Authors Note: This chapter is dedicated to the anonymous "Guest", who I'm pretty sure was the one to leave pretty much one review a week before I posted the last chapter, of increasing desperation, begging for me to update in various ways. You have no idea how much it killed me to be unable to respond back to you that the story was not abandoned. Please get an account so we can chat!

HELP WANTED! Any fans who could help me with a few lines of French, Norwegian (especially Norwegian), and Bulgarian languages would help out immensely. I can always Google Translate dialogue, but I know it will probably be butchered. In fact, if you live in Norway (or near it... or even visited once) I will give you extra hugs for advice on terrain, slang, and weather. Especially dealing with Oppland/Fjordane. Google only goes so far. Thanks!

Dayadhvam: I have heard the key

Turn in the door once and turn once only

We think of the key, each in his prison

Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison

Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours

Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus.

-T.S. Eliot (The Wasteland)

"Are we ready then?"

Sirius' eyes were alight with eagerness, his smile wide. Harry made sure his wand was in its holster, then frowned up at his godfather.

"You're excited."

Sirius spread his arms out in innocence.

"I'm a fugitive about to commit a crime. What's not to be happy about?"

Harry grunted, then laughed despite himself. Sirius grinned, then looped a long arm over his shoulders.

"Buck up, little Prongs. Just think: after today, the Ministry will actually have something to put me in Azkaban for."

Harry rolled his eyes, and Sirius poked his side.

"Typical teenager, rolling his eyes at his better's. Now get us to the park. I'm itching to break the Statute of Secrecy. We're under a time limit, now."

Harry glanced over and grinned.

"Technically, you're not breaking the Statute. They already know magic exists."

Sirius wilted, his lips turning down in a dramatic grimace.

"Aww, come on, Harry. Way to ruin your favorite godfathers fun."

Harry smiled, then paused, looking over at the tall man beside him.

"Are you sure about this?"

Sirius sobered, then shrugged.

"I'm useless here, Harry. I can teach you a few things, sure. But I'm not a real teacher, not like Remus. I'm more of a… dueling partner. Let me help you, let me do something. You need a spy to look into the other side that you can trust. You can't afford to do it yourself. I'm here, and able, and willing. I can't get into more trouble than I already am. I am, as I've always known, the seriously perfect fit."

His godfather grinned at the last, and Harry smiled.

"Alright then. Let's go."

He brought them to an alley very similar to one he had teleported from over a year ago, when running from the very men he was now prepared to meet. He stiffened, and Sirius leaned into him slightly, whispering in his ear.

"Lead the way, and relax. I'm here, after all. Only one of us can be Sirius at a time."

Harry laughed, shook his head, and stepped back. Sirius chuckled, then began to fold, his form mutating and shrinking down into a large black dog. Harry grinned, then held out the collar and leash in his hand. Sirius's tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, but he held his head steady as Harry buckled the brown leather collar around his neck and attached the long leash.

Sirius barked once, loud and sharp, his tail wagging. Harry loosely grasped the leash, then started out into the street.

"Alright, Padfoot. Time for a nice long walk."

The dog's tail wagged, his nose pointed into the wind as they headed into the wilder side of the wide park. Harry was dressed in casual muggle clothes, a shirt and jeans with a light jacket thrown over top. The day was cloudy and threatened rain, and he noticed a lot of people had umbrellas slung over elbows and underarms. Many people walked through briskly, their eyes set forward and determined. Others lingered, sitting on benches and walking slowly as they conversed with their friends. They all looked well off, and Harry noted that this was a side of London more suited to the rich than the common man. But Harry saw nothing out of place, and merely continued walked, a boy out with his dog.

Padfoot sniffed here and there, gracefully accepted pats from adults and children alike, and didn't look anything like a wizard pretending to be a dog. I guess he's had plenty of practice, Harry thought, and smiled. Ahead of them loomed the remains of Holland House, restored somewhat from the bombs of several decades before.

On the leash, Padfoot glanced back, his mouth open in a pant, and stiffened.

Harry mirrored the posture, and turned, looking into the dark lens of a muggle wearing sunglasses and a suit. He wanted to say something witty, about wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day, or the cliche of wearing a suit jacket to cover a weapon. Instead, he followed silently when the man gestured, staying a few extra strides behind him as they were lead to a less-populated side of the park, past the more formal gardens around the house. They turned a corner, and walked off onto the grass and around behind several large trees that hid them from the main paved path.

Waiting there on a picnic table, a stack of papers in his hands, was a familiar younger man with brown hair and gentle hazel eyes. The muggle looked up, meeting his gaze, and fidgeted even as he smiled and stood, extending a hand.

"Mr. Potter. My name is Nathan."

Harry took the hand, gave it the cursory shake, and dropped it. Nathan pasted on a attempt at a smile, though harry thought it looked more like a grimace. The man sat back down, straightening his papers. Harry slowly sat across from him, letting the leash in his hands rest in his lap. Padfoot, a doggy grin on his face, leapt up beside him and placed his paws on the table, before putting his large head on his feet. The dog's eyes, large and grey, stared at the muggle who looked away with a cough.

"Well, then. Um. Glad you came."

Harry didn't smile.

"James said you had an offer."

Nathan straightened.

"Yes. We find ourselves in need of a wizard's expertise. We are testing confidential material and need input."

Harry looked down at the papers, then back up.

"And in return?"

The man paused, his head tilted slightly, then spoke.

"Anonymity and immunity."

Padfoot woofed slightly, and Nathan glanced at the dog with a hesitant smile.

"Nice big dog you got, there."

Harry ignored the comment.

"Immunity from what?"

Again Nathan paused, then spoke with a careful tone.

"From prosecution under the new government for criminal activity of any form prior to the revolution."

Harry crossed his arms.

"You are very confidant you are going to win this thing."

Nathan cleared his throat, then picked up a single sheet of paper, passing it over. Harry looked it over, only seeing a long list of numbers.

"This, here, are only the numbers of our membership in Britain alone. We are a global organization, Mr. Potter. We are determined."

Harry narrowed his eyes, then looked back up at the man.

"You don't have to tell me about numbers. It's obvious to any wizard who glances beyond Diagon Alley. I'm curious about means."

Nathan only stared blankly at him, his voice neutral.

"I can't give you information that can be used against us."

Harry idly lay a hand on Padfoot's back, rubbing underneath the collar. The dog's tail wagged.

"Then how can I make an informed decision?"

For a long moment there was silence, then Nathan began to speak, his voice oddly rote and mechanical, as if repeating a speech long rehearsed.

"We will change the world, Mr. Potter. We will make it a better, safer place. One where everyone is equal. Are you out for your own gain, or for your kinds?"

Harry ignored the question, going straight to the heart of the statement.

"There can never be true equality between wizards and muggles. We possess something you do not. Many muggles will hate us for it, as they have in the past. It is why our kind, as you say, went into hiding."

He saw the surprise flicker across the man's face, and continued ruthlessly.

"That's right, Nathan. The wizards fled the field, you could say, and hid themselves away in little communities across the world. What damage that's being done is only to protect themselves from discovery."

Though it burned him to defend the Ministry, Harry knew it was something that needed to be said. He saw the man's consternation, and waited as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, Nathan spoke.

"You are speaking of the witch hunts? And the divide of the two worlds? We had long thought that the case, that once we coexisted peacefully. There were too many tales of magic in myth and legend to not have kernels of truth. This is why we need you, Harry. To help us understand more fully what we are doing. There was a time in ages past where wizards and muggles worked together. We can get there again. Help us avoid the roadblocks that caused this split. Help us bring each other back together."

Harry glanced at Padfoot, saw the almost imperceptible nod disguised as a yawn. He looked back at Nathan.

"I'm willing to try and help, but I want to know more about yourself as well. This will be an equal partnership; you are not my boss. At any time, we can pull back and leave."

Nathan's eyes gleamed in victory, but then he frowned.

"We?"

Harry smiled for the first time, then stood, Padfoot hopping down beside him. He saw a flicker from the corner of his eye, and knew he was surrounded. He held up his hands.

"I'm afraid I can't personally help you. I'm a bit busy this summer. Studying, and all. But my godfather finds himself more than able to extend a helping hand, as it is. Though you must promise protection. He's a bit of an… outcast."

Nathan only looked confused, nodding out of habit.

"I... of course, we... suppose..."

Harry leaned down, took the collar off the black dogs neck. Padfoot stretched out, yawning, then suddenly began to change, fur receding and falling into skin, smoothly growing into long hair on his head, clothes appearing on his person in a manipulation of magic hard for even Harry to understand. Grinning, Sirius Black bowed to the shocked muggle, then looked around at the various men staring at them from the surrounding trees.

"Woof."

James leaned forward towards the monitor, cursing. He hadn't caught the full transformation in his lens, with the bloody table blocking the view, but enough of it had been seen for his pulse to race.

An animagus! What incredible luck! He leaned forward, speaking into the mike connected to his aide's earpiece.

"Nathan!" The man jumped, the view on his monitor jolting. The man really needed more practice in being covert. James made his voice come out calmer. "Tell them yes. Bloody yes, we will take him."

He leaned back in his chair, observing the proceedings, his teeth gleaming in a wide smile.

Their luck had most definitely turned.

Harry sat back down, and Sirius sat beside him. Nathan dabbed at a bead of sweat on his forehead, then smiled sickly.

"Okay, then. That's... something you can do there, Mr...?"

Sirius smiled.

"Black." The man paled. "But just call me Padfoot, please. It's a great codename for mischief, I would have you know."

Nathan fidgeted.

"And you're an… outcast...?"

Sirius sighed, looking very much put-upon.

"Outcast sounds much nicer than escaped convict, don't you think?"

Nathan blanched, then chuckled slightly, cleared his throat, and straightened.

"We would be glad to have you, Padfoot. Of course."

He turned his soft eyes on Harry.

"I suppose that is it, then. We will contact Padfoot with a location to work from via mail, sent to you, unless given another address. Details will be included."

He began to stand, but Harry interrupted him, laying a single hand on the papers the man had been holding so close.

"Wait." Nathan froze, and again the flicker of movement came from the men around them.

"Who is this person who I know who wants to contact me?"

Nathan pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose, then settled back down.

"Yes. That." He ruffled through the papers, then pulled out a glossy photograph and passed it over.

For a long moment Harry looked it over, observing the man in the photograph. He was sitting on a large sofa, a plastic cup held loosely in one hand, staring up at the camera with lowered lids. His hair was brown and messy, curling out from under a faded red baseball cap. It was the cap that sparked his memory, the same one Harry has seen in the year and a half they had lived under the same roof.

His eyes, still the light brown color Harry remembered, held a cold disdain in them Harry had never seen in Mr. Steel's furniture shop. But it had been a long time since the boy he had known had left upon learning that Harry was a wizard, and that magic was not just a mad man's imagination.

"Rick." He said the name softly, then looked up at Nathan. The man smiled.

"He's been with us for some time now."

Harry pushed the photograph back, folded his arms.

"I thought he was done with wizards."

Nathan waved a hand, gathering the photo back into the neat stack then leaning over to grasp a briefcase, bringing it up and beginning to pack the papers inside.

"Well, you see… he was involved with a girl who happened to be another agent of ours. She was just checking in on the old man, making sure everything was going smoothly. Rick was a charming distraction for her. When he left so abruptly, upset and on edge, she talked him around. Got the whole grisly story out of him. She explained our mission, to equalize the worlds, and he was a bit reluctant. But he came around, eventually. He's one of ours now."

Harry grit his teeth, but could only nod. The boy he remembered would not have been so eager to join forces with a group like the Hounds. He had also been deathly afraid of what wizards were capable of, and neck deep in denial.

Nathan again stood, and this time Harry stayed put. The muggle smiled, held out a hand.

"It's been a pleasant conversation, Mr. Potter. Padfoot."

Sirius reached over, took the hand and gave it a erratic shake. The man quickly released the wizards hand, shaking it slightly while smiling fragily.

"Good day."

He walked away, and from around them Harry saw a few men peel off and follow at a discreet distance. He didn't doubt there were more waiting to follow them from the park. He glanced over at his godfather.

"I'm going to take us straight home."

Sirius shrugged, then put his arm around Harry's shoulders in a sideways hug.

"Take me away, Prongslet."

Harry didn't relax until the flame surrounded him on all sides.

Nathan sat down in at his small desk, a slight tremble still running over his skin.

Even surrounded by guards, meeting a wizard in person, and witnessing the magical transformation, had left him slightly shaken. It had been different, somehow, than the time before with the auror. Perhaps it was the feeling of no control. Maybe it was simply because James had not been present. His boss and friend always had a plan, always seemed so strong and vibrant, that it was hard to imagine something going wrong.

Being by himself, even with the voice in his ear and the men around him watching, had still left him feeling alone. He had been more than aware that the boy could, at any time, neutralize him before the guards around could react. He had also doubted that any of the gunmen could have stopped the wizard, even with the new prototype synthetic lead armour. The boy was able to teleport; he was accompanied by an adult wizard who had killed muggles before. The two were capable of feats that the Hounds had barely scratched the surface of.

To say he had been nervous was the understatement of the year.

Nathan stared blankly at his screen, not looking away even when he felt the stir in the air, the familiar lurking presence of the man he only knew of as James.

"Are you alright?"

His boss's voice was lower than normal, lacking the usual lilting sarcasm and enthusiasm.

Nathan cleared his throat, straightened from his slouched position with a cough.

"This Sirius Black, he's, ah… that convict. The one on the news. I'm uncertain of the wisdom of working in close quarters with a man who has killed our kind. Are we sure he values our lives at all? How do we know he's not… he's not…"

Nathan, to his embarrassment, heard his own voice tremble. His mouth was dry, and he coughed, hunching forward over his keyboard, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, looking up into James's sparkling grey eyes, a color that now reminded him of the convict he would be soon be forced to work with.

James spoke softly, squeezing gently.

"It's okay to fear them. Fear gives us caution. It warns us of danger."

Nathan began to nod, then abruptly shook his head, gritting his teeth in anger.

"No. No, I can't fear them. If I do, I'll... I'll falter. I know more than most what they are capable of. Today, this afternoon, I felt as if I stood next to a live wire, a… a bomb. A ticking bomb, sitting and smiling, holding my life in its hand. I was helpless, James. Held helpless by a boy."

James crouched down, turning the chair Nathan sat in, making him meet the taller man's eyes.

"But you knew the risks, and you held your own. We are in this so that everyone can know the risk. So we can all prepare."

Nathan shook his head, eyes bleak.

"How do you think people will react? Yes, I knew, and part of me wished I didn't. It was terrifying, and I was surrounded by armed men. How will a normal person feel? To know these people exist? To know just how vulnerable they are."

For a long moment there was silence, and Nathan began to feel guilt curling in his belly. He leaned back, about to stand, but James's hand stopped him with firm pressure.

"People will be scared. I can't argue with you about that. But knowledge is power too. Knowledge allows us to prepare, allows us to choose. You chose today, when you met with Potter. Other people will be able to choose too, whether to do business with these people, whether to work with them, talk with them, have relationships with them. These wizards will be held accountable for what they do to us, for the crimes they commit. There will be rules."

Nathan burst out, his face beginning to burn red.

"And who will enforce these rules? Us? Their own kind? We open the floodgates, we get the destruction that goes along with it. I'm just beginning to doubt…"

At that word, Nathan cut himself off, and James stiffened. The man stood, his face blank. Nathan quickly continued, eyes pleading.

"No, I don't doubt what we are doing is the right thing. I just… I wonder if it's going to be better for us, for normal people, or worse. What if wizards decide they don't have to play nice anymore, now that the secret is out? What if they simply decide to rule us all? Can we really, truly, honestly go against them? What do we have that they do not? Numbers? One wizards can easily equal a hundred of us, trained ones anyway. What can we possibly do to stop them?"

For a long moment the small office was quiet. James crossed his long arms, and leaned insolently against the wall, a familiar smirk twisting his features.

"We, my dear Nathan, have the advantage of untethered loyalty, freedom to act, and stealth. They are hobbled and crippled by their own laws, from what I can tell. They are a split race, and divided they are weak. We are united in our quest. I do not doubt some of these wizards will follow the example of Potter and Black, and join forces with us. They might have different motives, no doubt they will. But it won't just be mundane against magical. It will be ideal against ideal, one way of life against another. We won't be alone in this, once our hand is shown. They tread upon their own kind, and the muggleborns and half-bloods will flock to us when they see their advantage. And we will be ready and willing to accept them."

Nathan looked into those eyes, saw the fervency there, and held his tongue. He made himself smile, take a deep breath.

"So we will work with this Black."

James did not pause to consider.

"Yes."

His smile had a piercing edge to it, like a snake showing its fangs. Nathan felt his fear ease in the face of such aggressive confidence, his mind once more steady in their purpose. He nodded, looked back at his screen. It was time to get to work.

Kingsley leaned back in his seat, steepling his large fingers together in thought.

He was in his own office, as a senior auror. The walls were a plain blue, only sparsely covered in various bulletin boards sprinkled with pictures and maps. He liked to keep things simple, less cluttered.

And under a thick layer of spells, the bulletin straight ahead showed a very different picture.

There was a large map of muggle London, with suspected sites earmarked and dotted with thumbtacks. There was a drawing, taken from memory, of a lean black-haired man with a wide smile. Another drawing depicted a shorter man, wire glasses perched on his nose.

James and Nathan might as well be ghosts. He couldn't find them, or their organization. There were hints, now and again, but he had exhausted all his resources within the magical realm. He would have to go through the muggles themselves, and by doing so lose any advantage of stealth.

Kingsley knew just enough about muggles to know he knew nothing at all.

He didn't doubt he would give himself away, especially if the group had spies within muggle law enforcement, which was extremely likely. If they were as large as he feared, the group might well have informants in the actual government.

He was about ready to decide that the group would not be found unless they wanted to be.

Which meant he was only wasting his, and Scrimgeour's, time.

He would write up his report; suggest they put the investigation aside.

Instead, Kingsley firmly believed their best form of defense was planning a good offense, if and when the Hounds again reared their ugly heads. They would need to be prepared, not caught off guard by muggle enemies.

