Author's Note: Yes, it has been THREE MONTHS! I am so very sorry for the delay in posting. I'm actually not technically behind on my writing; I simply wrote a whole chunk of stuff and couldn't decide where to split the material. It was a good 100k words, and far too much to post as one chapter. With the help of the wonderful jdh41 (thank him, everyone!), the material has been split into three chapters and one brief interlude, which will be posted several days apart each in the upcoming weeks. These chapters will cover the summer months between the third and fourth years.

Also, I have gone through and edited all the previous chapters (from the very first up) with GJMEGA for basic grammar and mistakes that many reviewers have pointed out over the last year (Wow, it's been an entire year!) GJMEGA was a HUGE help with this. No new content was added, though some clarification was written into a few areas.

Many, many thanks to jdh41 and GJMEGA for the wonderful time and effort they have put into making this story great.

Time past and time future

Allow but a little consciousness.

To be conscious is not to be in time

But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,

The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,

The moment in the draughty church at smokefall

Be remembered; involved with past and future.

Only through time time is conquered.

-T.S. Eliot

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore, but there is little I can do from here."

Alone, in the large round office, two men squared off over tea and scones. Albus Dumbledore lowered his saucer, folding his hands in his lap as he sat in his large chair.

"I assumed that such an investigation would be handled by your department."

Rufus Scrimgeour, looking more haggard than Albus had seen him in many years, frowned.

"Normally, perhaps, that would be the case. But currently, I am somewhat at odds with the Minister's office. Politics has reared her ugly head here, and stuck her nose where it does not belong. You can imagine the repercussions to the Minister."

Albus raised a single eyebrow.

"Are you saying that the truth is not as important as a good reputation?"

Scrimgeour did not react, but reached out to snag another scone from the small plate, taking a bite and enjoying the small rush of sugar. He was running on no sleep and little food. Chewing, he considered his words carefully before he spoke. Dueling Albus Dumbledore with words was almost as daunting as with wands.

"I am saying that, at this time, the death of Peter Pettigrew is being investigated by a team presided over by the Minister himself. Justice will be done."

"Will it?" Dumbledore said casually, his blue eyes stern. Scrimgeour refused to fidget.

"Yes."

The elderly wizard took another sip of tea, then sighed in pleasure.

"Nothing like a good cup of Earl Grey as the sun rises. Can you tell me how this may impact the search for Sirius Black?"

Rufus followed the change of topics with a clear mind, silently thankful for the pepperup elixir he had squirreled away in his robes and downed in an opportune moment. It lent his mind another few hours of clarity before he would be forced to rest.

"At this time, it effects it very little. From the statement's I have retrieved from a Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Lovegood, both men were illegal animaguses. Sirius Black did kill Peter Pettigrew, whose wounds are obvious, though the man's continued existence until yesterday is a mystery the Ministry would much like illuminated. Have you anything to say on the matter?"

Dumbledore didn't blink.

"Is this an official request for a statement?"

In a sudden pique of temper, Scrimgeour slammed his fist on the table, causing the cups to rattle in their saucers.

"Merlins' beard, Dumbledore, answer a question straight for once in your long life. We have a wanted murderer roaming the hills around your school, with a wand in his possession. Harry Potter and Remus Lupin are missing. This is no time to play political games."

The Headmaster was silent for a long moment, and Rufus felt a slight flush rising up his neck. Then the man slowly inclined his head.

"The Potters were in hiding. It was decided to hide them under a Fidelius Charm. Sirius Black was the Secret Keeper whom I swore in as witness. I, myself, did not know the location. When the Potters were slain, and Mr. Black seemingly killed Mr. Pettigrew in London, I assumed it was Black that betrayed their location and was sought out by Mr. Pettigrew in his grief."

Scrimgeour snorted incredulously.

"You assumed?"

Dumbledore ignored the accusation, his blue eyes looking at a scene far off as he continued.

"According to Professor Snape, Mr. Black stated that the Secret Keepers were switched. Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters, and faked his own death to escape. Mr. Black went to prison for crimes he did not commit."

Rufus shook his head slowly, his hands tightening into fists.

"There are too many vested interests, Dumbledore. They will never let such a preposterous story see the light of day. Questions would need to be asked; why wasn't there a trial to begin with? Why did Black never protest his innocence? Aurors will be questioned, along with guards. The Minister will come under fire. Our department will look like frauds. Other Death Eaters will suddenly be pushing for a retrial, it will cast doubt on our entire government. An innocent man, in Azkaban for over a decade. I assume he used his animagus form to escape, which at least closes that net tidily. But the people will ask questions. How did Black know where Pettigrew was? And most of all, why is Harry Potter in league with a criminal?"

Dumbledore frowned severely, his eyes narrowed in disapproval.

"I assume Mr. Potter was told the truth by Mr. Black at some point."

Scrimgeour laughed incredulously.

"And we know how much to trust your assumptions! Sir, with respect, but this is a cauldron of troubles not just for the Ministry, but for your school's ward. The reporters would love a reason to question the esteemed Boy-Who-Lived on why he did not come forward with the truth. The Ministry would love an excuse to put him under veritaserum, and I am sure you can only imagine how well that would go over. An entire squadron of aurors heard Mr. Longbottom helpfully explain that Mr. Potter had protected Sirius Black, interrogated Peter Pettigrew, dueled Professors Snape and Lupin, and then was in the middle of fighting a bloody werewolf when he fled. The boy is out for a lot of hardship at this rate. And we do not even know his location, or well-being."

Albus Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height, eyes grim.

"You are twisting the boy's statement. He was under a lot of stress, and feared for his life and that of his friends. His testimony would not uphold in any trial."

Scrimgeour smiled slowly, tasting victory and finding it sweet.

"It doesn't matter, Headmaster. The bare facts are out there, with no explanation. My suggestion? Get to the newspapers before the Minister does. He will twist this whichever way he needs to; you should do the same, for your own sake as well as Mr. Potter's. After all, you hired a werewolf, knowingly and illegally, putting all of your students at risk, and indeed, the worst came to pass. Those aurors are not going to stay silent. You have very little time."

Scrimgeour stood as he finished speaking, looking down at the white-haired wizard, who sat elegantly his his green velvet chair.

"And Dumbledore? When you find Mr. Potter, send him to my office first. It's time I speak with him myself about recent events."

The Headmaster slowly stood, no hint of defeat in his posture.

"According to my sources, you are not part of the investigation any longer, Auror Scrimgeour."

Rufus only smiled.

"The happenings of this past night are very much still under my purview, as I was head of the team on scene. Reports will still need to be filed, after all. What Mr. Potter says can put a different light on many things."

Dumbledore slowly inclined his head in acknowledgment, though the blue eyes never wavered.

Rufus left the office with hardly a trace of a limp, the grin still ghosting the edges of his mouth.

Remus Lupin had been infected at a young age. He grew up knowing the wolf, feeling its emotions as if they were his own, but darker and stronger. Sometimes they even felt more real, as if his true self was inside him, trying to burst free. Trying to come out and change him forever.

He had once been pushed down at a local playground, the older boy prideful and posturing to his group of friends. The boy was a bully, whose name he couldn't even remember, but he could still feel the anger.

So deep rising out of him, so full of life and brightness, and it had been the first time he had let it come out, one rising tide of emotion that made his eyes blur red and black and grey at the edges.

Later, they would tell him they glowed golden. But he saw only scarlet darkness.

He had punished the boy, swiftly and brutally, jumping to his feet in one swift unnatural motion, grabbing and hurling him, slamming him down, all the while letting out a high pitched sound of rage. It had taken two parents to stop him, to hold him back with spells of constraint. His own father had wrapped arms around him and squeezed, whispering in his ear, a low drone of comfort and security and most of all authority, the only thing the wolf would respect.

His wolf had taken him, for a brief moment, and others suffered. It had always been so, and he began to learn that that inner voice could not be trusted. It was a monster, a beast, a filthy thing. It hurt people, and it hurt him for not letting it hurt others. It wanted to kill him, he would think sometimes, waking up bleeding and shaking in a silver-lined cage, it wanted to slash him to pieces and devour the remains.

He began to hate it back, to hate even the benefits he used to love. He no longer took pride in his advanced sense of smell, of sight, or strength. He was a monster, too, abnormal. And he feared the moon, the odd thing behind his wolf that brought it out into the light. He felt it reaching for him, cool and feminine and almost loving, and made him think only of pain, his own and others.

They had to move several times, each time he got into a fight, because ever after the wolf would think of nothing else than hunting and killing the challenger, the one who dared touch him. It wanted blood in recompense for insult, and Remus couldn't make it stop wanting, couldn't stop dreaming about it during bloated moon phases, couldn't stop tasting a copper tinge in his mouth.

It longed, and desired.

They had never thought he would be able to go to Hogwarts. It wasn't just the anti-werewolf laws. It was him. He was broken, a scourge on society, an uncontrollable thing of power and moonlight and emotion. All emotions, not just anger. He loved his parents with a ferocity that made him dangerous, as the man who had attempted to mug his mother had learned. That man would bear the scars of their encounter for the rest of his life.

His wolf was a beast, and so was he.

Then he had gone to Hogwarts, somehow. The aging Headmaster had looked at him in his living room, really looked him in his gold flecked eyes, and smiled. No fear at all, only faith.

"Every magical child deserves an education. I'm willing to put the preparations in place."

He visited the grounds for two months before term, learning the secret passageway to the abandoned shack, an old hunting lodge on a wind-swept ridge, the ground about it wild and untamed. He had become close with the Herbology Professor, who delighted in transplanting the cursed tree to defend the passage entrance. The tree itself became his first friend: he spent days rolling and jumping and laughing as it flailed, exulting in his own strength and speed and courage.

Of course he would end up in Gryffindor, though he didn't fit in at first glance. He was too shy and timid, afraid to make friends, afraid to have feelings at all. He needed to disappear, to stay in the shadows where he and everyone else was safe. Friends led to pack, and pack led to hurting, a lesson learned at a young age.

But it happened regardless.

The teachers helped explain his disappearances, though it hurt him more and more to lie to the boys determined to be his friends. Perhaps he could understand little Peter, whose own ostracism mirrored his. But James and Sirius? Both Heirs to pureblood families. They shouldn't be hanging out with half-bloods and muggleborns. They were special, bright and full of life. But they did care, and soon they were dragging him places, defending him from unkind words, studying together and praising his intelligence. Then they made him their accomplice in their pranks, sneaking out and causing mischief. Remus had felt loved, and the wolf had howled inside him in response.

But in second year, he was discovered. He knew it was coming. James Potter and Sirius Black were top in their classes, and grew up in the wizarding world. They had put it together quickly, and followed him one night when he was escorted by his Head of House to the whomping willow. They knew, and didn't turn away. They didn't even question him.

It was new, to have someone know him and not fear. His own parents did, their faces white on the mornings after a full moon. But his friends were determined to make things better, because each moon seemed to make things worse and worse, taking longer for him to recover, each night spent locked in the shack like a thousand torments, the wolf ripping and tearing and howling to be free, to run, to bathe in the brilliant light of the mother moon. It wanted out, and it wanted out now.

When they came up with a way, learned of animagus forms and then pulled it off, he had been at his wit's end. It was the summer after his mother died, in fifth year. His father had retreated from him, lost in his own sorrow and depression, nothing left over for his broken son. Remus had been alone, grieving, waiting for the first moonrise of the new term. He was on his own now, pulling away from his friends, not wanting to let the emotion show, the hurt and loss and pain. The wolf was trembling inside him, wanting so badly to come out, scratching at his skin with razor claws, and he couldn't help but dig his own nails in in response, panting on the wooden floor and tearing until red dropped to the floor.

Then the door had opened, as it never had since he first went to Hogwarts, unlocked and unguarded. Remus stared at his friends, and his first emotion was stark terror. But the change was on him, dark and terrible, and he howled into it, trying to speak, to tell them to run, to not look back, to leave leave leave!

The wolf had opened its golden eyes and stared into their faces and saw them change. It had loved-hated them, the jailor's pack, but now it saw freedom and the not-pack was in the way. Except suddenly they weren't, and it was not the hated pack mates of his captor in his den but animals, two of them, and one a huge black dog that padded forward on hesitant paws, lowering its gaze and letting out a small whine. It had stepped up to the dog, sniffed, its sense alive and on fire with the new information, and in its mind things changed.

These were his pack, the ones who set him free.

When he ran into the woods after, a stag keeping him steered deep into the trees, he looked up at the wide pale moon for the first time uncaged, and howled deep and long, singing a song of freedom and joy and love. It had reached back with cold fingers, lovingly touching his silver fur, and answered with power.

He had never been stronger than when he ran free with pack.

But all good things end. It was another lesson he learned, and one that haunted his days on his own, no friends left, no pack at all, when he locked himself in a cage of his own making, the days passing in dreadful increments of torturous time. He made it by, barely, though he owned nothing new and ate sparingly. Some weeks it was only the wolf that kept him alive, he would think. The wolf refused to let him die, refused to let him seek true freedom.

So he went on, and now, now he had experienced something new. There was not only hope, but fear.

He had heard of something similar, of course, and feared it in a vague sort of way. There were books on werewolf behavior and pack structure, of how they interacted with each other and lived in large communes, a family pack all together. Remus had never wanted that, was afraid of it. He had always been Alpha of his own hybrid pack, because he was the only wolf and the strongest, the most powerful. The wolf had let them think he followed them, let them think they controlled it, always knowing in its heart that at any moment it could break free and wreak the destruction it desired.

Yet pack was everything, and the wolf knew it could lose them easily if it harmed their other pack, the one that bound them when it was not a full moon, and so did not push the challenge.

But he had heard stories of alpha werewolves. How they could command anything from another werewolf, even during human form. How they dominated and controlled and corralled the others. How they fought for dominance and gained it or lost it. Remus had feared it, letting others have control, but deep inside feared even more that his wolf would be stronger, strong enough to be the alpha of a pack itself, and in turn change Remus as well, making him more powerful while sapping away his control inch by inch.

Such beasts inevitably went rabid, turning into man-beasts like Fenrir, whose teeth were sharp even in human form, and whose claws could taint a person with barest hints of lycanthropy even under the light of the sun.

The wolf had thought of itself as the strongest there was, the largest and greatest wolf under the moon.

Until the night before, when the wolf had snarled over the blood of its old pack, smelling pack but not seeing it, only the scent of enemy and magic and moonlight.

He had chased that scent, determined to attack and slake his anger and fear in warm flesh, to tear apart the ones who challenged him. When the small boy leapt at him, he had prepared himself, mouth opening in drooling hunger, body taut as a spring.

The fire took him on all sides, blinding white to his sensitive eyes, took him out of his beloved moon and surrounded him by sun. Perhaps a moment longer in that flame and he would have changed, would have transformed then and there in that space of heat and light, but his body had been released, left under the comforting hand of the moon, in a place full of unfamiliar sounds and smells, the air warmer and less wild.

And the boy had stared at him with eyes glowing emerald, feathers of metal and blood spread behind him, wide and threatening and gleaming, making him sit back and consider the threat.

Then the boy had sung in tones of power and moonlight, and the wolf felt it, the blessed moonlight streaming around them, and it called the boy hers, just like he was hers, and that made this boy not-wolf yet pack. He had stepped forward, sniffing, wondering. When the thought of freedom was given to him, he took it in and found it good, raising a nose to the unusual air, breathing in deep and enjoying the feeling of it. Perhaps they would run together, brothers under the moonlight.

But there was a human here, a jailor, a man. And the wolf snarled, turning to take it, to taste its life under his teeth.

It had been so sweet, that taste, copper and life, as his fangs parted flesh and found bone with a solid crunch.

Then the other-not-wolf had interfered, had torn him away from his meat, his kill, and the wolf had snarled with anger at the challenge and prepared itself. It was Alpha, it was the leader of the pack, had always been so and always would be. It was strong and young and filled with the moon who loved him.

When the not-wolf held him down on the ground, its unimaginable power filling the air with ozone and light, he had struggled. Had never stopped snapping and clawing and digging, desperate to get free, to prove himself the better, though in his throat his growl turned to a whine, a low-toned sound of acceptance.

Here was something greater than himself, the first he had found able to win against him. Here was an alpha, who called the moon its mother and yet was not-wolf, a being of strength.

The sun rose, and with it agony.

When Remus finally opened his eyes, he rolled on his back and stared up fully at the paling sky, stars still twinkling in the darker blue. And his mind struggled to put it together, struggled to make sense of it all. Inside, the wolf curled up tightly, exhausted and yet content. It knew its place, knew its boundaries, for the first time. It had an alpha in its pack, and the feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He suddenly understood why werewolves lived in communes. Why they spoke of never going back to normal society, claiming they needed it, needed to know their place.

The hierarchy of wolves.

It was peace, and contentedness, and love.

It was its own power, and Remus in that moment feared it greater than the moon itself.

Fawkes landed on the porch railing with a soothing song. Harry looked at Remus Lupin and sighed.

The man sat in a low wooden rocking chair, the same one Kerr had been laid out in hours earlier. Blood still stained the wooden planks under his feet and sprinkled the white paint of the chair. Professor Lupin looked like a man who had been through a hard fight, and lost. His face was haggard, his skin pale and drawn. His fingers were bloody; Harry assumed it was from scrabbling at the ground when he had been bound.

But his eyes were the worst: they looked dead behind the golden shine, weary and lost. As he looked at Harry, he only shook his head and spoke a plaintive question.

"Why, Harry? Just tell me why."

Harry turned away from the man after a short glance at the warbling phoenix, his mind in turmoil, and walked to the screen door. He entered without an explanation to his professor, walking towards the wide kitchen. When a black-haired man turned and saw him, he jumped to his feet.

"Oh, Harry." Mike exclaimed, then grabbed him into a hug. Harry stiffened for a brief moment, then slumped into his shoulder.

"Is Kerr alright? Tell me he is."

Mike pulled back, his mouth in a thin line.

"He's fine. We've got him in the bed upstairs, gave him some meds for the pain. He's still a bit bruised, and said he was feeling, well, out of it. Acting a bit out of it as well, rambling on about the moon and the sun. Thought there was fire in his veins, or something. But the wound closed, and I figure it was just a bit of fever. He's sleeping. Tiny is, too, I insisted. We were all shaken up after last night. What happened?"

Harry pulled out a chair, then paused, looking out the window. Mike followed his gaze, and his eyes sharpened.

"I've got the werewolf outside. That's what he is, right? I assumed, with his, well, madness and all earlier. The wolf was a bit of a giveaway too. I told him to stay on the porch. I've got the gun with me. Wasn't sure if he could be trusted, but since you just left him there…"

Harry cut off the rambling with a sigh.

"He's one of the professors at Hogwarts. Was a friend of my father's. The werewolf bit, he can't help. Forgot to take his potion."

Mike laughed, shaking his head.

"Accidental pregnancies are the result of forgetting to take a pill in my world. In yours? You become a bloody werewolf."

Harry chuckled, letting the humor wash over and relax him.

"Not quite, but close enough. Still, he's in shock, I think. I need to talk to him first if you don't mind. I'll explain it all to everyone, when Tiny and Kerr get up. You all need to hear."

Mike watched him with sudden seriousness.

"Harry, I understand if you need to go. You arrived here in a hurry, wrestling a werewolf of all things. If you and the wolf need to go back, you can come here and explain once things are… tidied up."

Harry hesitated, watching the man for any sign of platitudes. But Mike was solemn, and didn't look away. Finally, Harry sighed.

"It might be for the best, to take him somewhere more… normal. Wizarding normal, anyway. I promise to be back later today. If Kerr is still feeling off, I can procure potions for him."

Mike nodded with a smirk.

"I think both of them upstairs, and me included, would feel better to have the man away from here. You can vouch for him, and we'd let him stay, but it wouldn't be comfortable."

Harry smiled and turned away.

"I don't blame you."

He walked back onto the porch and found Professor Lupin standing, looking out over the rolling fields of wheat just beginning to turn a golden brown. When he heard the door slam he turned, looking Harry over with confused eyes.

"Where are we Harry? The other man wouldn't say anything, just said you would be back soon. I didn't know what to think."

So he had gotten over some of his shock, then. Good. Harry walked over to him, then glanced up at the blue sky. It was a cloudless day.

"We are in Kondinin, Australia."

Professor Lupin looked over blankly.

"Australia?"

Harry laughed, shaking his head.

"Honestly, you are the first wizard I've brought there, and I am not happy about it. I've got an entire tale to tell about this situation, and it's a long one. But I think you need to hear about Sirius Black first, and my family isn't comfortable with you here."

"Family?" Professor Lupin echoed again, only deepening confusion on his face. Harry grimaced, then reached over and grasped his arm. He looked over at Fawkes, who alighted on his arm with a graceful leap he envied.

"Hallam Street, please, Fawkes."

With a wrench of soft flame, they disappeared from the porch.

When they appeared in the wide living room, Harry released the older wizard, who turned to look at the phoenix with narrowed eyes. Harry mentally filed away yet another future explanation, and met Fawkes gaze.

"You can return to the Headmaster, Fawkes. I'm going to be here awhile yet. Let him know I will return there with Professor Lupin once he's recovered."

Fawkes inclined his head, then spread his scarlet wings and leaped into flame once more, the orange and red fire spreading out in a starburst before fading away.

Harry called out as soon as the phoenix was gone.

"Ivy!"

Ivy appeared with a swirl of smoke and wide eyes. The matronly elf glanced from him to Professor Lupin with stern eyes, before settling on him with a disapproving frown.

