Sirius

"Give it back, Regulus! Now!" Sirius' voice was full of adolescent rage as he yelled at his younger brother who clutched his wand. The brothers looked somewhat alike: both had long black hair, handsome aristocratic features and grey eyes. Anyone who looked upon them would know that they are pureblooded. And yet, despite their noble origins they now quarrelled over a wand.

"Not a chance," the younger brother said smugly who slowly backed away from Sirius towards the window at the end of his bedroom. Sirius' footsteps were heavy – even at the young age of thirteen he was becoming stocky with broad shoulders and large arms.

"Are you sure about that?" Sirius took another step forward, fingers outstretched and ready to pounce upon his smaller brother.

"Pretty sure!" Regulus darted forwards and ducked past his brother's outstretched hands. Sirius cursed as he stumbled forwards – nearly crashing through the window. Sirius turned as he blazed out of his room and down the stairs after the rapidly descending Regulus.

"You little shit!" Sirius tore down the stairs, skipping steps as he spun around the bannister at the bottom as he chased after his brother who still managed to evade him – always just a little bit faster than him, a little bit more agile around the corners. Only when they burst into the kitchen did they stopped – their mother was presiding over Kreacher, and she did not look pleased.

"What in Merlin's name do you two think you are doing?" she screeched whilst she clutched at the air in an overly melodramatic fashion.

"He took my wand!" Sirius roared as he pointed towards Regulus who looked around innocently, eyes wide.

"Regulus Black! Is this true?" their mother demanded, presiding over them with maternal authority, authority that left them paralyzed in place.

"No! Look, I don't have any wand but mine," Regulus said as he raised his empty hands, only one wand visible in his pocket. Sirius' eyes crinkled in frustration; did Regulus throw his wand away when he chased him? No, he would have heard it.

"Sirius. You're lying. Again." Sirius' mother flared her nostrils as she exhaled sharply, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"I'm not! He has it! He's hiding it!" he protested, but his mother swooped over and leant down to pull the wand from his pocket in one smooth motion. Sirius blinked – how could Regulus have done it? He looked past his mother to his brother who just smirked, bathing in his victory.

"I've had it with you, Sirius. You and your lies, you've brought shame to our house."

"He put it on me! He's a thief; he stole it then put it in my pocket to get me in trouble!" Sirius' defiance only lasted until his mother's hand connected with the side of his face. His eyes watered and his fists shook.

"I hate you. I hate both of you!" he shouted as he pushed his mother violently before he turned and escaped down the hallway as his mother rained down curses upon him.

"Blood-traitor! Filth! You're nothing like your brother!"

Sirius slammed his door, ripping the doorknob from its wooden body.

Harry

22nd September, 1992, Durmstrang Institute

They had just finished class for the day, and the three friends were walking down to the lake – Nachash wrapped around Harry's neck. They had just finished Dark Arts with Dimitri as their teacher, and it had left them exhausted.

"It was really impressive what you were able to do, Corvus," Elise complimented prompting Harry to shrug in response. He had been attempting to learn the blasting curse since he was ahead of the class and had gotten the spell to create small firecracker-like explosions now. Draco hadn't bothered – he had been more interested in learning the Confundus charm to his failure.

"Draco probably would have done better with it, he just decided to try a spell that most seventh years struggle with," Harry teased only to receive a non-committal shrug from Draco who pointed ahead:

"Brandon's there. How long is it until duelling club starts?"

"About an hour. We have plenty of time, don't worry," answered Harry.

"I'm not. Well, I'll say that I'm slightly worried for Elise – put your eyes back in your sockets woman," Draco's voice teased to a blush from Elise. Her attention wasn't unwarranted – Brandon had just emerged from the lake in only a pair of shorts.

"Hey guys!" he yelled with a wave.

Once they arrived, they found – to no one's surprise – that Miranda was sat near Brandon with a book in her hands. She gave a wave, but said nothing.

"How long have you two been here?" Elise asked.

"Couple of hours, we skipped last lesson," answered Miranda without lifting her eyes from the novel. Harry didn't really want to know why they felt they had to sneak away, and instead elected to pull out his wand and cast a spell to dry off Brandon.

"Thanks, Corvus." Harry shrugged, and aimed at the tree near Miranda as he assertively spoke the incantation.