Rufus let the file folder slap onto his desk with a heavy thump. Sitting across from him, Kingsley only watched him calmly. Rufus snorted.

"There is no way I can convince the Minister to agree to this. He has already stated this is a group of dark wizards; nothing we say will convince him he is wrong. He most certainly won't allow teams to be trained for the particular ability to combat muggles."

Kingsley replied in his deep rumbling voice.

"I've exhausted our own resources. The only option as I can see it is to prepare. There is the chance we can pass this off as training for wizards disguised as muggles. Go over basic muggle defense patterns, weapons, the like."

Rufus felt a headache coming on, and ruthlessly put it out of his mind. He would take a potion as soon as the other man left his office.

"Maybe. And that's a pretty big maybe. Is there no where else you can investigate?"

Kingsley shrugged his big shoulders.

"Not within our own system. Nothing registers. I thought about contacting muggle authorities, but..."

Rufus picked up the sentence with a grimace. "But they'll see you coming from a mile away."

"Yes, sir."

Kingsley agreed. Rufus frowned.

"What about other Ministries?"

"Sir?" Kingsley questioned, raising black eyebrows.

Rufus looked over at the animated map of the world, alit with glowing marks of wizarding settlements.

"Go to the other Ministries, in other countries. See if any have heard rumbling of this group. If they are truly a worldwide organization, I doubt we are the first and only ones they've encountered personally."

Kingsley nodded gravely.

"Yes, sir."

Rufus smiled with grim amusement.

"Find a good excuse to be contacting them. Mention the recent attack that was disguised as muggles, enquire about any similar attempts they might have had. Start with the close Ministries in Europe, then try the American and Asian continents. Go from there. We do not want Minister Fudge getting a single whiff of what we are doing here. "

Kingsley stood, inclined his head.

Rufus waved him out, then looked again out his enchanted window, watching car lights wind through crowded streets.

It was such a fine line, between the law and breaking it. A black and white viewer would brand him guilty. But he was following the spirit of the law, to protect its citizens. Even if the methods were underhanded, they were still necessary. Especially now, with a government turning against its people.

He stood, walking to the spelled window, touching what his finger told him was glass and his mind told him was the same stone that covered the exterior wall.

Especially now.

The next letter from the Hounds arrived the next day with the morning post.

Mr. Potter

I hope this letter finds you well.

We are very thankful for you and your godfather Sirius Black's willingness to help us with our cause. We thought it best to get started as soon as possible.

Please, meet us at the same park as before, at noon, this Friday. We will take you both to the area that has been set aside for this purpose.

As for why your presence is requested along with Mr. Black's: You expressed interest in your past companion. He has agreed to speak with you at that time.

We hope to see you there.

Nathan

Harry looked up from the letter, then with a sigh let it burn in his hand until only ashes floated to the ground.

He turned to Ivy, who had just begun to clean up after that morning's breakfast.

"I'm leaving for the rest of the day, so no need for lunch or dinner."

She gave a half-bow in his direction, but never paused in her efforts. Harry smiled. He wished all house-elves were as calm and collected as the matronly Potter elf. She was like a solid wall of competence. She would probably even intimidate Kreacher.

Harry chuckled to himself as he stood.

He might just have to find an excuse to bring her and her daughter over to the Black house, if only to watch the stubborn Black elf be thrown further off balance.

Harry and Sirius were led to a simple silver van that looked more like a mother's family car than one used by a secretive subversive group.

He exchanged bemused glances with his godfather as he ducked inside, settling in the middle seats as the two men who had escorted them slid into the front seat. They went for a long drive, perhaps to attempt to misdirect the wizards, though Harry wouldn't mention that he knew exactly where they were. The runes he had placed as part of his phoenix transformation allowed him to always know where he stood.

When they finally arrived, Harry calculated they were only several blocks north of the park, and a good forty minute walk from Grimmauld Place. Of course, Sirius would apparate, instead of risk being seen on the streets.

They entered a large warehouse that had seen better days. The outside was faded and chipped, with random graffiti splashed across the corners and along the wide garage door.

Inside, however, the place was clean and gleamed under a fresh coat of white paint.

It was also completely bare, with only a few chairs set up along one wall. Coupled with the tall ceiling, it felt like some sort of muggle gymnasium. As the two wizards glanced around, Harry heard footsteps approaching and turned to meet them.

James, his black hair slicked back and grey eyes shining, smiled brightly.

"Harry! Sirius! May I call you Sirius? I'm James."

He extended one hand to Sirius, who took it with an answering smile. Looking between the two of them Harry felt an odd sense of deja vu. They were like two twins, and the both of them mad as hatters. Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to put them together.

Sirius bowed slightly.

"Call me Padfoot. My meager wizardry is at your service."

James clapped his hands together in delight.

"Brilliant! Follow me this way, please. Harry? The office, there in the corner."

Harry turned, and spotting a lone door, nodded.

Sirius and James moved off, the two of them talking as if long lost pals. Harry only straightened his shoulders and walked, his steps echoing off the cavernous cement walls. He noticed a long mirror running across the wall beside the door, and saw himself coming closer, his muggle jeans and shirt partially hidden under a wizards plain black robe.

Harry tried the knob, and it turned easily under his hand. He entered, and found himself in a small narrow hallway. There were several doors, though only one was slightly ajar. Taking the hint, Harry moved towards it, opening the door to peek inside.

He immediately recognized the man within.

The wild brown hair was the same as he remembered, and tucked haphazardly inside a familiar faded red baseball cap that he remembered Rick had favored when living with the Steels. His face was older and more lined, any baby fat long since burned off. He was much leaner than before as well, and much taller than Harry remembered. Harry realized that Rick must be in his twenties now, only a year younger than Mike.

His eyes, a light tan, showed that his life had not been easy in the years since Harry had last seen him, leaving the Steel shop after the discovery that Harry was, in fact, a real life wizard. Here, with a group actively seeking to expose wizards, was the last place Harry would have expected to find someone who had once feared them.

Rick smiled slightly, though it was perhaps the least inviting grin Harry had ever seen.

"Harry. It's been a long time."

Harry closed the door softly behind him and moved closer.

"Rick."

He wasn't sure what else to say. He had lived a year and half with this boy, but it had been years ago. Surely anything he thought he had known about him had changed in the intervening years. Rick pointed to a chair beside him, then turned to face a large window. Harry, frowning, realized that they were in fact looking through the mirror he had observed himself in earlier. He stepped closer, sat, and watched as his godfather stood at the far side of the room, wand extended in front of him, gesturing emphatically to two muggles whose features were indistinct. Beside him, Rick spoke in a soft voice.

"I don't want to be here. I never wanted to see you, or any of the boys, again."

Harry curled his fingers under his palms where they were placed on his knees, and didn't turn as he spoke, only continued to watch the men inside the warehouse.

"Then why are you here?"

Rick laughed, low and dark, a bitter man's laugh. It was as far from the sly chuckle of Harry's memories as such a thing could get.

"A girl. Is that so surprising? Many a man's been brought down by a woman."

Harry frowned.

"I don't understand."

Rick continued to stare straight ahead.

"I was frightened. I'm not afraid to admit it. I had just about convinced myself that it was all some pipe dream of the old man's. Hilary, that was her name… I had been seeing her secretly for months. Didn't want to tell the others, was afraid they would tease me. But she made me feel good. She would laugh at my jokes, take my side… I told her everything. About how crazy Steel was, with his imaginary imposters with advanced technology, his weird storage room of strange tokens, all of it. The only thing I didn't tell her about was you. Why would I? You were just some annoying kid, younger even than Tiny, that none of us really wanted around anyway."

Harry felt the words like burning coals in his stomach, but didn't flinch. He told himself that that wasn't true, not any longer. Kerr and Mike and Tiny, they were family. They loved him.

Rick continued, his head tilted as a bright burst of magic lit the warehouse in false light.

"But when it turned out you were one of them, I couldn't deny it to myself any more. It wasn't some trick, wasn't some joke. And I had to get away, from all of it, from you. What you were. And I didn't want Steel to find me, so I went to the one place that none of the others knew I went: Hilary's small flat, just a few buildings down. She took me in, listened while I ranted. Then she did something odd, something I would have realized if I hadn't been such a blind idiot. Said she had to make some phone calls. Left me there, sniffling on her couch like a fool. God."

Rick ran a hand over his face and laughed again, that same self-depreciated noise as before. Harry remained silent as he listened, trying to picture the scene, knowing what was coming.

"They took me that night. I wonder, now, what happened to all the others who we thought left. Did they really get jobs, families? Or did they find the same thing I did, the next day, waking up in a small white room? Questioned on everything, every little thing, about Steel, and most of all about you. I didn't know much, of course. You were just a tiny part of my world; We hardly spoke. I didn't even know your full name."

"I didn't either, at the time." Harry said softly. Rick snorted.

"Figures. They let me out after what I think was a month, and put me straight to work in an office. I was on a computer on a closed network almost every waking moment for at least a year, ciphering through information, reports, dialogue. This thing is much bigger than I ever imagined, much broader than just Britain. I went through reports of incidents from all over Europe, America, Africa, all over. Sorting into probables. Drudgery."

Harry shook his head.

"They can't just make you do that."

Rick shrugged.

"Why not? I had no where to go. Hadn't seen Hilary once since that first night. I was free to wander the building, but all exterior doors were locked. I was being fed three meals, got some entertainment through a TV in my room. There were a few others in the building with me, all idealists like Mr. Steel or that crazy James. All going by first names, most of them likely false. It was a life."

But not much of one, Harry thought. Rick continued.

"And then, one day, I was asked to follow this one guy. He led me out of the building, then simply got in a car and left. I looked around, wandering off a bit. I had no money, no ID, I was… nothing. And I realized what they had done. They had made me a slave."

Rick turned to Harry, meeting his eyes for the first time since Harry had entered.

"I hate them. Even after I went back to that office, willingly joined the fight. I still hate them, and they know it. When I found out about Mr. Steel, and Tiny, and you… it only made me hate them more but also fear them. Worse, they used me. I knew the moment they told me that you knew of me that they would use my existence to entice you. And it worked. Here you sit, under their thumb, just like me."

Harry shook his head.

"I'm not under their thumb. Maybe curiosity about you convinced me to meet them, but it didn't make me agree to this." He gestured towards Sirius, who was saying something while another muggle furiously copied it down on a clipboard. "The wizarding world is messed up, in more ways than one. I might not agree with a lot of what the Hounds are doing, but it's a start."

Rick snorted again, an explosive nasal sound reeking of condescension.

"You can't trust James as far as you can throw him. He would cage you if he could. He'll use you until you're no longer useful, then dump you like garbage."

Harry raised a single eyebrow.

"You think I don't know? The very first time I met him he threatened me and my family. I go into this with open eyes."

Rick smiled, though his eyes did not.

"You are a fool."

When they returned to Hallam Street, Harry told Sirius he would speak to him later. He wasn't feeling up to dinner, to chatting with Remus and Sirius like nothing was on his mind. He knew the man was dying to tell him the details, but Harry had to get his own mind straight first.

Rick's attitude both bothered and mystified him. If the man truly felt that way, why hadn't he just left when he had the chance? No one was holding him hostage now. Surely he could find work somewhere, doing something. Harry had even offered to help him leave, and the man had turned him down. Why stay with people he hated? And why meet with Harry at all?

Why had James let Rick meet with him, if he knew how the man felt?

There was something else going on.

Rick, who hated the Hounds, working with them. Harry, who disapproved of their methods, still working with them. Was that some sort of sign then? That the Hounds were powerful manipulators he had no doubt of. But why treat Rick so poorly? Why force him to stay?

Harry didn't believe that all the previous ones had also been detained. He remembered Kerr talking of the others before who had worked with Steel and left. There had even been a few pictures.

Surely they weren't all now part of the movement?

Still, the fact that the Hounds had known about him from almost the very beginning only raised more questions. How much control had Mr. Steel really had? Had he been reporting on Harry's movements since the very beginning? The thought only further tarnished Harry's tattered idea of the muggle who had raised him for years.

He needed to talk to Kerr and especially Mike. The man had said he wanted to return to London, and perhaps now was the time. Let Mike infiltrate the Hounds, under the excuse of staying close to Rick but wanting to help. He would have to make sure that Mike wouldn't disappear into the muggle ranks of the Hounds. Some sort of tracking charm, or communication device. Harry wouldn't let another of his family be destroyed through his own ignorance and foolishness.

He remembered the second he appeared in the dark lawn of Kondinin that he had forgotten the time difference yet again.

It had to be almost midnight, and only a sole lamp was lit in the dark house. Harry briefly considered leaving, then straightened.

He needed to move on this now.

He walked to the door, then knocked softly. He saw a light flicker on in the kitchen, then the sound of footsteps. Kerr opened up the door, sleepiness highlighting his tanned face.

"Harry? Is something wrong?"

Harry shifted, then sighed.

"I need to speak to you and Mike. I didn't think it should wait."

Kerr, confused, gestured him in. He quickly ascended the stairs, then returned followed by a tousle haired Mike.

The black-haired man glared at him through blood-shot hazel eyes.

"Harry, this had better be good. I have to be at the dairy in four hours."

Harry winced, but nodded. He sat at the kitchen table with Mike, Kerr putting on a pot of coffee from an ancient machine on the counter.

"I spoke to Rick today."

Mike stared at him blankly. At the counter, Kerr turned, eyes wide. Harry continued, looking down at the table.

"He's working with the Hounds."

"What?" "No!" Mike and Kerr spoke at the same time, the same angry undercurrent in their voice. Harry wince, then continued.

"I need to fill you in on a few things…"

"Damn right!" Kerr barked, and took a seat, the coffee forgotten behind him. Mike straightened, all signs of exhaustion gone. Harry ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the long shoulder-length strands.

"The Hounds contacted me a few days ago. They said someone of my acquaintance had joined with them. I took the bait, knowing it was bait, but also wanting to know who it was. I went with Sirius. I listened to them, and they had a few good points."

Both Mike and Kerr tried to talk at the same time, and Harry raised a hand, shaking his head as he kept walking.

"Not about… those things. About the state of the wizarding world. My world. It's messed up, and… Merlin's beard, I have a muggleborn friend. You know what's going to happen to her and her family when she gets older? When she graduates? It's wrong, and ridiculous. It needs to change. And after being in that world for three years, I realize that the current system isn't set up to change with the times. It would take more than just a new Minister, if that was even possible. It would take… something bigger. A complete overhaul, even. The way the Ministry is set up is antiquated, based on cultural values and rules that no longer make sense and don't apply to the modern world... They will die out, wizards, if the trend continues. Muggleborns are the future of us all, new blood, new ideas, new magic… and the Hounds could make that happen. If the world knew of wizards, things would change. There would be no choice in the matter."

Kerr just shook his head, but Mike spoke up, his face twisted in anger.

"Would it be for the better, Harry? Would it really? You think a pack of murdering, amoral people can do justice to your world? Or will they paint you as devils?"

Harry jumped to his feet, paced furiously, his mind jumping from thought to thought.

"It's going to happen anyway, don't you see? The Hounds don't need me, not really. I might make it happen sooner, but sooner or later the dam's gonna break. Wizards won't be able to stop it once the flood starts. How will they react? I haven't the slightest! But I would rather be part of it, prepared and ready, than merely reacting when the dogs are baying outside my very door!"

"Why them!?" Mike barked, standing and leaning over the table to face him, his hands balled into fists. "Why does it have to be them?"

Harry stopped and stood still, green eyes meeting hazel, and then broke the gaze, looking down at the polished tile under his feet.

"I'm sorry. I'm upset about Mr. Steel too. But he was part of this group; he knew what he was doing. He was a grown man, he took risks, and he paid for them. I can't let it stop me from moving forward. From making a difference. You can't let it stop you either." Harry looked up, met the angry gaze, and saw Mike falter, his eyes widening in realization. His hands loosened their tight grip. Kerr looked between them, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Mike looked away from Harry, out the wide kitchen window into the night. Kerr looked over at Harry, his brown eyes pleading. Harry closed his own, took a deep breath, but it was Mike who broke the silence.

"I'm leaving, Kerr."

There was a loaded silence, like the ringing sound in the ears after a gun had sounded. Kerr's voice was low and quiet.

"Mike."

Mike shook his head violently, turning back to them, lifting his chin as he met Kerr's sad eyes straight on.

"This isn't the place for me. I talked with Harry a while ago; I need to go back. I need to finish this, whatever it is. I can't be happy being a farmer in some small town in Australia, of all places. I miss London. I miss the city. And I'm a part of this." He gestured between Harry and himself, speaking in firm tones. "I'm going back."

Kerr opened his mouth, shut it. Closed his eyes with a hefty sigh. Harry wanted to be anywhere but in that kitchen, watching an idyllic world fall and shatter.

Kerr opened his eyes and looked at Mike, a sad smile bowing his mouth even as his eyes remained bleak.

"Alright. Okay." Mike's shoulder relaxed, and he moved forward even as Kerr stood, drawing him into a hug. Mike leaned back, speaking quickly.

"You'll need to tell Tiny. He'll want to go back, just because I am, but it's not the place for him. He should stay here with you, finish school, graduate. God, go to bloody college. Make a life."

Kerr smiled, then stepped back, looking over at the two of them.

"He's going to be upset, when he wakes and you are gone."

Mike snorted.

"You mean furious. I know. But he'll get over it. He's got friends, track, they'll keep him busy. He'll forget all about me. I've got to go pack. I'll be right back."

Kerr shook his head, but didn't argue. Mike turned and left the room, his feet soft on the stairs. Harry looked at Kerr.

"I didn't come here to take him away. I… I'm not even sure it's the right course of action. But something is wrong. Rick gave me a story, and I'm sure there are elements of truth… but something just doesn't ring true. Mike can find out what that is."

Kerr's mouth twisted.

"You're planning to use him as a spy."

Harry began to deny it, then stopped.

"If that's what you want to call it."

Kerr snorted, then sighed again, looking as if a new weight had settled on his shoulders.