"He arrived hours ago, very upset, Sir. I gave him a minor sleeping potion from the stores before he could tear apart his entire room. I has repaired the furnishings as well."

Harry nodded, glancing at Professor Lupin before speaking.

"Thank you. If he wakes up, let me know. If you wouldn't mind, please prepare us a meal. This is Professor Remus Lupin."

At that, the man beside him cleared his throat.

"We've met. Hello, Ivy."

The house-elf gave a brief bow, her frown never dimming, and disappeared without a returned greeting. Harry grinned, shaking his head.

"She's always like that."

Professor Lupin nodded, then, glancing about, sat on one of the large chairs.

"I know. Always has been. This place looks just the same as it did when your dad and… and Black lived here."

Harry only nodded, and sat across from him, looking the exhausted man over with calculating eyes. Professor Lupin finally cleared his throat, his voice rough.

"Maybe you should start with what happened last night. I realize I neglected to take the Wolfsbane in my panic."

Harry tilted his head, then shrugged.

"A lot could've been prevented if you remembered. But that's a useless train of conversation. Very well. Last night, you cast a spell at me, and I reacted. You were knocked unconscious. Sirius Black, in animagus form, killed Peter Pettigrew, also in animagus form, as the rat attempted to flee. You transformed; everyone fled. We could not seal the entrance under the Willow to prevent you from following us, and I was only left with two options. Let Proffesor Snape fight you and potentially be harmed, or take you someplace where you could do no harm. In my… eagerness, I did not properly visualize my destination, and instead we appeared in one of the last places I wanted to go with a moon-mad werewolf. I thought to salvage the situation by convincing you to leave for the fields. I could have monitored your progress from the air and made sure you harmed no one. As it was, you were distracted, and attacked my adopted muggle brother, Kerr Steel. After drawing you off of him, I held you down until sunrise, then healed Kerr and… left for meditation. When I returned, you were on the porch."

Throughout the brief and emotionless description, Lupin stared with increasingly confused eyes. At the end of it, he only shook his head in helpless confusion.

"Harry, I... there are so many parts of that description I can not even begin to understand. Pettigrew is dead? Muggle brother? Apparition across continents? Healing lycanthropy?..."

Harry smiled slightly, leaning back in his chair. Abruptly Ivy appeared, easily hefting a tray that she brought to the Professor. While the man settled into his meal, Harry began to speak.

"Let me start from the beginning. I want to make this clear: I never intended to bring you into my confidence, but at the same time, I have a favor to ask of you in return. I figure you will soon find yourself unemployed."

Professor Lupin glanced up, eyes narrowed.

"You said Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Lovegood know of me? And Professor Snape was present when we left? I strongly doubt the whole school will not know of my… problem, by the time we return. My upcoming unemployment is not something I would wager against."

Harry smirked, a swift upturn of lip, as he replied.

"Then would you consider taking me on as your sole student? The law only prevents you from teaching uninformed and unwilling students, plural. As I know of you, I am willing, and I am just myself, you would not be impeded by legality."

Professor Lupin sat up straighter, his food cooling forgotten in front of him.

"What are you saying?"

Harry let the humor fade from his face and leaned forward, his eyes serious.

"I am required by the Ministry to have a tutor, something that I find burdensome. If this must happen, I want someone I can trust with my secrets. Someone who will not question my traveling, any absences, or the type of magical skill I possess. If I am to learn anything new at all, the professor must know what I am capable of, and my background. You are in a situation that makes me think I can trust you not to report on me to either the Ministry or Albus Dumbledore. If you agree, I promise I will pay you whatever you request, and you are free to live here or any other Potter property."

Professor Lupin only stared, before a reluctant laugh begun to spill from his throat. He shook his head, grinning.

"I feel as if I am in a dream. You are truly your father's son, if this is some prank. Worthy of a Marauder."

"He is his mother's son more than James'."

The voice came from behind them, and Professor Lupin went pale, all humor lost as he stared at the black-haired man slowly entering the living room. His hand curled loosely around the wand in his pocket.

Sirius smiled loosely, eyes alit with dark laughter, before he glanced at Harry.

"Forgive me if I wasn't welcome here. I went back to the cave, but the dementors were put on alert, and the castle was swarming with aurors. I thought it prudent to relocate, and here was where I came. Dobby emptied the area of any sign of my presence there."

Harry nodded, then gestured to a seat. As if summoned, Ivy appeared with another tray of food and promptly shoved it in Sirius's direction, standing with eyes narrowed until the man sheepishly took a bite. She nodded once, firmly, then left with a hazy swirl.

Harry spoke, looking between the two men who stared at one another with mistrustful eyes.

"It's fine. This may work out for the best, anyway. I'll let you tell the Professor here your own side of the story." Harry paused, glancing at Lupin. "He is speaking the truth, I can vouch for it. I saw it in his mind when I captured him on the cliffs. He can not fake that kind of memory and emotion."

Professor Lupin's lips thinned, and he gave Harry a deep searching look. Then he nodded.

"Very well."

It took a long time to explain the whole thing again. Black started at the beginning, in the dark days when everyone was doubted and no wizard lived without fear. He told of the Fidelius, and the second ritual that was done to switch Secret Keepers. By the time he finished with chasing Pettigrew across London, and his subsequent placement in Azkaban, Remus Lupin looked like he wanted to both kill the man and hug him. Instead, he set his food aside and placed his head in his hands.

"This is beyond belief. I can scarcely imagine it."

Sirius didn't respond, but looked away, his eyes filled with frustrated sorrow. Harry stood.

"Before I tell you my part of this, I want a Vow."

The Professor looked up with a grimace.

"Harry, you must know I would never tell your secrets. You have to forgive me for… for feeling some disbelief. It's been years, that I've thought Pettigrew was slain, and Black... this situation is different. I would never tell anything you told me in confidence."

Harry observed him for a moment, seeing the earnesty in his eyes, before speaking.

"You wouldn't, even if you thought you could help a child by doing so?"

Harry watched the consternation come over the man, and sighed.

"I want a Unbreakable Vow. We will word it in such a way that, if the knowledge thereof becomes common, it can be revoked."

Professor Lupin looked over at where Sirius sat, his grey eyes grim.

"Does he know? Have you told him all these things you can't tell me? Did he take a Vow?"

Sirius laughed, and Harry glared at him for it, seeing how the laughter only made the professor stiffen further. The wolf was still close to the surface, and after all the shocks the wizard had already gotten today Harry thought it was a shining example of willpower that the man hadn't, well, broke anything. Or anyone.

"Stop it, Sirius. Yes, I've told him. Most of it, anyway. At the time, I didn't think a Vow was necessary."

Lupin laughed sardonically, before smiling in an eerie echo of a wolf's snarl.

"How you can trust him more than I, I do not understand."

Before Harry could respond, Sirius cut in.

"Has he been inside your mind, Moony? Has he peeked behind that self-righteous veneer? How trusting have you been lately?"

Professor Lupin actually growled, a low tone that sent shivers down Harry's back. He stood swiftly, bolding out his hands to bring the two men's eyes back to himself.

"Keep your personal problems between yourselves. I know you are angry, the both of you. Settle it later. Right now, I want to know if you, Professor Lupin, agree to register with the Ministry as my tutor for the next year. If so, I want a Vow. If not, I will return you to Hogwarts immediately."

The brown-haired wizard sat up straight, then ran a suddenly tired hand over his face.

"Harry, please. I guess I just need time. To work through it all in my mind. This is all… its a lot to handle."

Harry slowly nodded, disappointment curling in his chest, then folded his arms.

"Then I'll return you to Hogwarts. I won't be surprised if there is a waiting party for us."

Lupin grimaces, but nodded and stood. Harry turned to Sirius.

"Please stay. I will tell you whatever I find out."

Sirius got to his feet, eyes suddenly dull.

"Harry… about the... about Peter. I'm sorry, I just…"

"It's alright." Harry interrupted him with a hand gesture, his words overly harsh despite himself. "What's done is done. We will deal with it the best we can. We don't know how they are taking it, or what they have made of the body left behind. There is still evidence of something."

Sirius gave a dog-like smile, his lips twisted and eyes bright with humor.

"For what it's worth, I guess there is. A body is more proof than a wild tale. I'll be here."

Harry nodded, heart clenching in sudden gratitude. He realized then that he had become fond of the man despite his own reservations. Things hadn't turned out the way he would have liked, but they were still recoverable. He turned, looking at Professor Lupin with a blank face.

"We can use the floo."

Albus sat across from two of his Professors and frowned. The dementors had scoured the countryside along with two teams of Aurors, and no trace of either Harry Potter, Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin had been found. He had been briefly excited when Fawkes had returned several hours ago, but it faded when the phoenix was not accompanied by anyone. The bird was being quiet on the matter as well, only assuring him, with certain body language and song, that all was quite well.

It wasn't enough. Location charms failed after a certain distance without a trigger or complicated ritual. With the pressure from the Ministry, it was imperative that they find them all before anyone else did.

"Albus, I just can't comprehend it. Sirius Black, innocent? But how? And all those poor muggles…"

Minerva drifted off, shaking his head. She had been roused late in the night when the alarm was first raised, and been tasked with informing the other Professors of the situation, and keeping all students inside their respective dorms. It had been harrying, knowing that Black was once more on campus, and that there were several students out and about. Her own Neville Longbottom, that shy boy, had even seen the wizard! And his story… it was beyond belief.

Albus sighed.

"I'm afraid we will not know the whole story until Mr. Potter is found. We can only hope that Professor Lupin will be able to talk to him and bring him back."

Severus snorted, his face twisted.

"Professor? Not any longer. Half the school is talking about it, and their parents will know by lunch time. A werewolf at Hogwarts! Once the papers get the story, the Ministry will be involved."

Albus frowned, his face set in disapproving lines. Minerva only looked worried, glancing between the two wizards.

"Are we so certain Mr. Potter is even in one piece? A full-grown werewolf is no minor matter, no child's prank. It would be a trial for even the most advanced wizards to defend themselves."

The dark-haired wizard folded his arms and only sneered, his voice coming out in a sarcastic lash.

"If we are lucky, the boy dropped him from midair over the ocean or some such. Gave the beast a good bath."

"Severus!" Minerva gasped with disapproval. Albus interrupted her before she could set into a lecture.

"We know he and Mr. Lupin are alright. Fawkes was adamant on that much, even if he wouldn't give us a location or take us to him."

The witch only shook her head, her whitening auburn hair slowly coming loose from its tight bun at the nape of her neck. The normally impeccably dressed professor was beginning to show the signs of stress and fatigue. Albus could sympathize, feeling worn around the edges himself. He had a dead wizard, an escaped convict, and a missing professor. The Boy-Who-Lived was gone. He had three students out after curfew with two conflicting statements. Well, conflicting depending on the way you looked at it.

Luna Lovegood had been very confused, and only stated that her and Mr. Longbottom, while searching for faeries during the light of the full moon, saw Mr. Weasley stalking Mr. Potter and followed.

From there, Neville Longbottom described coming on the scene, stunning a apoplectic Mr. Weasley, then observing that Mr. Potter and Mr. Black had captured Peter Pettigrew, in his animagus form of a rat. Apparently, according to the Gryffindor, Mr. Potter had discovered his godfather's innocence some weeks prior. Instead of going to the authorities, he was determined to catch the rat himself, to gather proof to get the sentence on Sirius Black reversed. Then the Professors had arrived.

Ronald Weasley had awoken, and refused to be consoled, even when his parents arrived that morning. He insisted Harry Potter was a traitor, a Death Eater, and a dark wizard. He said the boy had been scouting Hogwarts for his master, and was working with Sirius Black in some dark ritual, using animal sacrifices. That he had personally observed Harry Potter using obscure wandless magic. The only blessing, perhaps, was that the boy had been unable to speak of the wings he had seen at the end of second year. The oath of silence all the Weasleys had sworn had saved Mr. Potter at least that inquisition.

The problem was the aurors had wrote every last word down to go in the official report. It left a lot of questions for the Boy-Who-Lived, ones Albus knew the Ministry would be determined to answer. He wasn't sure how much he could protect the boy any longer.

It might even come to another trial, if Mr. Black was granted an appeal and then tried again for murder. Accessory to murder, Albus mused, or maybe they would merely stick with harbouring a fugitive. While still a minor, Mr. Potter couldn't be sent to a wizard's prison, but he could forcibly become a ward of the Ministry, and that would give them all the power. There wasn't much Mr. Potter could do about it. He wouldn't put it past Minister Fudge to attempt it, especially after hearing about the letter they had sent about the tutors. He would have liked to know who was on that list.

Albus was drawn from his thoughts when the fireplace in his office flared bright emerald green. The two professors in front of him turned to follow his gaze, and Severus jumped to his feet as Remus Lupin stepped through.

The wizard looked haggard, eyes sunken in and shoulders slumped. He looked… defeated. Albus slowly stood and met the sad brown eyes.

"Professor Lupin, I am glad to see you are well."

The man only shook his head, the stepped forward and aside, turning back to the flames that still flared green. Albus's heart sped up, and then relief flooded him as Mr. Potter stepped out, looking whole and well.

And tired, he mused. The child, teenager, met his gaze head on, his chin lifted up in a stubborn tilt. He wore muggle jeans with a simple black t-shirt, overlaid with a plain dark robe that covered his arms. The boy didn't seem bothered by his gaze, looking away to observe the other professors with an expressionless face. He merely inclined his head in acknowledgement. As Albus had expected, Minerva got the first word in.

"Where have you been, Mr. Potter. We have been scouring the countryside for you and Professor Lupin. You should have returned immediately! You are a ward of this school, and must abide by our rules!"

"Professor McGonagall." Albus spoke softly, and the witch quieted with pursed lips. The Headmaster looked at them and gestured to a seat.

"Come and sit. We were just discussing your whereabouts. You left us in quite a state, I'm afraid."

Remus sat in a large plush chair with a grateful sigh, but kept his gaze inclined towards Mr. Potter with a wary and yet sorrowful look. Albus saw this, and knew where to start.

"We would like to know what happened after you left."

Albus looked at Harry as he spoke, and the Slytherin gave one jerk of his head into a nod.

"Are Neville and Luna alright?"

When Albus nodded, he continued.

"I took Professor Lupin to a place he could harm no one during his transformation. When it was complete, I rested. Then we returned here."

Albus raised a single eyebrow. Severus began to laugh.

"Do you expect us to believe that, Mr. Potter? If you must carry the title of Slytherin, at least learn to lie better."

The boy turned to his Head of House with a small smile.

"I did not lie, I only refrained from burdening my Professors with needless detail."

At that, the two dark-haired wizards grinned at each other. Minerva sputtered.

"Do not encourage this rebellion, Professor Snape! Mr. Potter, you will tell us where you went at this very moment."

Harry simply looked at her a moment, then turned to Remus with a challenge in his eyes.

"Ask Professor Lupin."

When they all looked at the man, he seemed to sink deeper in his chair. Then, with a slight toss of his head, he sat up straight, a slight golden gleam in his eyes.

"The story is true, Headmaster. Sirius Black is… was, innocent. Peter Pettigrew also had an animagus form that he learned when we were children. They all did, Sirius and James and Peter. To help me during the transformations, and, I think, just to be able to say they did it when Professor McGonagall said it was impossible. Took them years, but they transformed first in fifth year. I never saw any reason to mention Peter's form, because… because Peter was dead. But he's not. Wasn't."

"And now he is." Mr. Potter said matter of factly, before looked over at Albus and continuing.

"I assume you have all seen the body. What is the Ministry going to do about it?"

Because his Deputy Headmistress looked like she wanted to begin another lecture, Albus spoke before she could.

"I'm afraid it is not simple, Mr. Potter. Peter Pettigrew is now truly dead, and we have multiple statements that he was killed, in his animagus form, by Sirius Black, in his animagus form. The matter with the Secret Keepers was not common knowledge. The story was, to the Ministry, that Black was a Death Eater spy, who betrayed his friends and killed another along with several muggles in revenge of his master's defeat. He was put directly into Azkaban without a trial, as the proof was unambiguous and Mr. Black was, to put it kindly, out of his mind. We thought him mad, as many other Death Eaters were with the sudden death of Voldemort. Now, it looks like the death of those muggles was instead brought about by Peter Pettigrew. But he is now, again, dead, and at the hands of Sirius Black."

"Or teeth." Severus muttered under his breath, but Albus ignored him and continued, not breaking eye contact with Mr. Potter, feeling as if he might just get through to the boy how serious this really was.

"The Ministry will be facing a lot of ridicule when this story breaks, if it is allowed to, in its entirety. If they don't try to claim Mr. Pettigrew was hiding from Black because he was afraid, not because he was truly guilty, which might happen. Sirius Black will have to go through a trial, a rigorous and long one. Every aspect of the events before, and what has happened now, will be set on stage. Including your own part in it."

Harry didn't blink, and his voice was even and level.

"Are you saying that the Ministry is going to arrest me?"

The headmaster spread his hands out.

"I'm sure they wouldn't call it that. It would be something softer, something for your own good that reads well in the papers. Ministry protection, perhaps. Or simply transferring your guardianship from Hogwarts to the Department of Magical Education. You are turning fourteen soon; only a few years from your majority. They will seek to control you while they still can, and you have given them the perfect opportunity by aiding Mr. Black instead of coming to us."

Albus saw the flicker then, the flash of rage in those deep green eyes. He smiled gently, leaned forward towards the boy.

"We can still salvage the situation. A statement to the papers. Profess your innocence in the whole matter. Cooperate with the Ministry. Rufus Scrimgeour wants to speak with you personally to get your own version of events, as soon as possible. We will arrange for you to return to Hogwarts the next year, where people will know where you are, and that you are safe. And Sirius Black will need to turn himself in. He can't be proven innocent until he stands trial, and with the whole situation laid out there is a chance he can get the murder sentence overturned. If it is even downgraded, the twelve years already spent in Azkaban may serve as him fulfilling any lesser sentence."

Dumbledore stopped, holding his breath, waiting with hope burning inside him. Take it, Harry Potter. Take my help, let me help you.

Let me handle this this time.

"No." It was quiet and firm and simple, and Albus felt his hope break and shatter. Mr. Potter continued, each word falling like arrows into a target.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster Dumbledore. I will not return to Hogwarts just to make people happy. I am beyond the material in multiple ways and will not limit myself, not any longer. I will speak with the Ministry and the papers, if I must. But you know as well as I that if Sirius Black turned himself in there is a good chance he will be, accidentally, done away with. It would solve all the Ministry's problems for an accident to take place and the whole thing spelled out of sight like using a simple evanesco. There can be a trial in absentia. I have been reading the law on these matters ever since I learned of his innocence. This was not the way we had planned, but in many ways it could be argued to be better. A dead man tells no lies, correct? Sirius Black will remain out of sight and mind at one of my properties. If you wish to speak with him, write a letter by owl."

With that, Mr. Potter stood. Dumbledore rose to his feet as well, eyes pleading.

"Who will be your tutor, then? The Ministry will insist now more than ever…"

"I will." At that sentence, four pairs of eyes swung around to look at Remus Lupin, who still sat in his chair with a pained smile.

"I suppose I won't long have my current job."

Albus slowly nodded, his mind rapidly making adjustments to his plans.

"I'm afraid your condition is no longer a secret, no. You employment was terminated this very morning."

Remus slowly nodded, his hands clenching around the armrest on his chair.

"I see. I will just pack my things, then. Harry, I will return tonight to Hallam Street."

Mr. Potter nodded, then watched as the former Professor slowly marched from the room, head bowed. Then the boy turned to look at him, eyes accusing.

"Couldn't you let him finish the year, at least?"

Albus held up his hands in helplessness, but was inwardly pleased by the boy's concern. Here was yet another avenue, then, to keep in touch. Remus would be much more open to keeping him informed of Mr. Potter's health and magical training than his old friend Flamel had been. The Alchemist had been almost completely silent on his tutorship of the Boy-Who-Lived, a fact that still bothered him.

"The parents and the Ministry both would be doing it for me tomorrow. It made sense to let him leave in peace before the uproar truly starts."

Harry gritted his teeth, but nodded.

"Alright. I want to speak to my friends before I leave. I see no reason to stay here any longer."

At this, Minerva, who had been holding her tongue in check, exploded into tirade.

"Mr. Potter! You have no right to come and go as you please. You are our ward. That means we are responsible for your safety and your well-being. You should go to the Hospital Wing immediately, to confirm that you are unharmed. Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Lovegood are already there. And..."

"Alright." The easy asquesance stopped Minerva mid-sentence. She narrowed her eyes as he mouth tilted down.

"Alright?"

Mr. Potter smiled carelessly, and shrugged.

"I'll go to the hospital wing immediately, to make sure I am indeed alive and well."

With that, the boy strolled from the room with a casual wave. The Head of Gryffindor only stared, consternated. Beside her, Severus chuckled.

"And he gets exactly what he wants. There's hope for him after all as a Slytherin."

Harry entered the Hospital Wing with long strides, glad that all the students were still confined to their common rooms. He hadn't had to deal with any questioning glances or whispers. The school was silent and still, Hogwarts' stones cold and alive with magic. Hogwarts herself seemed to be on alert, a steady thrum under his feet that had been hard to ignore. He imagined reaching out to that intelligence as he had to that within the Black Vessel outside the vault. Would she answer back? Could she? Would he even understand if she did?