"Confringo." A firecracker like explosion hit the tree, sending a piece of bark flying and scorching the area where Harry had aimed. Miranda groaned whilst she brushed down her hair to rid it of the dirt disturbed by the spell.

"Nice. Ever used that on someone, Corvus?" Brandon asked.

"I will have in an hour," Harry replied with a grin – a sound escaped Nachash that Harry interpreted as approval. Brandon gave a low chuckle, and Draco sighed.

"As long as you do not use it on me," Draco muttered – he seemed a little subdued for some reason.

"If I did, you'd probably do far worse back, right, Draco?" Harry prompted, but received yet another shrug. He made a note to ask Draco what was wrong after the duelling club.

"You want to go for a swim, Corvus?" Elise nodded towards Draco as subtly as she could. Harry frowned, but just nodded; he knew they needed to talk. It was only when they had waded in waist deep that they were far enough to speak without worry of being heard.

"What do you think's wrong with Draco?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. He was fine before he went off at lunch. Do you think we should ask?"

"After duelling club. I was planning to anyway, but it'd be better if we're both there." There was a nod of agreement from Elise.

"What's your rating at nowadays anyway, Corvus?"

Harry knew it off by heart, but hesitated to make it seem like he had to think: "Two thousand and seventy five." Elise whistled, visibly impressed.

"That's pretty high, by any year's standards."

"Yeah, but Draco's already at twenty-one hundred," Harry muttered before he could stop himself. There was an awkward pause for a minute as Harry berated himself – he knew that the resentment that surged through him whenever Draco did better was childish, but he couldn't help it. He hated that, no matter how much he snuck off to train without Draco, Draco kept pace.

"He trains a lot in private, you know."

"So do I."

"Why not just train together more?" Elise asked with genuine curiosity in her tone.

"Because we both want to be better than each other. He's better than me though, isn't he?" Harry muttered, self-deprecation in full effect.

"Right now, sure. But neither of you stays ahead for long. Maybe that's why he's upset – the stress of keeping up with you?"

Harry frowned. That didn't seem likely, he thought: after all, wouldn't he have felt that same stress? Instead he just felt a fire in his veins, a sting in his eyes that kept him alert. "I don't think so."

Elise sighed, stirring the water with a finger. "You two are so complicated. It's like you're both flying as fast as you can without knowing where you're going."

For some reason, that annoyed Harry, "What do you know about that? It's not like we have your easy home life."

Elise's eyes flashed to meet Harry's, her bright blue irises darkened, "Easy? Maybe if you and Draco stopped wallowing in self-pity and asked me about what it's like for me, you'd find out that's not true. We all have our problems, Corvus."

"Right. Sorry."

The awkward silence returned until they both silently emerged from the water to dry themselves off.

"Mulligan!" Harry shouted, trying to get the older boys attention, "Mulligan, over here!"

"Oh, I'm sorry – didn't realize you wanted me Corvus," the boy said as he headed over whilst he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Its fine – I was wondering whether you'd be up for a duel?" Harry asked over the sound of duels and bickering. Mulligan looked around for a moment before nodding.

"Sure. I'm only what, two years ahead of you anyway. Your funeral," Mulligan said light heartedly as they took their places and bowed – it was a quick affair, the duel, with neither able to hear the others words.

It started with Harry as he sent off a series of firecracker like explosions upon Mulligan's body – explosions that burnt and stung the older boy. He sent off a series of stinging hexes and stunners towards Harry – a display that baffled Harry, a display he was unable to dodge completely; the stinging jinxes elicited yelps and shouts from him although none could be heard.

Harry retorted by sending off two stinging jinxes back at Mulligan, but his chain was cut short by a disarming spell he had to deflect. With a grimace, Harry stepped forward and sent a bout of flame towards Mulligan without moving his eyes from the boy's wand. The flames licked at his form, but did nothing to damage or even distract him. The Irish boy began another chain of spells, his wand making movements that fed into the next so perfectly that it allowed his spells to continue without halt. It was a set piece – useful, but impossible to improvise. Harry desperately deflected a spell as he pivoted away from the onslaught, his body already minimized in his boxer's stance. He bounced forwards off the balls of his feet as he cut through the air and lacerating Mulligan across his chest: blood splattered across the floor.

