AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Sorry for the long delay; meatspace has a way of derailing your plans a bit. By way of apology, have a double-length chapter. Hopefully you won't have to wait as long for the next one.

I heard Fudge inhale so sharply that I thought he was going to pop his lungs, but then the rodent spasmed, expanding abruptly and bursting the cage. When he stopped growing, I thought he'd gotten stuck partway for a moment, since his human form still retained a distinct air of 'rat'. Short, balding, with prominent front teeth and small, rodent-ish eyes, Peter Pettigrew stood before us in his full glory. Such as it was.

The minister of magic was kind of goggling, and the two aurors had their wands out, although both of them were casting covert glances at Dumbledore, who had produced his wand at some point, and, thinking back, probably had something to do with Wormtail's abrupt return to humanity.

Ron had fallen over backwards in utter shock, staring at his former pet, and even I was feeling a bit ill. Ron was a good kid, and a good... friend?.. and didn't really deserve that. Then again, little Harry hadn't deserved having his parents killed either. Life never has been fair.

Since I wasn't sure why I'd consider Ron a friend, given that the age gap just made relating on any meaningful level nearly impossible... even if we were the same age, sort of... I turned my attention to Dumbledore and Fudge.

Dumbledore was saying, perfectly calmly, "Information came to me recently, Minister, and my own investigations bore it out, so I chose to act on it. After all, it would be a terrible thing to keep an innocent man in Azkaban, would it not?"

Fudge was puffing and blowing like he was about to have a stroke, and not terribly coherent. Pettigrew, meanwhile, looked like he was wishing he could disappear, but he'd have more luck spontaneously learning to bypass the Hogwarts anti-teleport ward than he would getting away from under the watchful wands of Dumbledore and two top aurors.

The headmaster, of course, wasn't finished. "You may wish to investigate his forearm, Cornelius, if you doubt me."

The minister kind of twitched, which Kingsley inerpreted as a direction to follow Dumbledore's instructions. Either that or he was simply used to doing what Dumbledore said. He certainly wouldn't be the only one. He didn't even need to move, he was so tall. He just leaned forwards and grabbed Pettigrew's arm, jerking his sleeve up.

This time the minister of magic actually made a noise, a kind of despairing whimper. Clearly visible on Wormtail's forearm was a vivid scarlet skull with a snake oozing out of the jaw.

"The Dark Mark." Dawlish half-whispered.

Then his jaw firmed. "Alright, you. I hope you're looking forwards to Azkaban, because you're never seeing anywhere else."

The tough-looking auror stepped forwards, grabbing Pettigrew by the arm hard enough to make the pudgy little rat yelp. He deftly extracted Wormtail's wand with a casual flick of his own, then hauled him away, storming out the door and down the stairs out of Dumbledore's office, apparently intent on hauling him off to Azkaban right that second.

Dumbledore, however, just cleared his throat, and Dawlish froze two steps down, Pettigrew peering back nervously.

"Peter will have his time before the Wizengamot, John. For the time being, I believe that the holding cells below the court will do." he said with calm seriousness.

Dawlish just nodded sharply, and Wormtail looked slightly green at being hauled out into the public eye. Dumbledore's interjection seemed to have given him back his voice, though, and he started to beg. Unable to kneel properly in Dawlish's grip, he sort of sagged around him, his eyes darting from Dumbledore to Fudge.

"Oh please, give me another chance, I'll be loyal, I'll..." he started.

At that point, I decided he needed some motivation to go in quietly, and stepped forward.

"You killed my parents as surely as if you'd held the wand yourself, Wormtail." I growled. Squeakily. Hell's Bells, but puberty would almost be worth it just so I didn't have to sound like this anymore. "And if you get any bright ideas about running off... just remember which side of Azkaban's walls Sirius is going to be on this time tomorrow. If I were you, the idea of hard walls of stone and law between you and him would be comforting on those cold nights, when you remember that you've betrayed everyone who ever cared for you in exchange for nothing."

Pettigrew cringed back from the fury in my eyes. I wasn't acting. I knew too well what being orphaned did to a child, and what growing up without love was like.