With that in his mind, Harry stepped through the entrance without thinking, eyes casting about for his friends.

And were met by three pairs of identical brown eyes, each topped with vibrant red hair. Harry went completely still, his stomach dropping. For one long pause, it was silent.

Then Ron Weasley began to struggle with the sheet covering him, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"There he is! Murderer! You killed my rat, didn't you!? Scum! Death Eater trash!"

"Silencio!" Madam Pomfrey said from behind him, and the room went blessedly quiet, the Gryffindor still shouting at the top of his lungs. His father tried to keep him in the bed, his mother hovering with her hands twining together in a helpless gesture. Pomfrey pushed past him, voice stern.

"Mr. Potter. This is a place of healing and rest. As I doubt you need my services, I assume you are here for your friends. They are in the private room through the third door. I couldn't keep them here with Mr. Weasley, for obvious reasons. Leave."

She said the last with a firm stare, and Harry nodded sheepishly. He didn't meet the Weasley parents eyes, but walked across quickly, hearing Madam Pomfrey giving instructions behind him.

"Here, this is a calming draught. Take it, Mr. Weasley, or I will be forced to spell the unflavored version straight into your mouth and seal it shut until you swallow…"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door and quickly stepped through, then looked at Neville and Luna with a small grin.

"I guess he's not over it yet."

Neville snorted, shaking his head.

"He won't ever get over it, Harry. Forget that."

Harry looked at the two of them. Luna was laying on the single bed, tucked under the covers and propped up on pillows. She looked paler than normal, but her eyes were bright. Neville sat beside the bed, whittling at something in his lap.

"Yeah." Harry said slowly, with a sudden grimace. He wasn't quite sure how to start. Neville laughed.

"Don't worry, he now hates me just as much as you, once an auror let it slip that I'd stunned him. Apparently, we are now your minions. He actually said that. Minions."

The boy rambled on, and Harry suddenly saw that the humor was a front for something else. In the bed, Luna frowned and reached out, laying a small hand on Neville's shoulder.

"It's alright. He's probably just infected with nargles. He really should be careful where he sleeps at night, I heard they like to live in pillows."

Neville laughed and shook his head, but smiled over at her. Harry stepped further into the room, then transfigured another chair and sat with a sigh.

"I'm sorry. About everything. None of you were supposed to get involved in this."

Neville's smile faded, and the boy suddenly looked serious.

"It's okay. It has to be. We are in it now regardless. We just have to decide how to go on. The aurors have been here, Harry, to see both of us. They recorded it all, word for word, with a Dicta-Quill. I might have said things I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry, it was just so fast, so sudden… I told them Professor Lupin was a werewolf. And I told them, I can't believe this, I told them…"

"It's okay. Slow down." Harry interrupted as Neville began to turn red, his eyes darting around with nervous fervor. The Gryffindor stopped, took a deep breath, then continued, looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

"I told them you dueled the Professors. And that Black was innocent and you were helping them. I didn't think, I just… I wasn't sure if your godfather might have come back, might have been helping or something. They know you've helped him, and, I just thought of this, and they could charge you. Ron might be spouting all kinds of nonsense, but if it gets out that you were helping a Death Eater those things might make a little more sense. People will believe him. They'll think you're dark."

When Neville finally ground to a painful halt, Luna squeezed his shoulder in support. The boy looked over at her with a watery smile, before finally meeting Harry's eyes. Harry took that as his cue to speak.

"I don't blame you, for anything you might have said. You thought I was in danger. I was. You did what you could. We can throw blame around here, but it's useless. We are friends, and I doubt this is the least of what you and I will go through together."

Harry stated it simply and precisely, laying down the facts one at a time in a calm voice. He didn't want Neville to have any doubts about the situation, nor to feel guilty about anything that might happen because of it. At the last word, Neville smiled slightly.

"That's probably true."

Harry returned it with one of his own, then leaned back, looking over at Luna.

"Are you alright?"

The Ravenclaw girl absently picked at the sheet over her legs, smiling vacantly as she stared at the wall over his shoulder.

"I'm afraid I quite lost my senses, when I heard the werewolf. Nothing quite like it. Madam Pomfrey was kind enough to give me a calming draught, but it did mean I needed to stay here for observation until the side effects wear off. Neville was kind enough to stay with me."

Neville grimaced.

"I wasn't going to leave you here alone with batty out there. He's liable to try and curse you or somthing. Plus, if I go back to my dorms, I'll get grilled. For hours. And Hermione will be first in line."

At the Gryffindor witch's name, Harry's expression mirrored Neville's. He groaned.

"Did you hear anything?"

Terry asked quickly, leaning forward with wide eyes as the slim Slytherin girl slipped into the room and closed the door behind her with a quiet snick. She turned, fixed him with hard green eyes, and Terry gulped.

"Boot. Must you barrage me with your fervor the minute I step through the door?"

Beside him, Padma snickered behind a hand. Terry scowled, but remained silent. The group of them had managed to slip away to a room beside the library, thanks to some frequent letters sent by owl, and a few contrived distractions. Everyone was talking about Black, but nobody knew what was going on. Daphne smirked, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I did, however, learn some news."

At that, she was once more the center of attention. She was the last to arrive, and Terry had begun to think she wouldn't be able to get away. Zacharias himself had been in the room before the Ravenclaws had gotten there, and declined to say how he pulled off the feat.

"Well?" Zacharias drawled, leaning elegantly against the far wall. He's the most un-Hufflepuff like Hufflepuff I know, Terry thought, and also the most annoying.

Daphne sniffed, then took a seat next to Sue and Padma, which also put her facing away from Smith. Terry grinned. He wasn't the only one the prickly Slytherin could insult.

"Professor Lupin is a werewolf."

For a moment there was dead silence. Then, Sue gasped.

"I knew it! Didn't I say, Padma, how awful it was for him to be sick every single month? And always at the same time. It actually coincided with you…"

"Enough." Padma interrupted with a scowl, then frowned. "You're sure?"

Daphne grinned, her perfectly white teeth bared.

"Absolutely. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, of all people, were apparently attacked by him out on the grounds last night. I heard Professor Snape held him off."

"Professor Snape?" Anthony Goldstein, who had been sitting back, leaned forward. "Why was he out on the grounds? Why were any of them?"

At that, Daphne's face widened further into a smile. "That's the best part. Apparently, our own Harry Potter was hunting Sirius Black, and the Professors were out trying to stop him."

The girls beside her gasped, Sue actually covering her mouth. Terry sat up straight, his heart beginning to race.

"Hermione? Was she out there too? Is she alright?"

Padma scowled, but Daphne raised a single eyebrow.

"Granger? Not that I know of." She was considering him now with those intelligent eyes, and Terry fought the urge to squirm. He sat back, ducking his head, and tried to relax. Surely they would have heard if a student had been injured.

Zacharias spoke up with an insolent tone.

"That's quite the story. Where did you get these… facts?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at the Hufflepuff.

"Two of the upper years have cousins on the auror force sent here. They were able to talk to them outside the portrait."

Padma nodded, then spoke.

"What happened though? With Professor Lupin?"

All of the Ravenclaws had loved the Defense teacher, as he was always handy with an answer and gave interesting homework.

Daphne shrugged.

"Don't know. All they were told was that there were three students in the hospital wing, and Black was still at large. Something odd, though." she paused, frowning. "The dementors are apparently being sent back to Azkaban. The auror task force is searching the countryside, but not with those monsters any longer."

And that, all of them could agree, was a good thing.

Because Luna was being released and Neville was returning to his dorm, Harry told his friend to tell everyone else that he would meet them and explain everything the next day. Harry was anxious to return to Australia and explain to his family what had happened, and figured Hermione would understand that. Once he got past her lecture, anyway.

Neville agreed half-heartedly to pass on the message, though he couldn't promise they would be able to meet. The Heads of all the Houses had announced that lunch the next day was mandatory for all students, and that public announcements would be made. There was no telling, really, if any of them would even be free to speak. In which case, Harry finally said, he would just have to teleport into each boy's rooms separately and tell them all that way. That had made Neville snort, imaging Ron Weasley's face if Harry Potter appeared right inside their dorm. The redhead would probably jump from the tower.

After saying goodbye, Harry jumped into flame right from the Hospital Wing itself, and stepped out into the waning Australian sun. He paused a moment, taking in the silence and peacefulness that pervaded the area. A slight breeze stirred the red soil beneath his feet, casting a fine layer of dust over his boots and black pants. He looked up at the small two-story house with the over-large front porch, letting himself notice all the repairs that had been made. What had once been a derelict old house was now a nice, albeit rough, home. Someone had even hung some sort of metal sculpture on the side of the house and painted it green with bright, almost fluorescent yellow spots. It looked like something a woman would put up, and made him wonder if Kerr was getting serious with the girl he had met in town.

It was little details like that that he missed the most, living apart from them. Yet he saw no way to change it. He had contemplated staying here over the summer, and finally tossed the idea after long nights agonizing over how to make it work. He wouldn't bring wizards here, not willingly. It was bad enough Remus Lupin had been here. And while he could possibly commute back and forth, things were too fragile in Britain. What if he had to stay overnight? How would he keep them from worrying? What if the Ministry found a way to track his movements? Still, he was determined that he would spend more time here.

He would also work on putting up wards over the place. While a normal wizard could not apparate across large bodies of water, it was possible to use portkeys or international floo. He couldn't risk leaving them unprotected anymore.

The sound of the front door opening brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up as Mike stepped onto the porch, relief on his face.

"Harry. Took you long enough."

The words were rough, but the black-haired man had a small smirk on his face. Harry smiled back, shaking his head as he stepped forward.

"There were a lot of loose ends. Not even finished yet."

Mike grimaced, then stepped aside to let Harry past and inside the house. He headed automatically toward the kitchen, and was surprised when Mike instead nudged him into a side room. Harry realized with a start that, as many times as he had visited, he had never went into the living room itself. It hadn't been furnished, of course, when they first came here. But now it looked like a totally different room. It had been painted, the loose floor boards repaired. Someone had bought a large couch, bright red of all colors, and two small wood backed chairs. A low coffee table served as the only surface in the room, stained a dark brown.

Behind him, Mike spoke.

"Kerr's girlfriend Janice, you haven't met her yet, she helped us decorate. Showed Tiny how to stain wood, and we got the table and chairs from the resale shop in town. The couch we bought new. Put your money to good use."

Harry turned, to see Mike's hazel eyes dancing with humor. Harry spoke with a grin.

"I see. It looks nice."

Mike rolled his hazel eyes, then plopped on the couch and propped his bare feet on the coffee table with a sigh.

"Nice. Well, what can you expect. I guess we need something for the walls. Not really my thing."

The man shrugged, a gesture Harry echoed.

"Don't look at me. I've never decorated. Everything else I own is already furnished. House-elves keep it up to date."

Mike grumbled at that.

"Can't you spare one to come live here with us? I'm sick of laundry. We got a washer, but no dryer. Clothesline is out back, but that damn red dirt gets into everything. Not enough grass around here to hold it down."

Harry laughed.

"A house-elf would be noticed by wizards, the magic they do, as this is a non magical household. I have to be careful what magic I perform here. If it was using my wand, it would be flagged automatically. Go buy a dryer and put my money to work, like you said."

He said it with a grin, but Mike sobered, looking into his eyes.

"People in town are spreading a rumor that we are all some millionaire's sons. Spent too much money to avoid it, getting the place fixed up. They just can't decide why we are here. Banished for bad behavior, maybe. Hiding from the law, one old man told me he had heard. The fact that we're all British, all claim the same last name, helps both rumors spread. We thought we would lay low for a bit."

Harry tilted his head.

"I don't think buying a dryer will make that much of a difference."

Mike frowned, then shook his head.

"It's not about the dryer, Harry. I'm sorry, it's just… when are we going to go home?"

The question was said in a hopeless tone of voice. Harry straightened, his mind now on full alert.

"I thought everyone was happy here."

Mike spread his hands out, eyes earnest.

"We are, don't worry about that. It's even… nice, here. Peaceful and quiet. A home away from home, eh? But it's not London. It's not the city. I miss it more than the other two, I think. Haven't really talked about it with them. To be honest, I think Tiny likes it better here. Has a new group of friends at the school he's going to, loves it. Hasn't ever been to one before, and he's top of his class. Joined the track team, did I tell you?"

When Harry shook his head, Mike continued with a sigh.

"In any case, Kerr seems pretty serious about this girl. She's the daughter of the carpenter who lives in town, has herself a fancy degree in accounting from the University in Austin. Came to town last summer to help her da with the books, and her and Kerr just hit it off. Been together a year now."

Harry listened, taking in the details with eagerness even as he tried to read behind the lines to what his brother was saying. Mike finally met his eyes again, their hazel gleam flecked with brown and green.

"What I'm trying to say is, I want to go back. I want to know when I can."

Harry slowly nodded.

"I understand. I'm sorry if it seems like you three just got abandoned out here. I'm not sure how safe, or unsafe, things may be. But I will look into it this summer. I promise."

"Promise?" The question brought his gaze around to the entranceway. Tiny stood there, holding a pair of sneakers in one hand by the laces. He was dressed in shorts and a sweaty tshirt. Mike spoke from beside him.

"Good, you're back. Go take a shower, for heaven's sake, you stink. We'll talk when you get back."

The teenager shrugged with a sideways smile, then turned and stomped up the stairs after a quick wave to Harry.

"He goes for a run every morning. Five kilometers at the moment, though he's going to be training for a 10k next year."

"Five kilometers?" Harry asked incredulously. Mike grinned.

"If you ask him, he'll say it's a short distance. His whole group of friends are crazy, you ask me, running to and fro and all over. He's going to ask you to buy him a pair of shoes, so be prepared."

"Shoes?" Harry questioned with an inquisitive glance. Mike laughed.

"Not just any shoes. He's got some special custom made thing in mind, from a store up in the city. They measure your feet and everything. He'll talk your ear off about arches and heel strike and whatnot if you let him.. They run about ninety to hundred and twenty pounds."

Harry grunted at the price, eyes wide, then laughed.

"Well, if it makes him happy."

Mike groaned, rolling his eyes.

"God, I hope you don't ever say that to his face. He'll come up with a dozen things he needs to make him happy."

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon with Mike and Tiny, listening to stories and laughing. They were letting Kerr sleep until dinner, as the pain potion Harry had brought had made him extremely drowsy. It wasn't a normal side effect for wizards, but Harry had seen a footnote that said muggles reacted differently to potions. He was glad there just hadn't been any type of allergic reaction.

He had looked for any books that might have had more information on the subject, but came up short. It had been hard for him to believe, but no books had ever been published on muggle verses wizard reaction to potions. At least not in Britain. He would have to play it by ear, and look up other bookstores in more liberal countries. His figured his best bet was America or Canada, based on the history books he had looked over.

It was something Hermione would probably like to take over, if she only had a way to teleport over there.

Both he and Tiny were seated at the kitchen table, while Mike finished cooking supper on an old stove that had seen much better days. The sun had set, and Harry noticed that the old fluorescent bulb that had once been in the kitchen had been replaced with two long ones, covered in a detailed wooden box with a plastic cover to make it look more fancy. Tiny followed his gaze, and grinned boyishly.

"Kerr made that light cover. He's getting pretty good."

Harry nodded, then looked back at the blond across from him.

"He is. I'm amazed by how far the house has come."

Tiny rolled his eyes.

"You didn't have to put your sweat into it. I was so sick of hammers and nails and God knew what else we had to do here. Dust everywhere. Plastic sheeting in the room we painted, and tape. It was rough."

He emphasized the last word with a sharp nod, folding his arms. Mike laughed from where he stood.

"You didn't even have the worst of it, being at school most of the day."

Tiny sniffed, but his gaze was snagged at something behind Harry. Harry turned, and saw Kerr carefully walking into the kitchen, slightly wobbly still. He sat with a grateful sigh, before looking over at Harry with a lopsided smile.

"Hi again, Harry. Glad you haven't left yet."

Harry only nodded, before narrowing his eyes as he looked into Kerr's face.

"You look better. Pupils aren't wide anymore. Potion's wearing off. How do you feel?"

Kerr shrugged, then chuckled.

"A lot better than I would think after being a werewolf's chewtoy. Just a bit drowsy. The ache in my arm's gone, though the skin feels tender to the touch. A lot like a burn, actually."

He said with a thoughtful look. Harry could only shake his head.

"I'm not sure how phoenix tears are supposed to heal. Couldn't find much information on it on short notice. The fact that it was a dark curse that was healed makes a difference though, I'm positive. The damage was extensive. Still, things should be back to normal now."

Kerr nodded, then tilted his head.

"Have you told the others about what happened?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, not yet. Figured it best to go through it all once."

Kerr nodded, then suddenly began to flush.

"Well, ah… you're going to have to wait a bit longer. Told Janice on the phone I was sick, and she's insisting on coming over. Tonight. She's bringing her chocolate pie."

The last sentence was said to Mike, who smirked as Tiny laughed. Harry grinned.

"So I get to meet your new girlfriend?"

Kerr cleared his throat.

"Yes, well. Yes."

At that, the three of them all laughed at Kerr's obvious embarrassment. Tiny spoke up from beside him.

"She's nice. You'll like her."

Harry nodded, then frowned.

"What have you told her about me?"

The boys all exchanged glances.

Harry's frown grew.

"You have told her about me?"

Seeing the slightly guilty looks, Harry fought not to feel hurt. He had to remind himself that it would be hard to explain Harry's presence at the best of times. Not to mention the dangerous element of someone, somehow, recognizing his name or face. It was possible that a wizard or relative of a wizard who had access to international papers might have heard or seen him at some point.

Still, his heart felt heavy.

Kerr finally spoke

"No one really knows about you. A few times I've mentioned another brother, a Steel, but I never said your name. It didn't seem like a good idea at the time, and it's kind of hard to bring up after... well, after the normal introduction phase. Was I supposed to just say on the phone, 'oh, by the way, my brother who I haven't mentioned in the last year we've been dating is coming over'?"

Mike grimaced.

"So you'd rather tell her that when she walks in the door instead?"

Harry looked between the two men who were suddenly glaring at each other, and sighed.

"If it's easier, I can just leave and come back later, when she is gone."

As one, all three boys said the same word in varying degrees of tone.

"No!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"So what am I then?"

Kerr frowned, looking helplessly at Mike, who crossed his arms.

"It's your mess. Solve it."

The tone was all Mike; sarcastic and borderline aggressive. But the word's were Mr. Steel's from what seemed a lifetime ago, uttered frequently in one or more of the boy's directions when they somehow made a mistake. The same thought must have occurred to the others, for the room went abruptly silent.

In the silence the sound of a knock at the door rang clear.

Tiny jumped to his feet with a grin.

"Well, times up. I'll get the door."

The boy left with a skip in his step. Harry turned and met Kerr's brown eyes.

"Stick as close to the truth as possible. It'll be easier, that way, if she ever learns more."

The man nodded and stood, looking uneasily around. Mike turned back to the stove as Harry heard voices approaching, Tiny's youthful quip and a woman's responding laughter.

She came into the room in a flurry of movement, hands full of a pie dish covered in a floral print dishcloth, her bright blue eyes locked on Kerr with avid humor and a touch of worry. She had dirty blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and was wearing jeans that looked to have seen much better days.

"Kerr! I can't believe I didn't know you were feeling ill. You seemed fine just yesterday morning at the shop. Tiny told me you are better?"

As Kerr nodded, the woman casually placed the pie on the table and stepped forward, drawing him into a hug. Tiny rolled his eyes and made a gagging motion, taking back his seat at the dining table. Harry stood, unnoticed, in the corner by the fridge and simply watched as she fussed over Kerr and chattered away, moving with a casualness that spoke of familiarity and comfort.

He saw now why Mike thought the two were serious.

She turned, in the middle of greeting Mike, and her eyes landed on him. Harry felt himself stiffen as he saw her eyes widen, moving over him with surprise. Then they sent a narrowed look at Kerr, before she smiled slowly.

"Hello. I'm Janice Karneley."

She held out a single hand, and Harry stared at it for a beat too long to be polite, and saw it waver in response. He inwardly cursed himself, and stepped forward, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips in a quick kiss, watching her flush cover the uncertainty from his hesitation. Harry pasted on a smile as he spoke.

"I'm Harry."

They both glanced towards Kerr, who stared between them with amused reluctance. The man cleared his throat, then straightened.

"He's our youngest brother, ah, adopted. He still lives in Britain, is attending a… fancy boarding school up there."

Janice politely nodded, though Harry could see the confusion in her eyes. She turned back to Harry and smiled warmly.

"Nice to finally meet you. Are you down for the summer?"

Harry shifted, but kept his eyes level.

"No, though I hope to visit more often."

She only looked more confused.

"So, did you fly in from Britain? That must be quite expensive."

Kerr stiffened, mild panic on his face, and Harry realized that the man literally couldn't lie to the woman standing so casually across from him.

He must be in love, Harry mused. Then he spoke, his eyes flickering over to his brothers as he casually twisted the truth and lies together in a way that would have made his old Head of House proud.

"I came into a substantial inheritance three years ago from my birth parents. This house, actually, is one of their old properties. Sort of a family vacation home, I suppose. It fell into some disrepair when they died, as the estate was being managed by a company in my stead. When our adopted father passed, I asked if Kerr and Mike would like to relocate here, fix the place up, as a change in scenery. London held many painful memories for all of us."