"Stop!" Mulligan shouted over the now quietening crowd; a hand clutched to his chest to suppress the bleeding. Harry obeyed, lowering his wand as he panted and walked over.

"Are you alright?"

"Does it look like I'm alright?" the boy retorted in a tone that dripped with sarcasm. Harry ducked his head – the remark made him both grin and wince simultaneously. Dimitri had rushed over and waved Harry away as he began to tend to the injured boy.

"Merlin's beard Corvus, was that necessary?" Brandon asked with a grin. Harry shrugged.

"I dunno, only thing that matters is that I won, isn't it?" He asked only to receive a retaliatory shrug in return. "Have you been approached for a duel here yet?"

Brandon shook his head, "I think it's fairly obvious I'm no duellist – they see you, they see me, and they know I'm the security."

"Kind of funny that my security can't duel."

"Hey, I can duel. But I'm a physical presence. We might act sophisticated – waving around our wands in a noble fight but everyone's afraid of getting punched in the teeth."

Harry grinned at that. He wasn't wrong – he was lucky that no one had keyed onto the method that Sirius that had taught him – although to call it a strategy was a compliment, in all honesty it was some form of unerring principle that Sirius stuck to if only due to the sheer brutal simplicity of it all. He was well aware – at least, since his limited studies of Magical History – that his godfather was one of the few to mix muggle and pureblood combat into one coherent, cohesive form. It was a deadly combination, indeed, but not necessarily one that had gained traction in Britain or the foreign wizarding world. Before, there had been wizards fighting with blades and wands – popularized by Godric Gryffindor. He supposed it made sense then that his father, a Gryffindor, would employ similar methods.

"I wonder where Draco is."

"Last I saw, he was doing some practice drills in between duels," Brandon answered. Harry scanned the hall for Draco afterwards, but it was - as it always was – cluttered with too many people to see any one person.

"Huh. Never mind, then."

"Why? What was it you wanted him for?"

"Nothing, really. Just wanted to head back to our room."

"Already? You've what, had a single duel and are already calling it quits?"

"I don't fancy duelling much tonight."

Brandon tutted, "You know, I thought with how much people talked about you and Draco, you'd be more devoted."

"We are devoted! How wo- wait, people talk about us?" Harry asked, halting himself mid angst.

"Yeah. You two are in your second year, challenging people two years ahead of you – and winning – and you're rated as highly as some fifth years. Don't make me laugh, devoted and stopping halfway through. Come on, that's like me giving up in the middle of a match."

"I mean – okay, sure. And that's not the same. I've already won a duel today. If I do another, I could lose – I'd lose progress."

"Lose progress? Come on, mate. Progress is more than just going up a few numbers."

Brandon was right, he supposed. However, he didn't really want to admit it, and if he argued back he'd just get frustrated in the end. Harry gave a sigh. "Sure," he went to walk away, before Brandon grabbed his shoulder.

"Come on, we need to wait for Draco so I can make sure you two get back safely."

"I'm not a child, I can walk back on my own."

"Corvus-"

"No, just let me go back."

"Not a chance. Now stop being an asshat and go duel someone or wait. I'm not going to get Krum on my case because you're being all angsty."

Harry fumed silently; he was half-tempted to turn his wand on Brandon: but it would not get him anywhere and so instead, he scanned the room for people he could duel and vent on.

"Marcus! Tuomas!" Harry cried out to the twins that had beaten him in a dark corridor a year ago. He had gotten revenge on James: why not the rest of them?

"What, Corvus?" answered Marcus tiredly.

"Duel me," Harry answered as he drew his wand.

"Which of us?" questioned Tuomas, Marcus' twin.

"Both of you, why not." The few that had heard Harry turned startled: these kind of duels were rare, so much so that the last to happen at the club was before even Krum had arrived. More turned to watch, and Brandon put a hand on Harry's shoulder to ask if he was sure.

Harry nodded, and the twins looked at one another before they nodded. "Fine, have it your way Corvus." Dimitri had stormed over, and Harry knew why – the professor thought Harry was going to get hurt, and it only served to make him angrier: why did everyone doubt him?

"Are you sure, Corvus?" Dimitri asked Harry. It was the second time somebody had asked him, and he snapped back his response.

"Of course. I wouldn't be doing it otherwise, would I?"

Dimitri gave a sigh – most of the hall had turned to watch at this point. Harry could see Elise and Draco stood together as they watched from afar.