I turned away, but paused and glanced back over my shoulder, pinning him with my gaze, not even trying to hide the bitter fury in my voice. "And if you do run, and Sirius doesn't get you? I will. Azkaban is too good for you."

Then I turned away and kept stonily silent as Wormtail was dragged off, trying to ignore the looks I was getting. Fudge looked confused, Ron slightly impressed, Hermione like she wanted to roll her eyes, Dumbledore a bit worried, and Kingsley just looked... interested.

As Dawlish and Pettigrew started back down the stairs, Wormtail found his voice.

"My master will save me! Lord Voldemort will return, and when he does..." he started, before Dawlish cut him off.

"You-know-who has been back for months, Pettigrew. Isn't all that interested in you, now is he?" the older Auror said, sounding irritated.

Wormtail fell silent after that, something that should have worried me at the time, but I had other things on my mind right then. Mostly Dumbledore, who was giving me a very stern look.

Thankfully, anything he was going to say was interrupted by Fudge, who didn't seem to be all that eager to remain in premises that had housed a mass-murderer so recently. I wouldn't have escaped that easily even then, since Dumbledore ordered us in no uncertain terms to wait in his office while he escorted Fudge out (at the latter's insistence). But the second he got back, Hermione wheeled on me and demanded an explanation for all the people popping up in Hogwarts, since you simply couldn't do that.

Again thankfully, Dumbledore shooed both Ron and Hermione out. I was starting to feel a bit confused with all the emotional flip-flopping, first being afraid to talk to Dumbledore, then thankful that he was the only one I'd have to talk to.

"I think," Dumbledore told them, "that Mister Potter had best explain things to me, first and foremost. I would be greatly appreciative if you would hold these events in confidence, Mister Weasley, Miss Granger."

Ron and Hermione shuffled out the door and down the stairs, Hermione looking a bit mutinous, Ron simply tossing me a glance that said as eloquently as words, 'we'll be talking about this later, mate.'

Once they were out of earshot, Dumbledore flicked his wand and the door closed quite firmly. Then he moved behind his desk and sat down, steepling his fingers and looking at me expectantly.

I sighed and thought for a moment.

"The monster was He Who Walks Behind, an Outsider. They come from... somewhere else, nobody's entirely sure where, since researching them's generally a bad idea. It attracts the wrong sort of attention." I said delicately.

I didn't mention that the 'wrong sort of attention' was as likely to be a Warden from the White Council- like me- being assigned to show up and whack your head off as it was a monster turning up to eat you. Thankfully, so far I hadn't been ordered to do that yet, and I wasn't sure how I'd handle it if I was. Contrary to what most of the Council thought, I had issues with taking human lives.

"They want to get into the universe to break it. Or maybe break it to get in. Either way, they're bad news. And that one hates me because I burned it to 'death' after my stepfather sicced it on me when I resisted his attempts to turn me into a mind-controlled puppet and ran away."

Dumbledore blinked, but didn't interrupt. I'm not sure if he was reacting to my finger-quotes when I said 'death', or if he was just surprised at what had been loose in his school.

"And the woman was the Leanansidhe, second in power in the Winter Court of the Fae, and handmaiden to the Queen of Air and Darkness, Mab. Completely nuts by mortal standards, immensely powerful, and also my godmother." I finished.

Dumbledore blinked again.

Eventually, he commented "You have led an interesting life, Harry."

I snorted. "That's a fairly severe understatement."

"So... what is your monster likely to do with Voldemort?" he asked.

"My..? Trust me, he's not mine. But the Walker might hang around with Moldy for a while, for the chance at mayhem if nothing else, but I'm not sure. He's not likely to work with him long-term, though. And he'll make sure Moldy knows it. He Who Walks Behind isn't much for people skills." I said.

Dumbledore nodded seriously, obviously thinking hard.

Eventually, he said "You had best go and explain things as best you are able to Miss Granger and Mister Weasley, Harry."

I winced, but nodded. Hopefully I could come up with something that wouldn't make them think I'd jumped my trolley.