Harry saw Tiny pale out of the corner of his eye, and could tell Janice noticed as well, because her smile brightened in forced cheer, drawing attention away from the uncomfortable teen.

"So you are the mysterious rich relative! I must say, no one in the town betting pool guessed it was another brother who was wealthy. Kerr has been quiet as a church mouse on the subject."

Kerr smiled and reached out, taking her hand with relief slumping his broad shoulders.

"Harry didn't want to advertise his wealth. He's a bit in the public eye back in Britain as is."

Harry nodded along, and Janice turned back to him with a grin.

"So, are you some sort of British royalty? Like, a duke or earl or something?"

Mike snorted out a laugh.

"This ain't some kind of silly romance novel! No one cares about that kind of stuff anyway."

Janice flushed, then narrowed her eyes at the black-haired man.

"I wasn't saying it was. And I do." She turned back to focus blue eyes on Harry. "So?"

Harry contemplated for a minute, but the girl was so full of life and humor he couldn't resist. He spoke with a sigh.

"Just a simple Lord, unfortunately. Or Heir to be one, on my majority."

She blanched, incredulity widening her eyes as she spoke reverently.

"No way."

Harry shrugged, then grinned over at Tiny and winked.

"Which makes all my brothers adopted relatives of British peerage."

The teen laughed, and Mike and Harry joined in. Kerr just shook his head as Janice stood there, a smile growing wide across her face.

She turned to Mike with a gleam of perfect white teeth.

"So, Mike, you're wrong. I'm dating the brother of a Lord. This is, obviously, a romance novel."

Harry decided then and there that she would be a perfect addition to the family. Any girl who could hold her own with the more bristly of his brothers could stick around.

Janice didn't leave until late in the night. When the house finally quieted, Harry looked across at the other Steel's as they sat in the dimly lit living room.

All their eyes were trained on him as he began to tell them all that had happened, trying to keep the magic descriptions basic and easy to understand.

It wasn't easy, telling about his godfather and his hunt for the man who had betrayed his parents. Harder still to describe how he had learned the truth, by reading a man's mind against his will. He could see it made them uneasy, even as they struggled not to let it.

Then he told them about the events leading up to the night everything went wrong. Of Ron Weasley and his two friends, and of the death of Peter Pettigrew. Then the transformation of Remus Lupin, when the professor forgot to take the wolfsbane potion.

"That's a big thing to forget." Kerr muttered, absently rubbing his forearm. Harry frowned.

"It is, but... it's difficult to see the presence of a man thought long dead, a friend at that. And then to see your deceased friend's son in mortal peril. What he thought was peril."

Mike scoffed.

"Don't defend him. He's a bloody werewolf. He ought to wear some sort of watch around his wrist that beeps when it's time to take his potion. Like old ladies do, to remember their meds. No excuses."

Harry chuckled.

"I'll tell him you think so. He's agreed to be my tutor for the upcoming year."

"Is that safe?" Tiny questioned. Harry just nodded.

"I thought of offering to take him somewhere wild on full moons. My godfather, if the two make up, might be willing to accompany him. The potion is hard to come by with the new regulations, but at some point before term I will try to think of a way."

They nodded, but Harry could see the uneasiness in their features. He supposed it was hard, knowing there were monsters out there that could overpower one so easily, then knowing that family would be around them on a daily basis. But Harry didn't fear a werewolf.

He stood, stretching with a sigh.

"I'm heading back. I want to plan on visiting every week, if possible. Once things settle into a routine there."

Kerr got to his feet and came over.

"Thanks, for taking over earlier. I just didn't know what to say."

"It's fine." Harry replied, then glanced at the clock someone had placed on the wall opposite him. Kerr followed his gaze, smiled.

"Go ahead. We'll see you later."

Harry nodded, then hugged Tiny farewell and gave Mike a brief wave before calling up his flame.

It had been an extremely awkward lunch, and an even more silent dinner at Hallam Street.

Remus Lupin had hoped Harry would show up, if only to be another body between him and Sirius Black and the memories of the past that crowded his mind.

"Moony."

Remus looked up from where he sat on the couch, going through the papers in his ragged leather satchel. It was hard, to look at students' papers and realize he wouldn't be seeing them again. He had loved teaching, loved giving away knowledge. It had always been his dream, and he had thought taking the chance to have it would be worth it.

He regretted knowing just how wonderful it was, now that the dream had been snatched away again.

His voice, when he replied, was dark.

"What, Black."

His former friend winced, then stepped into the room, walking over to sit across from him with a hesitant look.

"I want to be friends again."

Inside him, the wolf stirred. It had never hesitated at the scent of pack, never wavered in its own loyalty. It knew the man across from him, knew him in the way any canine knew another. It had never doubted, and never given up thinking of the man as pack, as brother.

It had made him distrust the man even more, knowing the darkness inside him called him friend.

Now, he only wondered. Was the werewolf sense able to tell deeper emotions than he had thought? Could he have known Black's innocence if he had only allowed himself to open a little more to the wolf? Remus spoke, his eyes going back to the page in his hand, not looking at the wizard.

"What do you want me to do? Technically, you've done nothing wrong. I have. I should be asking for your friendship."

He heard a snort, but didn't look as Black spoke.

"You've always been like this. All serious and gloomy. I should be the serious one, it's my namesake."

Remus could hear the humor in the voice, and felt himself beginning to relax. He stiffened against it, instead, and Black sighed.

"Don't be that way. Don't let yourself sit there and, well, mope. What's done is done. Let's just start over."

Did he really think it that simple? Just starting over, putting all the horrible things in the past behind them? Remus did look up, this time, as a flash of motion caught his gaze. Black knelt in front of him, a wide smile on his face, his expression oddly dog-like.

"My name is Padfoot, the sometimes-dog living in the room across from you. Heard you get a little furry every month, thought maybe we could hang out occasionally. You know, hunt squirrels, chase cats, that sort of thing."

His eyes were unnaturally wide, his expression so earnest and serious Remus couldn't help it. He laughed, laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. He brushed them away, absently tossing the papers aside as he leaned forward.

"In Merlin's name, Padfoot, get off the floor before you embarass yourself."

Sirius grinned, teeth flashing, and inside him Remus heard the wolf growl, but it was a different kind of sound, one that was content and happy and playful.

For once, he was in agreement with the beast, and it was so odd he wanted to check himself for spells. Only dark wizards like Fenrir should get along with an inner demon.

A flash of fire startled him. He looked up as Harry appeared in the room, eyes drawn and tired. The boy looked them over with puzzlement.

"What are you two doing?"

Sirius jumped to his feet, giving a loopy smile.

"We were about to decide how to deal with Moony's time of the month."

Remus gagged on the greeting he had been about to voice, and instead slapped out at the man who danced away with a gleeful hoot of laughter. Harry only frowned, his eyes slightly vacant in thought.

"I'd thought to offer to take you somewhere you could run, if Sirius is willing to go with you. Perhaps the Forbidden Forest, or some other place, if you know of one. I didn't want you to feel you had to stay locked up here, and even if we could procure a potion on short notice I doubt it would be comfortable or safe to roam London."

Remus felt a lump in his throat at the casual kindness, and swallowed it down before speaking.

"That... that sounds great, Harry. It's better on me, even with the potion, to be able to roam free on those nights. Helps keep the wolf… satisfied."

Harry's eyes cleared, and he turned to really look at him for the first time since appearing. What he saw must of been enough, for the boy smiled.

"Very well. I'm glad you agreed to tutor me, Professor. I'm sure Sirius is also thankful for the company."

Remus spoke over Sirius's enthusiastic agreement.

"I wasn't sure, until we talked with the Headmaster. Then I realized that it wasn't just pity that had you offering. You need me as much as I need you."

Harry laughed, but it was a dark sound, and sent a chill up his spine and made the wolf raise its head, golden gaze alert.

"You are right about that."

Harry's eyes were full of abrupt fury, an emotion so sharp and sudden Remus frowned, about to speak. And then it vanished as quickly as it had come, the boy relaxing, shaking his head.

"I'm going to bed. I'll be gone most of tomorrow, need to get my stuff from Hogwarts, say goodbye to my friends. I'm visiting the Ministry as well." He hesitated a brief moment. "How good are you two at warding?"

Remus looked over at Sirius, who grinned and rubbed two hands together, eyes bright.

"Leave it to me, Harry. Just tell me what and where."

Harry knew he had slept late, when he saw the angle of sunlight coming in the window. He sat up and stretched with a long sigh, before rolling out of bed. He summoned his clothes with flick of his wrist, glad the house-elves had laundered them from the night before. He had packed his clothes and taken them with him to Hogwarts, and not left any here. It would be something he would need to think of in the future.

Harry flamed straight to Hogwarts, glancing at the time on the clock on the wall in his quarters. He had two hours before he could meet his friends.

"Dobby." He called softly, glancing around. The elf appeared, eyes wide and ear wobbling. He bowed low, smiling.

"Master Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry smiled.

"Please, gather my things. Everything. Take them to Hallam Street for now, my usual rooms. You may stay there if you are not needed here to end the term?"

Dobby shook his head quickly.

"No, sir! I is not needed here. Headmaster Dumbledore has announced end of term early, sir. Dobby has nothings more to do."

Harry frowned, nodding.

"Alright. Leave Hedwig here, please, and all her things. I'm going to take them with me personally."

Once Dobby had gotten to work, packing with snaps of his fingers, Harry personally gathered his owl's perch and treats, shrinking them down and placing them in his pocket. He would need to get Hedwig from the owlery, where she was currently staying.

There were no students in the halls, he noticed. He was surprised at Dobby's information. While he knew the Defense classes would have to stop prematurely, he could see no reason to cancel the entire last week of classes.

He turned a corner, and came face to face with a group of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw fifth years. They stopped in their tracks, looking at him with wide gazes. He ignored it, walking through the middle of them and continuing on, hearing their whispers break out behind him.

There would be more rumors by lunch time, and he wouldn't doubt Hermione and Neville would hear them, sitting at the Ravenclaw table. At least his friends would know he was, in fact, in the school.

He quickly ascended to the owlery, looking up at the owl fluttering around above him, flickering colors of black and brown and white.

"Hedwig?" He called out, and watched sudden motion start up from a corner before his snowy white owl appeared, fluttering her long white wings barred with the occasional black speck.

She flew down to him with graceful ease, alighting on his uplifted wrist with a flick of her tail. He lifted a hand and ran it gently over her feathers. She hooted lowly, then nipped his nose with the gentlest of pressures. He smiled, then looked her in her intelligent brown eyes.

"I haven't been doing you justice, have I?"

She blinked once, solemnly, then her head turned away from him. He chuckled, and continued to gently stroke her as he spoke.

"How would you feel about staying with my friend Hermione this summer? She doesn't have an owl, and I'd like her to be able to communicate with me easily. Would that be alright?"

For a moment, Hedwig continued to look away. Then her head whipped around, eyes wide and unblinking, before she softly hooted.

Harry smiled.

He waited in their usual study room, looking around at the desks and chairs with a solemn eye. He wasn't sure when he would be back here, if ever. He reached out, ran a hand over the stone wall, and felt an answering surge of power beneath his fingers. Hogwarts pulsed there, in every fragment of earth and stone, her strength passing through hall and stair. She felt a bit like the moon, in a lesser way, and warmer than the Black Vessel. A kindness lay inside the sentience, something he was sure could be credited to the innocence of the charges often passing through the school. It was almost like a mother, but an aloof one; watching over from a great distance.

He pulled back when he heard the door open, turning to have his hands filled with bushy brown hair.

Hermione hugged him tight, then leaned back, scowling.

"Harry Potter, how dare you not tell me what was going on! I had to pull it out of Neville by the teeth..." Harry glanced behind her, to see Neville looking glum. "...and even then I didn't get much. Peter Pettigrew is dead?"

Harry nodded, then gestured to a wooden chair and quickly transfigured it into a large sofa. He sat, and Hermione plopped down beside him with a huff, before continuing in on her questions.

"And, Professor Lupin is just gone! Not even an explanation, though we can all guess from the rumors flying about. Then the Dementors are gone too, and…"

"Dementors?"

Harry questioned, breaking into her verbal flood. Hermione straightened.

"Yes. They disappeared from the grounds yesterday."

No wonder Hogwarts seemed so content. Harry hadn't even noticed they were gone, but now that he searched for it that pervading sense of depression and sorrow that had clogged the air the last months was also missing, He nodded, and Hermione continued. Neville pulled a chair over, sitting down with a sigh.

"And now term is ending early, without exams! All that study for nothing. I had just gotten into the books I had made and passed out about all the possible written topics on the practicals…"

Neville rolled his eyes, something Harry was sure he only did because he knew the witch wasn't looking his direction. Harry shook his head and interrupted again.

"Hermione." She stopped mid sentence, glaring. Harry smiled and reached in his pocket, pulling out the shrinked owl treats and perch.

"Before the other's get here, I wanted to give you these."

She stared down at the items in his hand, dumbfounded, before looking back up at him.

"What do you mean?"

Harry passed them over, then spoke.

"You don't have an owl, and I wanted you to be able to contact us without us having to write to you first. It made sense to me. Hedwig is getting a bit lonesome, I don't use her nearly enough. It always seems more practical for me to use one of the elves, or just go myself. I figured if I did need to owl, I could simply come over for a visit."

Hermione looked both excited and reluctant, so Harry pushed the sympathy card.

"She really needs someone who can be more of a friend than I am. Personal wizarding owls aren't meant to be cooped up in an owlery all the time. Now if it's too much trouble…"

Hermione's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head.

"Oh no, not at all!"

Harry grinned. Victory.

Within thirty minutes, Harry sat across from all his closest friends in the wizarding world.

Two Slytherins, two Gryffindors, and most recently one Ravenclaw. They were a good mixed bunch, he concluded, and tried to smile.

"Professor Lupin is going to teach me this upcoming year, out of my property in London. That's where I'll be staying if you want to owl."

They nodded, though Harry saw varying degrees of reluctance among them.

"However, if you all are willing, I thought we might meet up a few times this summer, and the upcoming year. To practice magic, learn new things…"

As one, both Neville and Hermione brightened where they sat. Draco merely raised a single eyebrow, and Blaise smirked while crossing his arms over his chest. Luna smiled vaguely, twirling a single lock of hair around her finger before speaking.

"That sounds very nice, Harry, but this summer I'll be searching for crumple horned snorkacks with my father. It's a great opportunity."

For a moment he simply stared, then shrugged, ignoring the glances cast between his other friends.

"That sounds fine Luna. Anyone else...?"

Hermione immediately nodded, followed by Neville. Harry looked over at the Slytherins. Blaise fluttered one hand in the air with casual grace, before glancing at the blond beside him.

"Set a time, Harry." Draco spoke, his voice imperious.

"I say Saturdays. During the week I have other obligations."

Hermione opened her mouth, as if about to question, and Neville quickly began to speak.

"Yes, Saturdays work great for me as well."

Hermione frowned, but nodded.

"Once a month, or every week?"

At that, they all glanced at each other. Finally Harry nodded to himself.

"Every month is probably enough over the summer. We'll all be talking by owl anyway, this will just be a chance to practice spells. Once school starts, we can reevaluate."

Hermione leaned forward, her eyes curious.

"We can't practice spells over the summer."

Blaise and Draco glanced at each other, hiding smirks. Luna smiled. Neville bit his lip, then quietly spoke.

"That's only enforced on those living with muggles, Hermione. Those of us in a wizarding household are cloaked by our families performing spells. The Improper Use of Magic Office can't track it if it's not abnormal use. In fact, if just a single adult wizard is with you the magic won't register."

Draco continued, as the brown-haired Gryffindor began to turn an alarming shade of red.

"Our Manor has wards on it to prevent such tracking anyway. Father couldn't have the Ministry spying in on us any time they pleased, tracking our movements and spells. The Trace is merely another way the Ministry likes to intrude in our lives."

Hermione gaped.

"But that's not fair! All of you get to practice and such, when all us muggleborns get to do is read. That's, that's… biased! That's… totally absolutely ridiculously absurd!"

She breathed in and out deeply, her fists clenched in anger as her eyes flashed. The others all leaned away, but Harry reached out, and laid a gentling hand on her arm.

"Yes, it is, but it can't be helped. It has good intentions, to preserve wizarding secrecy, and to prevent underage wizards from harming themselves outside of adult supervision. In a muggle household, how would they get help if their child accidentally did something dangerous? It could take hours, or even days if they didn't have an owl or floo connection. Yes, it puts muggleborns at yet another disadvantage, but it's hardly the greatest one. Most pureblood children are taught basic magical spells from the time they are little, before their own magic has even settled. The incantations, anyway."

He glanced at the others, who nodded, before continuing, seeing that Hermione was beginning to return to her normal coloring.

"There are things that could be done to bridge this gap. Contacting parents much earlier, perhaps, and giving materials targeting society, culture, and basic magical plants and organisms. Like primers. Or perhaps offering summer workshops for muggleborns to practice magic learned the previous term. None of that is being offered though, because of the current political environment. The minute special treatment is offered to muggleborns, the purebloods squawk."

At that, Draco fidgeted, but miraculously remained silent. Hermione's eyes flickered over to him, before she sighed.

"I guess… I guess you're right. About the the Trace. But it's still unfair. We should… should be allowed something, at least. It's not special treatment when the other side is already superior, right? It's hard enough to catch up as it is. They give some of us a few months to get acclimated, some of us even less, depending on our birthdays. Then we are submerged in a world the complete opposite of ours, one that's more and more hostile every year we go through schooling. You know what a sixth year Gryffindor told me?"

She looked up at Harry, her eyes solemn. Harry waited, and she continued, glancing down at her hands in her lap.

"She said I might have a chance at a good job, if I can manage to keep being friends with you. Or if I…" She looked over at the others, and for some reason, began to flush. "Well. Basically if I know someone else, they might be able to get me a career somewhere minor. But that I could never hope for anything better, because I'm just another muggleborn."

She bit her lip. Harry felt his gut tighten, anger curling around him in sudden scarlet tones, and he realized with a start that his power had slipped his grip, tanging the air with the slight tint of metal and electricity. He yanked it back, coiling it inside with a firm grip. He saw the others subtly relax.

Harry reached out, squeezing her hand tightly before letting go. He saw Draco frown, and also saw that Blaise had noticed it as well, based on the contemplative look in his eyes. Harry spoke, eyeing the two Slytherins.

"I'm not going to tell you it's not true, because from what I've seen it is. Now." He looked into her eyes, smiled. "But that doesn't mean it has to be that way forever. We can change things, Hermione. All of us together. Purebloods and muggleborn."

Hermione glanced around at the others.

"What do you mean?"

Draco shifted, before speaking in his smooth voice, his grey eyes dark.

"He means, Hermione, that things are going to change. The Minister is a backwards fool, a tool used by certain Lords on the Wizengamot to affect legislation. Get rid of him, and you can set a movement in action. Of course, we will want it to be the right one."

The blond's expression was calmly set, but his eyes told of his excitement. Beside him, both Neville and Blaise nodded. Hermione glanced at Luna, who shrugged, before turning to him.

"Are you telling me you are planning to overthrow the Minister?!"

Harry looked into her startled, and also disapproving face, and couldn't help it. He laughed.

"You look offended!"

Hermione crossed her arms, frowning.

"You are just third years! You can't possibly be thinking of…" She drifted off, biting her lip. "You've been thinking of this awhile, haven't you? All of you?" She glanced around. Luna spoke up.

"Not me. Though, my father's always said Fudge is hiding an army of heliopaths inside his office, shrunk in small jars. Any man capable of that is most certainly not suitable for government."

Neville smiled at her as if she had said something brilliant, causing Harry to hide a smile. It would seem his friends weren't immune from infatuation either. Hermione continued as if Luna hadn't said anything.

"How? How would it even be possible?"

Draco leaned forward, suddenly eager. "Easy. Well, relatively. We just need numbers. The Wizengamot can impeach the Minister with two-thirds in assent. That's thirty-four seats. I bet we could already get half of those, based on our current research. More could be won with outright politicking, if we were in the position to do so. And several more of those seats will be open within two years to students here who we can convince to support it. We could get a majority vote. The groundwork is already in place."

For a moment there was silence, before Harry quietly spoke, turning to the Gryffindor with a grin.

"It might not solve everything. Probably won't. But it's a chance."

Hermione nodded, then sighed.

"Alright."

For a moment longer they talked, the conversation moving to summer plans. Before long Harry saw it was time for him to leave, and he reluctantly stood, drawing all their eyes over to him.

"I have to go. We are agreed on when to meet?"

The others nodded, though Hermione caught his gaze and held it for a moment longer. He nodded slightly, and she smiled. Harry turned away, and caught Draco glaring at the Gryffindor witch. Harry frowned, about to speak with Blaise came up to him.

"Harry, before you go." Harry turned away, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Blaise smiled.

"I heard Hermione saying she would have Hedwig. How are we going to correspond about the political matter?"

Draco drifted over, nodding. Harry just shrugged.

"If I need to send a letter without receiving one first, I'll just go over to Hermione's house."

"You've been there?" Draco interrupted, frowning. Harry mirrored his action, puzzled.

"Several times. She helped me get to muggle London once, before I could teleport, to meet with my adopted brothers."

At that, Draco only shook his head, looking mildly disapproving. Harry felt anger stir in his gut, and ground his teeth.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

Draco began to sneer, then just as suddenly it dropped off his face, replaced with reluctance.

"I'm sorry. It's just odd, for an Heir to call any muggle a brother. Even among the lighter families. We are just too different."