"Going to be difficult to explain to Janice why Mike's gone, and without even giving notice at his job. I suppose I'll call in in the morning. Use some excuse."

Harry looked away.

"Tell them the truth. He found out another adopted brother was in trouble, back in Britain, and caught the first flight out."

Kerr grinned.

"You being that flight?"

Harry spoke with a sad smile.

"Yes."

The flames left his vision, leaving behind only sparks of white and red. Harry released his gentle hold on Mike, who swayed slightly as he looked around the large warm living area.

"I forgot how disorienting that was. Then again, it wasn't exactly expected the last time."

Mike smiled lopsidedly, then nodded towards the doorway.

"So, where should I put my stuff?"

Harry gestured toward a sofa.

"I need to explain some things first."

Mike shrugged and sat, his hazel eyes tired. Harry knew the boy wanted to sleep, and the sooner the better. But Harry needed to at least give him the rudimentaries. He spoke softly, not sure whether Remus was here or at Grimmauld Place and wanting to pull the man aside and tell him personally of their new temporary guest.

"The only reason you can stay here for a short time is that this place doesn't have anti-muggle charms on it anymore. I had Sirius remove them when I decided to invite you here. Still, I think it best if you go with my godfather to the next meeting with the Hounds. It will be in two days, they are meeting three times a week. Tomorrow, I will tell you everything I know of Rick and the Hounds, as well as what my godfather is doing with them. I myself don't even know it all yet. My parent's school-year friend is living here as well, Remus Lupin. You might remember him…"

"The werewolf." Mike said flatly. Harry winced, but carried on.

"Yeah. Don't worry, he's fine. Got a good few days before the next full moon. In any case, I'll tell him you're here tomorrow. Sleep in. Also, there's, um... servants here. But..."

Harry drifted off, then sighed.

"I've told you some about them before. House-elves? They look a little, ah, strange, but they are harmless. Very helpful. Don't be startled by them. I'll let them know too that you are here."

Mike nodded along, but Harry could see he was mystified and losing patience. Harry continued.

"I'm going to make a tracker charm for you to wear, so I can find you if things go… badly. What would you like it placed on?"

Mike stared blankly.

"Placed on?"

Harry grimaced.

"Normally they are put on something the person carries with them all the time. Jewelry, rings, earrings, clothing?"

Mike frowned.

"I don't wear jewelry. And I doubt I'll be wearing the same clothing every day either."

Harry threw up his arms.

"Well, I'll make you something then. What do you want?"

Mike narrowed his hazel eyes into slits as he crossed his arms.

"I'm not getting a bloody earing. Forget it."

Harry rolled his eyes and grumbled.

"You know, a lot of modern wizards your age wear an earring. It's supposed to be a sign of, ah..."

Harry drifted off at Mike's mutinous look, and sighed.

"How about a necklace then? A simple chain?"

Mike lifted his chin, but nodded.

"Fine. Make it plain, please."

Harry, about to ask if gold or silver would be better, decided to just make the decision himself. Lack of sleep made Mike's already thin temper turn razor sharp.

"Alright. Okay. I'll show you a room."

It took another thirty minutes, and a long discussion with Ivy and Blossom, before Harry found his own bed. He simply lay back on the thick comforter, his mind sluggishly compiling data and organizing his thoughts.

He would get Mike settled. Introduce Remus and Sirius, though his godfather would have to come to Hallam Street. Mike wouldn't be able to set a toe into the Black Manor without triggering all sorts of traps and wards.

He needed to get into contact with Hermione. She wanted to see a ritual; he would show her. He had an idea in mind, if she agreed. One that would protect them both, if Hermione found herself up against an enemy who attacked her mind.

It was one thing to know of his runes existence, and another to actually witness a ritual, see Dread. To know how it was all possible.

But he wasn't sure she would agree; he wasn't even sure he should offer. It was dangerous, and something he hadn't read about happening before. If it backfired, he would have no idea what the effects were.

But if it worked… she would be safe.

Much safer than mere Occlumency could make her.

Harry sat at the dining room table, in a scarcely used room adjacent to the kitchen, and watched with amazement as Mike and Sirius talked avidly of motorbikes. He had thought it better to eat in the formal dining room instead of the kitchen, as that was the house-elves' domain and he wouldn't ask Ivy or Blossom to leave it.

Still, Mike had shown little surprise at the creatures, to which Harry had sighed in relief.

His brother had also been courteous enough to Remus, if a little suspicious. Remus didn't seem offended, only acceptant. Harry hated that the werewolf felt other people were justified to be prejudiced against him; but then again, most people who encounter a werewolf either end up dead, or worse, infected. Fear is only a form of self-preservation, and caution is a reasonable response from those ignorant about werewolves. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt the former professor.

Still, the most surprising of all was that Mike and Sirius had hit it off almost immediately. How a muggle and a wizard convict could find anything in common was amazing; but they had bonded immediately over a shared dislike for blood parents, and cemented it with a love for all things loud and mechanised. Harry and Remus both felt a little like an audience at an arena match as the two men tossed ideas back and forth for improvements on a flying motorbike that would allow muggles to operate it.

They had about ironed out a schematic and timeframe when Ivy subtly brought desert. Neither black-haired men blinked an eyelash, still talking over engine parts and runic wards. Harry decided then and there that the next meal would be at the normal wooden kitchen table.

Remus turned to Harry with a smile.

"Harry. Sirius told me the first meeting with these muggles went well. I wasn't sure I believed him, until now. I never thought muggles would accept magic, even wish to use it."

Harry fidgeted, then nodded. Sirius had told them most of the first meeting had been showing basic wand magic. Spells like Lumos, Wingardium Leviosa, and a few transfigurations. He had said the muggles used many words he hadn't understood at all when observing the last, like atom and matter. Harry had heard enough to know that the muggles weren't just cataloging spell names and their effects: they wanted to know the science behind it. Harry didn't know what they hoped to gain from knowing how a wizard rearranged matter to transfigure things, or how they hoped to use it.

It all seemed very innocent, but then again, the Hounds wouldn't just jump into dueling he supposed.

Harry smiled at Remus.

"You would be surprised. We wizards have used muggle cars and other inventions of theirs for decades now; that interest would naturally go both ways."

Remus nodded, but his face darkened. Harry straightened as Remus began to talk.

"I'm worried this will only give them more tools to use against us. Even you don't think their intentions are pure. We are breaking one of the most sacred laws of our kind, and for what?"

Harry glanced at the others, saw they were still talking, and leaned forward.

"For change, Remus. You have to desire it as well. The muggles view things like diseases differently than wizards. Imagine the possibilities if their science was combined with our magic? What might be cured?"

Remus hesitated, then sighed.

"I gave up hope on a cure long ago. I see your logic, but I'm tired of waiting for a miracle. I know my place, and accept it. There is so much at risk…"

"And a lot to gain." The words brought their attention around. Grey eyes locked on them as Sirius spoke. "Things are wrong, Moony. You might be alright with that, but I am not. I spent years of my life locked away in a cell, had plenty of time to think and get my head straight. I'm not willing to settle anymore."

Remus, defeated, looked down at his empty plate in silence. Harry only nodded at Sirius and Mike, who smiled and changed the subject with the ease of a man used to playing referee between boys and men.

"About the handlebars. I don't think we should put the trigger there for flight. Wouldn't it make more sense to have a foot pedal? All the other…"

Sirius turned, distracted, and picked up the conversation with an argumentative light in his eyes.

Harry glanced once at Remus, before standing with a sigh.

That conversation was over before it had barely begun.

Harry had the tracking spell ready by that afternoon. It was the simplest gold chain he could find among the things in the apartment, most of them stored in a large chest the house-elves had directed him too. The thing was made up of many gold interlocked pieces, and bulky enough it shouldn't come off as feminine.

It was also the only thing that hadn't had stones set into it.

Harry had noticed right away that most of the jewelry were also Vessels, though much smaller than even a corner of the Black Vessel. The magic they held only gave them a slight glimmer in the dark chest, but the overall effect of glowing jewelry in the chest had made him sympathize with the wizarding pirates he had learned about briefly in History of Magic. Such a sight was wonderful to behold.

But Mike hadn't need anything of that sort. Harry had dug through the chest until he found the chain, and immediately set to work.

He had imbued every link with spells. The tracking charm was the most important, allowing him to locate the man if need be. He also included protection spells, and a few choice warning charms. He would have to tell Mike about the signals they would give when triggered.

He spent a long hour painstakingly enchanting it with a rudimentary portkey function, enabling it to transport Mike back to Hallam St. if something truly horrendous happened. It took him longer than he had thought it would, the process more complex than he had imagined. Using a book from the properties library, he finally managed to pull it off, though he figured Remus probably could have done a better job in less time.

As a last idea, he charmed it unbreakable. The thing wouldn't be able to be torn or cut from Mike's neck, and only Mike could remove it.

He brought it to Mike, who was browsing through book in the small library.

The black-haired man glanced up, saw Harry, and grinned.

"You've got some serious space here Harry. Ought to invite the others down for a day this summer. Show them how rich people live."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over, reaching into his pocket to withdraw the necklace and place it on the table. Mike observed it doubtfully. Harry spoke, sitting down.

"There it is. Simple as I could get."

Mike reached out, picked it up with tentative fingers that firmed when nothing happened immediately.

"It looks alright, I guess. Looks real."

"It probably is, though I can only guess. Found it in some family things."

"Must be nice." Mike murmured, turning the metal over in his hand. "So, what, this allows you to just find me, if I disappear."

"Well." Harry fidgeted in his chair, and Mike's eyes sharpened. "What else does it do?"

Harry spread his hands, placing an innocent expression on his face.

"Nothing you won't find useful. If you say the word "Hallam", while touching it with your right hand, it should take you back here instantly. Added a few protection charms, in case anyone tries to harm you. It's unbreakable, so can't be taken off unless you remove it willingly."

Mike's eyes didn't waver.

"And?"

Harry laughed, shook his head.

"Alright, alright. It's got a poison warning charm on it: if anyone tries to give you something that will affect your body or mind it will trigger."

"Like caffeine?" Mike said dryly. Harry frowned.

"Actually, I don't know. That's a good question. But if it doesn't with tea, it shouldn't with coffee… though some argue caffeine is harmful, so…"

Harry drifted off, distracted, and Mike thumped the table.

"How will it warn me, exactly? Start blaring wildly? Glow purple?"

Harry laughed at the droll words.

"No. I'm afraid it will only warm slightly. Would you like it to glow purple?"

Mike didn't answer, only slipped the chain around his neck and clasped it. Harry watched as the clasp suddenly blurred and merged together with the main body of the chain, hiding the clasp from view, though Mike didn't seem to notice. Harry figured what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

Plus, he wasn't supposed to take it off anyway.

Mike tugged on it gently, then shrugged and tucked it under his shirt.

"Alright. Any more surprises about the magical bling I'm now wearing?"

Harry shrugged.

"Not that I know of."

"That's encouraging." Mike muttered.

Harry took Mike directly to the warehouse, close enough behind Sirius to hear the loud crack of apparition still echoing off the walls when they arrived.

A team of three muggles were straight ahead, dressed casually in jeans and polos. Sirius grinned widely as he strode forward with open arms.

"Steve! Eric! Other guy I don't know! Are we ready to have some fun?"

Harry ignored their responses, turning instead to lead Mike towards the long mirror on the other side of the open room.

James exited the office before they could get there.

He looked as slick as ever, his grey eyes sparkling in cheer as he spread out his arms in welcome.

"If this isn't a pleasant surprise! Another Steel boy. It's almost like a family reunion."

Mike growled under his breath and stopped walking. Harry took a step forward, placing himself slightly between the two men.

"James. Mike has asked to join the movement. I thought you might be amenable."

James laughed.

"Of course, of course! Another mind is always welcome. I'm only pleasantly surprised."

Mike stepped up beside Harry, lifting his chin.

"I will work with you, but not for you. "

James grinned, eyes alight with humor. But he nodded solemnly.

"I never thought otherwise. If you are ready, you may follow me."

Mike glanced at Harry, who nodded. Then the man hefted his small suitcase and met James' eyes with dark purpose.

"Lead on."

James never faltered. He turned on his heel, beginning to walk towards the office. Over his shoulder he called back to Harry.

"You're more than welcome to watch the proceedings, Harry. Any time."

Harry watched them go, then glanced over to where his godfather was explaining something to an eager man with large rimmed glasses on the end of his nose. He contemplated staying, and decided against it.

Sirius would tell him what he needed to know. There was no need for him to stay.

Mike looked around the small room that was to be his, and for the first time reconsidered.

It had been a long day. He had met what seemed a thousand people, all full of stories and smiles and ideas about magic. He had never met so many people who knew of the wizarding world, not normal people like himself.

Then he had been shown to this room, where the walls were as white as the sheets, and just as sterile.

He set his suitcase on the bed, and its red fabric shone like blood.

A knock at the door brought him out of his dark thoughts. He turned, hoping it wasn't another person come to introduce themselves and talk about how wonderful the organization is.

It was another person, but one whom he had been both anticipating and dreading seeing.

Rick, his wild brown hair tucked under a red cap, didn't smile. Mike stepped back, letting the other man pass into the room.

He closed the door behind him, then merely watched as Rick turned to face him. Rick had grown by a good two feet, and was taller now than Mike himself. He had also buffed up, his arms bulging with trained muscles. He looked like a man preparing for war.

Rick spoke, his voice deep and rough.

"I thought only the wizard would be foolish enough to fraternize with Hounds. To see you here too proves me wrong. I had thought you were smart enough to stay away."

Mike cross his arms across his chest.

"I was smart enough to know staying away wouldn't make a difference. Harry wouldn't prevent me from leaving, nor lie to me about this. I want to see it through. I deserve to see this to the end."

Rick snorted, leaning against the aluminum bed frame.

"End? What end do you envision? An end to wizards and their ilk? Perhaps an end to the Hounds, exterminated by vengeful magic-users. You would like that, I can see. I'm surprised you would hold a grudge."

Mike scoffed, his hazel eyes narrowed in disdain.

"Mr. Steel obviously meant more to me than he did to you."

Rick laughed, deep and low, a sound that had not the slightest bit of humor within it.

"You can love a lying, manipulative man? He trained us, used us, and would have eventually abandoned us when we no longer had a use. Steel was an agent; a poor one, by all accounts. He kept secrets, you see. Secrets even he forgot when those wizards stole his memory. That James, he may be bonkers, but he is on to something the old man was doing with the wizard pet. I bet you know what it was."

Mike stayed silent, and Rick smiled darkly

"Go ahead and say nothing. That gives you power. Knowledge will be your only escape from here, your only avenue of freedom."

Rick turned, about to leave, and Mike spoke quietly at his back.

"Harry said you could have left. You could still leave. You are in this on purpose."

Rick looked back briefly, and the humor Mike saw there filled him with dread.

"Not all prison's are made of concrete walls. You'll know that, before you leave here."

He left, the door closing gently behind him. For lack of anything better to do, Mike sat on the pristine bedspread. He reached a hand up, absently touched the cold metal around his throat. Then he closed his eyes and simply tried not to think.

James leaned back from the screen with his mouth bowed in a perfect frown.

Obviously Rick was a bitter and agonized soul, as if he didn't know that already. How dreadfully dull, and nothing new. He had hoped for more between the two Steel's. At least some sort of information he could sink his teeth into. It hadn't been so much of a bother to rig the cameras in his newest recruits room, even on such short notice. They had kept the man busy in the common area while his tech put in the two cameras and linked them to James's personal computer.

But it obviously wasn't panning out.

Still, worth monitoring occasionally. There might be something in the future that would answer a few of his questions.

He was under no delusions that Mike Steel had not come to keep an eye on things. He also didn't doubt that the wizard boy had known James would come to that conclusion.

So what did they hope to gain?

It was only another mystery to add to his growing list, and the thought made him smile.

He so loved a good mystery.

Sirius lifted his wand, eyes alight with humor.

These muggle sci-tists were full of questions and ideas, many he had never truly thought about. It reminded him in many ways of Lily. The muggleborn had never stopped questioning the order of things, and it had annoyed him until he learned to appreciate the brilliance of it.

Even as he taught the basics of magical theory he discovered how much he didn't know.

Why Latin? Could other languages be used? What percentage of wizards used wands? Why wands? What type of woods? Were cores necessary? Why short instead of long? Why, why why?

Sirius knew they must have had books. They exhibited a rudimentary knowledge of terms that he did not have to explain. But the questions never stopped.

This time they had some sort of homemade mechanical device, and for what seemed the hundredth time he again cast Lumos, his wand giving off a bright glow. Sirius didn't know what the muggles were looking for, but they seemed excited, glancing at one another and talking with quick hand gestures and technical jargon he couldn't begin to understand.

But he enjoyed himself, enjoyed discussing magic with people so eager to learn. For the first time he understood Remus's desire to teach, though the thought of attempting to impart knowledge to bored preteens filled him with horror. But adults? Perfectly acceptable. Maybe he would have been an instructor in the Auror Academy eventually, if things had been different.

Or perhaps, Sirius thought, looking at the muggles huddled around him, he would have the opportunity for a different kind of teaching profession very soon.

In every Department of the Ministry, there was a witch or wizard responsible for the running of the interior departments within them.

Amelia Bones was such a witch, and as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she kept her finger on the pulse within each of the smaller departments in her jurisdiction.

Her colleagues thought her stern; the Minister thought her prickly and stubborn. Those who worked under her respected her for her integrity, while fearing her for her sharp tongue and sharper wit.

She feared no one, and would bow to no one.

But she was getting tired. Her hair, once a lovely black, had lightened to grey. She had taken to wearing a single monocle on her right eye, to help with her receding vision. That is was charmed to see spells was neither here nor there: she had learned to use her shortcomings as strengths long ago.

She had considered retirement. Obviously her seat on the Wizengamot would be hers until death or abdication, as Lady Bones of the Bones Family. But she had no desire to do what naturally came next to a woman in her position: running for Minister. If anything, she considered taking a lesser one. Rufus Scrimgeour had hinted more than once at his own ambition to move up the ranks, and she had thought more than once of taking his own spot of Head Auror when he made his bid. A step down, politically, but she would have more time for her family, for her niece.

