Disclaimer: What do I own? Well, as of last Monday, some mad omelette-making skillz!

AN1: Hey, so, I know I said I'd update last week...but I didn't take into account the date. Suffice it to say that between moving and going to the jazz festival and...life, I had no time. Anyway, I wish I was coming to you with a super awesome chapter, but this is, as the title suggests, just calm before the inevitable storm (and, admittedly, a bit of a rush job...I might have written most of it after midnight last night), and the next chapter should be far more exciting.

AN2: So, a couple of people have expressed skepticism over Harry yielding so quickly to Reiko in the last chapter, and I thought that this might actually be worth going over.

Someone used the name 'random woman' to describe Reiko, and the issue here is that that's a decidedly inaccurate title, for two main reasons. The first is that she's Remus's girlfriend, and it's reasonable for Harry to assume that anything he says to her may very well make it to Remus's ears, and then possibly to Sirius's or Dumbledore's - and those are the two people that have actual physical control over Harry's life; it's not unreasonable of him to not be too keen to engage in a conversation on a potentially volatile topic when he's very tired, and any mistakes he made might 'go on permanent record'. The second reason is that shes a very educated and intelligent person in a position of considerable influence, and making a bad impression wouldn't be smart move, especially right after meeting her. Trust me, this discussion between them isn't over - Harry just didn't want to push it then, partially because he was, simply, exhausted.

Besides Harry having quite a long day and already having a lot on his mind, you might have noticed a growing trend...of Harry realizing that though he does have some very strong beliefs of his own that he absolutely wants to stick with, these are very closely interwoven with Voldemort's, to the point where he's been noticing himself making statements and not even feeling like it's him talking, and this is starting to really concern him, as he explicitly exposited in chapter 12. It's really not surprising - he's a teenager now, and he wants to find himself and see himself as his own person. There's an element of natural teenage rebellion, manifesting in doubt and dishonesty, as well as a creeping suspicion that there's something more sinister going on, and there's something seriously wrong with him.

Chapter 14: The Calm

"What's that?"

Harry removed his headphones, but kept the music playing as he glanced up at Theo and Draco, who had just entered his compartment, and were staring at the device in his hands, bewildered.

"It's called a 'walkman'. It's a muggle device."

"And what does it...do?" Theo asked, puzzled, while Draco stared on in revulsion.

"It plays music recorded on small disks."

Theo blinked. "Um, wow. But...I thought muggle technology doesn't work at Hogwarts - won't it stop working once we arrive?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably. That's actually the point. It's been both magically and physically altered, and should in theory survive an environment like Hogwarts longer, but it's just a prototype so it'll probably fail. I'm supposed to find out exactly when and how that happens."

"Oh how fascinating!" Hermione exclaimed animatedly as she slipped past Theo and Draco and plopped down into the seat beside Harry, bending down to examine the small device. "Did you make it?"

Harry peered down at the brand name at the top. "Well, actually, Panasonic did."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, did you do the modifications yourself?"

Harry's eyebrows rose. "You think I can perform magic that complex without a wand? I'm flattered, Hermione, but -"

She scowled. "Alright, alright, fine. Where did you get it then?"

"The head of one of the joint departments of MACUSA and CMM's Departments of Mysteries."

Everyone's jaws dropped.

"What?"

Harry's lips twitched. "Remus's girlfriend."

Shock morphed into confusion.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you two going to sit down?"

Slowly, Theo and Draco made their way into the compartment, closing the door behind them and sitting down across from Harry and Hermione.

"So," Theo said musingly, leaning back in his seat, "Obviously you had an interesting holiday."

"I'm confused," Draco put in.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well it's obvious, isn't it?"

Draco bristled.

"Professor Lupin is dating a Canadian Ministry of Magic employee who is in charge of a research division that specializes in muggle technology, and they both visited Harry and Mr. Black during the Christmas holiday," Hermione explained primly, before her face broke into a big smile. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"Exactly," Harry concurred.

Draco scowled at them both.

"Anyway," Harry said happily, ""How was the Yule Ball? Anything exciting happen?"

Hermione glared at Theo, who grinned.

"Oh, we had a splendid time," Theo said, "Daphne and I met up with the Weasley twins like you said, the day before, and we put together an excellent plan."