Harry folded his arms, defiant.

"We are the same in all the ways that matter. I grew up with them. They helped me learn about magic, long before I ever met either of you. Why shouldn't I call them brothers?"

Draco looked away, holding his tongue. Blaise clapped him on the back, grinning.

"Alright, then, that's settled that. We will see you the last Saturday of the month."

Harry nodded, glanced at Draco once more, then turned, still frowning.

What on earth was wrong with the Slytherin?

The school was subdued the last few days of term. Students still talked and laughed and gossiped. With the dementors gone, even the atmosphere itself seemed lighter. But something had also changed.

Exams had been, once again, canceled. The rumors about Sirius Black had spread, with no facts given. Professor Lupin, a beloved teacher and the best Defense Professor many had had, disappeared amid accusations of him being a werewolf. No one really doubted it, once a calendar with moons was marked and aligned with the Professors frequent illnesses.

And Harry Potter was gone as well.

It was enough to ostracize Harry's friends once more. The vicious accusations leveled at Harry by Ron Weasley didn't help matters. It made others think twice about even speaking to someone associated with him. Those that did only seemed to want gossip.

Still, being a social pariah somehow didn't make it easier for Hermione to get Draco Malfoy alone. She finally tracked down the Slytherin as he was walking through the dungeons, Blaise and another Slytherin girl she remembered vaguely as Pansy at his side. They stopped when she stepped up to block their path, identical smirks coming onto both Pansy's and Draco's face. Hermione smiled at Blaise, then met Draco's eyes.

"Is it alright if I, um, speak to you?"

Draco raised a single eyebrow.

"You seem to be doing so at the moment."

The sarcastic moron, she thought. At his side, neither Slytherin moved, and Hermione grimaced.

"Alone?"

Blaise shrugged, but Pansy snorted, her features twisted. She flicked her long straight brown hair over one shoulder as she spoke

"Don't let my presence stop you. I'll talk to you tonight, Draco." Her gaze was mildly suggestive, something Hermione noted with a surprising tinge of annoyance. What did she care if some girl in Slytherin was making goo-goo eyes at Draco? Blaise grinned, but he and Pansy walked off. Hermione glanced around, then pulled the blond into a nearby classroom, putting up silencing charms with a quick flick of her wand. Behind her, Draco smirked.

"Don't go out of your way to start more wicked rumors."

Hermione turned around and frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

For a second Draco's face twisted, then he idly looked away, brushing a hand down his robe in a bored gesture.

"What is it you wanted to speak to me about so urgently? It couldn't wait for the train tomorrow?"

Hermione twisted her hands together, then bit her lip.

"I didn't want the others to hear. I need… want, a favor."

At that, both of Draco's eyebrows rose into his hairline.

"From me? I'm surprised. I figured, with Harry coming over so much this summer, you wouldn't need me for anything."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she threw the subtle insult off with a confused frown.

"Look, I didn't want to ask Harry. I didn't want him to think... I didn't want him to know if I couldn't do it."

Draco folded his arms across his chest, curious despite himself.

"Just what is it you want?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"You know as well as I do that there are wizards out there who can read minds, steal secrets... see memories. I want to protect myself, and I've read a few books on the subject. There isn't much on it, as Legilimency is regulated by the Ministry, and all I could find on Occlumency was more descriptive of its effects and less about how to actually accomplish it. But I know you have a library, and I figured… maybe you could find a book on it for me. I want to learn it. I need to be able to protect myself."

Draco sat, stretching his legs out in front of him, and smiled. He liked seeing the bossy witch so off-balance.

"It seems great minds think a like. I plan on learning Occlumency myself this summer, if possible. I happen to know someone who might be willing to teach me."

Hermione leaned forward, her eyes wide.

"Who?"

Draco smirked.

"Professor Snape."

Her reaction was just what he hoped for. She jerked back, and her frown was large and disapproving.

"You can't possibly trust him! He's... he's…"

"He is my godfather." Draco interrupted, and watched her mouth open and close in speechless dismay. Draco looked absently at the nails on one hand, his voice idle as he spoke.

"I won't actually practice against him. From what I know, it takes months just to begin to build a defense. Practicing too early will only weaken what limited shields you create. But he can provide valuable information to get me started, and perhaps know of books I do not."

Hermione looked down, her voice hesitant.

'When you do… when he does, um, give you advice…"

"I'll pass it along." Draco said, then took some pity on the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "Harry was planning on doing so anyway. I think he realized how much of a liability it is to have people know his secret who can tell of it. Willingly or not."

Hermione looked up, her brown eyes wide.

"He was? I… well, that's foolish, I should have known he would. Looking back, it's silly to think he told us at all, with us unable to prevent someone like Dumbledore from taking the knowledge right from our minds. We all know the danger of looking into a wizard's eyes who can practice Legilimency, and I for one haven't made direct eye contact with any teacher for over a year. Maybe that's paranoid…"

"It's not." Draco leaned forward, earnest. "It's smart."

Hermione sighed. "But it's not enough. All it would take is one casual glance… even across a room, for someone like Dumbledore. Or if we were, well, forced to maintain eye contact..."

Hermione shook her head, a troubled look passing over her face. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"This is why we will learn to protect ourselves, because we gain control. So they can't make us do anything we don't wish to."

Hermione met his eyes and smiled slightly.

"There will always be someone out there stronger than us. Even with Occlumency, there is still veritaserum. More than one way to gain truth."

Draco broke their gaze, and leaned back against the wall elegantly. His head tilted up in disdainful arrogance.

"Occlumency can even help resist veritaserum. They can try to force us, and fail."

Hermione sighed and stood, pausing as she looked down at him.

"So, you will...?"

Draco nodded once, firmly.

"Count on an owl in the next two weeks. Will you need a copy of the books yourself?"

Hermione bit her lip, not wanting to ask for charity but not seeing any other way to get her hands on what was bound to be expensive books.

"If you don't mind."

Draco waved that away, then stood as well, passing close by her to open the door, gesturing her through. Hermione felt her skin prickle, and shook the sensation off with a frown. Seeing her expression, Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione smiled at him.

"Thank you. I know you didn't have to help."

Draco's expression smoothed out into calm neutrality.

"No problem."

A knock at the door brought Severus Snape's attention up from where he had been frowning over a stack of deplorable fourth year essays. He called out in an impatient voice. He wanted to get his grading done so he could forget his position as a teacher to dimwits for a few months.

Whomever wanted his attention had best have a good reason.

"Enter."

He was surprised when Draco Malfoy, his godson, stepped through the open office door, shutting it behind him with a gentle snick. The blond boy walked forward, his eyes cast downward in a way that made Severus stiffen. It had become more common over the last few months, while teaching or entering the common room, for his godson to be glancing down or to the side. He was not unintelligent; he knew what it meant.

His godson had found himself in the uncomfortable position of holding secrets.

"Mr. Malfoy. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

His voice had a sarcastic quip to it, but his godson did not respond with the usual annoyance; he only smiled.

"Professor. I came to ask a favor." Severus watched as Draco's eyes flickered with some emotion. Severus folded his long fingers together over the most recent essay, and absently tapped the parchment.

"And what is this favor?" Severus watched as Draco straightened his shoulders, and was struck by how tall the boy had grown the last year. He would be tall, just like his father.

"I wish to learn Occlumency."

And there it was. Severus felt both triumphant to have been correct in his suspicions, and curious. It was not abnormal for the Heir to a pureblood line to seek to protect their mind: but it was usually done in the latter years of Hogwarts, after one's magic had settled down and the mind was not ruled as much by emotion. Once an Heir had something worth protecting.

"I see. What has brought this on?"

Draco lifted one shoulder nonchalantly.

"It seemed a good time to begin. I know it can take a considerable amount of time to master, and wanted to get started over the summer. Most Heirs begin their training within Hogwarts."

Severus only blinked, though behind his polite mask he was frowning.

"If they learn it at all. It is a very difficult skill to master."

Draco didn't falter.

"Then I should start as soon as possible."

Severus watched him in silence for a long minute, waiting for the confidant blond to fidget, or show a break in his mask. But the boy had been raised well. He never even blinked. Severus sighed, then reached down into a drawer, withdrawing a sheet of parchment. He dipped his quill in a black ink bottle on his desk and quickly began to write in long looping script as he spoke.

"Occlumency is both an obscure skill, and an ancient one. It is not impossible for most witches and wizards to learn; it only requires concentration and sustained effort of will. Some are simply too scatter-brained or lazy to accomplish it. Legilimency is much more difficult, hence its rarity."

Severus paused, glancing up, and was rewarded when his godson's eyes easily slid away. He continued, looking at the list he had written with a small smirk on his face.

"Occlumency is, at its heart, the art of suppression. You must suppress all emotion, all memory, all thought. Meditate at night and clear your mind. Even a single strand of thought can be used by another to unravel your defences. What is not there can not be found."

Draco gave quick nod, his gaze focused on the list under Severus's fingers.

"Meditation."

Severus passed the sheet of parchment over, observing the body language of his student.

"Yes. This is a list of books on basic Occlumency and meditation. Every person has a key to this ability; it can be a singular emotion or thought, or perhaps even a recurring memory. There are techniques to using such things against another to misdirect. But at its core, you must learn control. An iron will. Unfailing, unforgiving, unassailable."

Draco reached out to take the parchment, and looked over the list of titles and authors, before nodding.

"Thank you, Professor."

Severus waved a single hand in dismissal.

"Study over the summer. If you are willing, we can practice your defences when you return for the next year."

He watched closely, and saw the glimmer of both longing and regret mixed in his godson's Slytherin eyes. He was a master Legilimens; it might take a direct meeting of eyes to read whole memories, but emotions were a much more subtle taste. They were rolling under the calm surface of the boy in front of him, turbulent and twisting. It took only a slight widening of his senses to see them. Draco nodded.

"If that is necessary, I'll let you know."

The boy turned and left in the same mild manner in which he had come. But Severus was far from satisfied. He pulled out another piece of parchment, dabbing his quill once more in the ink bottle.

He had a letter to write.

Draco entered his dorm room with at a lazy pace. He went straight to his desk, placing the list beside him as he pulled out another piece of parchment. He copied the script with a quick spell, then wrote a brief note across the top. Harry could do what he wanted to with the information.

He then sealed the parchment in a envelope, pressing his silver seal into green wax heated by his wand. When it cooled, he set it aside, then looked hard down at the list, searching his mind for any familiarity. Only two looked like tomes he had seen in the Malfoy library.

Draco tapped his desk with a frown, then sat back.

He would need to go to Diagon Alley to purchase the others. There was more than one bookstore there, and not all on the Alley proper.

And he would be sure to get two copies of each.

Of course, with so much weight involved, it would be difficult to send the books to Hermione by owl. He would have to venture into muggle London, but it would be worth it to see where the Gryffindor witch lived. Surely she would appreciate him getting the books to her as soon as possible.

With a small smirk, Draco clasped his hands behind his head and stared into the murky green window above his desk.

Dumbledore had said Rufus Scrimgeour had wanted to speak with him. Harry had thought long and hard about how to approach the man, and what exactly he could and could not say. Finally, he decided the only thing to do was just go and meet the man. He didn't know much about him other than what could be found in books.

He had been an auror in the last war with Lord Voldemort. It had been against Death Eaters that he had sustained the injuries that forced him to retire from active fighting. He now worked directly under the Minister as the head of his own department, only answering to the Minister and the Wizengamot. His policies within his department leaned toward the socially and culturally liberal, but fiscally conservative. He looked like the kind of man who would not look kindly on being under the thumb of a man as ignorant as Cornelius Fudge.

Which meant Harry might have some leverage, if he let his own political leanings be known. But it would be risky.

Meeting the equivalent of a muggle police superintendent was not something to be taken lightly. But Harry would rather meet with him voluntarily than to wait for a summons. It made his circumstances seem more innocent.

Harry had decided the best way would be to floo in, and dressed carefully in wizarding garments he had obtained from Diagon Alley. A dark green velvet dress robe he had bought in Diagon Alley, the collar and cuffs embroidered with subtle green swirls of thread. He observed himself in the wizarding mirror in his room, and frowned.

He looked different dressed in colors. Smaller, perhaps, than when he wore his normal black and grey. Still, he had to dress the way he wanted to be treated. Dress robes were just another form of body armor, as useful as dragonhide in political battles. He turned away with shake of his head, descending the stairs to the living room and striding over to the large fireplace. He grabbed a handful of the green floor powder and flung it into the crackling flames.

"Ministry of Magic Atrium, Whitehall, London"

He stepped inside the floor, and braced himself.

The whirling began, images spinning across his vision until he was forced to close his eyes, the world tilting and shaking under his feet as he was flung through a warping tunnel. His magic rose to the surface of his skin, eager to sink teeth in and stop the wild ride in its tracks. He was tempted for a heartbeat to try, to see what might happen.

But he had somewhere to be.

He held it in check and let himself be carried until with one last violent flash he felt himself being pushed forward, his feet stepping of their own accord. He would have stumbled, and maybe even fell, if he hadn't already had so much practice traveling through his own flame and the disconnect between inside and out.

His boots hit the floor in perfect stride, and he began to walk forward, his head high and eyes roving about immediately. He had never been inside the Ministry, and only barely understood what he needed to do. He let himself be gathered into a throng of wizards also exiting a long corridor of floos, all heading in the same direction. It must be a normal change of shift for so many obvious employees to be leaving and entering work. He was relieved when no one looked too hard in his direction, and realized with a start that he was nearly an average height with the adults traveling along beside him. He had grown another few inches.

Harry finally came to a stop in a long line of wizards and witches, all mostly dressed in casual robes and hats. In front of them, a bored clerk was checking wands, logging names, and occasionally passing out badges to the few visitors. Harry paid careful attention to every detail, knowing there might be a time in the future when he would need to know this information.

The employees had passes, which they gave in lieu of having their wands measured and catalogued. Instead, they showed their badges and passed through the checkpoint, or sometimes even passed through without if recognized by the clerk. Visitors, however, had to have their wands measured, were looked up in what seemed to be a magical database of some sort that would list their names. If the names they stated matched, they passed through, with a badge that stated their purpose and destination. Harry wondered just what would happen if a name didn't match. Did they get arrested? Simply denied access? Give an excuse and pass through anyway?

For security, it seemed ridiculous. There didn't appear to be any wards looking for magical objects or secondary wands. There wasn't even an auror nearby if law enforcement was needed. By the look of the clerk, a scrawny young man with frazzled blond hair, he wouldn't be able to stop someone who wanted through.

It was a joke.

Harry kept his head down until it was his turn, stepping forward to the desk.

The clerk, his name tag only reading Munch, extended a single hand without glancing up.

"Wand." He spoke, eyes looking dully at a long blank parchment in front of him. Harry flicked his wrist, his phoenix wand sliding into his hand. He placed it into the wizards hand, and the man casually dumped it onto a large brass scale. Harry leaned forward slightly, watching as words appeared on the parchment. The man began reading them, voice low and monotone.

Phoenix feather core, holly. Eleven inches… registered under Mr. Harry James P-P- Potter!?"

His words halted on a high note, his head whipping up so fast his neck cracked audibly. Harry met the bright blue eyes with a neutral expression. Munch began to speak in a rambling tide of words.

"Harry Potter! An, an honor, sir! An honor it is! Do you need any help? Can, can I do anything? For you?"

He ended on a hopeful note, eyes wide, gaze flickering up to the scar Harry knew he would see on his forehead. Harry ignored the aggravation rising inside him and the whispers elevating behind him. He only shook his head, reaching out his hand for his wand.

"No, thank you."

Instead of returning the wand, the clerk took his hand and shook it; This time Harry did frown, and when the man released him he reached down and plucked his wand off the scale, returning it to its holster. Munch didn't seem to notice, his eyes bright with excitement. Harry interrupted him mid-sentence.

"Thank you, is that all?"

The man sputtered.

"Well, yes, I mean, you need a badge..."

Harry snatched the outstretched piece of round silver metal and immediately started walking away, ignoring the whispers behind him and the excited clerk. He also noticed that the man, in his distraction, hadn't bothered to ask him what his business was. His badge only simply read his name. Harry grinned and entered a set of lifts right in front of him, followed by several other wizards and witches who all looked a mix of bored and impatient. None of them paid him a second glance, but kept their eyes focused on the numbers scrolling across the top of the elevator as they began to descend. A voice, faintly feminine, began to recite each floor as they moved downward. Harry was observing the paper legend pasted to the wall of the elevator, that read where different offices where located, when the lift came to a stop at Level Two. Most of the people in the lift had already excited by this point. Harry listed to the woman recite 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement', and he slipped from between two witches busily discussing a recent article of Witch Weekly and entered the wide room.

There was an open lounge-like area, and from it split off three corridors. Above each was a plaque. Improper Use of Magic, Wizengamot Administration Offices, and Auror Headquarters. Harry entered the third corridor, and began to pass several doors, each labeled with an aurors name and rank, and a few dimly lit hallways. At the end of the corridor, two double doors stood open, above them another plaque bearing two words.

Auror Office.

He stepped through and paused, surprised. A long line of cubicles stretched out in front of him, many of which had aurors seated and filing what looked to be mountains of paperwork. Along the left wall, facing the cubicles, were hundreds of animated photos, each with name and last known location of the wizard, witch, or even being in question. There was also several maps,each depicting locations in Britain, and then an overall map of the country and the world, with wizard settlements dotted and labeled. He could also see what seemed a random collection of newspaper articles scattered throughout.

"Can I help you?"

The kind voice brought his attention around from where he had been standing, observing the large open space with wide eyes. A short witch, wearing bright red robes and a cheerful smile, looked over at him from the cubicle nearest to him. Harry figured she might be used to people entering looking bewildered and awed. Harry cleared his throat.

"Which way to Head Auror Scrimgeour's office?"

The witch raised her eyebrows, and her brilliantly blue eyes flickered over his robes with an inquisitive look. Harry realized she must be looking for his badge, and reached inside his pocket to hold it aloft, carefully turning it to where she couldn't see his name. He didn't want another repeat of the excitable clerk. The auror smiled and stood, pointing down the long wall and to the end of the room.

"It's right down there, at the end of the room. You must have an appointment to see him, but his secretaries will gladly help you with any inquires or school essays."

For a moment, Harry was confused, before he realized the conclusion the woman had made. She thought he was just here for information. Harry smiled and thanked her, then walked along the edge of the room, glancing at the photos as he passed.

Most were dark wizards and occasional witches, but he did see several werewolf convictions that made him frown. He wondered if one day Remus's picture would be there, for daring to teach the Boy-Who-Lived.

At the end of the room he turned a corner to two large glass offices. In each was a desk, at which the aforementioned secretaries were seated, one witch reading a long list of something while the other, a wizard in bright purple robes, wrote something with a quill tipped in long peacock feathers. Harry paused, looking between the two, and at that moment the wizard glanced up and frowned at him.

"May I help you?" His voice was imperious and impatient. Harry smoothed his own expression and straightened, meeting the man's gaze without flinching.

"I'm here to see Head Auror Scrimgeour."

The man didn't snort, though it looked like he wanted to do so.

"Mr. Scrimgeour is a very busy man. As you do not have an appointment…" his gaze flickered down and over to something on his desk before looking back up. "...you will need to leave your name and address and he will contact you if he must. Is there anything I can help you with in his stead?"

Harry gritted his teeth at the condescending manner, and shifted.

"He asked to see me, but I'm more than willing to simply leave if the man is too busy."

Harry saw the wizards eyes narrow even as his nose rose in the air with a sniff.

"Name?"

Harry smiled.

Once the flustered secretary returned, holding the door open with embarassed nonchalance, Harry entered the office of Britain's Head Auror.

The room was large, an expansive window spelled to reflect muggle London taking up one entire wall, the others encased in bookshelves with a single large fireplace in between. On the mantle he saw several magical devices he had also noticed in the Headmaster's Office. Scrimgeour sat behind a large wooden desk, the top meticulously arranged with parchment and writing supplies. Harry stepped farther into the room, stopping to stand beside one of the simple chairs in front of the desk.

The wizard had a long tawny mane of hair, not showing the slightest streak of age. The face did, however, lines of stress creasing the skin around forehead, mouth, and eyes. His eyes were a strange yellowish color, giving Harry the impression of a large lion sitting imperiously on a throne as they observed him. When the man spoke, his voice matched his appearance, deep and growling.

"Mr. Potter. I'm glad you have finally deigned to fulfill your obligations to your Ministry."

The words had a sarcastic whip to them that made Harry, oddly enough, smile.

"I wasn't aware there was any hurry."

Scrimgeour snorted, then gestured impatiently to a chair. Harry sat and the two stared at one another for a moment, weighing words. Finally the wizard spoke.

"We have many unanswered questions that need light shed upon them. Time-sensitive questions. If I may hear the story from an eyewitness to the events of two days ago?"

Harry folded his hands in his lap and smiled innocently.

"Which events, exactly?"

The man didn't respond with anger or impatience, something Harry could give him credit for. Scrimgeour only inclined his head, yellow eyes fastened on his.

"The ones leading up to Peter Pettigrew's second reported death."

Harry let his smile fall, and spoke solemnly.

"Can I expect any sort of apology for the wrongful conviction of Sirius Black?"

Scrimgeour's eyes tightened.

"As the wizard in question was never convicted, only sentenced, the answer to that is no."

Harry held himself still, not allowing any motion to betray his feelings.

"Then will this investigation lead to Sirius Black being rendered innocent?"