Just as I was turning to go, though, Dumbledore called me back one last time. "There is one other thing, Harry..."

*****

Somewhat unsurprisingly, Ron and Hermione were both lurking in the shadows of the gargoyles. Ron promptly yanked me in the direction of the closest secret passage, giving Hermione a longsuffering look before begrudgingly moving aside enough for her to join us.

"Well?" they demanded simultaneously, then stopped to glare at one another, flustered.

I must've made a slight noise, because they both rounded on me to demand... once again simultaneously... "What are you sniggering at?!"

Thankfully, this time I managed to choke off the laughter before they managed to get over the fact that they were talking in stereo. Before either of them could start yelling at either me or each other, I interrupted.

"I can't say much..." I started, before Hermione interrupted.

"You're doing it again!" she snapped.

I blinked at her.

"And it's not even very good." she complained. "Every time you start trying to be serious, or grown-up or something, you put on this horrible fake American accent. My father's cousin married an American, and we've visited them. I've been to Boston, I know what an American accent is supposed to sound like!"

I blinked at her some more, mouthing "... Boston?" after a moment.

Ron made a small noise of impatience. "I'm not sure that's important right now, Hermione... the important thing is, was that really You-Know-Who that that... monster... thing... let loose?"

"That was Professor Quirrell that it was dangling..." I said carefully.

Ron shook his head, but surprisingly, it was Hermione that answered. "I saw it too. There was another face on the back of the Professor's head, and it looked strange."

Ron nodded. "It looked like what I've heard You-Know-Who looks like, when my parents didn't think I was listening."

I swallowed. "That was probably him, then. I didn't see it, thanks to that guy slamming my head into the wall, but it fits with what I know."

At that, Hermione actually rounded on me, her hands planted on her hips, and was interrupted by Ron.

"You know some awfully funny stuff, mate." was all he said.

I sagged against the wall and groaned.

This, apparently, was all the invitation Hermione needed to unload. "When that monster was chasing us, and we all tripped over one another? You can't do regular magic with a wand, but you did wandless magic, and that's supposed to be really complicated! And you yelled 'Fuego', and that's not a spell. And that crazy woman acted like she knew you, and she apparated into Hogwarts, and then out again, and you can't do that either!"

After watching her patiently until she finished, I raised an eyebrow at her. "All done?"

She fumed, but nodded silently, staring at me with narrowed eyes.

"Good. I can't afford to be interrupted right now, because I don't know how much I can tell you about things yet. Not..." I held up a hand to head off their indignant reactions, "because I don't trust you, but because they're completely insane and I don't have any proof." I hesitated. "I'll do my best to explain what I can. For the stuff you already asked, the crazy lady wasn't actually human, so the rules are a probably a bit different for her. I do know her, but the whys and hows are just too complicated for me to deal with right now. I'm not even sure I want to think about them right now." I made a face. "As for the wandless magic... yeah, I'm just going to have to ask you to trust me for now- it's not actually what you think."

Ron nodded slowly. "Alright, Harry."

That was all he said, but there was a surprising amount of meaning in those four brief syllables. An oddly familiar loadout, actually. I'd heard pretty much that exact same phrase before, when one of my (male) friends was trusting me even though they didn't have all the information, not only to take care of the immediate problem, but to provide them with the information when I was able. Murph would probably call it 'speaking Martian'.

Hermione, on the other hand, was a) not a guy, and b) not as close a friend.

"You're going to have to give me a bit more to go on than that if you expect me to be able to help out." she said a bit tartly.

Huh. So maybe she was a pretty good friend. Or else she was just itching to do some research, since she already had her 'library face' on. Even so, I hesitated.

"And you don't have to go looking at me like that, either." she added. "You helped me when Malfoy was being a twit on the train, and you tried to save both Ron and me when that monster was coming after us. I could see your face when you did... whatever you did that made all that fire. You're quite mad, you know. You weren't worried for yourself at all, but when it started coming after us, you went insane."