But the thought of who might take her place caused her pause.

She was loyal to the law, whether she agreed or not. She was proud of her reputation as an unbiased witch, swayed by neither pureblood or muggleborn activists. In her world, there was wrong, and there was right. Let the cards fall on whatever side of the law they fell, and she would brand them appropriately.

But she knew she was unique among her peers, and the thought was not simple pride. She had seen many upstanding citizens fall to blackmail, to political pressure from above and below, to simple greed. She had seen pureblood conservatives give bribes, and liberal half bloods take them. She had seen it the other way around.

At times, she hated her own government, and her own inability to change things. How for every good deed done, she saw ten other bad ones around her go unpunished.

But those were the bad days. On the good ones, she did all that was in her power to do, to be fair and just and right. And her hair faded to grey before her time.

She looked up from her desk when Rufus Scrimgeour entered, striding forward with a hitching gait to find his seat in a plush seat beside her desk. For a long moment he was silent, his yellow eyes introspective. He was a handsome man, by her standards, with his wild mane of tawny hair and his strong face. He came into her office often, giving reports, discussing a case or simply commenting on goings-on in the Ministry. Though he reported directly to the Minister on many cases, the auror office was still funded and administered through her department. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see him now.

Their working relationship had always gone smoothly, both of them seeing in the other a person who could be trusted.

Rufus finally broke the silence, still not meeting her gaze. His tone was casual, but his direct words sparked inside her chest and made her smile falter and fall.

"I want to bring Cornelius down."

Amelia wet her lips, swallowed, and rearranged her thoughts completely. It was blunt, it was unethical, it was most certainly not something the Heads of the Auror Office and Department of Magical Law Enforcement should be discussing.

But she agreed. In Merlin's name, she agreed, and hadn't known she was waiting for someone else to speak the words, to start the forward motion she hadn't been brave enough to do herself.

She looked into those sad yet determined eyes, and yellow finally met stone grey.

"Tell me."

He told her of the disappearances, which she had already known of, and then of Kingsley Shacklebolt's investigation and surprising conclusions.

He told her of the captives, the muggles, the Hounds. Of the demands, and the threats behind them.

And he told her of Cornelius Fudge, of how the Minister had kept closing down avenues of the investigation for his own petty political reasons, preventing the truth from coming free.

Then, he let out his fears.

Rufus himself had always admired Amelia. He had at one time, early in his career, fancied her. But as time passed, any romantic notions had been set to the side, surpassed by respect and friendship.

With her, he could talk and be understood, could lay out the facts and know she would find the correct conclusion. And he knew, most of all, that she would see what he had, in Kingsley's report.

When he finished, she looked away from him, her fingers tapping an idle stucco on the top of her desk.

"They are, at least groups of them, in every major wizarding area." Her fingers continued to tap, tap, tap even as she spoke in a level voice. "They are able to hide themselves away in the muggle regions." Tap, tap, tap. "They want to break the statute wide open, if we don't break it for them first." Tap, tap… tap. She paused, looked back at him, and he saw in her expression his own doubts. "And we are stuck with no way to retaliate, because our own political situation refuses to acknowledge the existence of a muggle threat."

Rufus spread his hands out, then grasped the arms of his chair and leaned forward.

"The question isn't if we can stop them, it's whether we can deal with the aftermath when they succeed? Can Cornelius deal with it?"

Amelia pursed her lips together.

"You know the answer to that question as well as I. What do you have planned?"

Rufus smiled.

"We break his reputation, first. Create doubt in his abilities. Then we have other, well respected, wizards and witches subvertly agree with those doubts. Let people know it is not just themselves thinking those thoughts. Then all it will take is one event, one more lie, to come to light to let the storm of public opinion loose upon him. The people will do our work for us."

Amelia rustled the papers on her desk, her hands always in constant motion. It was a habit the woman could never shake. Rufus had learned to tell her thoughts by the swiftness of those pale slender hands.

Right now, she was reluctant.

Rufus continued, keeping his gaze steady and confidant.

"We start in the papers. The situation with Black and Pettigrew has been carefully wrapped up by the Minister. We break that silence."

The hands paused, the fingers tapped, and then Amelia sighed. Rufus saw victory. She spoke, her voice soft, as if afraid someone lurked to hear the words that came from her mouth.

"It will take the Wizengamot to force him out of office, if he does not step down himself."

Rufus nodded once, firmly.

"Thirty-four seats, to be exact. And we have allies in unexpected places. It would seem that twenty-eight of those are already sympathetic to our plight. That's over half the wizengamot."

Amelia raised an eyebrow. We have allies, our plight. Rufus used language that already included her in the scheme. Any why not? She hadn't said anything to the contrary, and inside she couldn't help but agree. There was a chance to cleanse the Ministry, to make it better, stronger. Could she afford not to take it? She turned her mind to the Wizengamot, going through faces, affiliations, backgrounds.

"That's more than I would have expected. What about his supporters?"

Rufus grinned.

"It would seem even they are running out of patience with the man. Or out of uses."

Amelia only frowned at that, her mind leaping ahead.

"That means they will have someone in mind for the next Minister already. A pureblood, no doubt, and one with leanings towards the darker side of magic. If we don't want the situation with the muggles to turn into an excuse for a blood purity war, we will need to have someone of our own to put forward."

Rufus met her eyes straight on.

"Amelia..."

"No." she said firmly, with a shake of her head. "Not me."

Rufus was silent a long moment. Then, his eyes full of fire, he began to grin.

Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew: What Else is Our Minister NOT Telling Us?

by Rita Skeeter

The Truth of the London Massacre: The Gryffindor Betrayal

by Arnold Hornbocker

Sirius Black Still At Large: Aurors Say No Conviction On Record

by Terry Vale

British Ministry Falsely Sentences Auror Sirius Black to Infamous Azkaban Prison

by Elizabeth McFaddon

Minister Cornelius Fudge Denies Comments on Black's Suspected Murder of Pettigrew

by Hope Gladwell

Umbridge watched as Minister Fudge, his face purpled with rage, paced back and forth once more in her pristine pink office.

It was becoming a frequent occurrence lately, a fact that put her on edge. If she didn't know better she would think that someone was targeting the Minister on purpose: and who would dare? Who would challenge the Minister's office directly? Obviously the reporters were always scrounging for dirt; usually dirt on their enemies. A few galleons passed, and such loyalty was inspired quite easily. Lately, however, The Daily Prophet had not been so handily used.

They had patrons; wealthy ones, with political power in more than one arena. For someone to seek to smear them, to even compromise their connections within the newspapers, they must also have both.

She would find them. She would not allow a single soul to toss dirt on the sacrosanct Ministry. Some things were sacred; some things were absolute.

Umbridge smiled prettily, her thoughts full of violence, and spoke in the sweet voice she had perfected long ago.

"Minister, calm yourself. These headlines will soon blow over with much more current news. Scandals never last long in the eye of the public, especially if something more interesting takes their fancy."

Cornelius, who had been silent in his rage, turned to face her.

"Scandal? There should be no scandal! This is preposterous! What could possibly be more newsworthy than the thought that the current Minister is hiding things from the public? Changing evidence?" He held up the crumpled and torn paper in his hand, eye running over the headline article. "'Betraying the witches and wizards of Britain with lies'!"

Umbridge met the emotion with outward calm, though inside her mind began to devise ways to do away with one Rita Skeeter. Such disrespect could not be tolerated, or every reporter would think it fine to tarnish their good name. Despicable.

"Perhaps that the Minister is combating the recent increased attacks by various dark creatures with new and more strict legislation? That, very soon, the Boy-Who-Lived will find himself without his tutor, for his own protection? The Minister seeks to protect all of his people, no matter how young or how old."

Her voice rang with conviction. Minister Fudge's fist loosened on the newspaper, and he began to smile.

"The legislation will pass."

Umbridge waved one hand.

"It's a done deal. The votes are assured in our favor already. Few can disagree, especially with the debacle last year at Hogwarts. And obviously we will be there with open arms to receive our savior. He needs a strong hand, and the right sort of influence."

Minister Fudge nodded along, tossed the newspaper into her open fireplace, then ran two pudgy hands together.

"Of course, of course."

He paused, then smiled brightly.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Madam. You are a true comfort to me."

Umbridge smiled with cheery thanks.

"It's all for you, Cornelius. All for you."

Malfoy glanced at yet another letter bearing the Minister's seal, and tossed it to the side of his large desk.

The Minister was becoming a paranoid man, and his use was dwindling by the month. He had been a useful puppet, in times of peace. A bumbling fool, but charismatic when it suited him.

But in times of war, he was useless.

The Malfoy name would need to slowly withdraw its support; in fact, was already in the process of doing so. It wouldn't be anything forthright, or obvious; just as his own support was not to have been obvious to the general populous.

But his allies would know, and a new, more useful puppet would be found.

Minister Fudge would flounder and fall without them, a scapegoat for a vicious people hungering for things they couldn't even comprehend.

Things were about to change, and times go back to the days of glory and honor, when one's blood would mean something once again. He had heard the whispers and read the signs. There was always talk, of course, and speculation. But this was different; there was as much fear as longing, as much dread as anticipation.

The Dark Lord would rise again.

Sirius grinned, finishing a complicated set of spells that completely obliterated the multiple targets set up around him. He felt alive, exhilarated, at the use of magic.

It had been a long time since he had gotten a good practice in, since before those last few chaotic months of the war, when practice was obtained in battle.

He reluctantly place his wand back in its holster, the sign that he was finished. Immediately the muggles poured out of where they had been standing behind a wide plastic shield, though what use they thought they would get out of it he wasn't sure. They chattered and gestured and scribbled notes on wide clipboards.

Sirius only stood back and watched as they split into some sort of predetermined groups, each going to targets and making notations. Then the first group of two, a man and a woman, peeled away and walked toward him, excitement shining in their eyes.

"Brilliant!" The woman exclaimed. Her clear blue eyes, with an almost violent tint, arrested him immediately. Sirius grinned, extending a hand and, when she offered it for a shake, pulling it up to his mouth for a eloquent kiss. The woman flushed, her dark chestnut hair wavy around her round face.

"Thank you. I'm Sirius Black."

"Hannah." She murmured in a voice surprisingly throaty for her light complexion and previous outburst.

The man beside her, a dour looking man with greying hair, snorted.

"We had some questions."

He looked pointedly at his companion, who straightened and sobered, though her eyes still danced and a hint or red remained.

"Yes. I'm Hannah, and this is my partner for today, Rodger."

The grey-haired man inclined his head. Hannah continued, looking down at a clipboard.

"We wanted to know about aim. We could tell you pointed in the general direction of the targets, but do the spells require visualization to hit center, or correct aim, like a firearm?"

Sirius tilted his head, then explained.

"For the most part, these type of spells require aim. Especially if it is a unfamiliar spell, or a situation where there is no time to think, only react. However, if one had the time and skill, a spell can be targeted with only a mental picture of the target. Once at that level, however, the wizard or witch is usually moving into the realm of wandless magic."

Hannah was scribbling his words down and nodding simultaneously. Roger frowned and ran two fingers across a thick white goatee on his chin.

"Then does wandless magic require no aim at all? Or does one point a finger? If not, can it be done without eye contact at all, or are the eyes the focus?"

Stumped, Sirius tried to think back to his classes at Hogwarts. Wandless magic was a rare skill, and usually only covered in history class. He could count on one hand how many people he knew who were proficient at it with more than one or two small spells.

Finally, he sighed.

"I myself am not capable of true wandless magic. A spell or two, like Lumos, I can manage if desperate, but that is all. Harry would know, though his own magic is odd by most wizards standards." He saw the enquiring gleam in their eyes, and quickly continued. He doubted Harry would want him to be giving any information about that particular topic away. "From what I have observed, a wandless-capable wizard can do all the things you mentioned, depending on spell and situation. Some point a finger; some simply look and will. I have seen a spell done with eyes closed and hands upraised, a shield in particular. Total visualization, I guess you would classify it. I don't know if there are even any rules, when someone gets that far. They make their own."

It was the best he could do. Roger seemed satisfied enough, and began to walk off as more muggles convened on them. Hannah turned to follow, and Sirius watched them walk away with bright eyes.

He wouldn't mind getting to know these Sci-tists a bit more, after the observations were over. Maybe one or two would agree to dinner.

Harry sat, going over the notes on his runes, when a knock at the door brought him slowly out of his daze.

His eyes still swimming with symbols, he got to his feet and stretched out his arms, then trotted over to the door.

Remus stood there, his face pale and drawn. Harry frowned, immediately stepping out.

"What's wrong? Sirius?"

Remus shook his head, took a deep breath, then sighed. He simply passed over the paper in silence. Harry took it, flipping it around to see it was the current edition of the Daily Prophet.

He frowned, about to speak, then his eyes snagged on the headline.

"Polls Show New Legislation Slated To Pass."

Harry's eyes darted down to the words of the article, reading between the lines. His fingers tightened on the paper, and he forced them to relax. It was clear enough, to one who knew to look beyond the flowery prose and promises.

The Wizengamot was about to convene, in a few months time, and top of the list was new laws proposed by the Minister and his aides to prevent dark creatures coming into contact with innocent witches and wizards. But the Ministry had a wide classification to what was dark, and foremost on the list were vampires and werewolves. Harry wasn't sure about vampires, nor how they would react, as he had never had contact with them or their covens. But a werewolf was supposed to be his tutor for the upcoming year, and the new law would neatly close the loophole Harry had been hoping to utilize.

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Remus's voice was forlorn, lost. Harry lowered the paper, shook his head.

"Let's go down, let Ivy bring some tea while we talk about this."

"Talk?" Remus's voice was bitter. "What's there to talk about?"

Harry scoffed.

"Perhaps our next move? Or where you planning to roll over and fade away?"

Remus scowled, but Harry brushed past him and jogged down the stairs. His mind was beginning to clear from the ritual haze with this new information and what it would mean. Once again Harry would have to find another tutor, and this would make it more difficult than ever.

He would need to get a lawyer, probably, if he wanted any hope of even figuring it out.

"Ivy, can you please get us some tea?" The matronly house-elf, working on something over the stove, inclined her wide oblong head. Harry sat, laying the paper out in front of him and trying to pick apart details.

Remus sat across from him, accepting a steaming mug of liquid with a strong hand. Harry abruptly realized that the full moon was only in a few days, and he hadn't yet made arrangements. He looked up from the paper, meeting hazel eyes that occasionally swirled with gold.

"We need to discuss the full moon as well." Harry said blankly, and Remus stiffened. Harry continued, pushing the paper away in disgust.

"This thing is useless, mostly conjecture and speculation. We will have to wait until more information is released in order to either respond, or retaliate if possible. At this point I can only guess that they will, at the time it goes into effect, immediately revoke your tutorship and 'place' me into Ministry hands. It's what they've wanted all along. Getting around it will be difficult, as the rules on applying for tutors would also need to be changed. But there has to be a way. I refuse to allow myself to be a pawn for the Minister's game."

At the end, Harry's voice took on a biting edge. Remus nodded, his eyes hard.

"I'll start asking around. The Headmaster I'm sure might have more knowledge of this, as he holds a seat."

Harry wanted to scoff at the mention of Dumbledore, but refrained. He understood the man across from him still held the elderly wizard in awe, and also knew there was little he could do about it. His problems with the headmaster were personal.

Harry nodded.

"That settles it then. As for the full moon, pick a place and I'll take you and Sirius there."

Remus opened his mouth, closed it. Then smiled.

"I've only ever run free in the Forbidden Forest."

"Simple enough, then." Harry said. Remus looked a mix of grateful and reluctant. Before the man could start with some sort of version of 'you don't have to', Harry grabbed his cup and rose.

"I need to get back to work."

His mind was already pulling him down that direction, aware that only two weeks lay between himself and the new moon, the start of his fifth set. He barely heard Remus call out his name as he took the stairs two at a time, entering his room with blessed relief.

He settled down at his desk again, eyes locked on his well-worn notebook.

All thoughts of legislation and werewolves passed from his mind like misty fog.

Sirius scowled at the portrait, his mother's words ringing in his ears.

"SCUM! YOU WON'T EVER TAKE ME DOWN! THIS IS MY HOUSE!"

Remus sidled up close to him, amber eyes squinted, hands held over his ears as he yelled towards his friend.

"Nothing?!"

Sirius shook his head, then yanked the scarlet curtains closed over the large portrait of his thankfully departed parent. Immediately blessed silence descended around them. Sirius took a large breath of air, then kicked at the umbrella stand in the hallway, sending it flying with a large crash.

Sirius scowled at the mess, then turned to his friend.

"Didn't hear you arrive."

Remus glanced at the umbrellas, then back to the angry wizard.

"No wonder. She was screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors."

Sirius sneered towards the closed curtains.

"The thing is charmed tighter to that wall than anything I've ever seen before. I can't cast anything at it at all, not even a silencing charm. Had to put it on the curtains, instead."

Remus frowned.

"What about the house-elf? Can he take it down?"

Sirius nearly growled at that, and with a slash of his wand sent the clutter on the floor back to the bent umbrella stand.

"Kreacher is useless at anything. Harry's elf tried his fingers at it, couldn't get it off the wall either. Said I might be able to take the entire wall down, but I know it would mess with the house's wards to renovate that drastically. Merlin's beard, I think I'm stuck with the harpy!"

Remus didn't grin, but only because he feared Sirius's reaction to a smile.

"I brought firewhiskey." And saying that, lifted a bottle in his hand as he continued, seeing the spark light up in the others grey eyes. "Harry's busy again. He's in another world these days."

Sirius gratefully swiped the bottle, leading the way into the kitchen and taking a seat.

"I talked to him this morning, briefly. Wants us to go help ward the Potter house in Australia for those muggles. Seemed well enough then."

Remus shrugged and sat across from him.

"Comes and goes. Worries me a little, but he swears it's normal."

Sirius poured a glass, sighed.

"Nothing we can do about it now. Just keep an eye on the boy, and come here as much as you can. This place still gives me the creeps, even with the work Harry's elf has done. That portrait in the hallway is just the worst."