"Draw your wands."

Harry had no need: his was already drawn. Rather, he fell into his stance, and made himself ready to duel. He would need to be quick, as much as if he were duelling Sirius. I never beat Sirius fairly though, Harry thought for a brief moment before he shook his head.

"Begin."

(*)

Harry fired off a stinging hex as he weaved to the side to avoid the twin jets of fire that erupted towards him. He started forwards, but they soon forced him to hop away from a stinging hex and deflect a more serious banishing hex into the crowd. He cared not for their fate as he quickly spun and jabbed his wand forwards.

"Oculustio!" The conjunctivitis curse hurtled forwards towards Marcus, but Tuomas shoved his twin away from its path – which opened up himself for the blasting curse that sent his body spinning through the air to land with a sickening crunch upon the floor. The crowd drew their breath.

Harry darted forwards and sent off a series of stinging hexes which all missed Marcus; but Marcus had never reacted to them, instead he cast his own spell upon Harry.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry was flung through the air until he slammed against the magical shield Dimitri had conjured around them. He was dazed, and barely able to deflect the stinging hex that Marcus had sent at him. He went to stand, and limped forwards – his stance pained him as he took it up again with drawn brows.

"You don't stay down, do you?" Marcus asked in a mixed tone of respect and resentment.

"Diffindo! Confringo!" Harry screamed as he chained the spells together, both being deflected by Marcus who was much more steady on his feet than Harry who was edging closer towards him, not having noticed Tuomas beginning to get up.

"Expelliarmus!" Marcus riposted: his attempt deflected with a scowl from Harry who – now within range – swung his fist towards the broader, taller boy. His fist missed as Marcus stepped aside it before swinging a right hook into Harry's jaw to send him sprawling across the floor.

Tuomas sent off a powerful stinging hex as Marcus summoned a bout of flame to engulf Harry.

"Protego!" Harry yelled, a silver sphere surrounding him. He was too far gone to recognize the fact he had successfully conjured a shield, but after a moment of surprise, the twins started to rain down a cascade of spells upon the magical barrier, which was weakening as Harry's arm shook and his mind started to lose concentration.

"Stop the duel!" Harry heard a girl call, and that angered him more: he grit his teeth, starting to get to his feet as the shield wavered. He did not need help. He dove to the side – his leg flaring with pain – as the shield fell, two powerful stunning hexes landing where he had been a moment ago.

"Stupefy!" Harry called, before his spell was deflected – but he was back on his feet now, if barely so.

The twin's response was immediate – Harry's skin lacerated before he could react, a red line appearing across his face; his clothes ripped by the twins spell, blood seeping from his chest and arms to soak the rags of his clothes. The pain would have been overwhelming if there had been any smaller amount of adrenaline flowing through Harry's veins.

"Incendio!" Harry yelled, his wand lowered more than he would have liked, the wand movement sloppy – but his will still sent sporadic bouts of flames from random locations erupting around the twins who jumped away and patted themselves down.

With his wand, Harry advanced and elected to try something he had never done before: "Ruptura!"

In his attempt to imitate what he had seen others do, the spell backfired violently and sent him flying backwards through the air, his arm going limp as it broke. As Harry collided with the ground, he landed on his arm and let out a loud cry of pain. The world went dark.

He woke up in a hospital bed to see the faces of Elise and Draco. Krum stood at the foot of his bed looking more troubled than usual.

"Corvus!" Elise yelled, relieved. Draco just sighed in relief and seemed to relax for what seemed to be a long time.

"Hey," Harry muttered up dimly, still coming around. "Did I pass out?"

"Yes, you did. There was blood everywhere: you were such an idiot." Draco's words stung slightly, but Harry was too exhausted to refute them.

"Corvus, you performed a shield charm," Elise started, eyes wide with surprise. "Since when did you learn how to do that?"

Harry felt groggy – he could barely recollect the fact that he had, "I'd been trying to learn how over the summer. I can't do it all the time – just, sometimes."

"That is… really impressive," Draco admitted, his hands clasped upon the side of the bed.

"How bad do I look?" Everyone grimaced – even Krum, who had been stood stoically as they talked. "That bad, huh?"