Scrimgeour leaned forward slightly, his voice low.

"As we have another eye witness account of Sirius Black murdering Peter Pettigrew, what would you say to that?"

Harry didn't look away.

"I would say he was sentenced to Azkaban for being a follower of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and for the killing of several muggles. As none of those facts are true, I would argue for a retrial."

The man across from him never hesitated.

"Murder is murder, regardless of how many lives lost. The murder of a wizard, any wizard, is punishable by lifetime sentence to Azkaban."

Harry grit his teeth.

"It wasn't murder."

"No?" Scrimgeour's voice was now stern, and the wizard leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together in front of him with an air of calm. "Sirius Black killed another wizard, not in self-defense, but in an attempt to capture. That is murder, and attempted kidnapping."

"It was an accident!" Harry snapped, then reined himself in before his rumbling magic could escape his control. Scrimgeour gave him a pitying glance.

"Was it?"

Harry, about to snap back, paused. He remembered the look in Sirius's eyes, the dog's posture and exposed fangs, red with blood, its ruffled fur. Harry wondered what he would find, if he looked within his godfathers mind. The damage done from the Dementors could not be healed in mere months, even years. Revenge was sometimes cold and clean and calculating, and at others times a hot bloody mess.

Harry looked away, out the enchanted glass, his eyes seeing both the view and the layers of spellwork over top it, a spiderweb of fluorescent color. In front of him, Scrimgeour spoke, his words flowing over him like water upon a rock.

"I understand that you and your godfather had been attempting to apprehend Mr. Pettigrew. As your godfather was indeed innocent at that time, the Ministry does not wish to press charges against you. However, if you continue to hide this criminal from justice you will face the penalties thereof. It is in your own best interest to hand him over."

Harry didn't move, his eyes blind as his mind raced.

"What gives you the impression I am hiding this criminal?"

Scrimgeour, when he replied, spoke slowly and matter of factly.

"He is your godfather, according to our records. You hold his family seat as Heir to the House of Black. By the testimony of Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Lovegood, and Mr. Snape, you and he had been working together for some time. As Sirius Black has disappeared from the countryside around Hogwarts, our logical conclusion is that you helped him escape."

Harry turned back to the Head Auror.

"Black left of his own accord from the Shack that night. Where he stays now is not my concern."

Scrimgeour was silent for a moment. Harry fought not to fidget, but held himself rigid and still, eyes locked now on the wizard in front of him. Scrimgeour smiled, but it was sharp and full of teeth, reminding him of a goblins threatening posture.

"This is your warning, Mr. Potter. Do not go against this Ministry. You are not immune to the law, no matter your celebrity status among Britain's citizenry. Despite the politicking of our current Minister, I will not rest until this is resolved to the full extent of the legislation put into place centuries ago. Friends in high places will not save you if I find you are putting the witches and wizards of this country at risk by hiding a mentally unstable murderer from justice."

Harry bared his own teeth in a smile.

"Are the friends you are referring to Headmaster Dumbledore, or Minister Fudge?"

Scrimgeour narrowed his piercing yellow eyes.

"Tell me. Do you truly believe either will allow you to pull them off the ivory pillars on which they sit?"

Harry kept his smile, and gambled.

"As neither are my friends, Mr. Scrimgeour, I couldn't say."

At that, Harry saw surprise flicker across the man's face, followed closely by calculation. For the first time, he wondered what House the man in front of him had been in. He had the looks of a Gryffindor, but the subtle bearing of a Slytherin. Scrimgeour didn't try to hide the emotion.

"You surprise me. I doubt either man would say the same of you."

Harry raised a single eyebrow.

"Perhaps the Headmaster might claim so, but I have never met Minister Fudge personally."

Scrimgeour lifted his shoulders and let them fall in innocent rebuttal.

"To the contrary, the Minister claims you and he are on very good terms. Enough to correspond by owl."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"I have only received one owl from the Minister, and I would not call veiled threats friendly correspondence."

Suddenly, Scrimgeour grinned, and it wasn't the fabricated expression of before. It was real, and lit up the man's face with delight.

"Perhaps you and I have something in common after all, despite our… disagreement. I would like to discuss this with you further, at a later time, if convenient."

For a long moment Harry simply sat, his mind churning. What was the man implying exactly? That he, too, had no love for the current Minister? The thought of another potential ally gave him pause. Slowly Harry nodded.

"I wouldn't mind a discussion. Owl me a time."

Scrimgeour observed him, still smiling.

"Will I need a specific address?" It was both a question, and an accusation. Harry knew the wizard across from him was no fool, and also knew he would have to tread very carefully in order to not give away information that could lead him to his godfather.

"11 Hallam Street, London." Harry said finally, and made a mental note to think on relocating Sirius Black as quickly as he could find another safe location. Now that Harry had confirmed that the Ministry was still searching for Black, and seeking to return him back to prison, he couldn't risk living in the same place as his godfather. It would only take a mistake or two to stir the coals back into flame.

Scrimgeour wrote it down with a flourish, then extended a hand.

"Until we meet again." Harry took it, and shook twice before letting go.

"Likewise."

Sirius waved his wand again, his magic almost tangible as it spread and warped the air in front of them. Remus saw it the way any werewolf could, a mix of low sound and sharp electric scent. His friend was powerful, and had always been so.

"Moony? You done daydreaming there?" Remus looked up from where he had been staring at the small wooden owl slot. They had just finished warding it against mail not specifically addressed to this location, a task that had been abandoned sometime over the last few decades. Most wizards wouldn't bother, but then most wizards weren't fugitives.

"I wasn't daydreaming." Remus stated, then strode around Sirius to begin to enter the next room. "We going to start on the windows now?"

Behind him, Sirius rolled his eyes. "I figured we might want to eat lunch first. You know, food? It's past time."

Remus paused, then checked the time with his wand, frowning when he looked it over. They had been at this for much longer than he had assumed.

"That's fine." He said, and Sirius shoved him slightly.

"Everything's fine with you. Go to prison a few years, and food will never be a matter of being fine."

It was said with a grin, but Remus felt the words hit him in the gut. His friend saw the soberness on his face, and his own joviality faded.

"Come on, Remus. Lighten up, please. Just think." He spread his hands wide, gesturing around them. "We're here, back on good ole' Hallam Street, being hosted by James' son! There's good food, good company, and best of all, no dementors. What more can we ask for?"

They entered the kitchen side by side, and the older house-elf, Ivy, glanced up with a matronly frown.

"You's is late for lunch, Masters. I be heating it up now."

Sirius waved that away, seating himself with a bounce. Remus sat more gingerly, the ache from the full moon still lingering.

"You can't pretend nothing bad is going on, Padfoot."

At that, Sirius only shrugged.

"I don't have to dwell, either, do I? I've had enough of that for a lifetime. It's time to live and let live, I say. Enjoy life. Carpe Diem."

Remus snorted, shaking his head.

"You said that phrase long before you even graduated from Hogwarts. I think that was the unofficial Marauders slogan for a brief stint."

Sirius grinned.

"See? We had it right, all that time ago. Just think how much better off we'd be if we had left it at that."

Remus laughed. "Instead of Dulce est Desipere in Loco?"

Sirius chuckled darkly. "That one's true enough. If only we would have stopped playing the fool in time to make a difference."

They sobered, staring at each other across the table. Between them, Ivy set two platters of food with a discouraging sound. Remus slowly began to eat, then stopped, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

"You forgave me for thinking you to be a betrayer, a murderer. I forgave you for reacting the way you did. For not coming to me. But how do we go on? Everything is different, nothing is the same. James and Lily aren't here, their son is, and he is… like a stranger. I can't understand him."

Sirius's grey eyes flickered.

"I've learned one thing, when it comes to Harry. Stop thinking of his as James' and Lily's son."

Remus flinched. "How can you say that?"

Sirius set down his fork, straightened.

"You are who you've made yourself, Remus. We aren't our parents, thank Merlin. Harry… he's something different. You'll understand, once you have time to sit down with him, get to know him. He's made himself into something his parents never would have imagined. But he had to do it, to survive, and I think they would have approved. They would love him regardless, and I will as well. I'm his godfather, Moony. I'll be whatever I need to be for him. You need to decide if you will do the same."

For a long moment they were both silent, staring across the open distance at each other without meeting the other's gaze.

Then Remus sighed, long and heavy, and picked up his fork.

"Alright. I'll try, Padfoot. I'll try."

After returning from his odd meeting with Scrimgeour, Harry retreated to his room. He didn't want to break the news to his godfather quite yet, that so soon after being reunited with his best friend and moving in he would be forced to relocate once again. Harry sat at his desk, and looked over the list of Potter properties.

There was nothing else within Britain that would do. Beside the derelict Potter Manor, his families other houses were all out of the country. He supposed he could buy another, but it would leave a money trail that he didn't know how to hide. He was certain the Ministry was monitoring him now, and would notice if he strolled in anywhere and set up any sort of warded house. Even going through a purely muggle source could have risk. Harry just wasn't sure how much wizarding-muggle interaction was observed and tracked. Without that knowledge, he was reluctant to take the risk.

He turned his mind from it, then exited his rooms with a sigh. He would talk to his godfather later, once he figured it out. For now, he had planned to meet Professor Lupin in the properties small library. He hadn't used it much during his occasional residence, as Flamel had preferred the living room's wide area and easily arranged furniture. The library's books were also mostly outdated, though it did contain a few rare tomes that were probably worth money. He figured most of his family's true treasure were kept elsewhere, perhaps even in the manor that had been destroyed.

He found a seat and began to absently read a book he pulled from the shelf. It was hard to concentrate on anything when his mind was being pulled in several different directions.

"Harry?"

He looked up from where he had been sitting, at a narrow and long wooden desk next to a wide window's opaque glass. Professor Lupin smiled tentatively in the doorway. Harry stood.

"Professor Lupin."

The man's face fell, and he shook his head as he stepped forward, pulling out a chair from under the long desk.

"Please, just call me Remus."

Harry nodded, then sat down across from him. For a moment they observed each other, before Harry finally spoke.

"Did you file the paperwork with the Ministry?"

Remus looked away, out the hazy window.

"Yes, it should be acknowledged any day now. Albus had the forms on hand."

Harry grinned.

"I bet he did."

Remus looked back over, smiled.

"It seems like he is always one step ahead."

Remus shook his head, then met Harry's eyes.

"You wanted a vow from me. I'll give it."

For a long moment, Harry watched the man across from him. After all that had happened, and all that he had learned from the Ministry, he was abruptly uncertain. Finally, he shook his head.

"No."

Remus sat back, eyes confused.

"I don't understand."

Harry looked away, out over the long book shelves around them.

"I'm sorry. You were right, awhile ago, when you spoke of trust. It has to go both ways. Perhaps, if this could protect my secrets… but even it might not. And things might change, and I might need you to tell someone. Instead, I just want to ask."

Harry looked back, leaned forward and met the hazel eyes of his professor.

"Will you keep my secret's safe?"

Remus's eyes flickered, and his shoulders straightened. He reached out and took Harry's hand, grasping it tight, then raised his wand abruptly with his other hand, touching the tip to their joined hands. Before Harry could jerk away, the wizard spoke.

"I will."

Bright fire erupted around their hands, a ring of magic and power binding them together. Harry stared down in shock.

"But… I don't understand. It shouldn't have worked. There was no Bonder. I didn't have my… wand…"

Harry drifted off, still seeing the impression of magic around his skin. Remus let go, tucking his wand back into his pocket, then smiled softly.

"Perhaps that is the formal vow's tradition. But you and I both know you need no wand as a symbol of your magic, your soul. I saw you use wandless magic in the shack."

Harry nodded, then shook his head again, frowning.

"But there was no Bonder!"

Remus smiled, and it was vicious.

"The Vow only requires a third party present as a witness, a magical third party."

For a moment, Harry sat frozen. He could only think of one other entity present, Dread, curled safely inside of his body in his purely magical form. How could the Professor possibly know of his existence? And he had felt nothing from the serpent. He… Harry's through came to a halt. He looked up, met his parent's friend's gaze, saw the golden flecks hidden in their depths.

"Your wolf."

Remus expression betrayed no hint of emotion now, only stared back at him with those piercing eyes.

"It is good for some things."

"Why?" Harry whispered. "I wasn't going to make you, why would you do it?"

Remus began to reach out, then paused, leaning back in his chair.

"It's my dedication, Harry. It's my promise to give, not yours to ask. If I can do this for you, I will. I did."

Harry only shook his head loosely in denial. He couldn't understand it, couldn't comprehend how he had fallen so neatly into the trap. He had never heard of a wizard unknowingly creating an Unbreakable Vow. But then again, he had never known a wandless wizard and a werewolf who were part of one, either.

Harry sighed and made himself relax, looking back at Remus with reluctant acceptance.

"Alright. Okay."

Leaning back, Harry took a deep breath, then began to tell the story he had now told three times before.

"It's… it's all a long story. I guess I'll go back to the very beginning. It's the only way to make it all make sense."

He looked away, tracing the grains on the table with a absent finger, as he began to slowly build up the scene. Many times he had to glance away, unable to meet his Professor's eyes and see the judgment there.

It wasn't easy to lay bare so many secrets in one sitting.

When he finished, Harry finally looked up, watched the emotion play across his professor's face. The brown-haired man sat slumped, his fingers unconsciously clenching and unclenching, his eyes dull except for the occasional rabid gold gleam of rage.

Remus slowly straightened as the silence lengthened, his face firming into uneasy lines.

"It explains so much. May… may I see?"

His voice was rough, as if holding back a flood of words. Harry only nodded, reaching out his left palm and holding it up the light, showing the rune etched there as he spoke its name.

"Heth."

The dome spread out, flexing through the wizard before him and then through the bookcases behind him in a perfect circle. Harry brought it in closer, making it smaller and smaller until it only surrounded his bare hand. Remus leaned forward, looking at the shield and rune both, before looking up at Harry.

"How many, then? Altogether?"

Harry let the magic collapse, folding it back inside the rune with a casual pull, before answering.

"Four sets of seven."

Remus slowly nodded.

"I'll need to know what each does. For… any training we do. How proficient are you at wandless magic?"

Harry smiled.

"I'm better without than with."

He saw the disbelief spread with the amusement, until the professor chuckled.

"It figures. You were entirely too good at magic, from what I saw. Only someone with a extremely good knowledge of themselves and magic would have been able to perform the patronus so quickly."

Harry grinned, shrugged.

"Maybe. I taught my friends to cast it as well. Almost all of them got it before end of term."

Remus laughed and shook his head.

"You must be a good teacher then. It is a difficult spell."

Harry saw the man relaxing, and let himself follow suit. The time for accusations and challenges was passed. The man had accepted what he had told him, about the illegal blood magic and all it entailed without making a fuss. He also hadn't questioned him about Steel, at least not yet. Perhaps he could tell that that was a subject Harry had glossed over on purpose.

"So, what do you want to learn this year?"

Harry glanced back up from where he had been staring absently at the desk. He blinked in sudden surprise.

"Well... honestly, I haven't really thought about it. The things Flamel taught me are… like seeds. A start. You merely keep watering it, keep practicing and casting, and it grows. He taught me to manipulate raw magic, to use elements in combat, to transform and mutate and dematerialize. The building blocks of magic. After that… I'm not sure. I've delved into Warding and Ancient Runes, though Arithmancy is difficult for me. Math is not my strength, though I can get by. I contemplated the animagus transformation, but with my phoenix form it seems unnecessary."

Remus tilted his head.

"It wouldn't be painful."

Harry shrugged.

"That's true. Still, I'm not sure how many times I can transform my body without disrupting… things. More and more I'm realizing how much of a delicate balance must be maintained between all my runes. Everything I do affects the others, in some form or fashion. The fifth set this summer..."

"This summer?"

Remus questioned, eyebrows raising. Harry internally cursed himself, but lifted his chin in challenge.

"I'm going to be doing the fifth over the next few weeks. That's why I don't plan on starting the tutorship until the traditional start of term. The set I'm planning may disrupt my magical abilities for a time."

Remus leaned back, looking disgruntled, though he reluctantly nodded.

"Do you need any help?"

Harry shook his head.

"No. It's something best done alone." Harry felt it wasn't the time to mention that Hermione might be helping him. He doubted the professor would understand why he preferred his teenage friend over an adult wizard.

Remus sighed.

"I'll look into a few things that might interest you. How about Herbology, Potions, Magical Creatures? The more hands-on subjects?"

Harry frowned.

"I need to stay on par with my yearmates on them all, but I can already tell you I'm hopeless at Potions. Herbology to me is simple rote memorization, though don't let Neville hear me say it."

Remus laughed, then stood.

"Alright. Thank you for telling me, Harry. I can see why you were reluctant."

Harry got to his feet, then stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Thank you for agreeing, for… the Vow. I wasn't looking forward to picking someone else."

One side of Remus's lip curled, giving the impression of rhy humor.

"I don't think you were looking forward to me, either."

Harry couldn't disagree. Instead, he smiled

"I'm glad it's you. You were my father's friend."

At that, the humor fled from the man's face, replaced with a grim acceptance.

"I know you're not your father, Harry. Or your mother. But I can see parts of them in you. They would be proud of you, of what you've managed to do. It takes something special to dabble in these kind of dark magics and come out the other side whole."

Harry looked away from those serious eyes, focusing on the dim light coming in through the window.

"I'm not out the other side yet."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned back, stiffening under the touch. The wizard didn't move away, but tightened his grip.

"You'll make it. I won't let you falter."

Harry made himself smile, and let the older man draw him into a hug. When the man finally turned and left, Harry closed the door behind him, walking over to the wide glass panes and staring blankly.

He wasn't just dabbling in blood magic. He was bathing in it, over his head and buried deep below the surface of mundane and normal. He knew Remus wouldn't be able to stop him if the magical ritual took him; nothing on earth could fight it. It was up to Harry alone to figure his way through, and finish each set as it came.

He was on his own.

"This is unacceptable. Simply unacceptable!" Minister Fudge declared with a dramatic wave of his hand, before sitting with a graceless plop in the wide sofa in front of his undersecretary's cherry wood desk. Across from him, Madam Umbridge smiled, the kittens behind her letting out soft mews of comfort.

"Relax, Cornelius. This can all be settled."

The Minister huffed, crossing his arms with a scowl.

"I do not see how, respectfully, Madam."

Primly, the undersecretary patted the button on her candy pink cardigan, the small tabby kitten there purring in response.

"Well, you see, this… man whom Mr. Potter has chosen is quite unacceptable, you are correct. A werewolf! Why, a beast is nowhere near qualified to teach the savior of the wizarding world! The poor boy must have been led astray during his stay at Hogwarts. No doubt Dumbledore is behind this."

The Minister grunted agreement. Umbridge continued.

"But this is easily handled. This autumn, when the Wizengamot meets for its second quarter, new laws are on the books to be passed. One specifically states that any wizards suffering from dark curses can not be allowed to come into contact with minors without a Ministry trained guardian present. For their own protection, of course. Also, werewolves in particular will no longer be allowed to hold jobs that put them into close quarters with defenseless children. We can not have any accidents during full moons! Look what nearly happened at Hogwarts, and under the nose of the Albus Dumbledore himself! I see few who would vote against it. We simply cannot allow a werewolf around our precious children, or any non-human for that matter."

Fudge nodded in agreement, his face split into an impressive frown.

"Indeed, we can not! The public would be in an uproar!"

Umbridge smiled, then reached forward to pat the Ministers hand.

"These laws should go into effect during the beginning of the school term, before the winter session, and Mr. Potter will unfortunately find himself without a tutor. We will be there, waiting to help him when this happens, of course. No wizard child should be without an education!"

"He might return to Hogwarts, join with his year-mates..." Minister Fudge began doubtfully. Madam Umbridge only sighed, fiddling with a fluffy pink feathered quill.

"The boy has shown often enough his low opinion of the way Hogwarts is run and it's educational standards. Too many foul memories as well, I imagine. The child shouldn't be traumatized with the option."

"Ah, Yes." Minister Fudge brightened, then stood with a jump in his step. "Exactly! You are a brilliant woman, my dear. Absolutely brilliant."

Umbridge only smiled daintily, then sipped from her Ever-Warm tea cup.

Harry knocked on his godfathers room, steeling himself. When the older man opened the door, he immediately brightened and gestured him inside.

"Harry! Something the matter?"

Harry stepped inside, then fidgeted, glancing about the small room. Sirius had few things of his own, and the room looked much like it had before, a small leather suitcase that might have been Harry's great-uncles still unpacked, open with clothes spilling from its open mouth.

Harry took a deep breath, then met his godfathers smiling gaze.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, but I don't think it's safe for you to stay here."

The smile fell off Sirius's face, and he sobered.

"What happened?"

Harry shook his head, then spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

"I met with Scrimgeour, the Head Auror. I… I couldn't not give him this address. I think he might be a future ally, at least on one front. And I knew, with the owl access warded, only the address could get him through. But it leaves us open, and… Sirius."

Harry paused, grimaced, then continued, seeing the knowledge already dawning in his godfathers eyes.

"He's still coming after you. He still considers you guilty of murder, even with Peter Pettigrew's body. He already has concluded it wasn't self-defense, which would have been your best argument. The circumstances might make it murky, but the facts…"

"I killed him." Sirius stated plainly. Harry looked away, unable to face the wizard as he continued.

