Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or his wonderful world...

A/N: Wow. Where did two years go..? Anyway, for those that managed to keep this story in their 'alert' list, thankyou! If you're still reading, that is! Enjoy :)


Pacing in the Slytherin common room, Harry was fuming, whilst Blaise was trying to make some sense of what he was saying.

"Dumbledore will have the answers. He always does, I mean, who is this Sirius Black? Surely if he wasn't the killer then they wouldn't have locked him up in the first place!" Running his hand through his hair, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"What could possibly make them think they have the wrong person?" Harry flopped back on to the closest lounge, and before Blaise could say anything, an owl swooped in to the room and landed at Harry's feet.

Harry let it sit there for a few minutes, until Blaise couldn't help himself.

"Potter, why is there an owl at your feet?"

Harry's reply was mumbled since he moved his hands over his face to hide from reality. "Dunno. Find out?"

"It's a letter that has your name on it. Ow!" Blaise hissed at the bird and withdrew his hand to inspect the bite. "Won't let me get it."

Harry groaned and sat up and reached for the owl, petting it before sliding the letter out from its bindings.

Harry,

Visit my office at lunch today; it is located first floor beside the Gargoyles near the North Tower. 'Sherbet Lemon'

Dumbledore

Harry sighed once more, noticing that the owl had left the room. "Dumbledore wants to see me again."

"Again?" Blaise frowned.

Oh yeah, I haven't mentioned that before. "Yeah, Dumbledore and I meet every now and then. He's..., how should I put this, interested in my life?"

Blaise gave a 'hmph' sound as he flopped on the other lounge.

Not a moment later, another owl swooped in to their common room. This time though, Harry recognised her as Hedwig. Knowing who the letter would be from this time, he sat up, petted the owl and untied the letter from the Owl's leg. Getting a friendly nip in response, Harry muttered to Hedwig that he'd see her later, and as she swooped back out of the room, Harry lent back on the lounge he was currently leaning on, and read Ginny's letter.

Dear Harry,

A Slytherin! I bet Ron isn't talking to you, is he? You know how he hates that house! I think you making Slytherin house is really cool, maybe I can become a Slytherin when I get to Hogwarts next year too, you'll just have to tell me your secret!

Draco Malfoy, wasn't he that really blonde haired boy from Diagon Alley a few years ago? He was pretty glad to meet us too, but I remember Dad saying not to associate with Malfoys, apparently they were big supporters of You-Know-Who. Just be careful of who you talk to in that House, Charlie says that most evil pureblood families are sorted in to Slytherin!

Anyway Harry, it's not as fun around the Burrow without you here, mum keeps trying to do stuff with me, but it's just so weird! I can't wait for Christmas break!

Missing you,

Ginny.

Diagon Alley! That was where he remembered that mop of hair from. Boy, has Malfoy changed since then, Harry thought.

Without noticing, Pansy Parkinson had slipped in to the common room and sat on one of the chairs opposite Harry. Harry didn't realise until he'd finished the letter, only to place it down on his lap and see Pansy watching him.

"Hey Potter," she said casually.

"Geez Parkinson, at least let someone know when you're gonna creep in on them!"

"Well, seeing as we are in the Common Room, I'm not really creeping up on anyone. Besides, Z saw me come in." She grinned at Blaise, who had sat up from his sprawled position on the lounge.

"Whatever."

"Look, Potter – Harry, you shouldn't listen to what Theo is saying, he's got his head twisted on backwards and doesn't make sense half the time."

"It's not only his head he's got twisted on backwards," mumbled Harry.

"He'll probably try to rile you up, just because you're Potter," She shrugged, "you know, the Boy-Who-Lived. All I'm saying is, don't let him get to you." Pansy stood up and wandered off in the direction of the girls dorms.

"I think that's the nicest thing Pansy has ever said to anyone!" Blaise commented.

"What do you mean?" Harry looked inquisitorially at Blaise.