"You look fine; just… you're still healing. You have scars everywhere, and your wand-arm is purple." Harry realized for the first time, that he could not see his body – only his head was visible, as if he were a corpse in a morgue. It unsettled him to no end.

"Will they stay?"

"Well, Alicia did say that they should all be gone after a day. A couple may remain," Draco said with a frown upon his face. Elise sighed and Krum grinned.

"Nothing wrong with a few scars, Corvus. Either way, we need to talk about what you did at the club today: and the next match." Krum leant forward, hands gripped around the foot of the bed.

"Why?"

"Your actions were silly. Look at you. If you are injured like this frequently, you'll have to drop out of the team. We can't protect you from yourself."

There was silence for a few minutes before Harry answered, "I don't get injured like this a lot. This is the first time."

"Make it the last, okay? You're a good chaser. I want you on the team."

Harry gave a nod to Krum who stood up straight – Harry knew why; he had heard the doors open and many footsteps that got louder by the second.

"What do you want?" Krum called out as he turned. Draco hurried over next to him as Elise watched from beside Harry.

"We want to speak with your chaser, Viktor. I presume that won't be a problem?" replied a sweet, but low voice. Harry had never heard it before.

"Actually, it is. I know why you're here. He isn't choosing a side."

"Aiken wants him to."

"Then tell Aiken what I said," Krum replied coolly. The other boy stepped into view, a similar height to Krum and light haired. The girl at his side, pretty but taller even than Krum shook her head.

"He won't like that. Do you really want to piss him off?"

"Vicki, you can tell your boyfriend to go fuck himself."

"I'd say he'd rather do that than her," Draco said, and Krum groaned as the tall, dark haired witch turned on the much smaller and younger Draco, wand drawn.

"Want to say that again, Malfoy?"

Krum quickly stepped forwards, grabbed her wrist, and turned it towards himself, his hand tight around Vicki's much smaller, petite wrist. She let out a yelp, and soon the light haired boy had turned his wand on Krum as well.

"Are you really trying to start a fight here, Rolf?" Krum asked his voice quiet but nobody dared speak over him.

"Only if you make me."

Draco levelled his own wand at Rolf before Elise grabbed and pulled him back. Harry bit his tongue; he wanted to say something but doing so could escalate the situation. Rolf stepped forwards as Vicki spoke once more.

"Let me go, Krum, or you'll regret it. There's two of us, and you're just a quidditch player."

Krum did not let go for a long moment before he pushed her away violently to the floor – she skidded across it like a ragdoll. Then, faster than Harry's eyes could track, Krum had drawn his wand and created a shield charm to deflect Rolf's stunning spell back into him. Vicki had gotten to her feet, and forced onto the defensive as Krum silently danced forwards, sending slashing curses, stinging hexes and bone breaking spells towards her. Vicki's face strained. Krum hesitated. Vicki lunged forwards as she sent off a dangerous, yellow curse that Harry had never seen before.

As it turned out, Vicki lunged into a trap. Krum deftly sidestepped the spell, and responded with three hexes before she could even finish saying "Protego!" Vicki hit the floor.

Draco, Elise and Harry just stared at Krum who stepped forwards and stunned Vicki silently.

"Krum, since when we-"Harry started but was interrupted by the man himself.

"I'm not just a pretty face, hm?" Krum joked, and the three second-years shared nervous laughter at the joke. "I was trained by my father; he was scared of losing another family member to a dark wizard."

"I don't think he has to be afraid with you around," Harry said. Krum laughed.

"Why are you laughing? Corvus is right. If Dimitri knew-"

"He knows, Draco," Krum said with a smirk.

"Then why don't you go the duelling club? Why don't you duel at tournaments?" Elise's voice brimmed with curiosity.

"I don't want to. I enjoy quidditch, I do not enjoy duelling."

It was a simple reason: as good as any, really, Harry supposed.

"I'm going to leave, I'll tell Alice to come in and clean up. You should be back in your bed by tonight, Corvus. Good night."

Viktor Krum left the three in stunned silence.

1st October, 1992, Durmstrang Institute

"The main difficulty is the claws. My goblet always has metal bird claws for feet," Draco whined.

"That's because of the fact you aren't trying to transform the claws into a base, but the bird into a goblet alone. It is a goblet; it's fulfilled its purpose. Detail is everything, remember?" Elise lectured as they left the classroom late in the evening.