"Yes. They won't stop looking for you. And with him knowing where I stay… It won't work. You are going to have to go somewhere else, just in case. I didn't want this, I swear. I didn't…"

Hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a rough hug. Harry closed his eyes, allowing the comfort, even if he felt the roles should be reversed. His godfather was fragile, he knew that, after being inside the man's mind. He could only imagine how thin the line was between madness and clarity; he had felt it shatter once before, and knew the dementors had only weakened the barrier. Learning that his freedom might never be attained would shake that mind again. Sirius pulled back, met his eyes, his expression firm and unyielding.

"Stop worrying about me, Harry. I saw this coming." Harry's eyes widened at that. Sirius continued, releasing him to pace across the small room. "I knew this wouldn't last forever. Eventually others would need to come here, Dumbledore, perhaps even the Ministry itself, with Remus tutoring you. I wouldn't put it past them to require some sort of inspection of the premises."

Harry shook his head, confused.

"You never said anything."

Sirius shrugged, and a sluggish smile came onto his face.

"Why burden you with it? I had hoped for the summer, but… perhaps we can visit. Hopefully often."

Harry nodded quickly, then bit his lip.

"I've looked, and I do not have any more properties in London. If you're willing to relocate, perhaps to Spain…" He drifted off when Sirius shook his head.

"No. The Black's have a family manor, more of a house really, not far from here. It's run-down, pretty much derelict, but with some work… well. I want to be close. It will be worth it to stay nearby."

Harry nodded, frowning.

"I never got a list of Black properties. My estate manager only said the Black's were pretty much broke, and that most of the real estate had been sold or abandoned."

Sirius grinned, but it was a dark expression, his eyes full of repressed anger.

"I do not doubt it. I never got involved in the estate. My mother wanted me to have none of it at all, but it was beyond her control once… any other heirs perished. I believe, truly, she wanted to ruin it before I could have it, but her pride in our bloodline prevented total destruction. This house, Grimmauld Place, was the only house left that I know of. It's where I grew up."

Harry watched as his godfather stared blankly into the distance, memories flooding through his mind. Harry shifted, and the sound sharped Sirius's gaze. The wizard smiled slightly.

"We can go over there tonight, if you are willing. I'm not sure how many of the wards are still in place. However, there's one method that would work better than any other, if you are willing."

Harry tilted his head, then shrugged.

"That's fine with me. What were you thinking of?"

Sirius gaze sharpened, his smile now full of reluctant humor.

"A spell I've been a part of before, as both Keeper and Witness. It requires three, but luckily enough we have that many. The Fidelius Charm is the most foolproof ward I know of, if the Secret Keeper is trustworthy."

Sirius turned, met Harry's gaze.

"I want you to be my Secret Keeper. Only you can share the location, only you give away the secret."

Harry swallowed, then nodded firmly.

"Of course."

Sirius grabbed him into another hug, his breath unsteady.

"Alright then. I'll get Remus."

"Well, looks like it's still Unplottable."

It was the first thing his godfather had said, as the three of them looked up at a dark townhouse lodged between two neighboring muggle apartments. It was night, but the occasional muggle passed by, completely unaware of the wizarding building under their very noses.

Across the street from twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry glanced up at Sirius.

"If it's Unplottable, why bother placing a Fidelius on top of that?"

Sirius frowned, but Remus was the one to answer with a shake of his head.

"Because quite a few pureblood families know of its existence and where it is located. The Fidelius would put another barrier between them and this place. Even someone who has been here before will be unable to enter once the charm is complete."

Harry slowly nodded, then glanced again at the dark house.

"So what now?"

Sirius grinned, a fierce light in his grey eyes.

"Now, we go say hi to Mother."

Harry glanced in confusion at Remus a they followed the wizard up to the doorstep, but Remus only shook his head again with a half smile, half grimace on his face.

The door opened at Sirius's touch, and they slowly entered a dark room. Sirius waved his wand in an elaborate gesture, and at once, the hallway was bathed with light from several ancient gas lamps and one elaborate chandelier that was covered in several layers of grime. Directly in front of them was a large staircase leading up what looked to be several flights of rickety stairs. Beside them, randomly placed on the interior wall, was a large set of draped velvet red curtains. Sirius stepped up to them, his face twisted. With a flick of his wrist he snapped the curtains aside.

For a moment Harry only stared. It might have been a window, the portrait was so realistic. A large buxom woman slept inside, leaning on a velvet lined wall and snoring delicately. She was dressed in elegant silks, her greying-brown hair curled atop her head. Sirius grimaced, then began to speak.

"Wake up, Mother. Your son's finally come home for a visit."

The woman awoke with a start, her eyes wide and confused. Then they narrowed, and Harry almost stepped back at the hate that began to spew from her mouth like vomit.

"Traitor! Blood-traitor! Dirty little monster, creeping back here! You are not my son! You are not a Black! You do not belong! Get out, get out! Kreacher! Kreacher!"

Her voice rose into a new octave, her large form shaking with distress as she wailed. Harry glanced around, and was rewarded when a frail and elderly house-elf abruptly popped into the entrance. Harry had thought Dobby looked poor when he had first come into his employ, but this elf was in far worse condition. His spindly form was wraith-thin and crooked, his nose large and bulbous in a skeletal face covered in wrinkles. But despite his horrible appearance, the elf was not weak.

Kreacher drew himself up, his fingers lifting to snap even as he spoke.

"Intruders! How dare you disturb the Mistress! The Mistress demands you leave! Be go…"

"Be Silent, Kreacher!" Sirius voice was dark and deep and commanding, and at once the elf's voice cut off as if his throat could not draw air. A look of pure horror came over the thing, followed by hate. It quaked, its throat bobbing as it tried to speak and failed. Sirius smiled, his face twisted into violent victory before he turned back to the portrait, his voice sickly sweet.

"You see, Mother, your dirty pawn can't obey your biddings any longer. I am Master of this house! I am Lord Black!"

The woman shrieked in wordless rage, her arms flailing. Sirius grimaced at the racket, then waved his wand to the curtains, making them swing shut with a clash. Harry watched, silent, as his godfather then placed several silencing charms on the curtains themselves, the fabric immediately muffling the sounds spewing from within. Then the black-haired man turned to them, eyes alight with humor.

"Well, that takes care of that then. We'll keep the curtains shut for now, until I have time to remove that despicable thing."

At that, a violent gesture from the house-elf drew their attention. Sirius smirked, then gestured with a hand.

"You can speak, Kreacher, if you keep a civil tongue in your mouth."

The house-elf took a deep breath, then snarled.

"How dare you treat the Mistress in such a way! Blood-traitor, foul..."

"Silence." Sirius said in a bored tone of voice. "It seems you can't be trusted to obey a simple order. Just keep quiet for now then. Get out of my way, and clean up, this place is a right mess."

Kreacher vanished with a snapping pop, though his eyes burned hatred. Harry frowned.

"Why are you treating him that way?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, glancing over at Remus.

"Figures you would feel for the spider, you and Remus both." Harry glanced over and saw Remus had a disapproving look on his face. Sirius continued. "It can't be trusted, Harry. If I let it go, it'll blather all our secrets from here to yonder. And it's the only one the Black family kept. This place needs a lot of work, more than just I can handle in a limited amount of time. I'll keep the basket of bones as long as I need him."

"Then what?" Harry questioned, his voice misleadingly idle. Sirius frowned.

"We'll get rid of him in some way or another. He's just a house-elf."

Harry saw a tip of an ear wiggle from around a corner behind where Sirius stood, and realized the house-elf had managed to subvert the order his godfather had given him. He had left the room, but not the area. Harry shook his head.

"You act like they aren't sentient. You don't treat Dobby that way."

At least, he hadn't when Harry was around. And Harry hoped his house-elf would have told him if he had. While Harry utilized his house-elves when it was convenient, he never took away their own free will. He liked to think that was why Dobby was so unfailingly loyal to him, when he hadn't been to the Malfoys. If his godfather continued, he would be creating the same poisonous relationship that ultimately led to disloyalty.

Sirius laughed.

"That's because Dobby is actually useful, not a conniving little sneak. Besides, we aren't here to talk about the resident trash. Are you ready for the charm?"

Harry frowned, but didn't push the matter. As they turned, the ear disappeared from his view, and Harry figured the elf had vanished somewhere into the depths of the house. Sirius began to ascend the stairs, occasionally waving his wand with a grimace to remove spider webs and other scuttling creatures that called the abandoned staircase home. At the top of that flight, another set of stairs continued up. In front of hem, a long corridor filled with doors stretched down a dark hallway. Again Sirius summoned light, then turned right into a large living room. Harry saw movement in a few places, and wondered half-heartedly what other creatures infested the place. Sirius began to clean off a sofa, then stopped with a sigh.

"I think we might be better off doing this standing."

Harry, with a glance at the threadbare and grime-covered fabric, nodded wholeheartedly. Sirius glanced around with a frown, before turning back to the two of them.

"Each floor has six rooms, with the stairs and hallway as a seventh off-centered section, and there are three stories. It's laid out in a geometrical pattern, despite the fact that it is square on the outside. That's part of the reason some of the walls look crooked. Some rooms, mostly the bathrooms, are triangular. Here, in this living room, is the center of the house. Below is the kitchen, above is the library. The three largest rooms. Consequently, all the wards are tied to the walls of this room. It makes the spells more powerful here, but also adds difficulty to the design. The Black's were extremely proud of this house."

His voice was bitter at the end. Harry closed his eyes, expanding his magic, before opening them, looking at the warded structure hidden within the walls.

For all its decrepit looks, the house was brimming with spell light. It was kin to Hogwarts in some ways, though perhaps that was only this room as the place all wards were tied in to. It also reeked of darkness in a way Hogwarts never did. Sirius continued, looking down at the pale wand in his hand.

"Lucky for us, the Fidelius is simple enough, for those with the stomach for it."

Remus cleared his throat at that.

"Sirius, I still think you should let me. Harry... he's…"

Remus drifted off, sighed. Sirius laughed as Harry glanced between them in confusion.

"He's what? You think it will bother him to shed a little blood?"

Remus grimaced, but looked away. Harry, realization dawning, straightened.

"Is that how it works? The books are vague; only saying it requires a owner, a keeper, and a witness. And, of course, that it is rare and difficult."

Sirius grinned.

"It is rare, but mostly because it's pretty inconvenient if you want to throw a party. Every person to enter must be told by the secret keeper. As for difficult, well." He spread his hands. "'It's all in the eye of the beholder,' is that what muggles say?"

Sirius sighed, then began to explain.

"I, as the owner, will hold the secret, so to speak. You, as the keeper, will keep it safe. Remus, as our witness, will perform the ceremony. It's very simple, and very similar to an Unbreakable Vow. We clasp hands, you and I. Remus asks me for the secret: I tell it to you. You repeat it. We then ceremonially share blood, and it's over. You will need to immediately tell Remus, or else he will be cast from the house."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Is that pleasant?"

Sirius grinned lopsidedly.

"Trust me, it's like going through a floo while attached to a portkey. And what's worse, you can't remember where it was you're leaving from. You will be very happy to hit the ground, no matter how hard it is."

Harry grimaced.

"How long do I have?"

Sirius chuckled.

"For Remus's sake, do it fast. Though, if all else fails, we can peel him up from off the pavement outside."

Remus snorted.

"Please, don't give him that look. If he waits on purpose, I'll know it's you playing a prank."

Sirius laughed, and Harry joined in at the glare on his tutors face.

Harry grasped Sirius' hand, the older man's palm cool against his own. Sirius squeezed in encouragement, then faced Remus, who sighed.

The werewolf straightened, then pulled out his wand. He lifted it up, then spoke in a solemn voice.

"What is the place to be kept secret from all?"

Sirius met Remus's slightly disapproving eyes, then looked at Harry with a smile.

"The location of Black Manor is Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Will you keep my secret?"

Harry looked into grey eyes, and nodded even as he spoke.

"I will keep your secret. The location of Black Manor is Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Sirius let Harry's hand loose, then lifted Caedus in his hand, holding the tip to the skin on his palm. Underneath the wand a thin cut appeared, a drop of blood slowly bubbling loose from the flesh. Harry did the same, loosely holding his phoenix core wand. Then Sirius held out his hand, palm up. Harry grasped it, and immediately felt foreign magic pressing against his own, a power both liquid and dark, sparkling faintly with bright bursts of light like pebbles in a stream. It was Sirius' magic, slowly healing from the damage done in Azkaban. Harry embraced it, letting his own bright and sharp magic meet it over their clasped hands.

Harry spoke, softly, as the magic drummed in his ears.

"I will keep the secret of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

His ears abruptly popped, as if the atmosphere had greatly decreased in a short time. He felt the skin on his palm knit back together, the magic healing their wounds and vanishing as quick as it came, leaving behind only a feeling of pressure and a brief burst of light where their hands met.

Beside them, Remus gasped, his eyes widening as he grasped his stomach.

"Harry!"

Harry immediately barked the words.

"The location of Black Manor is at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

For a moment, he thought it was too late, as his tutors form wavered and bent. Then Remus' feet hit the floor, and the professor bent over, gagging with a groan.

"Merlin's beard, that's worse than flying a broomstick through a thunderstorm!"

Sirius barked out a laugh, then clapped Harry on the back with a wide grin.

"Well done!"

Harry smiled.

After Remus managed not to lose his lunch, Harry followed the two men back down the stairs, his godfather occasionally peeking into rooms and groaning.

"I'll never get this place clean, not with an entire army of obnoxious house-elves!"

Harry, once more catching a glimpse of Kreacher around a corner, frowned.

"Maybe if you would be a little kinder…"

Sirius followed his gaze, and fire lit his eyes. He strode forward, grabbing the wayward large ear of the disapproving house-elf and dragging him out from the doorway he had been lurking in.

"Were you spying on me? Well?"

He shook him fiercely. Kreacher grimaced, bearing large crooked teeth. To Harry's astonishment, his godfather actually raised up a hand and cuffed the creature lightly across the face. It might not have hurt, but the sound was audible.

"Well?"

Harry strode forward, eyes wide.

"Stop! Sirius, come on, you commanded him to silence."

His godfather turned to him, eyes narrowed.

"You treat your house-elves however you please, Harry, but this isn't one of yours. He'll betray us in a heartbeat if he could. He needs to learn respect. He was always teasing me when I was little, preaching about blood superiority and dark lords. He was my mothers little pet, her spy, always telling things he shouldn't. You have no idea how much trouble he got me in before I ran away."

Harry looked between the silent stubborn house-elf and his godfather, shaking his head.

"That was years ago. For heaven's sake, you were probably getting into trouble anyway, from what I've heard from Remus. Why won't you just let him, I don't know, speak, instead of just ranting at him." At Sirius's mutinous look, Harry threw up his hands, then turned to the elf. "Tell him how you feel."

Sirius shook his head, about to speak, before to all of their astonishment Kreacher immediately began to speak, his eyes venomously narrowed as he ranted.

"Coward! Filth! Sneaking about, upsetting the Mistress with your little friends, breaking things, stealing things! Taking what is not yours! Teasing little Master Regulus! Running away to your blood-traitors and war-mongers, abandoning him!"

Kreacher wound to a stop, beady eyes dark as he panted. Sirius went pale, a slight tremor running through his body. Remus stepped up, laid a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Sirius…"

His godfather whirled away from them. Over his shoulder he hissed back.

"Looks like an Heir can also command the Black house-elves. I wish you all the luck with him Harry. He's all yours. I don't want him in my sight."

He then stomped back up the stairs. Remus shook his head, looking apologetically at Harry, before quickly following the black-haired wizard up the stairs.

At a loss, Harry stared up at them before turning back to the house-elf beside him. Kreacher looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"You is the Black Heir? The blood-traitor's son?"

Harry pressed his lips into a firm line.

"First off, don't call him that. It wasn't the Black family he denied, but their values. Second, I'm not his son, he adopted me by blood. I'm Harry Potter."

The house-elf tilted his head, his face twisted.

"You is the one who killed the Dark Lord. Kreacher heard of this."

Harry snorted, then shook his head and looked around the hallway as he thought. He supposed Sirius didn't want to see him. But what was it the house-elf had said that affected him so deeply? Harry quietly spoke, turning back to the house-elf after another glance up the wooden stairs.

"Who is Regulus?"

Kreacher drew himself up straight, speaking imperiously.

"Master Regulus was the other's younger brother. Master Regulus was most kind to Kreacher. He should of been Heir, should of been Lord!"

Harry cut off the elf before he could deviate into a rant again. He had known Sirius had a younger brother, but none of the details.

"What happened to him?"

Kreacher turned away slightly, his ears drooping.

"Master Regulus never returned."

Returned form where? Harry waited for the elf to say more, but he remained stubbornly silent. Harry considered pushing it, then decided to take his own advice and let the elf keep his silence on the matter. Instead, he cleared his throat and pointed around.

"This place is in pretty bad shape. Would you mind if I summoned my own house-elf to help us clean?"

For a moment, Kreacher looked thunderstruck.

"To help Kreacher?"

Harry crossed his arms.

"To help us. This place is big, must be too much work for one house-elf, especially one getting on in years."

Kreacher gasped, then drew himself up with a glare.

"Kreacher is most capable of cleaning this house! Kreacher needs no help! Kreacher is only half the age of great uncle Kricket when he died, you can see his plaque!"

Harry, puzzled, questioned.

"Plaque?"

Kreacher nodded firmly.

"It is under his head, in the upper hallway."

Yuck. Harry gulped, and absently made a note of finding a way to place any mounted heads somewhere other than a hallway people actually had to walk through.

"Uh... alright then. I'll just get Dobby to help me. I'm not as experienced as a house-elf at cleaning. Is the pantry stocked?"

The house-elf paused, then nodded regally.

"I has always keeped food supplies on hand and preserved, in case the Master ever returned."

Harry knew the elf was not referring to Sirius, but didn't question it.

"Great. I"ll get Dobby, and we'll start in the kitchen, get some food going." Harry paused, then met Kreacher's arrogant gaze. "And, a bit of advice: keep out of Sirius's sight. He obviously has a sore point when it comes to you."

The house-elf didn't dignify that with an answer, but only turned imperiously toward the doorway to the kitchen with a sniff.

"This way, young Master Black."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the title, then sighed and followed the elf.

When he saw the state of the kitchen, he contemplated calling more than Dobby to come and help.

Remus paused at the entrance to the bedroom.

Sirius stood in the middle of the room, looking about with lost eyes. The walls were decorated with pendants of red and gold, quidditch posters with teams battling it out in various aerial maneuvers, and the occasional scorch mark. It looked like someone had tried very hard to remove the decorations, and failed miserably.

The rest of the room was a mess. The bed was upturned, the desk mere splinters. The floorboards had been randomly pulled up, as if someone had searched diligently for hidden items. The old armoire hung open with one broken door, a few moth-eaten articles of clothing scattered inside.

There was only one photo in the rubble that was untarnished.

A grinning teenage Sirius Black, with one lanky arm draped across the shoulders of a young boy, who stood straight and stiff in the embrace. The two shared the same dark hair and piercing grey eyes, though the younger's seemed darker, and older, than the teen beside him.

Sirius ducked down to grab the photo, lifting it up. He spoke without turning, knowing Remus was there.

"I didn't abandon him. I couldn't stay. If I would have stayed, they would have brought me to You-Know-Who, willingly or unwillingly."

He turned then, meeting Remus's eyes.

"I asked Regulus to come with me. I knew he had been sorted into Slytherin, knew he was under my mother's thumb. But I hoped he would leave, thought that maybe, if I could just get him away from their poison, he would understand. But he turned me down. Said one of us had to be loyal to the family."

Sirius snorted, then flung the photo down onto the torn mattress, where it landed with a soft thud.

"He was so stubborn and idealistic. I knew he had joined the Death Eaters. My mother practically rubbed my nose in it, the one time I thought to come back. I gave up on him. I..."

Sirius turned to Remus, sighed.

"I considered him dead to me, and never knew what happened to him. When I was in Azkaban, I found out by simple word of mouth with others in their cells that Regulus had disappeared from the ranks not long before You-Know-Who's fall. I figured he might have run off. Got in over his head. Now... I guess he's dead. Made the wrong person angry. He would have come back here after the defeat, otherwise."

Sirius's shoulders slumped. Remus took a step forward, and spoke for the first time since following his friend up the stairs.

"It's not your fault. He made his own choices."

Sirius laughed, the sound low and harsh.

"We all did, Moony. Look where it got us."

Harry ate the small meal they had managed to rummage together by himself in the long kitchen. Dobby and Kreacher had departed, hopefully to manage to get the main rooms set into some semblance of order. Harry had shuddered to think how the rest of the house may have fared over the last few years. It seemed magical pests were much more resilient than muggle ones.

When he was finished, he pushed his plate away with a sigh, then looked around with a weary slope to his shoulders.

Dobby was a life-saver, that was for sure. The elf had hopped right into things, casting magic in every direction without the slightest hitch in his step. Kreacher had seemed to perk up slightly once the other elf arrived. Though by perking up, he went from looking murderous to merely looking like a extremely foul smell was under his nose.

It had taken the three of them a good hour to get a few layers of grime off and clean enough pots and dishes to make a meal without risking immediate stomach problems. The whole time Harry's thoughts had kept creeping up the stairs to where his godfather and tutor were still sequestered. He had hoped they would have returned by now, especially once the welcome aroma of beef stew had drifted through the musty air.

But neither had appeared.

"Harry."

The sound of his name bought his head around. Sirius, looking slightly sheepish, followed by a smiling Remus stepped into the room. Sirius looked around with amazement.