"Well, Pansy is a pureblood for starters. They watch out for their own and that's about it. But then again, purebloods always try to take the winning side. Maybe there is something Parkinson sees in you..." He trailed off in thought.

By the time lunch time came around, Harry had a headache. All through his morning classes he couldn't help but mull over the article he had read at breakfast. At least Dumbledore will be able to answer my questions, thought Harry as he made his way to the Gargoyles on the first floor.

When the Gargoyles finally made their appearance, Harry saw the Professor arrive and stop. He jogged the last corridor to the Gargoyles where he heard Dumbledore mutter Sherbet Lemon. Before Harry could ask about the candy, he watched in amazement as the Gargoyle jumped to the left and the wall behind it became a spiral staircase. Stepping on to it, Harry and Dumbledore stood in companionable silence until they reached the office.

"Harry, my dear boy, how was your first day of classes?" The old teacher took his seat behind the wooden desk. Harry pondered the question as he gazed about the room at the gadgets and gizmos surrounding the walls and tabletops. Well, he made an enemy or two, made the Quidditch team, won some house points and can't understand why Ron was avoiding him.

"Good." He surmised

"I can't help but notice you left breakfast early this morning. May I ask why?"

Harry paused for a moment, wondering where to begin. "Sir, who is Sirius Black?" Might as well start somewhere, and where best to start than the one question clouding his thoughts?

"Ah. I should have known you would have seen that paper this morning. After all, when do you not read The Daily Prophet?" He chuckled slightly before sighing and placing his hands on the desk in front of him.

"Take a seat, Harry." Harry sat. "What you need to know, my dear boy, is that the article you read this morning is something far beyond what you need to worry about. You see, their 'reliable source' is merely an illusion of what I think the truth may be. Harry, do you know what a pensieve is?"

"Uh... No, Sir."

"Harry, a pensieve is an object that allows you to see your own memories from a different perspective. When your mind becomes too full and boggled, such as mine from its many years of service, a pensieve allows me to watch what I remember in the hope to catch any minor details that cannot be seen from the eye. Do you understand?"

Harry frowned in concentration, "I think so sir, but what does this have to do with Sirius Black?" he looked up at the headmaster, confusion clouding his features.

"Now, Harry, think back to when we spoke previously, in all those conversations we had, what do you remember about your fathers friends?"

Harry thought back, but couldn't recall much about what had been said about his father's friends. He remembered that he had quite a few friends, but why had Dumbledore not mentioned them before? Vaguely he remembered something about one of them being a prefect, and another one was a mischief maker with his dad, kind of like Fred and George. But no, he couldn't recall anything further.

"Not much, Sir," Harry rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort.

"That's okay, Harry. Do you remember me mentioning your father was a mischief maker?"

"I do, sir. Just like Fred and George are?"

"That's correct. Well, there was one other boy your father was really close with, I believe. They had many detentions for breaking the rules, and I believe your father's friend moved in with your grandparents once in their sixth year."

"Sir—''

"Harry, I'm not telling you this to make you think badly of your father, he was exceptionally talented. Did you know that he was a beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Mind you, he didn't get on the team first year" Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing look.

"My father was a beater?" Harry sounded shocked.

"Yes, he was. Anyway, back on topic, after your parents left school and got married, they anointed your dad's best friend as your godfather."

Harry thought about that for a moment. He had a godfather? Weren't they supposed to look after you once your own parents couldn't anymore? What happened to him?

"Harry, there is something about that night your parents died that I can't put my finger on. You see, your parents used a fidelius charm; a charm that allowed them to go in to hiding from You-Know-Who. What I can't find though, is one piece of the puzzle that would make everything fall in to place."

"What do you mean sir?" Harry was very confused by this stage, he knew his parents had died the night he got his scar, and that it was You-Know-Who that had found them. But what was the fidelius charm for if it couldn't stop him from finding them?