"To be fair, you do forget that when you're being told 'transform the bloody bird' repeatedly." Harry added.

"If you focused more on the lesson rather than sketching Alisa's ass, I bet you wouldn't be shouted at," Elise commented wryly.

"Wait, you too?" Draco looked at Harry with a smirk. Elise let out a groan and playfully punched them both on the shoulder.

"You two are never going to get girlfriends."

"Well, we are both rich. We won't have an issue."

"Girlfriends, not whores, Draco," Harry pointed out dryly.

"What's the difference, reall- ow!" Draco rubbed his arm after Elise's violent punch, groaning loudly, "Was that necessary, woman?"

"It always is with you," Elise tutted. Harry hid his grin.

As they reached Draco and Harry's room, they hurried inside. Nachash eagerly rushed towards Harry who let him slide around his shoulders where he rested. For the first week, Elise had been uncomfortable with Nachash but over time come to like the snake – although she still refused to feed him mice.

"Any word about those two in the hospital?"

"Well, we know that they went to you because of your attack on James now, so Aiken's chosen the Death Eater's side," Elise said.

"It honestly seems like all of the best duellists and high achievers have chosen the Dark Lord. I wonder why," Draco mused sarcastically: they all knew why he thought so. To a pureblood, especially a Malfoy, it was logical.

Elise ignored Draco's comment, "There was a fight last night, involving-"

"Involving Aiken, yeah, I heard. He hospitalized two people, didn't he?" Corvus answered.

"Christoffer and his girlfriend," Draco replied.

A grim silence settled over them. Aiken was merciless, and Christoffer was not an easy target by any means. Fear settled over them. Harry, and Draco, would not stand a chance. Moreover, if he was going after friends and family of those opposing him, Elise was at risk as well. Their worst fears had been confirmed.

They decided to play a game to cheer themselves up: at first they took turns playing wizard chess, where Draco beat Harry (if only barely) before being smashed by Elise. Harry and Draco ended up having a push up competition, which Draco won comfortably before, much to their surprise, barely edging out Elise. After that, they decided to study for the next hour and a half.

"You know, I believe that I am starting to like Charms and Transfiguration more than the other subjects," Draco commented, "Well, apart from the Dark Arts and Potions."

"What about Magical Theory?" Harry asked, lifting his head from the thick tome on that very subject.

"Too theoretical, I like practical."

Elise snorted a giggle, "You don't like Magical Theory because it's too theoretical. What did you expect?"

Draco scowled, "You're the ones who asked."

"One, not ones," Elise pointed out, "Corvus asked."

Harry ducked his head instinctually just in time for Draco's shoe to fly through the space his head had previously occupied. "I wonder if we can get Dimitri to tutor us more. You know, outside of the twilight sessions." Harry poked his head up again as he spoke.

"I do doubt that'd be possible. As he said last year, at this point it's more practice than theory. You know, Corvus, if you can become consistent with a shield spell, you would-"

Harry interrupted Draco, "become one of the better duellists at the school. Hardly. You saw Krum. And Aiken is supposedly much better, so, I'd still have a long way to go."

Elise sighed, "You're both selling yourselves short. Without a doubt, you two are the strongest duellists in the first three years and reasonable even for a fourth year standard."

"There's a world of difference between a fourth year and even a sixth year though, Elise," Harry contradicted.

There was silence for a few uncomfortable minutes.

"You know why you're not as strong as you could be, don't you, Corvus?" Draco asked and Harry stiffened, "I'm guilty of it too."

"What?"

"Look at how we fight. If you ignore style – look at my father. My father wins his duels based not off of the spells he uses, but how he uses them."

"Well, obviously. I do that too."

"No, not like him. Or even like your dad. Don't you remember Dimitri's duel at the start of first year?"

How could he not? Dimitri had turned Hans's telekinetic attack with three tables into a firestorm of blazing wooden splinters. Moreover, the two teachers had been duelling for fun. It had only been earlier this year when Dimitri duelled another teacher (and won); that they realized now neither was really trying their absolute hardest.

"Okay, sure, but it's not like we could do something like that, right?"

There was another long pause, and then Elise spoke the words that Harry had secretly been dying to hear.

"Why don't we try?"

