Pansy and Hermione met in the girl's toilet nearest the library after they returned to Hogwarts. Hermione passed over a copy of Matilda for Theo and Pansy handed her a bag of sweets.

"Where did you get this?" Hermione asked in guilty delight as she opened the brown sack and looked in at the collection of forbidden treasures.

"Nicked it from Draco's party," Pansy said. "Figured your parents wouldn't let you have any because they're crazy Muggles so I got some for you too."

"They're dentists, not crazy," Hermione said, reaching in for a chocolate frog.

"Whatever," said Pansy. "Theo said to tell you he has a free period after your remedial flying lessons on Thursday so if you happened to be in the back of the library he'd see you there to return the book."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

To Hermione's regret, Harry did not forget about his plan to figure out what the three-headed dog was guarding over their holiday. He talked about how to get past it over breakfast. He talking about how to get past it while he and Draco hung on the edges of the railings at the Quidditch pitch and watched the teams practice. He talked about how to get past it while eating some of the endless cakes Narcissa Malfoy sent to school.

When Harry Potter began trying to figure out how to get past the dog while Hermione was trying to write her essay for History of Magic she finally lost control and snapped at him, "Maybe instead of just talking about it all the time you could go to the library and do some research on Cerberuses?"

"That's brilliant," he said. "Hermione, you're the best."

Any thought that having to do actual work would make him drop the project, however, was soon forgotten as Harry dragged Neville after him and they spent an entire Saturday looking for ways to get around large, three-headed dogs. "They like pretty girls," Harry said upon returning to the common room and spreading his notes out on a table, "but we're out of luck there."

"Hey," Hermione said, hitting him in the arm.

"Legendary beauty kind of pretty," Neville said. "Psyche kind of pretty."

"Oh," Hermione said, somewhat mollified. "I guess that's a pretty high standard. I mean, she made the god of love fall for her so -"

"I think you're beautiful," Draco said.

"She's not that pretty," Harry said. "Cupid won't be building her a castle anytime soon." Draco kicked Harry who muttered, "Watch it, you prat," as he bent down to rub at his shin.

"What else," Hermione asked, blushing a little at Draco's announcement and eager to move on.

"Bread. They like some kind of special bread."

"Any information on what kind of bread?" Draco asked. Neville shook his head.

"Well, that isn't promising," Draco said.

"And music," Harry declared with the air of someone who's found the answer and was leading up to it. The way Draco and Hermione failed to appreciate his genius clearly rankled because he said again, "Music. Music puts them to sleep."

"What kind of music," Hermione asked.

"Lyre music!"

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances and then Hermione said, her tone suggesting Harry had lost his wits, "I had no idea you played the lyre."

"Well, I don't," Harry said, "but how hard can it be?"

"Let's hope the dog isn't a music critic," Draco muttered.

"Where would you even get a lyre?" Neville asked.

Harry smirked. "I'll ask Sirius for one, of course."

. . . . . . . . . . .

"He wants a what?" Remus looked up from his chocolate milk and stared at Sirius. The mail had come bringing with it the usual claims that school was going just fine and that, no, Harry wasn't getting into any trouble and that, yes, he was doing his homework and that, no, he hadn't gotten a single detention in over a month so please stop asking. The boy had also made a weird request.

"A lyre," Sirius said. "What's a lyre?"

"It's a musical instrument," Remus said. "Kind of like a little harp. What the devil is he up to?"

"I don't know," Sirius said. "But if we send him one I bet we find out."

"Probably because McGonagall will send us a Howler about it," Remus muttered.

"She loves us," Sirius insisted.

Remus just looked at him.

"So," said Sirius after it was clear Remus had no intention of dignifying that assertion with any kind of answer. "Do you know where we can buy the kid a lyre?"

Remus sighed. "Yes," he admitted, setting his mug down. "C'mon. Let's go."

. . . . . . . . . .

Draco leaned over Hermione's shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Color coding my notes," she said, busy with five different highlighting quills. "Exams are – "

"Months away," Harry said from where he sat with his feet up on a table and a new chocolate frog package he was busily unwrapping.

" – coming up," Hermione said with loud insistence, "And I need to be prepared." She looked at Draco. "I'm going to make a study schedule next. Do you want me to make one for you too?"

"Uh, that's OK," he said trying not to sound as horrified as he felt.

"Swot," Ron said from the chair across the table. He was working on an essay of his own and he swore as Harry's chocolate frog hopped over his parchment, leaving brown, melty smudges in its wake. "Harry," he whinged, "you let your stupid frog get away again and now I have to start over."

Hermione rolled her eyes and cast a parchment clean up spell on the sheet for him. The chocolate stains disappeared as did several ink spatters, a jam thumbprint, and a handful of crossed out words. "Thanks, Hermione," Ron said, startled.

"See what you can do when you're a swot?" she asked, folding up her own notes with careful precision and tucking them into a folder that Draco couldn't help but notice was filled with a collection of other folded and organized notes. He thought with some concern about his own bag, which had crumpled papers from before Halloween, old sweets wrappers, and at least one pair of dirty socks. Maybe it was time to study a little more.

Harry interrupted those thoughts. "Nicholas Flamel?" he asked, turning the Chocolate Frog card backward and forward. "Who the heck is that?"

"You could try reading it," Hermione suggested, making both Draco and Ron snicker.