"They spiked the punch and planted fireworks in the food!" Hermione exclaimed furiously.

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Fireworks in the food?" he asked, impressed.

Theo nodded eagerly. "You know, for Gryffindors, those two aren't so so bad. They've got amazing contacts – they showed us all the the things they got a hold of, and are waiting for their NEWT year to use. There's this amazing map they have that shows the locations of everyone in the school, and they've got fairy grenades, Harry, fairy grenades!"

Harry blinked. "I'm...not actually sure what those are."

"They're like dungbombs – but they release hallucinogens instead!"

Hermione looked horrified at the prospect.

Harry's eyes glittered. "Sounds like -" he glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at him "- a time. Yeah...sounds like...a time."

"Anyhow," Hermione said briskly, "Adina taught me how to dance, and I had a lovely time, despite Theo and Greengrass's efforts to ensure the contrary."

"It was ok," Draco mumbled with a shrug.

Hermione snickered.

"Watch it, Granger."

"Or what, Malfoy?"

'So what did you do, Harry?" Theo asked loudly. "You weren't at the Malfoy's New Years party."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Yeah...I just, you know, had a quiet holiday with Sirius and Remus."

"Quiet?" Theo, who'd spent more time with Sirius than the others, inquired suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

Harry's lips twitched. "More or less. Anyway, I do believe we have business to attend to."

The others nodded, and Draco pulled a large, leather bound book with tattered, yellow pages out of his bag. "The book you asked for. Given how much dust I had to clean off it, I doubt my father will notice it's missing."

Harry reached out and took the book, smiling slightly.

Magicks of the Blod

Hermione shivered slightly.

"Scared, Granger?" Draco asked smugly.

She glared at him. "It's dangerous magic, Malfoy, of course I'm scared, and you're even more of an idiot than I thought you were, if you're not."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione went on.

"I still don't think this is a good idea. Are you sure about this, Harry?"

He nodded resolutely. "The reason we started the order was to ensure we had the means to protect ourselves and each other, and knowing this magic is a crucial safety net."

"In case of what?"

Harry shrugged.

Hermione scowled. "Fine. Then what exactly are we going to learn?"

Harry opened the ancient tome, scanning the table of contents before placing his finger on one of the middle entries. "The fidelius charm."

And sacrificial blood wards, of course.

"So how was your holiday?"

Harry was standing atop the astronomy tower, turning the walkman Reiko had given him, which had briefly burst into flames about an hour ago, in his hands, while Theo a definitive few feet away, staring over the edge curiously. Theo had quietly requested a conversation after dinner, and though Harry really wanted to get a head start on something (he hadn't exactly decided yet...perhaps he would write to Reiko before he forgot the details), he felt obliged to indulge the other boy, given...the events of three weeks ago.

"Bloody awful."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"I spent it with my father," Theo said flatly.

Harry blinked. "Is that it? Not that that isn't….bloody awful or anything…"

Theo smiled slightly, but the smile quickly slipped off his face. "I missed you," he said quietly, eyes tracing one of the faint constellations twinkling overhead.

"I...missed you too," Harry admitted truthfully. "I had a great holiday – best I've ever had – but there were a few moments where I really wished you could have been there."

"Maybe next year," Theo murmured.

"Maybe."

They both lapsed into silence.

"So...you wanted to talk?"

"What did you actually do over the holiday?" Theo suddenly asked, seemingly ignoring the question.

Harry looked at him curiously, not really minding the evasion.

"You said you spent time with Sirius and Lupin, and I believe you...but something else happened. You wouldn't be so pleased...so satisfied, otherwise. And you seem...different."

Harry nodded; it was times like this when he did, in a way, understand why Tom had done what he did. Theo was a threat; he could read his face and his words and his actions, and extract meaningful conclusions from them. Perhaps more than anyone. And he was often correct. "Sirius trained me. Duelling and wandless magic, introductory auror training, really -"

"Wicked."

"It was quite intense – a whole week, nearly ten hours a day."

Theo's eyebrows rose. "Any particular reason?"

Harry hesitated. "We killed Peter Pettigrew."

"You what?"

Harry glanced at him. "We tracked down Peter Pettigrew, and killed him."

"Why?"