It was late – if they were caught at this time, they would be punished to no end; especially with all of the infighting at the school. It had not been easy sneaking through the corridors, but breaking into the hall used for the duelling club was different: a simple alohomora and they were in.

"Seriously, that is all the protection they have?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Well, to be fair, it is just a giant empty room."

"Touché."

Harry went to the centre of the room and peered around as Draco and Elise positioned a few tables and chairs close to him. A sudden thought struck him, one that was rather obvious in hindsight.

"Um. How did he turn the wood into splinters?" Harry asked. Both Draco and Elise paused: it was apparent neither of them had considered this either. They stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

"Well, it kind of, splintered apart – like the bone breaking curse," Elise pointed out, "but then again, he could have just transfigured it."

"Maybe we need help," supposed Draco.

Harry did not want to admit it, but this tiny stumbling block put a halt on everything. It proved, in a way, that he still was not ready to enter the big leagues. "Surely we can do this by ourselves?" Harry asked.

"Without knowing the spell incantation?" Draco asked doubtfully.

"Well, non-verbal magic doesn't require an incantation. It's the desired effect, your focus upon that and the wand movement," Harry responded.

"You're surely not suggesting attempting non-verbal magic, right? Are you?" Elise's voice expressed every doubt possible without having to elaborate upon them. She was scared for him, Harry noticed, and it filled his heart with both anger and happiness.

"Yes. Come on, we'll learn it eventually – why not now?"

"Because the last time you tried to push your boundaries you ended up half dead in a hospital bed," Elise explained, her brows drawn taut.

Harry scowled and clenched his fists into balls. He drew his wand, anger and shame coursing through him now: all traces of happiness gone at the reminder of his failure.

Elise stepped forwards, but Draco gripped her shoulder and pulled her back as Harry raised his wand and furrowed his brows.

His wand began to emit an intense light at its tip, a wordless illumination spell before it faded and gave way to a circular motion. There was a screech upon the floor from the tables and chairs, and an intense throbbing started in Harry's head. He was slowly moving the furniture, each motion of his wand pushing them just a little further.

Harry grit his teeth, it was hard: the pain inside his head was growing exponentially. The furniture faltered as he thought of the headache that had begun. He shook his long, wild hair and kept on, but he had spent himself, his fire exhausted.

"Corvus!" Elise and Draco exclaimed.

"You managed it. Well, sort of," Draco pointed out.

"Sort of. Still, that's brilliant!" Elise exclaimed.

"Thanks," Harry accepted the praise: he was too exhausted to refute it. However, he knew that his brief achievement had been situational, and he probably would not be able to do it efficiently for a long time.

"Not a completely pointless night then," Draco intoned in a bored kind of voice as they cleared away the furniture.

"Not completely."

Neville

2nd October, 1992, Hogwarts

Neville found himself rather frustrated that dinner: Ron sat by his side the entire day, talking about the Chudley Cannons. They had a game that night: a huge one, in fact. Every radio had been talking about it. It had gotten to the point where the teachers set up a radio in the great hall so the students could listen to the match together. It meant the hall was noisy, packed full of students, and Ron was next to him talking his ear off.

"Ron, you know you've literally not stopped talking about the match for the last two hours, right?" Hermione's voice relieved Neville: she was just as fed up with Ron's incessant speech as he was.

"You don't understand, Hermione, it's a quidditch thing," Ron retorted rudely before the great hall went silent.

"We are afraid that we have to halt our coverage of the Chudley Cannons v Hollyhead Harpies match to bring you some breaking news." An air of mystery and fear had occupied the hall: what was so important?

"There has been a mass breakout at Azkaban. Among the escaped are numerous high profile Death Eaters and other supporters of You-Know-Who. The Ministry urges all wizards and witches to be on the lookout, and to contact the Ministry in the event of emergency or strange behaviour."

Panic broke out: no one had broken out from Azkaban before, and suddenly there was a mass breakout. However, there was only one thing on Neville's mind: his parent's torturers were now free. His hands shook with fear and he squeezed his eyes shut. What if they came for him? What if they tried to hurt his parents again?

Nobody noticed Neville's behaviour, he had always been prone to nervous fits and no one knew about his parents. He was thankful for it; in all honesty, for he doubted that he would able to respond to their questions.