Remus grinned, and lifted a glass.

"To your mother, dead but unfortunately not gone."

Sirius grimaced and clinked his own glass against Remus's.

"To the upcoming purchase of a sledgehammer."

The next day, Harry left Sirius and Remus in the slightly overgrown lawn of his house in Kondinin, and quickly ascended the steps to the front porch.

When he knocked, he was surprised to see Tiny answer the door. The teen looked him over, then folded his hands against his chest.

"You took him in the middle of the night. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Harry fidgeted, looking down from the accusing blue eyes of the boy he had grown up with.

"It was his choice. He said he would write…"

Tiny threw up his hands with a explosive snort.

"As if a letter is enough! I can't believe you did that, Harry!"

Harry shook his head slowly.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my plan."

Tiny scowled, then looked away.

"Kerr's at work."

Harry shifted, then glanced behind him to where Remus and Sirius looked on with curiosity.

"That's fine. My godfather and his friend are going to help ward this place. They have more experience than I do with structures."

Tiny's eyes widened, then he frowned.

"Do I need to leave while you guys…" Tiny gestured with his fingers. "work your magic?"

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"No, I don't think so."

Tiny nodded, then narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms.

"I want to watch."

Harry held up his hands in surrender.

"Don't let me stop you."

Tiny snorted again, but rolled his eyes, a small smile coming to his face as he bounced in the eager excitement Harry had not seen since their days at the cabin near Cheddar Gorge.

"Perfect!"

If Tiny had hoped to see a lot of magic, Harry thought as he watched his godfather, he's probably disappointed.

Tiny sat on the porch, watching avidly as Sirius walked around the small two-story with wide steps, the white wand in his hand catching the sun occasionally. Harry stood next to Remus, who was explaining some of what the other wizard was up to while he waited to help with the next ward scheme.

"You want privacy wards, to keep other wizards from snooping around. Oh, and perimeter wards, he'll tie them to something inside that will light up if someone comes within a certain area around the house. Then there are the standard burglary charms, he and James put up so many of those as Aurors during one of the Ministry's publicity campaigns he told me he could do them in his sleep. Thats why he's walking around, getting a feel for the windows and other potential entrances."

Harry frowned, watching as his godfather lifted his wand, a brown spell flung from his wand and seeming to slide up the side of the house.

"Should we do this in stages? I don't want to cause some sort of alert or something with the Australian Ministry."

Remus glanced over at him with curious eyes.

"This is one of the Potter properties, right? All wizarding dwellings are considered magical zones. Won't set off any alarms."

Harry's brows furrowed.

"Yes, but it's a registered squib dwelling. I had to register them, get paperwork so they could get jobs, and we could hook into muggle utilities."

Remus shook his head and smiled.

"It's still a wizard dwelling, Harry. They know that magical relatives may occasionally visit, and a little magic is expected. They can even have magical pets if they wanted, though a crup has to have its tail docked. Obvious signs of magic are discouraged if they may wander where muggles can see them."

Harry's eyes widened, even as relief pooled in his stomach. He had had a worry in the back of his mind every time he visited, worried about triggering some alarm by using too much magic. Realizing it was all for nothing made him grin.

"Having you two over was worth it just for that information. I've been worried about it, careful not to cast spells or use magic very much."

Remus looked back over to Sirius as he answered.

"Well, no worries now. We can get this place warded tight, and your friends will be as safe as we can get them."

Harry smiled, and watched as Tiny craned his head around the porch, watching as his godfather lifted his wand for another spell.

Safe. Kerr and Tiny, at least, safe. Two less people to worry about.

The novelty of the idea kept him smiling late into the afternoon as the hours slowly passed.

That evening, Harry looked up at the two-story house belonging to the Grangers, and braced himself.

When he knocked on the door, he hoped to Merlin that it would be Hermione who opened the door, and not his formidable and eloquent mother.

No such luck.

Mrs. Granger smiled brightly, her brunette hair large and curled.

"Harry! How wonderful to see you. It's so nice that Hermione is being visited by such nice young men this summer. Two, and in less than a month! How wonderful."

Harry almost looked behind him, to see if someone else had followed behind him.

Two?

From behind Mrs. Granger a baritone voice droned out in a sarcastic monotone.

"Let the boy in, love, before he fades away on our very doorstep. He's here to see Hermione, not you."

Harry grinned around the woman at Mr. Granger, sitting in the wide living room with a newspaper open on his lap. The man hadn't even looked up.

Harry stepped inside as Mrs. Granger stepped back with an apologetic look, then turned to the older woman with a smile.

"It's always nice to see you as well, Mrs. Granger."

She fluttered a hand at him, eyes bright.

"Oh, you are a sweetheart. Hermione is lucky to have such good friends. Why, just the other day I was telling Mrs. Ferguson, she's one of my patients and does the most wonderful crochet, I was telling her that our Hermione had blossomed from the shy little girl who used to hide behind my labcoat in the office, spouting of the scientific names of every tooth and gum disease. She was really not challenged enough in school, and you know how kids can be, with…"

"Hermione is up the stairs." Mr. Granger interrupted the flow of information, lowering the paper to pin him with the same chocolate brown eyes as his daughter.

Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes dramatically, and shooed him off, before turning to her husband with a severe look.

Harry made his escape, quickly ascending the stairs and making his way to the room he knew to be Hermione's from the summer before.

She was seated at her desk, back to him, leaning over a large leather bound tome. Harry knocked softly at the door, and she made a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Just a minute Mom. I'm almost at a good place."

Harry grinned, then waited patiently as his friend flipped a crisp page, nose almost touching the paper as she observed some diagram.

She abruptly leaned back with a huff, shaking her head and turning in her wooden desk chair.

When she saw him, he was rewarded by her eyes widening in surprise. Then she bounced to her feet, hurdling forward to draw him into a strong hug.

"Harry! I was so hoping you would come soon. You promised."

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he pulled away, enjoying the easy affection the Gryffindor witch gave him, and entirely comfortable with it. She knew him better than any other, and he trusted her completely. She looked up at him, tilting her head slightly.

"This is about the ritual, right?"

The question brought him out of his thoughts. Harry felt a slight haze beginning to come over him, and shook it off, lowering his arm.

"Yes. We need to make plans."

Hermione stepped back and sat, a worried look in her eyes.

"Are you okay? You looked out of it for a moment there."

Harry glanced around, before dragging over a purple felt beanbag that almost pained him to sit on. Hermione giggled when he collapsed on it, the thing putting him a good two feet below her eye level. Harry laughed with her, letting the tension drain from him.

Then he sat upright as best he could, leaning forward to meet her gaze.

"The first one will be on the next new moon. Darkest-Light."

It came out in a reverent hiss, and Hermione eyes widened at the use of Parseltongue. Again, Harry forced the fog from his mind. He had to be careful as the time grew nearer, weakening his focus and sense of place.

"Sorry. This close, the ritual can take me. Just the thought of it, like a daydream, or a beautiful sight that is hard to tear your eyes away from. It will be worse the day of the ritual, which is why I thought to go over many of the details today."

Hermione nodded quickly, though the worry had only deepened in her expression, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Harry looked away from her, around the room that looked more like it would belong to a young girl than a teenager. He spoke, leaning back into the overly comfy seat.

"It will be at midnight, thereabout, and can last until dawn, in the later sessions. As this ritual is dedicated to the moon, there will only be one rune cut at a time. So, in this case, four on the new moon, and three on the full. The first one is the quickest, and the least melodramatic. I advise you to simply watch from the edge of the clearing. Once things develop, they can get… harsh. I might not know you are there, or be able to speak or acknowledge you if I did. The magic can be extremely strong. I might even, caught in the ritual, take flight. I will return, but it could be past dawn."

Harry paused, letting the information sink in, then continued.

"These runes will be to strengthen and improve on both my main shield rune Heth, and my weapon rune Zayin. Six of the seven. The seventh..."

Harry drifted off, suddenly uncertain. Hermione leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement.

"What?"

Harry lost his lingering humor, and looked down. He abruptly couldn't remember how he had planned to broach the topic. Should he just come out and say it? But how would she react? Could he just say he hadn't decided? Come up with another idea?

He felt a warm hand on his arm. Hermione's voice was low and soft.

"You don't have to tell me."

It was an out, and the fact that she knew to give him one strengthened his resolve. He knew how much information meant to her, and just how curious a person she was. That she would let him off so easy only made him realize how important it was to tell her, even if she refused.

"Runes have to be balanced. It's something I can't really explain. An instinct, a feeling. But three runes for defense, three for offense, and another for protection, but not for myself. A shield and a weapon both, cut onto my own skin, but to allow another the protection it offers. The power of this."

Harry tapped the center of his forehead, looking up into her face, letting the glamours he had taken to wearing fall, showing the scar there easily. Once a simple curse-scar, a lightning bolt, it was now a much longer zigzag to below his brow, with the top curved like a scythe, cutting into his hair-line with a razor thin slash.

"It's Mem, water. A defense of the mind, a shield of sorts. The one time I was truly under mental attack, not simple surveillance, it was akin to a raging ocean, with the other sinking and drowning beneath its waves. It made the environment of my mind hostile, unlivable, while also changing it into an offensive attack if the intruder lingers. It also makes it nearly impossible to damage my memories, for how can you cut into water?"

Hermione's eyes had widened at the new information, taking it in the way one takes a deep breath of cool air. Harry had given her the basics before, of course. She had know it was that rune that acted as his own type of Occlumency. But she hadn't known how.

He saw when the import of what he was saying hit her.

"But... how is that possible? You want me to… participate? Cut a…?"

"No!" Harry barked out the word, and Hermione flinched. Harry immediately regretted the sharp word, and looked away with a grimace, continuing in a softened tone, if just as firm.

"No. I wouldn't… would never ask that. Would never want it. I'm not even sure if what I do want is possible. Usually a runic wizard is only changing themselves. I'm also not sure what the effects might be, but… you want to help me with this. You will know everything about what I do. You are my best friend, my first friend… I want to protect you. You will be a target, not just because you are my friend, but because you are muggleborn. You will be seen as the weak link. To hurt me, they will hurt you. I have to be able to protect you. Even if it's just this."

"Just this?" Hermione parroted back, shaking her head, her hair flailing wildly in every direction. "I wouldn't call this just anything. But I don't understand it. How can something you do to yourself affect me?"

Harry looked away with a frown.

"It's something I've thought over, the last few months. I will cut the seventh rune and mark you as a… vessel, or sorts. An extension of myself. By so doing, I believe I can give you a portion of the protection that extends to myself, from a single rune that I repeat. I will specifically focus this on Mem. It may not work, but if it does… your mind will be safe."

Hermione bit her lip, uncertainty in her gaze.

"So what would I need to do?"

He took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh.

"I think… nothing. Simply being there. But these rituals... sometimes they do not go as planned. I hope, as a ritual to the moon, it will be calm, peaceful. But even She has a way of taking things much farther than I ever wanted to go. You have to be prepared for that, and not interrupt or interfere, even if it hurts you to watch me in pain."

Hermione lifted her chin, and reaching out took his hands that he hadn't realized had been balled into tight fists. She uncurled his fingers, looking down at their open hands, hers delicate and smooth, his pale and sccared.

Her voice was full of resolve when she spoke.

"If you can bear to feel it, I can bear to watch. And if this rune will protect you by protecting me, I don't see why we shouldn't give it a try."

Harry felt his lungs stop, relief and sudden terror mixed together into a soup that made him speechless. He was so glad she had such faith in him, and so worried he would fail her, that the runes wouldn't work, or worse, make things more difficult.

Hermione smiled softly and nudged his hand with her own.

"Don't worry. We're in this together, me and you."

She straightened, smiled brightly.

"So, what excuse are we going to use for me to be able to stay the night at your place?"

Harry gulped, remembering Mr. Granger's hard eyes.

Hermione laughed, and the bright sound summoned his voice from where it had hidden.

"I'm not sure who is more intimidating. Your mother or your father."

Hermione grinned.

"Don't worry, I was just joking. I've already told them of the project you and I are working on this summer, and that not only am I meeting the others every last saturday of the month, but I'll be meeting you too a few times once we set a time frame. It's going to be an astronomy project, which isn't a lie as I do have one, which also makes me staying overnight to use your telescope in the country much more plausible. Got to go where you can see the stars, after all."

Harry let the words rush over him with relief. Then he remembered what her mother had said.

"Who else had been here? Your mom said I was the second boy to visit."

To his surprise, Hermione actually reddened a bit, before glancing over at the book on her desk.

"Believe it or not, Draco Malfoy."

Draco? Harry had thought it more likely for Neville to stop by than the Slytherin. He could hardly believe the boy had stepped a single polished boot into a muggle area, let alone travel through it and enter a house. Hermione continued, a confused look on her face.

"I never would have…"

She drifted off, her eyes suddenly widening. She turned back to him with a frown.

"I agreed to learn Occlumency with him this summer. Study together. But if this rune works…"

Harry sat up straighter in his precarious temporary chair.

"Don't quit because it might work. This would be good practice anyway, and a bonus if the rune fails. Occlumency is useful for more things than just shielding thoughts."

Hermione nodded, though her worried look hadn't faded.

"I know, meditation and such. But… am I going to tell them? Him? How can I not?"

Harry felt a swirl in his stomach, a pinch of some angry emotion he couldn't put a name to.

"I didn't want to tell about this, not yet. You weren't going to actually practice on each other, correct? No reason they should know."

Hermione slowly nodded again, but her eyes darkened.

"I don't want to lie to him."

Her voice was low. Harry almost flinched at the guilt in it, but disguised it as a restless motion. He didn't want to make her do something she disagreed with, but he also didn't want the others to expect something similar. He stood in a quick athletic leap, turning away from her as he spoke.

"The rune will be the last one in the set. You have three months to figure out if it's worth it, and if it is, what you will do. I won't stop you from telling him, if you want, though I would prefer it kept private. I don't want them to think… that maybe I should do this for all of them."

"Couldn't you?" Hermione asked delicately. Harry stared at the bookcase in her room, eyes roving over titles without comprehension as his mind raced, trying to sort his emotions.

Trying to be rational.

"Yes. But I… don't want to. You are different. I can't… just…"

Harry shook his head roughly, and the need to escape the situation was overwhelming. He began to walk towards the open door, his feet soundless on the carpeted floor.

Hermione spoke from behind him, her voice lost.

"Harry, stop."

He did, eyes looking out into the white hallway, family photos decorating its walls.

He spoke in a low tone, heart thumping in his ears even as he felt a flush spreading over his face, glad she couldn't see it.

"You will understand better, once you witness one of these rituals. It would be like bearing my soul to someone, and… I just don't want them to see me like that. Don't want them to feel it either, the things that will be known at times like that. You would understand, you accept me. But I can't just do that with anyone."

It's a sacrifice, he didn't say, though the words echoed through his mind. A sacrifice of myself for you.

He heard her walk closer, didn't turn even when she stepped up close behind him, laying her chin softly on his shoulder, giving him a friendly poke in the side.

"I understand." Harry, about to shake his head, went still when she continued. "I do. I'm sorry for asking that. I should have known better."

Harry turned, but Hermione did not step away and so he ended up in a half-hug. He sighed, speaking with reluctance.

"It's alright. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry for getting upset with a simple question."

He didn't want her to take any blame, annoyed and mystified with his own response. What was his problem?

He broke away from her, glancing down the stairs.

"I've got to go. I'm taking Remus to the Forest for his transformation. Professor Snape is no longer making him Wolfsbane."

Hermine nodded, before wrapping her arms around herself, smiling slightly as she spoke.

"I'll see you then in two weeks. Come and get me that afternoon."

Harry nodded, before turning and descending the stairs, his mind still in turmoil.

Something about her was putting him on edge, making him uncertain of himself. He didn't get that feeling from any of his other friends, nor did it matter as much what they thought of him.

And why did it bother him that Draco would be studying Occlumency with her? It was not as if he could teach her himself.

With a quick goodbye to Mrs. and Mr. Granger, Harry exited, waiting until he was a good few blocks from the house before returning to Hallam Street.

The sun was beginning to set over the ancient trees when Harry stepped back from Sirius and Remus.

The Forbidden Forest was already dark and full of mystery around them, the clearing now knee-high in green grass going to seed. The area where he had performed a previous ritual was still bare, and he walked over to it with a dull ache growing in his chest. Someone, perhaps the centaurs, had placed large rocks around the dirt circle, and between the rocks vibrant red and orange flowers bloomed prolifically. They looked like spots of fire between the pale rocks, and the irony was not lost on him. Sun and stone.

"Harry?"

The sound of his name brought him back. Harry turned to see Remus looking over the circle with furrowed brows. Harry shrugged casually.

"It's been here for a few years." Not a lie, exactly. "Will this do?"

Remus's frown didn't fade, but he nodded. The golden glow in his eyes was only growing, taking over the hazel and changing it, making him look wild and feral in the evening light. Or perhaps that was just the werewolf's magic, swirling about him in wide waves of anticipation and dread commingled. Harry looked away from the sight, seeing Sirius walking over with curious eyes.

Harry tried to smile, ignoring the pull of moon and ritual both, his skin oddly aflame with its own promise.

"I'll leave you to it then. Will you just apparate back afterwards?"

Sirius began to nod, but Remus had an strange look in his eyes, the gleaming amber abruptly fierce. Harry saw light fading around them, the night taking hold, the sky cloudy and threatening rain.

Remus spoke, and in his voice Harry heard a low growl.

"Stay. Run with us."

Sirius turned wide eyes on his friend.

"Moony! You can't mean…"

Remus turned away abruptly, shaking his head.

"No! I mean, no, that's not a good idea…" His voice, strong and angry, drifted off, lowered to a whine that made Sirius's confused gaze turn to Harry. "You should. You should stay and run with us, protect me from hurting anyone."

"Moony, I can do that, I'm here…" Sirius said with a hurt undercurrent to his tone. Harry only watched in growing worry and confusion as again Remus shook his head, reaching up both hands to grasp his hair.