I shrugged uncomfortably. "It's a thing I have. And if you want to try doing some research..." I paused again. After a long moment, I said "... try looking up monsters that come from outside this universe. Not just another world, or something, but somewhere else entirely. Most of what I know about them calls them 'Outsiders', but they might be called something else in the old books."

A brief smirk curved my lips. "And if you find out anything interesting about an American wizard called 'Harry Dresden', let me know."

*****

The next schoolday dragged on an uncomfortably long time. Not because of the routine or anything- I'm pretty comfortable with routine, as a general rule- but because of anticipation. Apparently Dumbledore had turned the screws on Fudge pretty hard, because he had told me that Sirius was being released tonight. I'm not even sure that Wormtail had been convicted yet, but that wasn't really a problem, since he was pretty clearly alive, and therefore Sirius hadn't murdered him.

Eventually, though, classes dragged to a close, and I started to make my way down to the entrance hall.

As I tromped down one of the stairways, irritably contemplating burning Hogwarts down just so I could make them build it on one freaking level, or at least introduce them to the concept of 'elevators', Fred Weasley popped out of one of the secret passages, closely followed by Ron.

The older Weasley nodded companionably to me. "Y'know, Harry, for a firstie, you've got some interesting ideas. George's actually working on that ear thing right now, I just came to drop Ronnie off so he'd bug off and leave us alone to work."

I nodded back at Fred, and grinned a little as Ron turned to smack his brother for the 'Ronnie' crack. Fred just dodged nimbly and vanished back into the passage.

Ron muttered something uncharitable about Fred, then turned to me. "Hey Harry. I talked to Nearly Headless Nick at lunch, he said that Sirius Black, the guy that's getting let out of Azkaban today, knew your dad, and that Scabbers... er, Peter... did too!"

I nodded slowly, not entirely sure where to take that.

"Yeah. From what I know, those three, along with a guy named Remus, all hung out together in school. They knew Snape, too, and he hated all of them. Sirius Black is my godfather, too." I said when he hadn't said anything for a bit.

Ron stared at me blankly for a minute. "So you've got a total nutter for your godfather?"

"No, he's not a nutter- weren't you paying attention? Peter Pettigrew was the one who murdered all those people. Sirius was framed." I said, slightly annoyed.

Ron put up his hands. "Right, right. So what are you doing?"

"Dumbledore thinks it'd be a good idea for me to go with him to meet Sirius when he gets out of jail." I told him.

"Huh. Really? D'you think I could..." he started, but I shook my head.

"Dumbledore's going because he's Dumbledore, and he thinks I should go because Sirius and my dad were friends. But he doesn't think anyone else should be there, since Sirius's been locked up with Dementors for ten years."

Ron shuddered. "Gotcha. Well, if you need a hand later..." he trailed off.

"Thanks Ron. I'll catch you later."

With that, I turned and hurried down the stairs. Dumbledore wasn't really the kind of guy you kept waiting.

*****

Which is how, less than an hour later, I found myself standing on a miserable, wind-whipped and spray-drenched peninsula, already shivering and soaked to the skin as I glared at the North Sea. Dumbledore was standing next to me, apparently perfectly dry and comfortable.

I shifted from foot to foot, then started pacing. I had met more than one con just out of the joint, and they were always a little squirelly. I wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting someone just out of magic prison, especially one that was as nasty as Azkaban supposedly was, even if the con in question was the closest thing little Harry had in the world to a father.

After a few minutes, Dumbledore shook his head, looking at me oddly.

"You know, Harry, I do not believe I will ever get used to the way that you shift from child to adult mannerisms more easily than most change their socks." he said.

I kept pacing, not really sure how to respond to that. It actually tied back to something else that had been bothering me, but a flicker of motion interrupted my train of thought. Then the big black auror with the odd name popped into existence, followed almost instantly by a tall, wild-haired man with sunken, maddened eyes and a waxy pallor to what skin you could see through the matted tangle of beard.

Those brilliant, crazed eyes fixed on Dumbledore the instant that he had fully materialized, and he spoke in the halting jerks of one who had not had to use his voice in far too long. "Dumbledore? It's... over then, is it? It's finally over?"