"Revenge," Harry said simply.

Theo stared at him for a long moment; and Harry knew he'd just given Theo another vital puzzle piece, realizing a moment later that he didn't know how he'd react. He wondered if he would disapprove of not handing Pettigrew over, or if he'd be unhappy that he did something so reckless. He wondered if he cared

But then Theo nodded slowly. "Well...good for you."

Harry smiled at him with raised eyebrows. "Good to know you approve."

Theo chuckled, but then looked at Harry seriously. "It brought you...peace. I can tell. Of course I approve."

Harry suddenly felt something twist deep inside his chest. "Peace…yeah, I suppose."

Theo nodded knowingly. "But something else happened, didn't it? Something that's put you on edge."

How did Theo notice so much when no one else did?

"Nothing really…" he began uneasily.

Theo just looked at him with palpable skepticism.

"I mean, it's just...well, a lot of things." He paused. "I've just had a lot on my mind...I mean I always have, but recently I've just felt like my head will explode if I don't do something about it, and I don't know when it became like that, but...I don't know…"

Theo frowned. "Well what do you have on your mind?" He hesitated. "Maybe I can help."

"I…" Realization dawned on him. "I think I'm scared."

Theo's frown deepened.

"I think I've realized that the world's somehow gotten bigger and that...I don't know my place in it anymore. All of these things are happening, and I feel like I'm starting to be stretched thin; people keep wanting more from Harry Potter, but I don't know if there's that much left. I don't know if there's enough there to...I don't know if Harry Potter can survive in a bigger world."

Theo was silent for a moment. "I'm honestly not sure I understand."

Harry sighed. "Neither am I." His eyes drifted down to the small device in his hands, drawn to the charred streaks running along it. "You wanted to talk."

Silence followed his declaration, and then Theo sighed. "Yeah I...I just wanted you to know...I don't expect anything."

Harry frowned, instantly understanding the context, but not understanding the statement at all.

"And I'd outright...deny everything, if I thought either of us would benefit from it, but I've thought a lot about it, and I know that...well you don't have anyone. And you...you won't."

"What makes you think that?" Harry asked, immensely relieved that he was still following the somewhat cryptic statements but still confused as to what Theo was talking about.

"You don't look at anyone. You don't notice anyone, it's like you've...it's like something's just...turned off. In your brain."

"I…"

"Everyone else noticed, you know."

Harry grimaced.

"Draco's outright told me to get over it, because you'd never notice, and Hermione even took me aside and tried to get me to come to her support group. And I knew they were right, and even now I know that you're just indulging me -"

"I'm not," Harry interjected. "I'm really not. I...just don't know what I can do. Because I don't...I don't know how to...you're right, you know. It confuses me and...makes me...uneasy. Hermione and Adina - it scares me, how close they became so quickly, and Draco and Pansy…"

Theo grimaced at the mention of what was really an infamous example of the most disfunctional non-relationship at Hogwarts, at this point.

"Whatever makes them...like that...I don't want anything to do with it. But that doesn't change the fact that...you're my favourite person."

"Your best friend," Theo said, unable to entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"But more than that - because it's just you, and...I want to...make it a promise."

"What kind of promise?"

"I don't...know yet."

Theo hesitated, but then nodded slowly. "You're my favourite person too."

Harry smiled slightly.

They lapsed into silence once again, and Harry, this time, couldn't manage to distract himself; there was a strange tension, benign but palpable, in the air, and he felt with such immense certainty that something had to be said. So he opened his mouth to conclude the conversation - but then something entirely different came out.

"It's always moving, everything around me, and it's...and it's really confusing. All of it. And I have to move if...if I don't want to...drown. If I don't want to be sucked in and dragged under. Stopping is...dying; indecision is...it's just the beginning of the end, and there are ways to avoid that; I know there are. There are rules, principles, goals, that push people, that push me. But it's like they're being pulled out from under me; it's like someone's pulling out a rug from under my feet, but painfully slowly, as though they don't want me to notice, which, if you think about it, is physically impossible, because they'd just be dragging me along with the rug, so the analogy doesn't work, but I guess in a way the absurdity of the impossibility makes it all the more fitting, because I don't even know how the rug got there in the first place, and unless I stare right at it, I forget what it looks like, and when I stare too long, I get caught up in all those patterns - you know, those rather eerie, frightening ones that seem to swim and twist as you watch them - and I forget what shapes and colours are and that they exist outside this stupid bloody rug, and -"

He froze, all of a sudden realizing that Theo was standing beside him, only a few inches away now, utterly silent. With trepidation, he risked a glance at the other boy, who, to his surprise, didn't seem unnerved or confused by his tirade at all.