"No! Merlin, I… I don't know what's going on!" His voice took on a high pitch, and the magic swirling about him only strengthened, a whirlwind of pale grey and speckled gold. His voice was off, a pleading slur, the words running together in hasty syllables. "Harry, you 'ave to stay. Somethin's wrong. I don' feel right."

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, stepping between the two of them with growing worry.

"Moony, you're about to transform. Of course you don't feel right, calm down, everything's going to be..."

Remus tossed his head with an inhuman howl, striding forward to push Sirius away with a stiff hand, his teeth bared in a snarl. Harry shook out of his confusion and the haze caused by the moon rising, his brows furrowed. Remus had not acted this way the time before, the transformation coming upon him suddenly and without forewarning. This time his magic was upset and on edge, and Harry could see the wizard losing his control with every moment the moon came closer to fully rising. The wolf was almost to the surface without even the call of moonlight, Remus' teeth were beginning to elongate, his eyes completely taken over, his fingernails lengthening into claws.

The man-wolf faced him, words impossible in its mouth, magic adrift and tangled. Harry met the gaze straight on, his posture as it had been a month before, strong and unwavering. He let his wings loose with sweet relief, the steel spreading out in wide sweeps of clanging metal. His own magic rose to meet that of the werewolf in direct challenge, and off to the side Sirius quickly stepped over to Harry, words spewing to his mouth in a flood.

"Harry! Remus has never been this way. I've only seen the wolves of Fenrir's group, in You-Know-Who's rank, able to attain that halfway form. It was supposed to be the direct result of Fenrir himself, as the alpha of his pack, augmenting their magic… but Remus always stayed away from that sort of thing. He was afraid of losing himself…"

Sirius drifted off as Remus growled, low and rough, and above them the moon rose.

The orb was whole and pale, the brightness of the sun changed to a softer form. Power came with it, wide and sweeping, the mother rejoicing with her children in the dark night. Behind him, the circle lit with power, the ritual calling him, begging him, to begin, to start, to never stop. It threatened to take him then and there, without Hermione, in the presence of his godfather and the wolf.

The wolf, that stood with legs spread, fur bristling, and Harry realized he had not seen it change. It looked larger, stronger, than before. Its fur was pale grey, the reddish tint of before nearly washed out in the bright light of the moon.

And such power, as if a magnifying glass had been put between them.

Harry felt fur pressing against his side, heard the low whine of a large black dog, and did not look away from the wolf. Did not turn to step into the circle, did not call out Dread, did not respond to the moon.

It-is-not-time.

The song came from him, though he did not open his mouth. His very magic seemed to cry out in phoenix song, and at the edges of his vision he could see sparks of fire.

The wolf lowered its gaze to the ground, its tongue lolling out in lupine humor. As if a catalyst had been reached, the swirling power collapsed, and Moony sat back, head tilted in curiosity. There was no challenge now in its form, and no rabid anger.

It was replaced by eager energy, as if a spring had been wound up tight, ready to spring.

Padfoot barked once, twice, walking towards the wolf with cautious legs. Moony turned to meet him, nose to nose, one wag of its tail showing acceptance. The black dog barked again, turning to the Forest, taking a few running leaps. Moony began to follow, paused, then sat again, turning to briefly to meet Harry's eyes before lowering them again.

Harry, his mind fogged in the struggle to resist the moon's pull, suddenly understood.

He had overpowered the wolf the previous moon, had held it down and made it submit. His presence at this one, his refusal to back down and run, and the wolf's acceptance of that mastery, had completed the cycle. Harry had never heard of a normal human being able to be part of a wolf's pack. Only animagi could come close, and they were never the leaders. The wolf would tolerate, even accept them, but never submit to their will. That Sirius and his father had even been able to keep the wolf from harming anyone during their school-year runs was a miracle.

But Harry wasn't normal. The moon ran in him, as well, was written into his skin and running through his magic. Perhaps, to a werewolf, it was not the form as much as the magic, and over it all the power. Werewolves would only respect strength, and tolerated no weakness. In a pack like Fenrir's, the wolves all benefitted from the increased strength and magic that came from being a group under the moon, one cohesive unit. And those who fell behind or away would be hunted and slaughtered on the fangs of their brethren.

Harry hadn't meant to do what he had done, but it was over now.

He jumped into the air, his wings taking in huge sweeps of air and tossing him aloft, and below the werewolf ran, matching him stride for flight, and beside it ran the black form of his godfather.

He simply flew, dimly aware of the sound of joyous howls below, and contemplated how he was going to procure Wolfsbane.

When dawn came, they were back in the clearing. Harry landed inside the circle, his mind dim and clouded, his feet touching the ground toes first. The soil was cool, and mist hovered about the trees with curling fingers, awaiting the sun to burn it away.

Moony lay sleeping, curled in a tight ball, beside the smaller black dog who rested its large head on its paws, grey eyes focused on Harry.

The wolf began to change, and the pain roused it, a whimper turning into a low moan.

Sirius sat up, brushing off his damp robes, and gathered a robe from the small pack they had brought with them, wrapping it around his friend.

Remus sat, his head down, his breath harsh in the morning.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry accused before he could stop himself, anger welling inside. Remus finally looked up, the hazel eyes full of sadness.

"I hoped I was wrong."

Sirius shook his head, a comforting hand on Remus' shoulder even as he demanded.

"Explain."

Remus took a large breath of the morning air, and glanced up to the streaks of red and pink billowing across the sky ahead of the sun.

"It's part of what makes werewolves so dangerous, and why the Ministry feels we need to be controlled. We aren't human anymore, our bodies and our magic. The wolf physiology makes us have certain instincts. All of my life I have controlled them as best as I was able, afraid of the large packs. It's why I wasn't good material for Secret Keeper, beside the obvious sharing of blood. Another wolf, if they overpowered me, could make me say and do things I didn't want to do. It's written into our blood along with the disease, to fall into pack structure. And to like it."

Remus smiled wryly, though his eyes were full of sadness.

"And now it's happened to me after all. I always thought it would be Fenrir, during the war, but I was lucky enough to avoid him. He did that to a lot of other wolves, forcing them into his pack, making them into wolves like himself, half beast even in the daylight. The Ministry was right to regulate us, to attempt to destroy our race. We are nothing but parasites on society, murderers, beasts."

Sirius shook his head violently.

"That's not true! Remus, that you would even say so proves you wrong. Evil doesn't think itself evil, doesn't regret what it is."

Remus didn't even hesitate.

"I didn't regret, last night. I felt whole, free, amazingly powerful. As if I could conquer the world and drink the blood from it's throat. If Harry had led me into a crowd of people, I would have gladly torn all of them to pieces, rapturous. The wolf was stronger than I, Padfoot." The use of the nickname made Sirius flinch, his head shaking continuously through Remus's words as he spoke. "I am a monster, and with the presence of an alpha I can no longer hide it. It will only get worse, as the moons pass, with the wolf growing stronger every time. I can not fight it."

Harry stepped out of the circle where he had stood, approaching the two men.

"And would you have harmed these people, if I had commanded you not to?"

His question made Remus pause, confusion for the first time sparking in his eyes. Harry continued as he walked closer, his voice harsh and accusing.

"Why fight a part of yourself? Perhaps Fenrir was correct, in a very few things. This magic is a part of you. It is only natural, for it and you to be stronger when you accept it. This alpha nonsense is just that; nonsense. Yes, your magic longs to belong to a pack. So does every human being. No one was meant to be alone. Now that the wolf has found it, despite your actions to the contrary, it is happy. It is rage that drives the wolf to kill, not satisfaction. What Fenrir does is pure madness, and his wolves reflect that. Yes, you can not control the wolf. So we will get some Wolfsbane."

Remus opened his mouth, closed it. Beside him, Sirius began to grin.

Harry continued, every word falling like stone.

"And we will work on this… thing." Harry gestured loosely between them. "You will have to learn to work with your wolf, not always against it. Make it another side of yourself, instead of a demon."

At that, Remus' eyes lit with angry fire.

"It is a demon. How can you tell me to accept it? I will be just like Fenrir, a sharp-toothed monster walking the streets, stealing little boys and making them wolves."

Harry let Remus rant, then continued, voice just as vicious.

"Fenrir is what he made himself. You are different! You are kind, forgiving." Harry glanced at Sirius as he spoke. "And you are not the alpha. Do you think I will make you kill? Make you turn others?"

Remus hesitated, not wanting to agree, not wanting to give in. Harry continued, straightening, taking in his wings with a quick metallic snap.

"Get over it. Don't wallow in misery. I wouldn't have wanted whatever this is either, but we will deal with it. Now, I'm exhausted, and so are the both of you."

With finality, Harry turned, jumping into flame before Remus could argue farther. His blood was singing, alive, full of energy.

Let Sirius and Remus apparate back. He needed to stay away until he could control his emotions again.

"Are you alright?"

Sirius asked carefully, watching as Remus sank into the plush couch at Grimmauld Place. He hadn't questioned his friend when he wanted to go there instead, understanding the desire for distance.

Finding out a boy, a teenager, had power over you, no matter what kind of boy he was, would be difficult to say the least.

Remus smiled fragiley.

"No. I hate myself at the moment." Sirius began to speak, and Remus made a rough motion with his hand. "Don't argue with me. Don't tell me I'm being irrational. It's perfectly rational!"

Remus jumped back to his feet, began to pace.

"It's rational that I hate not having control, that I hate that I'm capable of killing people. Innocent people. And now? I've managed to drag my best friend's son into it. What next?"

Remus took a deep breath, let it out. Sirius spoke, his voice firm.

"Next, you will work with Harry to find the limits of whatever this is. Maybe what it's called, for starters. There's probably a book somewhere on it. All we know is conjecture, rumor."

Remus sank back into the cushions, closed his eyes in defeat.

"I already know what it's called. I'm a bloody werewolf, and a DADA professor. I did my research years ago, enough to know I wanted to avoid the phenomenon."

Sirius sat across from him, crossing his ankles as he made himself relax.

"Well?" He asked when Remus hesitated, and only smiled through the glare thrown his way.

Remus began, eyes tracing the newly clean lines of the room.

"Werewolves are similar to normal non magical wolf species, but it's only a passing similarity. In wolves, who form pack structures, the two alphas, male and female, are usually merely the parents of the other wolves, all of which are related. There is some infighting, but it's not like popular myth makes it out to be, very few dominance battles and aggressive hierarchy. Those alpha wolves don't tell the others what to do, or even truly dominate them. They merely make decisions, and do them, with the other wolves choosing to follow, or leave the pack. With werewolves it's different. It's usually, almost always, the alpha who creates new werewolves, passing on the disease. Other werewolves will kill only, not turn." Remus paused, let out a heavy breath, before continuing. "And among us, the social hierarchy takes on a darker meaning. The alpha, singular, only one male or female, has absolute authority. They have been proven by physical and magical strength to be the greatest. Until they are overthrown, the other wolves will look to that one for protection, guidance, and in many ways, a reason to live. It's blind loyalty, with hardly any free will involved when in wolf form. It's why I avoided it for so long, despite all the papers published on the contentedness of pack members."

Sirius frowned.

"Contentedness?"

Remus smiled with sad humor.

"I know. The only packs I observed personally, Fenrir and his kind, were far from content. Or perhaps they liked killing others for sport. All the research I read was before the war, when werewolves weren't in the spotlight as much. We were pretty rare, in fact, before Fenrir began to turn so many of us as children. Those the papers were based off of werewolves who lived in small gated and fenced communities, with no outsiders allowed. They would turn someone who willingly signed an agreement, and witnessed pack transformation and all the lifestyle entailed."

Sirius's confusion only deepened.

"Why didn't you ever tell us this when we were in school? And where on earth did Fenrir come from then, to be so, well… different?"

Remus rubbed his temples, feeling the post-transformation headache beginning to throb as it always did in the hours after the full moon. His skin felt stretched over tender bones, and his eyes saw much more than they would other days of the month.

"I never thought to go into the grisly details of werewolf pack life. Why would I? I had no plans to join one. If you wanted to know, you could look it up yourself, same as I did. As for Fenrir… no one really knows. Rumor in the werewolf communities is that he was an omega as a pup, with ambitions for alpha status. Got kicked out of his commune after losing a fight, wandered as a lone wolf for a few years. He eventually found out about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, made himself useful within the ranks, got a taste for blood. The rest is history. He began to make his own pack of turned witches and wizards, and as the story goes, razed his old pack commune to the ground, killing everyone inside."

Remus looked over at Sirius, eyes grim.

"He is responsible, all by himself, for the current anti-werewolf legislation. He gave the world the impression that werewolves were uncontrollable, dangerous, and powerful. He might have been put in prison, but the wolves who followed him weren't all captured. They spread his ideals, his madness, creating packs of their own just as confused as they."

Sirius crossed his arms and spoke.

"Then Harry is right. This alpha nonsense doesn't have to be like Fenrir's pack. It doesn't have to be complete submission and slavery."

Remus rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"I don't honestly know, Padfoot. Maybe. The few original werewolf communes left that weren't destroyed or assimilated by Fenrir's Master Pack are in hiding. How to find them is anyone's guess."

Sirius tilted his head, grinning.

"Well, start guessing."

Remus looked up, narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

It was Sirius's turn to shrug.

"Well, you have all summer. No need to mope around here until Harry's done with his stuff this summer. Go find some werewolves."

Remus frowned and looked down.

"I… wouldn't even know where to start."

Sirius grinned.

"Good thing you have three months, and Sirius Black, at your service."

In the face of such confidence and good humor, Remus couldn't help but allow a small smile to spread across his face, and hope to spread inside his heart.

Harry entered the small potions store, wearing the long black cloak he had used months before in an attempt to conceal his identity at Gringotts.

It had taken several stops to find the name of a store that actually sold the Wolfsbane potion, and wasn't illegal by Ministry standards. The regulations for being registered to sell the potion were strict and rigorous, driving up the prices of the potion even as it discouraged businesses from selling it.

It had substantially lowered the amount of stores that sold the potion, and especially those who had it in stock. As the potion had to be taken every day of the week preceding the full moon, and took an entire month to brew, Harry had to find someone with the potion actually in stock.

It had proven difficult, to say the least.

Eventually, Harry had been recommended to go to La Potion De Magie, a store across the channel on the coast of France, and under different regulations than those within Britain. The city was called Calais, and it had taken him more time than he would have liked to find the wizarding portion, despite detailed descriptions from a helpful herbologist in Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, the directions mainly dealt with floo and portkey access points, neither of which he wanted to use. He had begun to doubt his decision to avoid either method of travel, despite his hate for floo and portkey travel, when his stomach growled, reminding him it was most definitely past time for lunch. He had been searching for far too long already.

Still, to his luck he had finally found Rejeterra Allee, hidden behind a tan stone arch connecting two seemingly innocent muggle buildings, one of which looked like a catholic church.

The carvings of various magical animals along the arch, and the way no tourists were taking pictures of them, had been his biggest clue.

Once he stepped through the arch, the alley opened up, wizarding stores cluttered from end to end. It was much more open than that in London, with wide fountains and trees populating the middle of the wide aisles.

It had taken him some time to find the store he was currently in, as it had been nestled neatly between a quidditch store, and a magical menagerie.

At the desk, a small woman with what looked like a perm in her blonde hair glanced up, eyes a striking electric blue. Had to be magically enhanced, he thought somewhat queasily, as the eyes seemed to pierce right through him.

"Que puis-je faire pour vous?"The words seemed to flow from her mouth as one extremely unfamiliar word, and Harry only stared for a moment before shaking his head and raising his hands in a helpless gesture.

"English?"

He said questioningly, and the woman frowned at him in a way that made him feel like a student caught out of class. Then she folded her arms and sniffed.

"What do you need, English?"

Harry snorted a laugh at the sarcastic title, then stepped up to the wide desk.

"The Wolfsbane Potion."

The woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion, their blue depths running over his form again.

"Registration?"

Harry only stared, confused.

"Registration?" He repeated. The woman sniffed again.

"All foreign werewolves are required to possess registration before purchasing a class four restricted potion and taking it out of ze country."

"What?!" He couldn't believe it. All this work, all for nothing. No wonder werewolves simply gave it up. He shook his head.

"I'm not a werewolf. This is for a… relative." The woman plainly didn't believe him, looking over the cloak he was wearing with raised eyebrows. Harry pushed back the hood with gritted teeth and continued.

"I swear I'm not a werewolf."

The woman frowned at him.

"But you do look to be underage. Class four potions are restricted, jeune homme, as zey are poisonous substances when taken improperly. You can not purchase them wizhout the company of an adult."

Harry only stared, his mind turning at a rapid pace.

"Who in their right mind would spend that many galleons to poison somebody? When they can buy something for a tenth the price?"

The woman didn't argue, just looked him over with bored and dismissive eyes.

Harry stepped back, glancing around the shop with frustration.

What was he going to do now? He could look in other shops, other countries, though the thought filled him with dread. He hadn't thought of the potion classification, and those were pretty much universal throughout the wizarding world, just like magical creatures. Surely it could have been classified as a class three instead of four? Who had placed such a high class on a potion with a legitimate medical purpose?

The bell attached to the door chimed softly as a group of three girls stepped inside, elegant blue wizarding robes draped over what looked like a uniform of sorts. Harry stepped back into the aisle as the clerk turned to them with a beatific smile, french rolling between the woman and the girls like music.

He turned duly to look at the shelf in front of him as he thought. What next?

"Excusez-moi."

Harry glanced up to see one of the girls frowning imperiously at him. The words were similar enough to english for Harry to immediately step back, allowing the silvery blond to step in front of him and grasp two bottles of something in front of where he had been standing. She glanced over at him, her eyes a deep blue at complete contrast with those of the potions clerk.

"Etes-vous un étudiant de Durmstrang?"

She queried, stepping closer. Harry took a larger step back, frowning and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak French."

The blonde tossed her head, smiling.

"Ah, Anglais. I zought, perhaps, you attendeed Durmstrang."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, a slight headache developing behind his eyes. He couldn't deal with polite conversation when he was trying to figure out a way to keep his werewolf tutor from losing his mind once a month.