"Yes, Sirius. It is at last over. Peter has been caught, and justice will be done." Dumbledore said gravely, although I noticed he subtly stressed the statement that Pettigrew was facing justice.

Sirius gave a motion that was partway between a twitch and a nod, then shook his head, clearly trying to get some control. Then his unsettling eyes locked onto me.

"... James?" he said after a moment. "No, not James, too long..."

He shook his head violently. "I'm... sorry. You must be Harry. It's been a very... a very long time. Too long."

Sirius hesitated for a moment. "You have Lily's eyes."

I nodded, watching him warily. Then I realized that I had somehow ended up slightly behind Dumbledore, and made a face. Then I stepped pointedly around him and stared straight into Sirius' nose.

... yes, nose. I wasn't about to risk a soulgaze with someone who'd spent the last decade having their brains scrambled by... demonic whatevers.

I was a bit surprised when that prompted Sirius to give a raspy chuckle. "Definitely James' son, though. Fearless to the last."

Dumbledore chuckled as well, although I kind of suspected it was for slightly different reasons. "We'd best get back to Hogwarts. Sirius, I have made arrangements for you to stay in Hogsmeade for a time, should you feel the need to do so."

Sirius nodded and managed to say "Thank you."

And with a wave of Dumbledore's wand, we were gone.

*****

I didn't see much of Sirius for about a week after that. I'm not sure if he was just trying to readjust to life on the outside, or if Dumbledore had talked to him as promised and he was avoiding me out of shock or something.

I didn't have much time to worry about it, though. Things were starting to happen.

I hadn't even managed to start breakfast when the first shock hit- Hedwig dropped a thick bundle of papers in a plain brown wrapper on my head, hooting in soft satisfaction when it was actually heavy enough to make me faceplant into the bowl of whitish goop that was being passed off as breakfast that morning.

I scrubbed glop off my glasses with the edge of my robe, ignoring both Hermione's disapproving sniff and Hedwig's somewhat smug exit, and shoved them back on, staring at the package in some surprise.

After it failed to explode, I yanked on the string holding it shut. Then I jerked my hand away, instinctively jamming my finger in my mouth and sucking on the small cut. A drop of blood that had gotten away before the finger-suck... I gave my hand a disgusted look and pulled my finger out, ignoring the welling redness... fell on the wrapper, and the string untied itself, a brief flicker of half-seen energies evaporating into the great hall.

Huh.

So that was how Rita Skeeter had avoided lynching for so long. It didn't take a genius to figure that if anyone other than the intended recipient tried to open the parcel, it would do something fairly nasty to them.

I flipped open the folder and leafed through the papers inside, gradually slowing down in stunned amazement.

Wow. Just... wow.

I'd known going in that Umbridge was a piece of work- you didn't force children to basically carve open their own hands or run the wizard Gestapo without a fairly deep-rooted case of the crazies, after all- but stars and stones, apparently there was no such thing as psychological testing in wizarding Britain.

I flipped through a few more pages.

And apparently it helped when you could run your own coverups- made for consistency.

I stifled a low whistle as my respect for Skeeter crawled up a few grudging notches. Apparently she had that most coveted ability amongst scandalmongers- the ability to ferret out juuuuust enough truth to make her more libelous accusations brutally difficult to refute.

Not that Umbridge seemed to need much help in painting herself black, if even half the stuff that Skeeter had sent me was true. I shook my head and tied the packet shut again, and then a small, evil smile slid across my lips. If Skeeter could do as much damage as she did with twisted half-truths, what on Earth was going to come out of that poison pen of hers with this much ammunition?

Absently spooning white glop into my mouth, I wondered how long I'd have to wait.

*****

As it turned out, not long.

In point of fact, it coincided with shock number two, once again at breakfast, a couple of days later.

I got to breakfast a few minutes late, to be confronted by a borderline-hysterical Ron, who shoved a newspaper into my face so hard he nearly knocked me off the bench.

"Have you seen this?" he demanded once I'd managed to shove myself back upright.

I pried the paper out of his fingers and turned it 'round so that I actually could see it, and started scanning.