"Blah blah blah," Harry said, "has lived for bloody ever, over 600 years – sheesh, who'd want to live that long? Do you think you just keep aging so you're like – "

"Like the Cumean Sibyl?" Hermione asked. She seemed impressed Harry knew who that was until he asked, "Who?" at which point she sighed.

"She asked for immortal life and Apollo – you know who Apollo is, right?" Harry rolled his eyes so she continued, "Well, he didn't give her eternal youth to go with it."

"Ewww," Ron opined. "So she just got older and older and older…"

"Forever," Hermione said. "Exactly."

"Who'd want to live forever if they couldn't be young the whole time? What's the point if you just turn into a monster?" Harry asked.

Hermione made a face and held out her hand. "Well, is Nicholas Flamel still aging?" she asked.

Harry didn't hand the card over, just squinted at the photograph on the front. "Doesn't look like it," he decided. "Looks like he stayed whatever age he was when he made the Philosopher's Stone, though that wasn't exactly young."

"The what?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Seems to be the thing that's kept him immortal." He dropped the card into his bag. "Not like it matters. Immortality. Being old forever. Gross."

. . . . . . . . . .

Harry didn't unwrap the package Sirius and Remus sent him until he was tucked away back in his own room away from the prying eyes of adults and the narrowing ones of Hermione. That meant he had to wait until after dinner, after public study time in the common room, after curfew.

"What is it?" Neville asked as Harry untied the twine and pulled out first one box and then what seemed to be an envelope.

"Read the note," Draco said.

"Dear Harry," the boy read. "Remus and I are so pleased by your interest in music. I understand studying an instrument can improve one's Arithmancy, not that I would know from personal experience. I'm sure you don't have any untoward plans other than the arts and I look forward to hearing you play this summer. Love, Sirius."

"He knows you're up to something," Draco said as he ran a finger over the lyre that had been in the box.

Harry shrugged. "He sent it anyway, didn't he?" he asked before continuing. "P.S. I've enclosed your father's invisibility cloak. I'm sure it will be of great help to you as you work on your music. Don't tell Narcissa; she'd kill me. ~ S."

"You have an invisibility cloak," Draco said, awed. "Do you have any idea how much those things cost?"

"We have to go exploring," said Harry. "Right now."

"It's after curfew," Neville said, flushing as his voice squeaked on the last word. "What if we get caught?"

Harry pulled a silvery cloak out from the envelope and shook it out. It was easily large enough to cover all three of them. "We won't get caught," he said with confidence. "We have an invisibility cloak!"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"An invisibility cloak?" Minerva McGonagall looked at the Fat Lady in disbelief. "Sirius Black sent them an invisibility cloak? Has the man lost his mind?"

"They seemed to forget it wasn't a sound muffling cloak as well," the Fat Lady said. "They really were adorable, Minerva, their little feet poking out every once in a while. I followed them by the sound of their giggling through three hallways before they ended up breaking into an old storage room."

Minerva sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I guess they can't get into too much trouble in a storage room but I really don't understand what that man is thinking. Thank you."

"Of course," the Fat Lady said, trying to control her smile behind a prim tone before she burst out one more time with, "So adorable, Minerva."

After the portrait had sashayed back off to her own frame Minerva pulled open her drawer, poured herself two fingers of whiskey, and began writing a letter to Narcissa Malfoy.

. . . . . . . . .

"What's that?" Harry asked.

They'd shut the door to the old room behind them. There was nothing in the whole space except a big mirror.

"Mirror of Erised," Neville read, "but…"

"It isn't us," said Harry, looking at the mirror with wide eyes. "I mean, I don't see you two. I just see…" he trailed off as he looked at the ginger-haired woman with his eyes and a man who looked so much like himself, only older. They stood behind him, smiling and waving at him. The woman, who must be his mother, put her hand over her mouth as if she were going to cry. He reached a hand out toward the mirror, wanting to touch them.

"What do you see," Draco asked. His own voice was very quiet.

"My parents," Harry said. "I… I see my parents."

"So do I," Neville said. He'd sunk down to the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest as he stared into the mirror. "They know me," he added in a whisper. "They know who I am."

"What do you see," Harry asked Draco, not turning away from the mirror, but the blond boy shook his head and wouldn't answer.

"What is this?" Neville asked. "Why do we all see something different? It's a mirror; it's just supposed to reflect what's in front of it."

"Do you think it… it shows us the future?" Draco asked.

"But my parents are dead," Harry said in frustration. "That can't be it."

"Things that can never be?" Neville said. He hadn't gotten up from the floor or pulled his eyes away from the mirror.

"I hope not," Draco said, looking down at the floor and rubbing his face.

"Things that are impossible and unfair?" Neville continued, his voice rising. "Things that are wrong and cruel?" He stood up then, the motion slow and hard as if he were wrenching his body out of tar. "I hate this thing. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it." He shoved at Harry. "This is awful. Awful. It's a lie! We need to go back to our room, we need to go back now."

"Okay," Harry said, taken aback by Neville's vehemence, and he held out the cloak for them all to huddle back under and they moved away; before Harry shut the door to the storage room, though, he turned and gave the mirror one last longing glance.

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N – Yes, I know in canon Flamel doesn't get his own Frog card, just a note on Dumbledore's, but he should.

Thank you all for your lovely notes and words of support. I appreciate them so much.

Quick rec: Burn, by dhrtrashqueen. It's pretty much my favorite dramione trope and she just started but I'm super excited. Linked out of my favorites :)