"I want you, Harry, to leave it to me for now. I need more time to work on the puzzle pieces. I don't want to give you the wrong story, so what I want you to do is when you read any articles in The Daily Prophet, put it aside, and we can discuss it more when I discover what I need to discover. Understand?"

"Yes, sir; but can't I help with the puzzle?"

"No, Harry. You have more pressing matters at hand; do you not have to be at the Quidditch pitch this evening with one Mr Flint? Just beware, Harry, of those in your House, you never know how Slytherin a Slytherin may be until they want you to know. Now off to class," Dumbledore watched Harry as he vacated his current seat and left the office in thought, no doubt about what he meant about the Slytherins.

xxxxxxxxx

After making his way through a light dinner, and trying to avoid the topic of the looming evening he was to spend with Flint, Harry was collected from the front doors by none other than Quidditch captain Marcus Flint. The teenager, that resembled a gorilla, meandered over to Harry and grunted in a motion to get moving. Harry, not wanting to agitate him more than he already looked, ducked his head and turned around to head towards the Quidditch pitch.

"So, Potter. Played before?"

"Uh, yeah. I've played with my brothers since I was about 4, but nothing competitive."

Flint dropped a chest unceremoniously in front of Harry and clicked open the locks.

"Okay good. That makes my job easier. I take it you know the Quaffle?"

"Yeah, that's the one that looks like a big beach ball" Harry said more to himself than to Flint, but he picked up on it anyway.

"A beach ball?"

"Yeah, it's a muggle ball they take to play with at the beach..." Harry tried explaining.

"Ugh. Muggle things." He shuddered slightly before lifting up one of the latches that was holding a bludger. Harry hadn't actually seen a proper bludger; they'd just used an ordinary ball from their shed. "Here, take this." Harry was handed a bat and before he got his bearings set, Flint had released the holdings on one of the bludgers that was shuddering in the box. It was like it had its own mind, and flew off as quickly as possible. Once it reached an incredible height, it did a 180 and plummeted straight back down to where Harry stood. Swinging like a madman, Harry managed to crack the bludger, which went soaring off in a different direction, and was praised by Flint with a 'you'd make a fair beater'. Once the bludger was back in the box, Harry was handed a tiny golden ball with intricate markings on it.

"This is the Snitch. Catch this, and you win 150 house points, but just remember to keep an ear out for the score, you don't want to catch it and then loose." Harry placed the Snitch in to his palm, and slowly its wings unfurled. Pale as the sun's rays, they shimmered in the moonlight before gathering a speed that could not be kept up with by human eyes. As it lifted out of Harry's hand, Harry watched it in amazement, how could such a tiny ball cause so much damage? He'd read in Quidditch Through the Ages of games where the Seeker had become indisposed more times than not, and he just hoped that he wouldn't be another statistic after his first game.

Once Flint had the snitch back in his grasp, he got Harry to do a few laps of the pitch, just to see how he handled a broom. After about four laps, he them made Harry fly up high, close his eyes and count to ten. Flint would then release the snitch, and Harry would have to find it and catch it, each time he was being timed and was expected to beat it each go. After about an hour, where Harry's hair clung to his face from sweat, Flint bade him hit the showers, and gave him the schedule for their team's training on their way back to the castle. Harry grimaced, he was going to have to train Tuesdays and Thursdays, and somehow manage to fit in his homework and assignments, he sighed, hoping he wouldn't disgrace his fellow team members, or his house for that matter.

Harry had crept quietly back in to the dorm room to grab his pyjamas and towel and went for a shower. As he stood under the steamy hot water, he wondered why Professor Snape had wanted his addition to the team kept quiet.

Xxxxxxxx

Managing to get up in time for breakfast the following morning, he had another quick flip through Blaise's copy of The Daily Prophet and huffed in disappointment; "nothing new, just the same 'ministry has new information regarding the case of Sirius Black', seriously, can't they say what it is they have?" He threw the paper back down on to the table, nearly knocking over his pumpkin juice.