The first thing I saw, given that I was looking for it, was Rita Skeeter's byline. That, in itself, wasn't surprising. The headline, though, was.

"THE DARKNESS ABOVE", the paper trumpeted in massive letters, with a secondary headline screaming "High Ministry Official Complicit in Azkaban Breakout". The front-page photo wasn't of Dolores Umbridge, like I expected, but of the Dark Mark, burning above a fortress I had seen less than a week ago.

Azkaban.

I read a bit faster.

Once you stripped out the not-quite-libellous accusations, just-between-us gossip column asides, and invective... I don't think Umbridge was ever mentioned without at least six nasty adjectives... the general gist was that Umbridge, aside from such minor matters as murdering a goblin child (covered up and paid off), deliberately torpedoing diplomatic relations with non-human races on three separate occasions (and, not-so-coincedentally, ruining a rival in the process two of those times and netting a promotion), and a history of abusive behaviour stretching back to her early childhood, had gone after Rita Skeeter directly.

Seems that one of Rita's editors was among Umbridge's carefully-groomed network of contacts, and he had let slip one night over drinks that she was next on Skeeter's list. Skeeter had slyly insinuated that Umbridge kept a stock of spiked drinks for just such an occasion, and, while there wasn't any proof, I could believe it.

Once Umbridge had found this out, she promptly turned to what seemed to be her favourite toys- Dementors.

My respect for Skeeter crawled up another reluctant notch. She might be an indiscriminate scandalmongering hag with delusions of elegance, but she had guts, if nothing else. She'd actually managed to snag one of Umbridge's communiques to Azkaban. Even if the Dementors weren't likely to notice a random beetle, she'd still had to break into the legendary prison.

Well, insofar as a beetle had to break into anywhere, at any rate.

Anyhow, like I'd said, 'one' of Umbridge's communiques. When the first hit hadn't worked, either to kill Skeeter or scare her off, Umbridge had tried again. Three times. And with more Dementors every time.

By the end, she was half-emptying the prison of guards, and Moldy had noticed. And, naturally, taken advantage. He might not have been at full power, but with Azkaban running on a skeleton crew... or at least some kind of undead, I'm still not sure what Dementors were... he didn't have to be.

The rest of the article was some blithering about how Umbridge was an incompetent menace and should be removed from office, and, for preference, tarred and feathered. The final bit was a brief list of the Death Eaters that had broken out, which I glanced over indifferently. At least at first.

Problem was, Peter Pettigrew's name didn't appear on the list of escapees. I was about 90% certain that he'd ended up in there, but for some reason, he hadn't left with his master.

Something wasn't adding up.

*****

Of course, no matter what universe I'm in, it hates me, and I wasn't allowed any time to try and figure it out.

Cue a new day, and shock number three, once again at breakfast.

I was seriously starting to develop a phobia of mornings.

This time, it was coming down to the great hall and finding Sirius Black sitting at the Gryffindor table waiting for me.

He looked... well, less crazed, not to put too fine a point on it. He'd shaved and gotten a haircut, and his cheeks were less hollow. He was still too thin, and his eyes were still too bright, but he'd at least upgraded from 'crazy homeless person'.

Sirius gave me a nod as I sat down next to him, and I nodded in return.

"I've had a talk with Dumbledore about... you." he said without preamble. "Is..." he glanced around warily. "Is it true?"

I resisted the urge to glance around as well and just nodded, feeling fairly justified in making an assumption about what he was talking about. There weren't a lot of things that could cause that much hesitation, after all, and being told that your godson was being possessed by a wizard from another universe who coincidentally had the same first name, and where you were a children's book character, was probably one of the top three.

Before he could say anymore, Ron flopped onto the bench next to me, elbowing me amiably in greeting and grabbing for the syrup- thankfully, this morning breakfast was flapjacks, something I could actually recognize as food. I elbowed him back and glanced over at Sirius again.

He'd closed up somehow. He wasn't really acting differently, but at the same time, he was. Apparently he planned to keep my secret, for the moment at least.

