draco leaned over her, his heart pounding with tense excitement, and reached out a hand to run down her cold, unresponsive cheek. The faint web-work of scars from Potter's attack was surprisingly as smooth as the unbroken skin.

She is quite pretty, he realised, especially now that she had lost the baby-fat. It was a pity she was a pauper and a blood traitor.

He slowly brought his hand around to encompass her throat, and squeezed gently. Under the slight pressure of his fingers, he could feel her sluggish pulse and the shallow intake and exhale of her breath.

The thrill of her powerlessness was intoxicating.

Almost regretfully, he let go of his grip, and lingeringly drew his hand down the soft folds of her neck until it came to rest on a book that her cold, stiff hands held over her heart.

A tingle of magic ran up his hand as it encountered the tome. He could feel the tendrils of some sort of spell binding it to her chest. Possibly it was something the nurse or headmaster had done to assist in her recovery – hadn't Potter claimed something about a diary at his trial?

He tried to lift the battered book from her lifeless grip. The spell holding it resisted and refused to release its magical binding.

A noise from the nurse's office put an instant stop to his activities. Prior experience told him she was almost done with her visitor and was starting the cleanup of tea cups that usually signalled the end of a 'consultation'.

Draco let go the old book and raced back to his seat, making it just as the nurse left her office to come check on him.

"You are looking a bit peaked, Mr Malfoy," she said, seeing his flushed face and noticing his heavy breathing. "Perhaps you need to spend another week on the potions."

Draco groaned, realising he might have just condemned himself to another visit to the hospital wing.

Well at least now I have something more interesting than the blunderings of that oaf of a grounds keeper to put in my next report to father, he growled inwardly.


Chaos reigned in the main hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Students ran hither and thither, yelling and squealing as a rain of purple frogs fell from the oddly coloured ceiling onto the assembled breakfast crowd.

The teachers were just beginning to move, some casting charms to protect the students while others began working on the apparently malfunctioning thousand year old roof enchantment.

Minerva McGonagall knew better.

The Weasley Twins were back, and it appeared they were going to make up for lost time.

She fought to suppress a grin. Her recent days had not been filled with much to smile about, but now she felt like laughing aloud, and not just for the amusing prank causing the disturbance.

In a brief second before the amphibian downpour began, she watched the identical Weasley siblings give a secretive nod towards somebody at the staff table.

At that precise moment, Minerva realised she had willingly assisted in placing one of the infamous Marauders into a position of authority within the very institution that originally spawned the rise of their perverted genius.

It was difficult to reconcile the current image of the greying D.A.D.A Professor with the memory of the fun and mischievous loving student of her past, but not impossible.

Especially not now that he had apparently obtained two equally gifted apprentices.

If she had eyes for anything other than the calmly smiling professor, she might have noticed a black dog sitting in a corner watching her intently, the canine equivalent of a grin on its face.