"Sounds like you might need a new rug."

Harry stared at his best friend very closely for a moment, suddenly feeling like he'd never actually looked before; he'd never noticed how Theo's face was never quite blank, how even at his most cunning and shrewd he was genuine underneath; he'd never noticed how he seemed to disappear when he was silent, and how he was the sort of person who wouldn't quite be entirely out of place anywhere; he'd never noticed how different Theo looked from his father, how he must take after his mother, and how much peace of mind this probably gave him.

"Maybe you'll have to take me rug shopping sometime."

"I know you're not actually into blokes, Harry, but you're really fucking queer sometimes."

Harry snorted, and then smiled slightly, knowing that he'd just acquired a few puzzle pieces of his own, before joining Theo in examining the constellations overhead.

Harry stared at Magicks of the Blod in confusion. "Professor Dumbledore cast these?"

He was the one who described them as blood wards. Do you think him a liar?

"Well...not a pathological liar, but….maybe? Maybe a little? Sometimes?"

It never ceases to provide me with relief that you are not as stupid as you look, Tom said flatly.

Harry snorted, before frowning. "What could it be then? If not blood wards, what could he have used? It had something to do with Aunt Petunia but if it isn't blood, then…"

Denial does not become you, Harry. You know the answer to that question.

"Soul magic."

An addendum to your mother's spell, Tom elaborated bluntly.

"But then…"

Yes? Tom insisted, almost cruelly.

"Then it's...then it's possible he knew all along. What mum planned to do. That she planned to sacrifice her life…"

That he let her die.

"But that still doesn't make sense," Harry objected, "Inheritance is biological. How could the spell have been tied to aunt Petunia if it was soul magic?"

There is no evidence that soul magic is cannot leverage inheritance and genetics. There is no evidence that there are no hereditary qualities of the soul, Tom pointed out, some degree of excitement evident in his voice.

"But there's no decisive evidence that there are are, though."

Not in published literature, Tom said pointedly.

Harry sighed. "That's…" He hesitated, before reaching into his bag and pulling out the first of his mother's notebooks. "I suppose I had better get to work, then."

Indeed.

He opened the notebook carefully, before groaning. "Of course it's encrypted."

Paranoid mudblood…

Harry sighed.

Harry sat apprehensively in his seat in the Potions classroom as he packed up his bag; Professor Snape had ignored him for the whole class – he hadn't even marked his potion – just as he'd been doing since Harry 'got back' (from his brief expedition to catatonia, that is), and he knew exactly why. Tom had given him a rundown of his exchange with the 'traitor', leaving Harry extremely disheartened; he'd put a lot of work into maintaining the delicate state of his relationship with the Potions professor, and starting over...he couldn't deal with yet another complication in his life, not then, when things were just starting to clear up.

Kind of. Sort of. Superficially, at least.

Finally, the last person fled the classroom, and Harry slowly made his way to the front of the room. He knew the professor had noticed him, but stubbornly pretended he wasn't there nonetheless.

"Sir?" he said quietly.

He was ignored.

"Sir, I just...I wanted to – no, I needed to apologize."

He saw the man shift slightly, pausing in whatever first year's essay he was assigning a failing grade to, and so he knew he had been heard.

"I wasn't...myself, at the end of term. And that's certainly no excuse for my behaviour; the only reason I bring it up is that I want you to know that my words at that particular moment do not at all indicate my general attitude towards you. I respect you and your concern for me, even though I might not always like it. And...well, anyway, I'm sorry. My actions were inexcusable, and all I can do is ask for forgiveness."

He stood there awkwardly, waiting for a response – any kind of indication that his words had been acknowledged – until Professor Snape's head snapped upward.

"Detention, Potter."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Do I need to send you to Madame Pomfrey to get your ears checked as well?"

"Sir, I – what did I do?"