Neville rose from the table, quietly mumbling an excuse as he left the table – his hand wound around his wand tightly enough to choke the life from it. It was his father's wand, and a source of constant frustration for him. McGonagall had frequently told him to get his own, but his grandmother prohibited him. In a way, he was thankful for the wand – it felt like his parents were always with him, always by his side.

But, just like his parents, the wand was never able to truly work for or help him.

He grimaced; he wanted to tell his grandmother how he felt: how it was not just his fault that he wasn't the best in class. He needed a wand that chose him. McGonagall had told him as much, at least.

"Are you alright, Neville?" asked a young, redheaded first year. He was quick to recognize her as Ginny Weasley.

"Uh, y-yeah, thanks, Ginny," he replied nervously, the girl nodded and carried on her way. Did he really look that bad? Ginny usually never spoke to him. He resorted to running as fast as he could carry his pudgy body up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room, stumbling over the stairs. However, in the Fat Lady's corridor was Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode.

"Hey there, fatso, trying to find the kitchens again?" Pansy called out, her voice high and shrill. Neville did his best to ignore her, his hands shaking.

"Didn't you hear me?" Pansy sounded affronted: she had always craved attention. "I asked if you were trying to find the kitchens again, Longbottom."

Millicent snorted loudly and stepped in front of Neville, her large, stocky build towering over him.

"Go away," muttered Neville. Millicent gave him a push. Neville's hands curled into fists before Pansy just sighed and Millicent stepped aside.

"You're no fun, Longbottom." Pansy said as she flicked away a strand of hair. Neville carried on, and rushed to his bed where he laid and cried.

Dumbledore

2nd October, 1992, Hogwarts

"This is concerning," Remus said, "very much so. Do we know whether it was Voldemort himself or an ally?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "Nothing so far. Severus is with them now, trying to figure it all out."

"With them? You mean-"

"Yes, Remus, the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore watched as Remus's face contorted into a frown. "Do not worry for us, I trust Severus with my life."

"It's him I'm worried about. An accomplished liar he may be, but Voldemort is dangerous, and with his followers – well, it's not the best place for anyone. Even Severus."

"I imagine that he'd be surprised to know you worry about him."

"I never clung to our rivalry like he did – but, then again, circumstances were different for him."

Dumbledore nodded. A swelling took place in his chest, as if his heart had expanded when he looked at Lupin. The man had come so far.

"Albus, listen… I have something, ahem," Lupin tugged at his frayed collar, "that I think could be useful."

"Is that why you wanted to come here tonight?" Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes."

"And is it to do with how you think that they could have broken out of Azkaban?"

"Yes – well, maybe. However, I think it's too… dangerous? Too dangerous not to tell you." Lupin grimaced, scratching at his scars. Dumbledore knew Lupin too well, and knew exactly how important the young man thought this was.

"In our fifth year, the three of them – James, Peter and… Sirius – er. They became animagi. They did it in order to be with me when I transformed."

Dumbledore blinked, peering over his half-moon glasses at Lupin. "That is extraordinary. At fifteen, you say?" He shook his head slowly, a smile growing upon his face. He knew what Lupin was implicating, but at the same time, he could not help but appreciate the extraordinary feat. "The resourcefulness of children when it comes to helping their friends will never cease to amaze me."

"It – it did help me. It made some of my darkest nights into the brightest and best of my life. But – I think, well. I know how Sirius escaped the aurors. I also think he aided in the breakout at Azkaban."

"What form did he take?" Dumbledore asked, a spark of curiosity burning bright inside him.

"Sirius? Sirius took the shape of a dog," Lupin said bitterly, "Peter the form of a rat, and James was a stag."

"I find it curious, that, don't you think?"

"What?" Lupin asked, eyes still wide: Dumbledore did believe that this wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"Dogs are known for being loyal. Rats for being mischievous and sneaky, and stags – pride, and also known as the enemy of snakes."

"Funny. Peter should have been a dog, not Sirius," Lupin muttered bitterly: he was acting more like a petulant child now than the adult he usually was. Dumbledore was well aware he was prone to this at times, that he let his façade crack.

"The form an animagus takes, is the one most representative of themselves." He mulled the possibility over in his head. It seemed unlikely, and very much illogical. But, what Sirius did was not particularly loyal, and it had been entirely unexpected. It would be safe to hold doubts, Albus decided.

"Well. I guess not completely."

"Perhaps, Remus. Perhaps."