"Potter, you know how the ministry work, they have to run trials and everything, it's surprising enough that the knowledge of the new information has even reached the media, I reckon they've got someone on the inside." Blaise looked up from his toast and raised his eyebrows at Harry as if to challenge what he'd said.

Scooping some lumpy porridge in to his bowl, Harry scowled. "Well let's hope whoever it is doesn't get caught. I remember reading about someone who spoke too loudly about what they found out in the ministry, and one day they just disappeared." Harry dropped a large dollop of honey on to his porridge and began mixing it in.

"People don't just disappear, Potter" Blaise looked at him disbelievingly.

"Well that's what dad told me! And he works for the ministry!"

Xxxxxxxxx

The first few weeks of the term had passed, and Harry had barely had any time to ponder the puzzle of Sirius Black. What with his secret Quidditch practices, those that he had to cover from his housemates by varying excuses each night, and the amount of homework he was getting and the time he had to squeeze in to get it complete. He had found himself in the library more often than not, just in order to get by some of the several feet long essays he had been set, mostly by Professor Snape.

Harry was beginning to worry about all the hard effort he had put in to trying to get Ron to like him, as it seemed he had not want anything to do with Harry ever since being sorted into Slytherin. He had thought Ginny would be right, and that he would come round, but it had been four weeks since their sorting, and Ron still chose to skim right over him as if he didn't exist. He figured that if things weren't sorted out by Christmas, then he would just have to face Ron at home where he couldn't keep avoiding him.

Harry's lessons were getting more interesting; going against what Percy had been saying, it wasn't all theory, and Harry was thankful. He enjoyed the practical part of his classes far more than writing useless garbage over and over again, even if it would help him understand the practical work better.

He had managed to earn quite a few more points in the Potions classroom at the least, although he wasn't sure if it was because he was good at the class or if his Professor just overly abused the point system and his favouritism for his house. Although he did still pick on Harry more often than not, and delighted in giving him a pop quiz whenever he deemed it appropriate.

A bit of a downer though, was the Transfiguration class. Harry had been looking forward to it as much as his flying lessons, and was quite put down by the professor when she seemed to pick on him for answers too. He had tried his hardest to understand the theory behind the transfiguring of objects both inanimate and animate, but he couldn't quite grasp 'the most complex form of magic there is'. That was, until he had run into Hermione Granger again, in the library of course.

She had been working on the same essay that Harry had headed in there to work on, and when he realised that she had taken one of the books that he figured may help him out with the essay, he meandered over to where she sat, surrounded by both text books and multiple rolls of parchment.

"Were you by any chance using the Beginner's Transfiguration textbook?" He asked her softly, so as not to attract the attention of one Ms Pince.

"Oh! Hi Harry. Uh, yeah I think I have finished with it though. I found the most useful thing for our essay was in the second chapter. Here," she handed him the book that she was leaning on to write her essay.

"Oh cool, thanks for your help. Hermione, wasn't it? You were helping Longbottom find his toad on the train?" He asked as he flipped through the book.

"Yes, that's me. Neville got sorted into Hufflepuff though, so I only have a few classes with him. How's the almighty Slytherin house treating you, anyway?" She shuffled some of the rolls of parchment off the table, and gestured for Harry to sit down opposite.

"Well, surprisingly well, I guess. From everything that I had heard about the house, I thought they were going to be downright horrid or something, but, you know, us first years are somewhat friendly towards each other; at least in front of the other houses. It all changes once we're all cooped up in the dormitories though, it's as if they're all trying to win some form of glory or something. It's crazy."