"You were just referencing it quite explicitly, I believe."

"But that was weeks ago..." Harry objected weakly.

"And I'm assigning you a detention today."

"Sir...you can't retroactively assign detentions..."

"I just did."

Harry gaped. "Sir, I've...I've never gotten a detention before."

Professor Snape smiled cruelly. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

Harry's shoulders slumped; he knew he had lost.

"You will report to my office every Thursday at seven until further notice...to scrub cauldrons."

He heard Tom chuckling. This is what you get for apologizing.

Harry sighed. "Yes sir," he said dejectedly before beginning to walk away. But then he froze, and turned back around. "Sir, I have a question. About a potion."

The man raised an eyebrow.

"I...I know there are a lot of potions that can erase memories. But are there...really advanced potions that can not erase, but repress, very specific parts of someone's memories? Like, not just events - for example memories of a certain topic? Or of a specific place?"

His head began to throb.

Professor Snape's impassive expression had morphed into a vague frown. "There are...several that spring to mind."

Harry nodded slowly. "Are there any that are only semi permanent? That might allow the memories to resurface in, say, ten or fifteen years?"

"A few such potions exist," the man confirmed, with something that looked like trepidation beginning to glimmer in his eyes.

"Right, and what are they called?"

Professor Snape's face grew closed off. "That is very dark magic, Potter. It would be very irresponsible for a professor to impart such knowledge to a mere fourth year."

Harry tried to not look too troubled, or disappointed for that matter. "I...I understand. But...I'm just wondering...of these few potions...well, what kind of effects might they have if they were given to a small child?"

The man's eyes flashed and his entire body tensed. "That is a very specific question, Potter."

Harry also tensed. "I suppose it is...sorry I bothered you, professor," he said, before marching swiftly from the room.

That was very foolish, Tom said darkly.

"I couldn't help myself," Harry whispered.

Yes, well, next time think twice before risking everything for answers you do not truly desire, Tom snapped unhappily.

Harry let out a shaky breath.

"I did it!" Hermione exclaimed joyously as she burst into the Room of Requirement.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did what?"

"I made my first transformation!"

Harry's eyes lit up. "Congratulations!"

Theo groaned. "Why am I always last?"

"Because Hermione and I are the best students in our year."

Theo scowled at him, but shrugged a moment later. "At least I'll transform before Draco."

Draco glowered. "Only because I've barely started yet!"

"Anyway," Harry interjected. "Progress report?"

The others nodded.

"Draco and I have mastered the last two curses on the list," Theo began, "And we skimmed the book you lent us, and made a list of what we want to learn next."

"And I managed to get a restricted section pass from Professor McGonagall," Hermione put in, "I found that text on the usage of wards in light magic...it looks extensive enough to use as a cross reference."

Harry nodded. "Good. And I -"

Suddenly, the door opened once again, and Tracey walked briskly in.

"Evening."

Harry frowned. "Good evening. You're early."

Tracey shrugged nonchalantly. "Not as early as you lot are...every meeting. What exactly do you get up to before the rest of us get here?"

"We go over the lesson plans," Harry replied easily.

Tracey looked between them suspiciously. "...right."

"But now that you're here, how about Draco helps you with the spells we went over last week."

"No!" Tracey said quickly. "I mean, I want to work with Hermione."

Draco frowned dejectedly.

"Why?"

"She's a better teacher."

Hermione looked quite satisfied with that assessment, and Draco scowled.

"Well then," Hermione said. "We'll work on the blasting curse first."

Tracey smiled, apparently relieved. "Sounds like a plan to me."

When the two girls had started casting spells on the other side of the room, Theo frowned at Draco. "What did you do?"

"I'm sure he didn't do anything," Harry put in, "He just needs to work on his teaching skills."

Theo rolled his eyes. "No, he definitely did something. She's been avoiding him since January."

"It's nothing," Draco interjected.

"Mhmm," Theo said.

Harry looked between them confusedly. "Alright, well, I suppose that if you did nothing and something at the same time, it was likely the fact that you did nothing that's the problem."

Realization seemed to dawn on Theo.

"Anyway, I'm leaving you in charge again, Theo."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "You've still got detention?"