When he spoke, he kept the annoyance from his tone, figuring he would get rid of her faster if he responded.

"No."

The short answer made the girl raise a single eyebrow. Again she stepped closer, and again Harry backed up a step. The girl frowned.

"'ogwarts, then?"

Harry looked away, and saw the girls two companions advancing on them. He swallowed nervously as he shook his head.

"No."

He began to turn, but the blonde reached out to lay a hand on his arm, looking up at him with those large dark blue eyes.

"Would you zike to accompany us? We are shopping for ze school supplies. You may carry our zangs."

Who on earth did this girl think she was? Harry saw one of the other girls nudge her companion with a smirk, and found the anger boiling inside him finally burst free. He brushed the girls hand off and stepped away from the three.

"No thanks."

He began to stride away, head down. He heard hurried footsteps behind him and glanced back to see the silvery-blonde, her confused eyes narrowed.

"Wait! Attendez! Please, monsieur."

Harry closed his eyes with a groan at the door and stopped, turning back.

The girl stopped, standing a good head taller than him, and smiled.

"What iz your name?"

She chased after him to ask his name? Harry wanted to get out of this crazy place, where first the girl is gruff and demanding, and then politely asks his name. The clerk watched them with quizzical gaze, the other two girls standing a few paces behind them with surprised glances.

Harry replied, impatient.

"Harry Potter."

He had hoped they wouldn't know his name, but apparently a small body of water didn't stop news of his sort from traveling. The girls eyes widened, and the clerk straightened with a horrified glance. Probably counting lost galleons, Harry thought snidely. The girl smiled even brighter, reaching out again to clasp his hand in hers.

"My name iz Fleur Delacour. My companions and I attend L'académie de Magie de Beauxbâtons, in the Pyrenees. My family owns property in Calais."

Harry only nodded, mystified as to why he needed to know any of this.

"Nice to meet you."

He said simply, and only frowned when the girls behind them burst into excited giggles and a rapid fire of french.

Fleur smiled.

"Nice to meet zu, Harry Potter."

She bowed slightly from the waist, and Harry copied the motion, at a loss. Then he quickly turned and left the shop in a clatter bells, glad to escape.

By the time the sun was setting over Tegel, on the outskirts of Berlin, Germany, Harry had exhausted over a dozen potion stores across Europe. They all said much the same thing as the first had, in France.

No selling of class four potions to foreigners, without travel permits and pre-registration.

Which left Harry with very little room to maneuver. He had no where near the skill or the time to brew the potion himself. His only avenue, besides continuing his search of potions stores for someone willing to be bribed, was to approach Dumbledore, or Severus Snape, both of which Harry was avoiding.

He ducked into a back alley, calling up flame and jumping back home with a weary sigh. He immediately went to the kitchen, accepting a plate from Ivy with a grateful sigh.

He pulled off the long cloak, tossing it over the chair and sitting.

Then he only stared at the food as his mind raced.

He had wasted an entire day. What was it like for werewolves, who were unable to simply teleport across countries? Days of travel, weeks, only to be turned away again and again? And what was required for these permits and registration? How many actually got them? And once they did, by some miracle, how did they afford the high prices?

It hadn't been so, even as long as a year ago, not within Britain itself. As long as you were a citizen, most class four potions could be bought and sold freely. The price hadn't been so steep, though still high.

But now, it was like a noose had been hung around the werewolves neck, only waiting for them to attempt to flee to snap tight.

Harry began to eat, and in his mind compose a letter to the Headmaster.

He hated asking for help, but he hated even more letting his tutor, and perhaps now friend, suffer every month when there was something he could do about it.

Albus once again looked over the letter, his blue eyes twinkling.

Severus snorted, his fingers tapping the arms of the chair he sat straight in.

"Just because he wants to keep that werewolf from turning into a murderous beast every month doesn't mean he's coming back the next semester. Quite the contrary."

Albus tilted his head, smiling benevolently.

"You have been keeping abreast of the papers as well, Severus. You know that Remus can no longer be his tutor, at least after November. I am sure Mr. Potter is also aware of this fact."

Severus grunted, before looking away with a grimace. He had not been happy to be called from his home to return to the school during the summer months. He had several volatile potions that needed constant attention; a reason he had waited to the summer to brew them. And now, he would need to once more take up the Wolfsbane potion. It was a good thing he found the potion enjoyable to create; otherwise he would be most unhappy.

And Severus did not doubt for a second that Albus would agree to the potion transfer if only to keep some sort of track on Harry Potter.

"Time will tell. I, for one, do not see him falling so easily back into this school. You should not either. He is wasted here."

Albus arched one white brow.

"I was hoping to perhaps tutor him myself. I would not expect him to attend classes with his peers."

Severus bit back a snide comment, and remembered the way his godson had studiously avoided his eyes. There were secrets there, secrets he was sure Potter would not risk putting in the hands of Albus Dumbledore.

He stood with a small bow.

"If that is all, Headmaster?"

Albus nodded once, and returned his gaze once again to the letter in front of him, brows drawn together in thought.

With the knowledge that the Wolfsbane would be provided Harry allowed his world to sink into obsession.

He knew there would be strings attached. Anything Dumbledore did would be so, just as anything with Rufus Scrimgeour, who he had been communicating by owl, would be.

But none of it mattered anymore, not with the scars on his skin bleeding into fire, itching and burning and twisting. His magic rolled about him when he did not think of it, rustling papers and curtains and sheets, bringing him things he had not known he wanted, keeping the door locked and silenced and warded against anyone and anything.

He ate, Dobby bringing him food directly to his room, popping in and out before the magic in the air could confront him, knowing what was happening and not worried.

The house-elf explained as much to Remus and Sirius, when they attempted entry into the room a week from the new moon, their faces pinched with concern, though they did not understand. Harry hadn't spoken to them in days, nor shown his face at meals. If not for the house-elf's word and the locked door, they would think him vanished.

But Harry drew his runes, drew them again and again and again, and Dread stretched scale and bone around him, long tongue tasting the air and hissing songs of blood and light.

It was almost time, and if Harry had tried to turn away, his own power would swallow him whole, leaving naught but a tattered husk behind.

It would be done in Elder Futhark, the very runic system many modern wizarding runes were based off, the origin going back to pre-roman days, anglo-frisian, germanic.

Harry had known when he looked over the alphabet, when he read the Norse tales of gods and man and the many ways they killed and loved and maimed each other. It was perfect for his fifth set, each letter and rune impressed with meaning and a wealth of power, one symbol able to be twisted into a thousand pictures.

Harry lay back on his bed, Dread looping about him in patterns he did not try to understand, feathers of scarlet and emerald fluttering in a wind that came from his own released power.

He had spared a thought for Fawkes, who had accompanied him on his last sets, but the phoenix had not appeared.

Perhaps it knew that the sun was not welcome, not this time, not this summer.

He heard the pop, but did not open his eyes, merely lying back on the bed, his wings held tight under his skin, the tattoo bled into his magic that looped through the air in an echo that threw a feathered shadow across the wall.

"Master Harry Potter, Sir."

The tone was careful and reverent. The shadow of power paused, and Dread coiled tight on his stomach, hissing breath escaping his scaled lips.

Harry sighed, and the breath of air seemed to take longer than it ought to escape his chest, as if time had slowed in opposite proportion to his lungs.

"Yes."

He said with the sigh, and the syllable felt different, sounded odd to his ears, full of Parseltongue and garbled English. But Dobby seemed to understand.

"Dobby has brought your Her-mi-one, sir."

The name brought some of himself back, for a moment. Harry sat up, Dread slithering down to his lap, and he looked into Dobby's green eyes, reminding him abruptly of the bright fluorescent coloring of poisonous frogs, hiding magic and intelligence and strength in a small unobtrusive form.

He shook his head sharply, focusing.

"Is it… Darkest-Night?"

Of course it was. He knew it in his bones, in his skin, in the light of his magic that was tugging him now, shredding his concentration and ruining him. He didn't wait for a response, swinging his legs over the side of the bed in one graceful motion. He recalled Dread without speaking, letting the serpent squirm back inside his magic with the barest feeling of blood and pain.

He felt numb, as if he was watching himself stand, watching himself throw on a simple black robe over his nightwear, not caring about how he looked, his emotions locked tight inside.

Dobby fell back from him, and he said something, something Harry couldn't understand. He only walked past the cringing elf, the shadow of power trailing behind him, darkening the lamps in the hallway, shuttering the flames in the fireplace as he entered the large living room.

Hermione, her gaze bright and excited, whirled around to face him, excited words spilling from her mouth in high tones and bright pops of magic that rose and fell with every syllable.

"Harry! I waited all afternoon, thought maybe you had forgotten, but Dobby came, scared my parents half to death, but he came and…"

She drifted off, her brown eyes taking him in, running over his expressionless face.

"Harry?"

She whispered, but he couldn't answer, not yet, not when he feared every word would be a spell and every gesture the cast of a wand.

She froze as he approached, eyes wide and dismayed, and Harry simply walked right into her, not even reaching out, skin touching skin, letting the phoenix flame rise up over the both of them and sweep them away, the red and white and yellow sharp in his mind and against his skin, biting and pressing-fangs-into-hide.

But it was only his runes, he realized, as he opened eyes he hadn't meant to close, and saw Hermione falling away from him in surprise, landing on the soft clutter of leaves and debris on the forest floor.

Her mouth was open and speaking, but Harry's ears could only hear an odd singing sound, the moon, black as the night sky she swam in, none of the sun about her, only the darkness.

Darkest-Night.

He whispered it, and turned away, seeing the clearing before them, and in the soft soil a single round hoofprint.

He stepped over it, walking to the circular stones that had been meticulously arranged in the center, the circle free of leaves and grass.

He let the robe slide from his shoulders as he stepped over the angular rocks, absently noting how their grey surface glinted with hints of starlight and crystal.

It was dark, pitch black, with no moonlight and little glow from the stars. A small fragment of himself worried about Hermione, worried about how she felt, what she thought, her safety… but it was a small thing, and easily overcome by the work ahead, by the pull of rite and ritual more ancient than the forest itself.

He knelt, and when his knees felt the cool earth, he let it all go.

The wings came out with blessed relief, one less ache in his body, furling around him with silver and black bars, flexing between violent metal and soft velvet, the feathers blending with the night. Dread was only a heartbeat behind, winding out around his chest, wings pressed tight to his body, and in his scales Harry saw the blade, sharp and tested. And the shadow around him, the shadow of wings, grew and grew, his power released to stir the leaves on the ground, to sink into earth and rock and sky.

Harry tilted his head back, staring blindly up at the moon, knowing where she lay looking down on him, caring and not-caring, loving and not-loving, Mother and Not-Mother.

Harry hissed out the command, lifting his right hand to the star-filled sky.

"Giving-Great-Fear-in Troubled-Times, it is darkest-light. It is time to strike-the-softest-place."

Dread reared up, its feathered crest extended and out, the emerald and scarlet gleaming like fractured stones, and Harry realized that there was light coming from himself, the soft gleam of moonlight, though none shone down on them. The quetzalcoatl bared its fangs, long serpentine tail wrapped about his arm, feathers wide and spread in a glorious display.

Harry felt the warm scaled underbelly harden to steel, still moving and alive but cold, so cold, the smallest pressure against his skin, not breaking but warning.

Harry smiled, the ritual moving through his veins, holding his arm up for him with the ease of a finger lifting the lightest feather.

"The magic-life-blood, the scars-of-power, the light."

Harry whispered and hissed and sang, three voices together, and he was the serpent looking down at himself, lifting off in a sweep of wings, looking down at a arm, a wrist, a hand, fingers splayed open, turned palm up to the night. To him, to the shadow-in-the-dark, the slash-rend-tear, the blood-blade.

And he saw himself whisper the word, the incantation, the first vow of seven, under the dark eye of the moon.

"Inguz."

Seeds. Not one, but many, each holding space and magic inside, waiting to grow, waiting to be called upon. The first of three runes to create a complex offensive spell, two aspects to create it and one trigger to cast. Inguz was the first aspect, creating the base for a rune that could be cast not just once but many times over, not simply outward from his body like any ward, but anywhere he cast his eyes on, anywhere he could see.

Giving-great-fear-in-troubled-times slashed out with his long dagger tail, the rune a simple crooked square with sharp corners, placed directly on the pad of the ring finger of his right hand.

The shock rippled through him as skin parted, the life-blood welling free, running down his hand in thin rivulets, warm against his arm, to drip down off his bent elbow. The light streamed from his heart, rising up to meet the new rune, threading through those runes already along the path, meeting and assimilating and branding.

Harry closed his eyes, back inside himself, a harsh sigh leaving his body, power rising up inside him and meeting something else, Moon-Mother-Light-Darkness, the feeling of being filled to the brim and overflowing with strength, as if at that very moment he could wave his hand and level the entire forest.

-we-can-

Something whispered at the edge of his mind, something dark and deep and endless, an idea of an idea, and Harry's head snapped up, eyes opening to glance around for the voice.

But he only saw Hermione, standing at edge of the clearing, her back pressed to a large oak, watching him with avid eyes.

Harry was abruptly aware of himself and felt a wave of embarrassment rush over his face. For the first time in days he was back in his right mind, clear-headed and untainted by the upcoming ritual.

He was kneeling there, hand still lifted, and Dread was perched on his wrist and observing his friend with gleaming eyes, tongue flicking out to taste the air.

Harry immediately lowered his arm, the quezacotl launching into the air with a graceful slide, his scales reverting back to their feathered state. It hovered there, speaking in a sibilant tone.

"This is nest-mate, the female, yes?"

Harry wanted to groan, but only shook his head and jumped to his feet, his heart still racing with the completed ritual, his mind alive with power and light. He summoned his robe and winced when he saw that he was dressed in only trousers, even his feet bare and now soiled with the fresh dirt from inside the circle. He began to drape the robe around his shoulders for some semblance of modesty, only to have them encounter and shred with the touch of the wings still spread wide from his back.

He heard a laugh that was instantly choked off, and glanced up to glare at Hermione, who stood watching him with smiling eyes.

She had put one hand over her mouth to stop the noise, but her shoulders shook with the effort not to laugh.

Harry walked towards her, letting the ripped robe fall to the ground with a sigh. Each footstep felt as if it barely touched the ground, and he longed to fly, to simply soar with the stars, reaching out to something, something that had called his -name-

"Harry?"

He realized he had paused, his expression frozen, eyes upcast at something far distant. Hermione had lowered her hand, worry replacing humor. Harry pasted on a smile as he reached her.

"I'm sorry. I'm a bit out of it."

She smiled, the worry fading to be replaced with eagerness and amazement

"That was brilliant. I mean, I was expecting something with more… I don't know."

She gestured over him, head tilted slightly, before focusing on Dread.

"And that. Is that a quetzalcoatl? I've read about them, of course, but where did she come from? She's beautiful."

Harry laughed as Dread preened, his feathers fluffing up and wings spreading out in a stretch.

"He's… not a real snake. Well, not a... it's hard to explain. He's the knife."

Hermione frowned, looking up at him with creased brows.

"How?"

Harry glanced at the snake and reaching out, snagged the flying serpent in a gentle hand and ran a finger over the soft scales.

"He's the part I left out, when talking about the ritual. The thing that would be missing if someone else wanted to try to recreate it. It's a ritual knife, of some sort, and its origin is a mystery to me. It used to be a two-headed dagger, solid silver and steel, with engravings and inset stones. But when I bonded with it, it began to come alive, more and more as the ritual passed, until one time it changed into this."

Harry gestured to the wings and feathers.

"A quetzalcoatl, like you said. Able still to turn to inanimate steel of a sort, if commanded."

Hermione reached out a hand, glanced at Harry for permission, then ran it gently over a line of scarlet feathers.

"It transfigured to personalize itself to you? Like an… imprinting? Of your soul? But why won't just any knife do?"

Harry shrugged.

"I can see through its eyes, during the ritual I sort of… am him. It allows me to cut in places I could never reach or see."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, and for the first time he saw her eyes fall to the thin cut on his right hand, that he had kept at his side. She looked back up at him, conflicted.

Harry lifted the hand palm up, showing the small rune cut into the pad of his ring finger. Hermione leaned over it, avoiding the small trail of blood on his arm.

"I heard you say the word, sort of. I think it was inside my mind more than out loud. Inguz. There was less... everything, than I expected. No fireworks, not a lot of, ah... blood. For a blood ritual."

She trailed off with a shake of her head.

"That didn't come out the way I intended."

Harry let his hand fall, turning slightly away from her as he looked towards the clearing behind them.

"This wasn't the way I planned it to happen. I was going to get you, bring you here, explain a bit more. But I lost it, days ago. I don't think I've seen Remus in over a week. I literally couldn't think, so full of… ideas, and plans, and magic. If I hadn't come here and done the ritual, I think I would have went mad."

Hermione stepped closer, reaching out to tentatively hold his hand and squeeze gently.

"I'm glad Dobby came and got me. I'm glad I got to see. There wasn't much done, from where I was standing. Well, I fell, actually, when we first got here, and you didn't even react. You were like some sort of… robot, like on television. You just turned and walked over there." She gestured with her other hand. "And then the snake appeared in your hands, you said some things in Parseltongue, made the cut... that was it. Until you ruined your robe."

Hermione grinned at the last, and Harry chuckled. Then he turned back to face her, eyes serious.

"It's not always this easy. I'm fine, right now, better than I've been in a while. But as the ritual goes on things will become more and more difficult. At some point… well. Things will be much worse. If this is enough for you, I would think…"

Hermione shook her head, tightening her grip.

"I want to stay for the whole thing."

Harry let out a breath, then smiled.

"Alright." He saw Hermione shiver, and realized that a fog was beginning to roll in, the air growing damp with moisture.

"Come on, I'll take you back. The house-elves should have a room for you for tonight, and I can take you back tomorrow morning."

Hermione nodded gratefully, and Harry grasped hold of her firmly before once more calling up his flame.

As far as Harry was concerned, he had been lucky.

Lucky that Dobby had had the sense of mind to retrieve Hermione, and lucky he had had no trouble with the ritual or getting them both home.