"So, Harry." he started. "I've gotten permission to take you on a day-trip into London on the weekend, if you'd like to go. Kind of a way to get to know you again, after all this time."

I didn't have to force the grin that spread on my face at the news. Granted, it probably had a bit more of an edge than the average kid would have upon being told that, but oh well.

"Sounds brilliant!" I said eagerly.

Sirius gave me a strange look, but managed to smile back while Ron made envious comments. We finished the meal amiably enough, making plans to start at Diagon Alley, and I made noises about wanting to see 'some bits of Muggle London'.

*****

I didn't really get the chance to build up a lot of anticipation for the trip, since Hermione was buttonholing me every chance she got to 'do Charms homework'.

Only thing was, I'd accidentally overheard Flitwick telling her with some frustration that as far as he could see, my wandwork was near-perfect, and there were no problems with my pronunciation that he could catch.

So Hermione, for lack of any better ideas, had defaulted to the good old standby of 'make me practice until my wand arm falls off'.

And it was during one of those practice sessions that Dumbledore appeared with a thin, shabby-looking man who sported a thin mustache and the marks of premature aging. Dumbledore nodded cordially to both Hermione and me.

"Miss Granger, I must regretfully intrude. I would like Harry to meet someone." he started. "Harry, this is Remus Lupin, an old friend of your father's. He came to visit Sirius, and it occurred to me that he might be able to teach you something."

I gave Lupin a curious look, glad for the excuse to let my wand fall to my side and let my aching shoulder rest. I wondered vaguely if the wizarding world had come up with a cure for carpal tunnel, but concentrated on the apparent adults in the room.

Lupin opened his mouth, then hesitated, blinking. "... Harry, where are your eyebrows?"

I rolled my eyes and shot Hermione a disgusted look, but she just shrugged calmly.

"I thought his difficulty might be a mental block, so I've been letting a bit of the explosions go, to help get him over it." she said blandly.

Lupin blinked again. "Er, yes. Anyhow, Harry, Professor Dumbledore has told me a bit about what's been happening to you, and we agree that, even if you're having difficulty with other charms, there's a particularly difficult one you urgently need to learn. It's called the Patronus charm, and it's the only way that you can defend yourself from Dementors."

I felt a thrilling tingle of excitement when he said that, and bit it back to try and focus on what was being said. I wasn't sure why I was getting so worked up about trying to learn yet another spell, but I tended to agree that it'd be a good thing to know, especially since, reading between the lines in the papers, Fudge had apparently lost his mind. The Minister for Magic was sending Dementors everywhere. There was a report of some woman finding one in her linen closet, for crying out loud.

And there were hints that the Dementors weren't exactly trying too hard to find the escapees, either.

I dragged my mind back to the task at hand.

"I'm willing to try, sir." was all I said.

Hermione's jaw worked briefly as her instinctive desire to comply with authority figures fought her desire to nag me into competence, but in the end the authority figure thing won out, even if just barely, and she nodded. She and Dumbledore left together, and I glanced around the empty classroom that my latest round of inept spell-slinging had 'redecorated' into something resembling the surface of the moon.

"So, uhm, you've heard that I've been having trouble with, well, most spells, right?" I said.

Remus let slip a tired chuckle, and nodded. "Dumbledore hasn't told me much, but he did say that you could be trusted with the full story of what's going on."

That got my attention. "So he's got the Order of the Phoenix back together already?"

The werewolf gave me a sharp look. "He also said that you had an unnerving tendency to know things you probably shouldn't. Why don't we talk while we work? You really should know how to defend yourself from Dementors. Also, the Order uses their Patronuses to communicate, so if you're planning to work with us, it would be good for you to know."

I ignored the heavily-implied 'whoever you really are' in his tone, and gave him a brief, slightly brittle grin.

"Well, here goes noth..." I started, then stopped as a thought hit me. "Are you coming with Sirius and me to London on the weekend?"

He shook his head a bit too abruptly, avoiding my eyes. "No. My 'furry little problem' comes around about this time every month."

My expression must have been pretty blank, because he gave me a startled look after a moment, then shook his head and laughed ruefully. "Sorry, I just... you look so much like James..."