Harry sighed. "At least I've graduated from scrubbing cauldrons to brewing potions for Madame Pomfrey."

"Good luck, mate."

"I'll need it," Harry muttered, before walking off, less than pleased to endure another hour of Professor Snape's suspicious stares.

Harry huffed, tearing the page he'd been writing on out of his diary and crumpling it up out of sheer frustration. Sure he could have just erased everything, but he was beyond parchment clearing charms at this point. He'd spent the last ten minutes puzzling over a particularly odd block of encrypted text, which it turned out translated to March 29, 1980, an utterly unhelpful indicator that only told him that this notebook entry had been written fifteen years and one day ago.

He glanced over at Theo, who had apparently fallen asleep; they were seated at a table he'd conjured in the Room of Hot Chocolate, and apparently the chairs were comfy enough to sleep in. But then again, Theo could fall asleep pretty much anywhere.

Slightly annoyed - which he knew wasn't remotely fair - he threw his crumpled paper at the other boy's head, startling him from his nap.

"Ow!" Theo glared at him accusingly.

" You fell asleep."

Theo grimaced sourly. "Because I'm bored. This is even worse than homework."

Harry rolled his eyes. " You're the one who said we should spend more time together."

"Yeah, doing something fun."

"It'll be fun after we decode everything."

"Yeah, seven years later," Theo grumbled.

"I estimate another ten hours, actually "

Theo groaned. "Who writes their study notes in code anyway?"

"Someone who doesn't want them easily read," Harry said in a voice that indicated that was obvious.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Who wrote these anyway? You said they were advanced Charms notes?"

"I already told you."

"No, you just said you 'inherited' them."

"Yes, exactly."

Theo just looked puzzled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well there's only one person I could have inherited them from, right?"

"Er, yes?"

Harry sighed. "Inherited implies that they belonged to a dead family member, and clearly the handwriting is a woman's. So a female relative, then. The notes cite journals published in the last 17 years, so my grandmother and all my other female magical relatives were dead by that time. So they must have belonged to my mother."

Theo scowled. "You expected me to get all that from 'inherited'?"

"Yes," Harry said blankly.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Typical. So why would your mum of all people need to encode her study notes?"

Harry turned to the pile of notes in front of him, and started to sort them back into order. "She was working on her mastery in Charms, and was doing secret research for professor Dumbledore. I imagine she learned a few things that shouldn't exactly be made public knowledge."

Theo's eyes were wide, suddenly far more interested. "Like what?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea."

Theo leaned back in his chair. "So...your mum was looking for something for Dumbledore during the war...so it must have been like a weapon or something…"

Harry shrugged again. "Or something. Weapons aren't really the headmaster's style. He's more subtle than that."

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Isn't he a Gryffindor?"

"Bravery can be subtle," Harry commented. "Besides, he once told me that age tends to bring out the Slytherin in all of us."

Theo snorted.

Harry smiled slightly. "It's probably true though, isn't it? It would be strange if you went through your life without coming out a little more Slytherin on the other side. For anyone who wants to actually be something, to make their life mean something...how are they supposed to do that without being at least a little ambitious and determined and clever?"

Theo nodded slowly. "That...makes sense, actually. So...exactly how Slytherin do you think the Headmaster is?"

Harry hesitated. "I'm hoping these notes might tell us that, actually."

Theo peered at him curiously. "But that's not why we're doing this, is it?"

Harry hesitated. "I…"

"Don't know," Theo concluded.

Harry smiled wryly. "Not really, no. But it's important."

"Well, I guess we had better get decoding then."

Harry grinned. "That's the spirit!"

But you're going to help me with my transformation later."

"Deal."

Harry stared down at the small rat he had conjured with trepidation.

It was late April, and Term 2 had flown by.