"This looks like it might actually be livable in a few weeks."

Harry laughed, shaking his head, then pointed towards the stew on the stove, slightly steaming from a warming charm.

"Have at it. Beef stew. We're going to need to buy quite a bit of supplies, but Dobby can handle it. I figured I'd just let him come over every day to help make this place less like a condemned death trap and more like a pureblood manor."

Sirius nodded, but sat instead of serving himself. Remus hesitated a moment, then walked across the kitchen to pour two bowls. Sirius looked down at the rough table that had once been elegant and cloth-covered.

"Harry, I'm sorry, for earlier. I'm just on edge, being back here again. It's not the most comforting place for me."

Harry waved that away, and stood. He didn't want his godfather to feel like Harry couldn't handle a few rough words. He also didn't want to bring up the past, if it could be avoided.

"It's fine. Honestly, I think you should stay with me a few more nights, come over here during the day to clean. This place is practically infested."

Sirius was silent for a long moment, before his face lightened into a smile.

"You haven't seen the bedrooms!"

Kreacher flicked one long finger sharply at the rumpled curtains in the living room, rewarded when a crowd of Doxies shrieked within and began to flee.

Who did he think he was? Waltzing into the Mistress's house, creeping about the place, stirring up dust and memories and polluting the air with his conniving, treacherous breath...

"Polluting? What is polluting?"

The query, coming in a high-pitched squeak from his left, brought his eyes around.

Kreacher observed the young elf, wearing a pristine pleated pillow case, his wrinkled skin creased in confusion. Kreacher only grunted, turning back to his work, hoping the newest intruder would take the sign.

No such luck.

The elf, who had introduced himself as 'Dobby, Master Harry Potter's elf!' stepped up beside him, looking over the curtains with a keen eye.

"Is clear to me, sir Kreacher. Just needs a dusting."

And so saying, the elf snapped his fingers a few times in rapid succession, clearing dust and other particles from the velvet fabric, leaving behind a surprisingly vivid purple curtain. Kreacher observed the elf with more respect. For all his youthful exuberance, the elf obviously had been trained well to good standard.

"Was you born in the Potter Family?"

Dobby's ears wilted, then perked up.

"No, Dobby was a elf of House Malfoy, before the great Master Harry tricksed the Lord Malfoy into gaining his service!"

Kreacher grunted again, turning to clear off a table of grime and then focusing on the large sofa.

"You is happy he did?"

That much was obvious, but it would keep the elf talking, and Kreacher suddenly wanted to know more about this new Heir to Black, and whether he was worthy of its House. Of course, he was obviously an improvement over the blood-traitor.

Dobby hopped in place, his ears trembling with excitement.

"Oh, yes! Dobby is most happy. Master Harry Potter is the kindest Master. He even…" Dobby lowered his voice, leaning forward with wide eyes. "He even asks Dobby's opinion."

Kreacher paused, his eyes narrowing as he folded his arms.

"Unnatural. False."

Dobby shook his head, wringing his hands.

"Oh, no! Dobby, of course, tells him this is not done. But Master Harry Potter insists, he does. And he gives Dobby lots of places to clean, and takes him with him to take care of Master's things, and keep his secrets and run his errands. Dobby is kept most busy."

Kreacher nodded solemnly. A house-elf without work was a horrible shame to bear. A good Master always had an errand for his elves. Kreacher said as much, and Dobby beamed.

"Master Harry Potter is a great Master!"

For a long time it was silent in the room except for random snaps and clicks and whistles, the two elves moving about cleaning and setting things in order. Then Kreacher stopped, looking solemnly over at the Potter elf.

"Kreacher will see if what Dobby says is true."

In the next few days, after Black Manor had begun to resemble an actual house and Sirius had finally settled in, Harry began to allow his upcoming ritual to begin to take over his mind. He had privacy, with Remus traveling over to Grimmauld Place for most of the day to keep his friend company, and he needed it desperately. This would be his fifth set, and dedicated to the moon. It seemed fitting, somehow, and he dreadfully needed the peace he associated with the feminine sentience. With two for sun, and two for moon, he had thought things would be more balanced. But the sun overpowered his senses, outshining the other two sets easily, a burning presence against his mind whenever he took phoenix form, reminding him of his own vulnerability.

The moon was much easier, much nicer.

But it would also take much longer. Harry remember clearly the two sets dedicated to the moon, and how long they had taken him. The first few runes would not have much effect, but the last three… Harry might even lose his magic for a brief time. The time between full moon and new was a good two weeks, and to be vulnerable for that long was daunting.

He might be unable to teleport, unable to transform. If he was attacked, he would be defenceless. Harry grimaced where he was sitting at his desk, tapping a muggle pen against the note paper in front of him as he thought.

Hermione could help him, if something happened. He would need to find a way to teleport them if he was unable. Perhaps a portkey, though he didn't know how they were created. It would be simpler, if he could perform the ritual near a floo network, but he needed privacy and that couldn't be found near town. He wanted to cut the runes in the Forbidden Forest, in the clearing he was so familiar with. But that location was beyond the wards of Hogwarts and deep in the heart of the forest. To walk out would take more than a day, and if he was unable to use magic… there were many dangers lurking in the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry turned his mind from the logistics, setting aside a note to research portkeys in more depth.

He had to focus on what runes he would cut. He had thought he would never run out of potential ideas when it came to their creation. But every interconnecting rune made things more and more difficult. How would new runes affect old ones? He had runes for strength, stamina, and speed. He had a rune to protec this mind, one to protect his body, and a weapon.

Weapons.

Harry grimaced, staring down absently at the rough drawing of Zayin he had scribbled into the margin of his notes. The rune bothered him in so many ways, mostly because of its uncontrollable effects and the likely end of any on the other side of it; death. It was powerful, no doubt. In practice, it tended to sap all it's strength in one hit, like an end-game grenade. And he was reluctant to use it on anything he did not want to kill, which made it next to useless as an offensive weapon in most cases. He couldn't afford to leave a trail of bodies in a simple fight.

And if he would be potentially fighting aurors or muggles in the future, he didn't want a body count on his conscience.

He had wand-magic he could use, of course, and wandless as well. But the runes were an advantage in that their power could be recharged, and was held separately from his core and main sphere of magic. If he was exhausted and weak, his runes would still be fresh, a backup as a last line of defense or attack.

Deep in thought, Harry began to write his idea, brainstorming and drawing, mind afire. He summoned books from his open trunk, researching languages that might work and where he might place the runes.

His hands were taken, with the runes on both palm and the top of his hand. But his hands were also what he counted on as directional focus, gesturing to get effects and take aim. If he wanted anything on his hands to use as a weapon, it would make sense to perhaps cut the runes onto the pads of his fingers. What type of weapon though? Something to stun, or knock unconscious? Or did he want something more violent? Harry shied away from the thought, thinking of Zayin.

And did he want any other shields? Heth was the perfect one already, able to spread over large distances and reflect almost any spell. Still, it could only surround Harry himself. It would be nice to be able to cast such a shield on another object or person, especially his friends. Even wand-magic had limitations on such things, requiring the caster to be present where any shield was cast, unless transfiguring a physical object for the purpose.

Harry paused, looking down at his notes. He could make a link of threes. A middle trigger rune, with two linked runes for aspect perhaps. Three linked defensive runes on his left hand, and three offensive on his right. Both linked back to the main forces of Heth and Zayin respectively.

But what about the seventh rune? Things had to be balanced. He couldn't put the seventh on either hand, or risk creating an anomaly. If he made it defensive or offensive, it would also throw off the equality of the structure. Harry frowned, then sighed and stood, stretching.

He needed a fresh perspective, and to simply get away for a while. He looked over at the time, and gawked. He had spent more than half the day sitting at the desk. No wonder he was stiff.

With a sigh, Harry summoned his robe, then closed his notebook as he shrugged the robe on before leaving his room.

Ivy would be annoyed at making him lunch in the middle of the afternoon, but he was suddenly starving.

Draco looked up at the road sign with foreboding.

He had never gone into muggle civilization before, not walking along its streets. Not dressed as one of them in black slacks and a grey button down shirt. It was still quality; he had insisted when meeting with the tailor. But it would pass as mundane, and that was enough to make his mouth sneer.

He had gotten looks regardless, as he strode down the muggle sidewalk. He wasn't sure what he had done that marked him as different. His dragonhide boots could surely pass as some other animal skin. His wand was safely ensconced in its leather wand holster under his sleeve. He had everything under control. He thought.

Over his back was slung a simple small black leather bag. Inside were all the books he thought Hermione would need over the summer. He had contemplating only bringing one book at a time, so that the Gryffindor wouldn't get ahead of herself. He would be able to check in on her, make sure she was doing alright.

But the thought of having to make multiple trips into a muggle neighborhood had been too distasteful. He would make this one. If it went well, perhaps he would suggest coming over more often, to discuss Occlumency outside of simple letters.

After another half hour of walking, he found the house. He had thought it was much closer, based on the road map he had bought. If he had known it was so far, he would have simply taken the Knight Bus the entire way. But he had hated the plebeian mode of travel the two times he had been forced to take it, cramped in close quarters with other witches and wizards.

And this way, he could say he had gotten there on his own (if not completely).

"Hermione! There's someone at the door for you."

Her mother's voice brought her gaze up from the book she had been reading with a frown.

She had already completed all her summer homework assignments. Now she was sitting down to reread her books and brainstorm. She wanted to try some new things in their group, especially those related to dueling.

She stood, closing her book with a piece of paper inserted to save the place.

Perhaps Harry had come by to talk. But why hadn't her mom simply sent him up?

With a frown she quickly descended the stairs, heading toward the front door. She heard the gentle tone of her mother's neverending dialogue, and smiled.

Then she saw who stood casually in the doorway, and her smiled faded into shock.

If there was one person she never expected to see at her house, it was Draco Malfoy.

And the way he was dressed!

She supposed it would pass for muggle, but not one from around here. It screamed money with its custom tailoring, soft material, and what she swore were diamond cufflinks. He was lucky he hadn't gotten robbed.

How had he gotten here? How?!

Grey eyes turned, met hers, and the blond smirked.

"Hermione." His voice was formal. Her mother turned, a bright smile on her face.

"There you are, Hermione, I was just telling your friend all about how great it is to meet your friends from school! We've only ever met Harry before, you know, you really ought to invite them over. Maybe we can have a little lunch one day. I can fix your favorite…"

"Okay!" Hermione quickly interjected, reaching out to snag Draco's arm and pull him into the hallway. "We'll just run up to my room to, ah, catch up. You know."

Her mother raised a single eyebrow, in a gesture very eerily mirroring the one Draco was also wearing: polite skepticism. But she smiled, making a shooing gesture, and calling out after them.

"Don't forget to leave your door open! Daddy's rules!"

Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment, her mind going back to Harry's visit also, when her mother had said almost the exact same thing. Could parents get more embarrassing?

She quickly stepped into her room, glanced at the clutter, and decided to just ignore it. She didn't have to impress the Slytherin who was doubtless unimpressed anyway. What could her house do to possibly compare to the mansion he was supposed to live in anyway?

On her perch, Hedwig turned her head in a graceful gesture, wide yellow eyes unflinching as they pinned on the Slytherin entering her room.

Hermione turned to face Draco, then rolled her eyes and gently closed the door before speaking.

"What are you doing here?"

Draco raised that single eyebrow again, a gesture she found infuriating, and spoke in his cultured voice.

"That is not quite the greeting I expected to receive. Is your home off-limits?"

Hermione flushed, then crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

"Of course not. You can come over whenever you like."

"Great." Draco replied, then actually sat on her bed. The nerve!

Hermione took a deep breath. Don't let him get on your nerves.

"Fine. What can I do for you, Draco?"

Her voice was sickly sweet. Draco grinned, then absently let a small bag she hadn't noticed before slide off his shoulder. He opened up the bag, then reached in, and to her surprise his arm went much farther than it should have, up the the top of his arm before pulling out a leather bound volume. Draco, seeing her eyes riveted on the book, smiled wider as he spoke.

"I thought I would bring by the books you asked for on Occlumency. I have my own copies, and looked through them before deciding to simply get you a copy of your own."

Hermione sat on her desk chair, eyes wide.

"I thought you would just owl them… they are for me? Mine?"

Draco glanced around, a slight sneer on his face, before he shrugged gracefully.

"The books are hard to come by. As we are both starting from the same place, it would put you at a disadvantage to begin reading a book after I was finished. That, and I may need them for later reference."

Hermione kept from rolling her eyes, if only because she was still shocked that he had purchased books just for her. Though she wouldn't make the mistake of thinking it was for anything other than his own ease. He had said so himself. She smiled instead, reaching out to take the offered book, bringing it up to her nose to take a long whiff of the new leather smell. She ran a hand gingerly over the pressed cover and golden embossed words, reading the title aloud.

"The Art of Clearing your Mind."

Draco reached in the bag again, before pulling out a simple notebook. He flipped to the first page, then extended the paper. She set the book on her lap before taking the notebook. On the first page was a long list of books and authors, followed by neatly written script in the margins outlining which book was to be read first. Across the top were five words.

The Key: Clear Your Mind

Hermione's eyebrows drew together in thought, before she looked up with an enquiring glance. Draco began to speak, gesturing.

"It's the basis of the whole discipline. A Legilimens can not find what is not there. You learn control first, to make yourself stop thinking so loudly. There is a great book on meditation as well that ties into this. Focus, and will. And determination."

Hermione nodded, thought her frown remained as she questioned.

"I thought I would be building some sort of mental shield or something."

Draco scoffed.

"I looked it up; a few have tried it. Some were even successful. But a shield gives a target. The legilimens knows where to aim, where to go. Knows something is hidden there, and can dig down and find it, in the process damaging your mind. But if it can not see a thing, it has no basis with which to start."

Hermione bit her lip in thought, lowering the notebook to meet grey eyes.

"Then what about a maze? Making, I don't know, a mental landscape of traps and… misdirection. Hiding the things you want secret, while letting innocent things remain free. They wouldn't realize something was there, deeper, beneath the surface."

Draco opened his mouth, closed it. He looked honestly puzzled.

"I don't know. I suppose someone wouldn't want to let anyone see anything at all. Sacrificing a part of a mind to hide another seems counterintuitive."

Hermione frowned, idly running her fingers over the book as she spoke.

"Maybe. But we are going against people who you have admitted to being master's in their craft. How likely is it that, even with what we learn this summer, we can resist them?"

Draco shook his head, and Hermione continued.

"Exactly. So why not make it look like we aren't protected at all? Everything normal on the surface, if perhaps more organized than usual. A little rudimentary Occlumency, hiding perhaps embarrassing moments or innocent dueling practice. And beneath it all, the true secrets. They will be distracted going through nothing important at all."

Draco again shook his head, eyes narrow.

"That's not true Occlumency. It isn't done."

Hermione sniffed.

"Well, then they won't expect it will they?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. Hermione continued, lowering her voice to a less confrontational tone.

"I'm not saying we can't still practice Occlumency. Perhaps we should even do that first, hiding everything. Then, if they break through, overcome us, there will be the, um… fake house. Or whatever. The obvious stuff. But beneath that… the secrets."

Draco still looked uncertain. Hermione leaned forward, laid one pleading hand on his forearm.

"It will be a failsafe. The backup plan. Everything else we do exactly right, and if it works, we won't ever need the other."

Finally, reluctantly, Draco nodded. Hermione smiled brilliantly.

"Great! So, is there a book on this alternative technique?"

Hermione watched Draco walk off, striding insolently off down the street. She had tried to convince the Slytherin to let her call a cab, but he had downright refused. He insisted he was fine, and she supposed he was. She only hoped any muggle thinking him an easy target thought better of it.

She sighed when he disappeared behind a corner, and sat back down with a thump. Draco had promised to deliver more books, this time by owl, on designing one's mind. It happened that such a thing was a side discipline, often used by people who wanted to be able to think faster and clearer. It was also looked down on by some, especially purebloods, because it made one's mind easier to read as thoughts were bolder, louder. People who had something to hide would obviously be turned off by such a thing.

She honestly wondered if Draco had only agreed to get her off his case, and had no plans to do the same himself. But it seemed like such a brilliant idea to her. She had no illusions about her ability to fend off someone like Headmaster Dumbledore with techniques learned over a single summer. The thought was laughable.

She laid her chin on her palm, looking at the stack of leather bounds on her desk. She now had a lot more reading to do, and the thought exhilarated her.

And the whole time she would be thinking about how to change the method to more fit her situation. She didn't have time to become a master at anything. She had to protect her self now. And if that meant using some unorthodox methods, so be it.

With a bright smile, her mind determined, Hermione straightened.

She opened the first book, took another deep breath of the crisp new-book smell, and set her eyes to the page.

She wouldn't look up until her mother called her down for dinner.

The letter came the mundane way.

That should have been his first clue, before he even frowned in surprise at the address, before he shrugged and carted it up to his room and opened the plain envelope, before his eyes snagged on the name at the bottom and his heart took a large leap.

James, The Hound

His hands shook, and he sat on his bed in one movement. Inside him, Dread abruptly woke, his hissing voice overlapping Harry's mental panic and anger.

"Face the threat, Master. Look it in its eyes, flare-the-hood, show no fear."

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, answered out loud in the sibilant voice of serpents.

"Yes."

He looked down at the letter, spread it out on his lap, and read the bold computer print with concentration.

"To Mr. Harry Potter,

Long time, no see, Mr. Potter! Did my name make you pause? Are you wondering, at this very moment, how we found you? Are you worried for your safety in the least, or do you presume yourself invisible to us mere muggles? Don't worry, please. We mean you no harm. Have we ever hurt one of yours?

Let's not discuss poor Gerald Steel, though. He was one of us, after all.

The paper crinkled as Harrys fist tightened, and he made himself relax and take a breath before continuing.

I have another offer for you, one you might be interested in. A friend from your past is now in our employ, and he's told us many many interesting things. He's very excited about communicating with you in the future.

Give us your expertise, Harry. Give us your knowledge.

You have lived among them for three years now. Are you impressed? Are you supportive of their oppressive regime? Areyouone ofthem?Or do you chafe under their thumb? Are you ready to break free?

We will give you that freedom, Harry. We will give you all freedom, if you only stand at our side.

Let us break the bonds of this government that manipulates the innocent, that silences the victims, that destroys families. Together we will overcome.

But let me be clear.

It is only a matter of time,Boy-Who-Lived. Whether you help or hinder, we will prevail. The righteous will win this fight. We are ready and willing. We have already started the war, though the wizards prefer to bury the evidence and ignore us as mere ants in their lawn. But we are Many. We are everywhere. We surround you on all sides, and only need know where to sting.

We've found you, Harry. We only needed to look. Isn't it amazing, what paperwork can be found in the most ordinary places? What discrepancies are glaringly obvious under a discerning eye?

Go to Holland Park, towards Holland House, at noon. We will approach you. Oh, please, come. I'm looking forward to our conversation.

James, The Hound.

Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to roar in anger, to smash, to rend-tear-slash, sink fangs into flesh, kill-kill-kill…

The sound of the hissing broke him free from the haze, made him shake his head and slap his own skin, a sharp pain that brought him back to himself. He stared blankly into his bedside mirror, looked into the feral emerald eyes full of fury and also hatful temptation.

They had killed Mr. Steel. How dare they offer alliance now?

He sat again, looked the letter over, his teeth painfully clenched.

Who did he know that could possibly be working with the Hounds? Surely Mike hadn't already contacted them? No, the man wouldn't have. He wouldn't have gone to the Hounds regardless, he had loved Mr. Steel as well, no matter how much they quarrelled. But Harry didn't know anyone else who contacted both worlds.

Harry took a deep breath, read the letter through a third time, memorizing the words, physically feeling the sarcasm and smooth verbal poison as a fission of anger in his belly. They wanted his knowledge of the wizarding world, and he didn't have to guess what it was for. They had already stated they wanted to overthrow the government. Supposedly had already throw the gauntlet. Did the Ministry know, then? Why hadn't they done anything?

Could they be possibly discounting this entire group as trivial?

Harry remembered the black-haired man, his grey eyes sharp and amused, his posture loose. His words, so very reasonable.

And after everything, it was tempting. He hated what he knew of the Ministry. It was inept, cruel, and corrupt. Hadn't he and his friends already looked into it themselves? Overthrowing Fudge might have been a way to work within the system itself to start to accomplish the same goal the Hounds sought.

Revolution.

He shivered, suddenly cold. Was there a more bloody thing that could happen to a country? To a society, to a world? This wouldn't just be Britain. It would be all of the world over. Who could possibly predict…?

He paused, closed his eyes. He was considering it. Why not? The Ministry only wanted to control him, use him for its own agenda. It was prejudiced, against more than just muggles and muggleborn. How many of the half-humans and beings and magical creatures wouldn't jump at the chance for more equality?

Could he afford to not listen to what the Hounds planned? Even if just to know what they were up to?

Harry stood, then placed the letter in his trunk, sealing it with bloody thumb before whirling away, taking the steps down to the living room in large strides. When he entered, Sirius and Remus were leaning over a large piece of parchment, laughing. They looked up, saw him, and sobered. Sirius spoke first.

"Prongslet? Something wrong?"

Harry took a deep breath, let it out.

Then he began to shed light on yet another of his secrets, one thats effects could be much farther reaching and dire than his own magic.

~*~To Be Continued: Science and Magic ~*~

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