"Sounds, intriguing… I for one have found that all the other Ravenclaws don't study as much as I had first thought. Most of them are Quidditch fanatics, and are training terribly hard for their first match. I had thought after reading Hogwarts: A History that I might actually have found somewhere I could really fit in, but there are only a few others who seem more focused on their school work and the upcoming exams than the first Quidditch match." She put the lid of her ink bottle back on and made sure it was screwed tightly before tossing it in to her shoulder bag, along with her three spare quills that were resting atop some scribbled parchment.

"So I take it you aren't trying out for the team?" Harry smiled jokingly.

"Haha Harry, very funny. You know, it's very rare that a first year even gets on the team. I think I read in Hogwarts: a History that the last first year to make a house team was back before the 1900s."

"Yeah, something along the lines of a century, I read it in Quidditch Through the Ages. Anyway, thanks for the book, Hermione. I'll see you round?" Harry stood, putting the Transfiguration book into his bag.

"Uh, sure. We have DADA classes together don't we?"

"Oh yeah, that we do!" Harry gave her a smile and waved goodbye.

Xxxxxxx

Back in the common room that night, Blaise and Pansy cornered Harry and asked him why he wasn't at the Quidditch team tryouts that afternoon but still managed to get his name on the team list that had been posted on the noticeboard an hour ago.

"Well, remember our first flying lesson? And Nott stole Longbottom's remembrall and I chased him to get it back? And then I almost got expelled? Well, instead of getting expelled, I got a week of detention and I was assigned as Seeker for the team…" Harry trailed off not looking them in the eye.

"And why, in the name of Merlin, did you not think it was okay to tell us?" Pansy had her hands on her hips and was frowning at him.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and avoided her stares, "Professor Snape told me not to tell anyone. And well, I assumed he meant everyone…" He trailed off again.

"And if Professor Snape told you to jump off the Astronomy Tower, would you do that too?" Blaise asked sarcastically.

Harry thought about that for a moment. Of course he wouldn't want to jump, but I mean, it's Professor Snape…

"Well.."

"Why would you even hesitate to answer that?! What are you? Some masochistic moron or something?!" Pansy yelled at him. They got a few looks, and were told to be quiet; Pansy just rolled her eyes, grabbed Harry's arm and moved him over to a more secluded corner of the room.

"Look, I get that he told you not to tell, and I get that you don't want to be on his bad side, but that doesn't mean it excludes us! We're friends, Potter. As much as you don't want to admit it!" Pansy whispered furiously to him.

"Of course I'd admit to that! What do you take me for?" Harry scowled; his friends really thought he wouldn't want to be acquainted with them? He thought they'd been through that before.

"She obviously thinks you're a, what was it Pans? A "masochistic moron?" Blaise grinned.

Harry scowled at Blaise, and Pansy agreed. "That's exactly right. Now next time, don't think that we're included in the 'don't tell anyone' orders, got it Potter?"

"But I—" Harry was cut off by Pansy's glare.

"Okay fine, I'll stop keeping things from you guys. Now can I go to bed?"

Pansy finally let the frown drop and took her hands off her hips. "Sure!" She smiled and skipped back to where Millicent was sitting, sat down beside her and started gossiping about who knows what.

Despite saying he was going to go to bed, Harry quickly grabbed some parchment and a quill, sat down at the little desk that was in their dorm, and wrote a quick letter to Ginny.

Dear Ginny,

How is the Burrow without everyone else around? Quiet, I bet! I thought I'd keep you up to date with the happenings of Slytherin, so here it is. Firstly, I made the Quidditch team as Seeker! Yeah, Snape told me I'm the youngest player in a century, cool huh? Secondly, Ron's still being a prat, but unfortunately I can't do much about that, he refuses to even acknowledge I exist. And lastly, even though I don't talk to Malfoy much, he's not a bad roomie. It could have been worse; I could have been stuck with Theodore Nott. Now there's a Slytherin I'd rather Nott know at all! But I've gotten to know Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, and as I said in my very first letter, Slytherins really aren't as bad as I first thought!

Well, time for bed. See you in a few weeks!

Harry.