He got ahold of himself and faced me squarely again. "I can't come with you this time, Harry, I'm sorry."

I slapped my forehead as realization hit. "Oh. It's a full moon this weekend, isn't it?"

Remus' brow furrowed, and he said "Maybe we should concentrate on the Patronus for now."

*****

I spent the day before the London trip half out of my mind with anticipation. I wanted to go in the evening, where we could attract less attention. Given how wizards tended to interact with the muggle world, I didn't really want to chance running around in broad daylight with someone who thought of a rifle as a kind of 'muggle wand' and might want to experiment with it.

Granted, Sirius seemed to be pretty level-headed about most things, but he was still wizard-born, and hadn't had the chance to see much of either world over the last decade or so. Best not to take any chances.

Arrangements at Hogwarts were surprisingly simple, consisting largely of McGonnagal admonishing Sirius not to have me back too late. I grabbed the things I had bundled in my invisibility cloak, and with that, we hiked down the pathway and out of the Hogwarts grounds, where we vanished with a *CRACK*.

A split-second later, I stumbled out of the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley proper, pale and trying not to retch.

Sirius followed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking apologetic. "Sorry. Not as smooth as Dumbledore, even when I'm in practice."

"Bluh." I managed.

That earned me another of Sirius' raspy chuckles. He wasn't entirely at ease with me yet, which was fair enough- even though I'd been in this body for months now, I wasn't entirely at ease with me- but he did seem to be loosening up a bit.

We went into the Leaky Cauldron so I could catch my breath. As we passed into the tavern, I glanced at the sky and thought briefly of Lupin- the moon was rising already, huge and low and orange. What Ebenezar always called a harvest moon.

Thoughts of my old mentor had me briefly wondering how the White Council would deal with Voldemort, and I couldn't help but give a nasty little chuckle. The first wizarding war would probably have lasted about as long as it took Donald Morgan's sword to find old Moldy's neck. Morgan was an ass to the last, but one thing was for sure- black magic didn't last too long with him around.

Sirius and I sat on some stools at the bar, where I made sure to keep my bangs hanging low over the scar, hopefully avoiding any annoying questions.

The bartender simply nodded to us, his wrinkled face beaming as he drew a glass for each of us. I found myself wishing I was in a body that was old enough to drink. Of course, while I was wishing, I wished I could have some of Mac's ale, instead of this... I gave the stuff in the glass a cautious sniff... whatever it was.

Sirius just grinned, slapped some coins on the counter, and slammed his drink back. "It's good to be back, Tom." he said.

The bald old bartender nodded again. "Welcome back, Mr. Black. It's good to see you, and sorry I was to hear that you were sent up wrongfully all those years ago. Terrible shame, that."

He brushed the coins back towards Sirius. "On the house, Sirius. May not make amends, but at least it's something."

Sirius managed a tired smile, and we sat comfortably for a while.

*****

Dusk was well underway when we came out into Muggle London. It was late enough in the year to get dark surprisingly early, but that was alright with me- Sirius' cloak could be mistaken for a long coat in this light fairly easily, and anything that kept us from attracting attention was a good thing.

I had done some research as best I could- Hermione had been able to get me some books on gun clubs, along with a London phone directory, so I had at least some idea where to go to buy a rifle or a shotgun. I was hoping that Sirius could help me bypass the registration end of things with a little wand waving. I still flinched when the third law of magic was broken, but it didn't seem to break things (and brains) the way it did back home.

Speaking of which, I should probably explain to Sirius what I was wanting in this part of London. As I turned to face him, my ears popped and the city noise just... went away.

At least mostly. I could still see cars whizzing by, but there was a kind of transluscent sheen over all the buildings, and there were other cars zooming through the streets, with the muggle cars seeming to shift out of the way to allow them passage.

Sirius had frozen when the world shifted, and he had his wand in his hand as his eyes scanned restlessly. I jerked my own wand out and spun in place, searching uneasily for whatever might be coming after us.

Then I froze as the first of the unearthly howls drifted over the rooftops.