The second task of the Triwizard Tournament came and went months ago – something about the Black Lake and kidnapped students, he wasn't really paying attention – while the Order continued to meet and their new members quickly improved. As it turned out, it was much easier teaching fourth year students with a fair bit of magical theory under their belt, with the help of three assistants who were adept duellists and occlumens themselves, rather than being the sole, inexperienced teacher to a couple of first years, and everyone seemed to be doing well and enjoying themselves considerably; they spent most of their time on occlumency and duelling, but once his detentions had come to an end, he had discovered that the Thursday evening sessions had begun to occasionally devolve into amusing, frivolous competitions and games (like 'who can conjure the most frogs in 30 seconds' or 'charmed snowball fights' or 'artistic firework competitions'), and while they were mostly just for recreational purposes, Harry enjoyed himself once he was able to join in, and thought they were worthy team-building exercises...much to Tom's annoyance.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Adina's budding romance was somewhat disconcerting yet slightly fascinating to watch and Daphne was still trying to get him to go on a date with her, much to Theo's amusement. In retrospect, the other boy had always shown fairly visible distaste towards Daphne's affections for him, but was apparently less...anxious over the matter now, and had taken to giving the besotted girl (very bad) advice regarding...well, Harry didn't really know what the point of the bouquet of rainbow roses surrounded by humming bees and that 'belated-half-birthday-tiara' was, besides to annoy him...which, in hindsight, was likely Theo's intention. He thought it was rather cruel, actually, but had thus far not really felt any motivation to address the matter, despite Tom's constant complaints about "his followers' insolence".

Classes continued to be easy, so Harry poured his time into finally perfecting his second spell, trying to decipher his mother's notes, and reading the book Professor Dumbledore had lent him, which was….bizarre, to say the least. It read more like a philosophy or linguistics text than a magic tome, despite the fact that its main subject was magical theory; specifically, it dealt with the nature of incantations and their absence. It was fascinating, for sure, but Harry wasn't sure exactly how understanding the links between how the bastardized Latin of European magic incantatioons and context and intent were going to teach him how to organize his mind. It had been doing the opposite thus far.

In the meantime, Tom, who had mostly recovered from his strenuous outing in December, also decided to take advantage of the little, tiny, miniscule periods of free time he managed to acquire in April to teach him a plethora of new curses...including the other two unforgivables that he had yet to cast...which was what he was doing today.

He continued to stare at the rat nervously, feeling his stomach squirm.

Just imagine it's Wormtail, Tom said happily, Think about how he went to Voldemort begging for clemency, offering up his arm to be branded, going behind the backs of his his dear friends – who had always protected and nurtured him – and ultimately giving their location to the Dark Lord so that he could murder them and their infant son...you.

Suddenly, an image of Pettigrew, sniveling on the floor and kissing the hem of Voldemort's robe, invaded his mind – probably at Tom's command.

The nervousness that had been bubbling in Harry's stomach turned to disgust and cold fury, and he didn't hesitate to point his wand at the rodent, which had frozen in fear, whispering, "Crucio."

A moment later, the rat was writhing on the floor, letting out small squeals.

Harry held the curse for a few seconds, before reality finally settled back in, and he abruptly ended it, staring down at the little rat – now twitching on the floor, letting out harsh pants – in horror, feeling vague pulses of phantom pain in his own body. He shivered.

"I did it," he whispered.

Excellent work, Harry, Tom said, sounding exceptionally pleased. You've proven yourself quite adept at casting unforgivables – a very good sign indeed.

Harry smiled shakily, not entirely sure how to feel about this. The unforgivables were...a different kind of dark magic, that much had been made clear to him by both Tom and Moody. The ability to perform the unforgivable curses would mean he had cemented his status as a dark wizard...while at the same time, he was very much at a stand still when it came to learning light magic. There simply hadn't been enough hours in each day, and with no one around to goad him into practicing...

Now try the last one, Tom commanded gleefully.

Jolted back into the present, Harry felt something cold trickle down his spine, suddenly very unsure. He felt his hand begin to shake.

Just imagine -

"It's Wormtail, I know," Harry murmured.

Tom didn't reprimand him for interrupting him.

Taking a very deep breath, Harry steadied his hand, before calling out, "Avada Kedavra!"

Nothing happened, and Harry didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

The rat continued to twitch on the floor.

Even I did not succeed on my first try, Tom said consolingly, before commanding, Try again.

Harry sighed, before summoning all his determination again, and pronouncing very clearly, "Avada Kedavra!"

This time a small jolt of green light crackled through the air, but nothing happened.

Harry's shoulders slumped.

Again.

Harry glanced at his watch. :It's nearly midnight, Tom. I need to sleep – there's an arithmancy practice exam tomorrow first thing.:

Much to Harry's delight, his visions had ceased with Voldemort 1.0's temporary demise, and he was now sleeping an adequate five to seven hours every night, and his performance on exams had increased greatly as a result; he wasn't about to sacrifice his improvements with his Arithmancy OWL right around the corner.

Tom was silent for a moment. Very well. But you will attempt to cast the curse at least once every day until you succeed.

Harry groaned. "Yes Tom."

It was the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and a pleasant June sun was shimmering in the sky; Harry, however, no longer bore witness to it, as he was currently seated in the Hogshead with Theo, drinking chilled butterbeers in a dark corner.

It was an obvious choice in venue. They'd made a few rules in the beginning; no walking around holding hands, no valentines, no pet names, and for god's sake, no cheesy dates at Madame Puddifoots. And, well, the Three Broomsticks was always far too crowded, and though he only had two years of Hogsmeade weekends under his belt, Harry was fed up, at this point; however, no one ever went to the Hogshead, which was dreary and a bit decrepit – and let's face it, Abeforth Dumbledore was a little bit creepy.

Harry didn't mind, however, and Theo was fairly ambivalent, and seemed to approve of the privacy as well. Besides, with how busy Hogsmeade was that day, they both craved a little peace and quiet.

But suddenly, their silent sipping was interrupted by the door of the pub creaking open, followed by a clunking sound; Professor Moody had arrived.

Theo seemed to grow disinterested in the professor's presence quite quickly, but Harry watched warily as the man strode across the room to the bar and ordered a glass of firewhiskey – before his eyes turned very deliberately to Harry. Then he made a small gesture – a jerking of the chin, which was clearly directed at him.

The man was trying to get his attention...but why?

Frowning, Harry turned to Theo, who had just finished his butterbeer. "Why don't we check out Zonko's? Sirius will murder me if I don't play a prank before the end of Term."

Theo's eyes lit up.

"But you go ahead – I've got to use the loo first."

"I can wait," Theo offered.

Harry shook his head. "Nah, you go ahead. I'll just be a moment."

Theo stared at him for a moment. "Sure."

He rose from the table slowly, as though expecting Harry to change his mind, but when he said nothing more, Theo quickly traversed the pub and slipped through the front door.

Once the door swung shut, Harry warily made his way over to Professor Moody, who was just finishing his glass of firewhisky.

"Is there something I can help you with, professor?" he asked benignly.

The scarred man glanced at him grimly. "There is indeed, Potter. Follow me."

Harry hesitated, though.

Moody glanced over his shoulder, annoyed. "It's about Auror Black, Potter."

Eyes widening, Harry immediately strode forward, and Moody, satisfied, turned and began to lead him up a flight of stares.

Meanwhile, Harry heard Tom's faint voice stirring in the back of his head. The man had taken over briefly yesterday to demonstrate casting the killing curse - which Harry still hadn't managed to cast correctly - and was still quite weak as a result.

We should leave, he said, If some ill fate has befallen Black, there is likely nothing you will be able to do.

Harry tensed, but didn't halt as Moody began to lead him down the hallway at the top of the flight of stairs.

Tell Moody that he should inform you back at the castle.

When moody enteered one of the empty rooms lining the hallway, Harry stopped in the doorway, not willing to enter the room behind him, quite on edge at this point.

"What is this about, sir?" he asked suspiciously.

Professor Moody stared at him, before removing a letter from his coat. "Something's happened at the Ministry – a contact of mine sent this along; it's from your godfather."

Harry's eyes widened and his stomach dropped, and he quickly reached forward to grab the letter – but as soon as he touched it, he felt a sharp twisting sensation in his navel.

A moment later he was thrown onto cold, wet grass.

Groaning, he rose to his feet, and looked around him in confusion. He was surrounded by grey mist, and the sun was only faintly visible overhead.

Panic seized him. Where was he? What had happened? Was the letter a portkey? Was it meant to take him to Sirius? Where was Sirius?

"Siri-"

The last thing he heard was the word "Stupefy", before the world sunk into a cold, empty black.

Jesus Christ, I hate this chapter. Oh well, next one's better.

I know, I'm awful, but I'll try to not leave you hanging, and post next Sunday.

In the meantime, input is appreciated as always :)