He hadn't yet figured out the key to creating portkeys, something that both mystified him and aggravated him. But Dobby's transportation of Hermione had struck a chord with him.

"How far can you hear me call?"

Harry asked quietly, as he watched his house-elf tidy the room with swift gestures. Dobby turned, large ears flopping, and gave a quizzical smile.

"Dobby can always hear Master."

Harry leaned back against the headboard of his bed, frowning, before absently picking up another slice of bread. He had decided to eat dinner that night in his room, and Dobby hadn't questioned it. Harry looked at the toast, then sighed and put it back down.

"How about someone else? Like, say, Hermione?"

Dobby tilted his head.

"Only Master can Dobby hear. Dobby's is Master's personal elf."

The last was stated with obvious pride. Harry pushed the food around on his plate.

"Is there a difference with personal elves?"

He questioned. Dobby's eyes grew round, and he straightened with a quick nod.

"Oh yes! Personal elves are only Masters, they are bound to Masters and serve him and keep his secrets. All other house-elves, they is bound to the house."

Harry slowly nodded, putting together the pieces in his mind.

"So Ivy and Blossom, while Potter elves, are bound to stay here at Hallam Street."

Dobby nodded solemnly. Harry continued with a frown.

"What about if I wanted to take another elf as a personal elf?" Dobby began to look terrified, tears welling in his eyes, and Harry quickly continued on. "I meant, can I have two? Personal elves?"

Dobby sniffed, wiped his nose on a handkerchief that seemed to materialize from thin air, then shook his head.

"Only one elf can be bound to Master. It is special. If Master took a new elf, Dobby would die from shame."

The elf looked like he wanted to die from just the thought. Harry smiled at him with reassurance.

"You are the best elf anyone could ask for." Seeing that that statement looked like it would bring on another bout of tears, Harry changed the subject. "I wanted to ask you for a favor."

Dobby jerked into a quick series of bows, gesturing with his hands his willingness. Harry put on a serious face.

"These rituals I will be doing this summer, they are very secret. But Hermione wants to be there with me, and at some point I might be… unable to return us here. I want to know if you can keep an ear out for us on those nights, and help us get back if something goes wrong."

Dobby nodded quickly, clasping his bony hands together.

"Dobby will be most happy to do this for Master Harry."

Harry smiled and nodded, before leaning back. He sighed, listening to the sounds of the elf moving about, and asked another question just to keep his mind from returning to his runes.

"Why do house-elves care so much about being a personal elf? Why not be free?"

He heard Dobby pause, and an indrawn breath.

"Only a personal elf can do the Great Thing, and have their name always sacred among elves. It is the only thing we can leave after us, our name and memory."

Harry frowned.

"What is the great thing?"

There was a rustle, a snap, and then Dobby's high voice wavered.

"The Great Thing is the sacrifice, Master Harry. Of elf for the master."

Harry sat up at that, looking at the elf in disbelief.

"Are you talking about dying?"

Dobby wrung his hands together.

"We elves own nothing but ourselves. To a true and beloved master, a personal elf may find the opportunity to give it, and all elves will know their names and revere them."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't understand. You're saying you want to be a personal elf so you might, one day, be able to…" Harry trailed off, at a loss of words, then felt the beginnings of a headache begin to form behind his eyes. "What about all the service? You do it for free, cleaning and cooking and everything. Why isn't that enough?"

Dobby stared at him blankly.

"We is blessed to be given work, Master Harry. That is Master's gift to us."

Harry let himself fall back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to rub at the ache in his temples. Had anyone ever bothered to ask house-elves why they worked? He couldn't think of anyone, besides Hermione, and she had come up to the same roadblock he had; the elves didn't think work was work, but just the opposite: enjoyment. They likened being free and jobless to what humans would consider being homeless, broke, and hungry. How was he to explain to the elf that he shouldn't want to work, when he obviously did?

Harry let out a breath.

"Why are names so important? I noticed that all the Potter elves I've met so far seemed to be named after plants."

Dobby answered, once more returning to tidying the room.

"Elves name their littles to be similar to their ancestors, always, to keep the memory alive and give luck. In my family, Great-great-great Uncle Lilobby saved his master Eridanus Malfoy from muggles, burning them in fire until he was taken down by seven arrows. This gave Master Malfoy time to flee with his family. Dobby is honored to share part of his name. Dobby's two uncles are Grubby and Knobby, and my sister is Kilby, and my mother is Loney, and my father is Vilby."

Harry only smiled at the influx of information.

"Do you miss them? Your family?"

Dobby shifted, then shook his head, large ears flapping.

"Dobby's family is honored to have another personal elf in the family, even if bound to another Master's House."

Harry hummed, thinking it over.

"Then what happens if you marry an elf from another House? To your children?"

Dobby, oddly enough, flushed.

"Only with Master's permission can Dobby join with an elf from Master's House. Any little ones will go to the matriarch's House, and named for the mothers ancestors."

Harry stared blankly, then felt it click with an almost audible snap. Of course, Dobby had been mooning over Blossom for a good year or more, and Harry had never even given thought to it. He cleared his throat, making a nonchalant gesture with his hand.

"I wouldn't tell anyone who they can and can't marry. Not my business."

He saw the light begin to shine in Dobby's eyes, and turned away before he laughed.

"Anyway, I think I'm going to turn in. Let Remus know, if he's here, I won't be down for breakfast in the morning."

Dobby bowed once, then disappeared with a whoosh of air.

Sirius grinned fiercely, taking the small lump of metal that Hannah had given him.

With the barest flick of his wand, he transfigured it into an elaborate silver vase, grinning when the woman flushed slightly as he handed it back. Next to her, another muggle, Albert, rolled his eyes and lifted up another lump of metal.

"Can you do metal to flesh?"

This had been the task for the last hour, giving him the same metal lumps and asking for various transfigurations, before carting them away to test for something Sirius couldn't pronounce.

He shrugged,and without bothering to take the lump transfigured the metal into a squirming, very much alive, mouse. Albert shrieked, his greying hair flying as he jumped back, the mouse making a break for freedom and scurrying across the floor.

Sirius laughed, and petrified the mouse with a quick spell. While Albert sniffed and the other muggles standing around laughed, Hannah reached out and tugged on the sleeve of his robe.

"How about sizes?"

Sirius turned back, lifting an eyebrow. Hannah continued, stepping a bit away from the others who were busy writing something on their ever-present clipboards.

"Can you change this lump…" she reached in her pocket, and handed it over. "Into, say, a wall?"

Sirius frowned, then shrugged as he looked over the metal. It was roughly rectangular already.

"Sure."

He stepped back, tossing the metal onto the floor with a crack. Then he lifted his pale wand in a counter-spiral, before with two sharp flicks he intoned the spell, the tip taking on an icy blue glow.

"Engorgio!"

The small piece of metal began to grow and swell, quickly becoming a good meter thick and two tall.

Sirius observed it, before turning back to Hannah as she stared at it with wide eyes.

"Simple engorgement charm, to make it larger, though you have to be careful not to expand it too far or it can pop. Then, with a few more spells, I can change the shape, texture, what-not. Not preferable for wall-building, though, as it takes quite a bit out of you."

Sirius could feel that exhaustion already creeping in at the edges from the spell-casting he had been doing that day. Hannah nodded quickly, tilted her head, then bit her lip.

"Can you, ahh… use something like that as a shield?"

Sirius frowned.

"Well, I suppose so, but it's dreadfully inefficient. Much easier to just put up a shield charm, or summon something from around you to intercept a spell."

Hannah nodded, but didn't look quite appeased.

"But it could block a spell?"

Sirius looked the wall over, mystified, but willing to play along. He quickly flicked his wand in a nonverbal combination he had been fond of as an auror.

One twist for petrificus totalus, two twirls for immobulus, and a third flick for incarcerous. If the suspect was still running free after having three different types of binding spells cast at once, then he or she was either very skilled at dueling, or lucky at dodging.

He watched with curious eyes as all three intercepted the rugged metallic wall, then to his surprise simply fizzled out. Sirius narrowed his eyes, walking forward to touch the wall. Beside him, Hannah scratched furiously on her pad of paper, before looking up with smiling eyes at the wall.

"I guess that answers that question."

Sirius only frowned further.

"Not really."

Hannah glanced over at him, violet blue eyes wide with curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

Sirius flexed his fingers around his wand as he thought.

"I cast three separate binding spells, each of which should have done something different when encountering an obstacle. Petrificus totalus should have bounced off, and Immobulus should have shattered, or at least dented, the object. Incarcerous should have still wrapped it in ropes, even at its size. Odd."

Hannah shrugged, then tugged him over, her hand warm against his.

"You said yourself you were tired. We will try it again some other time. Now, before you get too burned out, I was really wondering if…"

Sirius let the words wash over him with half an ear, straightening. The nerve, to think he could get burned out by just a few hours worth of spells! Hannah glanced up at him, and he was snared again by those eyes, so odd for a non-magical person, deep and endlessly beautiful.

He only nodded along as she pulled him over to a table, casting the various spells when asked. The main part of his mind was wondering how to convince her to take him to dinner, and perhaps, a drink afterwards.

James leaned in back in the cheap plastic chair, balancing it on one steel leg as he propped his feet up on the mirrored-glass, his laughter ringing out in the room and echoing off the walls.

Of course he had wanted to personally observe the trials on their lead compound, newly dubbed Pub, a twist on the latin name and the elemental symbol. He had been so disappointed when the wizard had so easily transfigured and transmuted it, changing its size and atomic structure with the ease of a, well… magician.

But the wall.

James laughed and laughed and laughed, until his sides began to cramp and his chair fell back to all fours as he lost his balance.

Lead, a witch's bane, it was so obvious and ironic and it just killed him with hilarity.

They had a defense now, not perfect or foolproof, but real, and most of all, doable.

James looked through the glass, watching as the robed man waved his wand again, changing a small collection of lead into multiple entities, effectively making hundreds out of ten.

Perfect.

James smiled, fingers tapping a staccato against his crossed legs, mind whirling with ideas.

Absolutely perfect.

Harry had invited all his friends to his own house on Hallam Street for their monthly practice, figuring it would work out better as neutral ground between the purebloods and Hermione.

As it was, the time was passed quickly, sharing spell ideas and moaning over homework, with the exception of Hermione, who boldly announced that she had already finished hers.

Neville was excited about the new plants they would be learning in Herbology, while Blaise and Draco argued over the upcoming charms being too easy.

"The trouble" Harry began, looking beside him at Hermione as he watched his friends argue. "With having an advanced study group is that much of the material is going to be easy."

Hermione sniffed.

"That just gives us more time to improve."

Harry glanced at Neville, who had wandered over and left the argument.

"How much can you possibly improve on the basics?"

Neville smiled guilelessly.

"That's probably what they said to Dumbledore about dragon blood."

Harry laughed, shaking his head, and Hermione grinned.

"Exactly!"

At the sounds of laughter, Draco and Blaise both turned toward them with identical scowls. Harry raised his hands in defense.

"Don't look at me, Neville was just saying how one can never be done with the basics."

As the two Slytherins turned to the Gryffindor, taking attention off him for the moment, Hermione elbowed him in the side and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"I thought this next time I might come over earlier in the day. Would that be alright?"

Harry watched her for a long minute, then nodded. She smiled brilliantly.

"Great."

Remus flooed for the sixth time that week, directly meeting the glare of Severus Snape.

The dour man gestured towards an end table, where a cup sat steaming.

It had been the same the last few times he had come to take the potion. It couldn't be shipped easily, and owl mail was impossible due to the delicate nature of the potion. That meant Remus had had to personally retrieve each dosage, and found himself taking it under the close scrutiny of his childhood enemy. That the Potions Professor had been forced to open the private floo of his summer home had only made the silence worse. He really wished the man would allow him to apparate in instead, but the mere mention had caused the already scowling man to turn coldly furious.

When the last distasteful mouthful was swallowed, Remus turned silently to return to the fireplace.

"Lupin."

Remus paused at the sound of his name, and turned back to Severus with an arched brow.

The dark-haired man looked expressionless, any annoyance now hidden behind a careful mask.

"How is Potter?"

Remus frowned, and crossed his arms.

"Fine. You can tell Albus I said so."

At that, Severus grimaced.

"I do not wish to be the go-between with you and the Headmaster. He wants to assure himself of Potter's safety. If you contacted him personally, I am sure you can set his mind at ease."

Remus snorted, his fists unconsciously clenching, the wolf inside letting loose a rumbling grow. It was easily tested this close to the full moon, and the thought of any danger to Harry only aggravated it further.

"If Albus wants to know anything about Harry, he can ask him himself."

Remus took another few steps to the fireplace, grabbing a fistful of green floo powder from an ornate vase.

"He had hoped that you, as Potter's tutor, and a member of the Order, would be more willing to help us keep track of his well-being."

"Us, Severus?" Remus questioned, casting a glance over his shoulder to see Severus flinch. "I didn't know you cared about James's son."

Severus straightened, his eyes cold.

"Harry is a member of my House, whether he attends Hogwarts or not. And he is not only James' son."

Remus turned away from those dark eyes, and tossed the powder into the flame, turning the bright red and oranges into a vivid emerald spectrum as he called out the address. Then he paused, staring into the flames as he spoke.

"Tell Albus I won't be his spy, even if it means leaving the Order. I will see you tomorrow for the last dose."

He stepped into the fire, and any reply the other wizard might have made was lost in the rushing sound of floo teleportation.

Remus sat, the night dark around him, with Sirius hunched on his ankles nearby wearing a lopsided grin.

"Feel any different? Any tendencies to strip naked and tear my throat out?"

Remus snorted, then looked away.

It was the night of the full moon, and earlier in the evening Harry had taken them both somewhere completely different in the Forest, far away from the castle and the ritual circle. The Forbidden Forest extended for thousands of acres around Hogwarts, and the area they were in would take the wolf longer than one night to traverse to reach any sort of civilization.

Harry had said he hoped the distance would put Remus at ease, along with the Wolfsbane, but he was no fool. He had seen the signs of magical addiction before, and been highly relieved when Harry had seemed to snap out of it two weeks before, only to realize what it meant. His… and what were they too each other? Friends? was performing another ritual. It made him worry, though Sirius had shrugged off any mention of it.

They had all different ways of dealing.

Then he felt it, the wolf sitting upright under his skin.

"It's... time."

Remus hissed, hunching over, and Sirius immediately leaped to his feet, grey eyes solemn as they watched his friend begin to writhe and howl in agony.

It was a silvery-red wolf that stood on muscular legs, golden eyes agleam with joy. Sirius let himself fold over, his own pale skin seamlessly changing to black fur. He shook himself, lifted his voice in a canine question.

Moony peered at him, then looked up at the shining orb above them, occasionally covered in clouds. The wolf heaved a deep breath in a sigh that was entirely human, telling Sirius that his friend had complete control.

Sirius sat, eyes sad, and watched as Moony curled into a tight ball beside the tree, putting his nose under his long fluffy tail.

It seemed they wouldn't be running this time.

It wasn't happy, it wasn't joyful, as it looked through the jailors eyes at the Mother Moon. Perhaps it would have fought the iron grip, would have scratched and clawed at the mind overcoming it's own, but it had lost the will.

The alpha wasn't here, had left him all alone, and even the presence of pack didn't dissuade its melancholy.

It let itself be overcome without the least anger and when the jailor closed it's eyes, the wolf did so as well, for the first time in complete agreement.

Harry looked up at the full moon and smiled. Beside him, Hermione spread out a large red and gold blanket she had brought upon the ground, sitting daintily on it before turning to follow his gaze.

Harry shook his head and stepped away, walking towards the circle with a hop in his step, every pace closer bringing gratification to him. It was like a literal feeling of the phrase 'walking on air', a force drawing him closer and reveling in him.

The moon was beautiful, hanging low in the sky, a pale orb shrouded in wispy clouds, and from her came streams of power and light, touching upon his cheek with tenderness.

Harry knelt as he had done two weeks previous, and Dread swirled around his torso to once more climb his arm, spreading his wings with hissing pleasure at the freedom. Harry absently thought he ought to let the snake out more often, except Remus was there. He missed his total privacy.

"Greatest-Light."

Dread sang in a sibilant hiss, and Harry laughed as he raised the quetzalcoatl up towards the shining moon.

In Futhark there is no rune for darkness, no rune for the moon. Those are all absences of things the ancients considered present at all times. The sun is always there, the moon merely a reflection of its light. Darkness is not darkness at all, but what is left that the sun does not touch, an illusion created by the spinning Earth.

Dagaz could mean Sun, or it could mean Dawn. It was explosive change, the imminent creation of something great from something less. It was a catalyst, and inevitable. It could not be changed once started, and could not be turned aside once done. Among his runes, it would link with Inguz, the beginning of an offensive rune that would be unavoidable, that no shield would protect against, that nothing could turn aside, not armor or magic. It was the dawn of a storm, one of many.

"Dagaz." Harry whispered, looking through Dread's eyes, and cut the small rune on his middle finger, a small x with the two ends connected.

The light welled up from his heart, spinning out in ropes of power, and connected with the small cut, a spiderweb of glowing white.

Harry leaned back with a sigh as the vision faded away, smiling at the feeling of fulfillment and joy, barely feeling the sting as Dread returned once more inside him.

Sirius perked up when Remus stirred, blinking open weary eyes that now held more hazel than gold.

The wizard groaned, rubbing a weary hand over his face. Sirius jumped to his feet, shook his fur in a rough motion, and transformed back and walked over.

"You alright?"

Remus looked up at him, then closed his eyes again, laying sprawled on the forest floor.

Sirius knelt beside him, leaning in close.

"Come on, Moony, up you get." He reached out and grasped Remus' arm, pulling the wizard up and to his feet, where he swayed slightly, then planted his feet more firmly on the ground.

Remus shrugged off his grip.

"I'm fine."

Sirius huffed, then rolled his eyes.

"You look like rubbish."

Remus chuckled once, before shaking his head.

"I feel like I just faced down a boggart, without the benefit of Riddikulus."

Sirius nodded, though his eyes were still confused.

"You normally look rough after a night with the wolf, but I have to say, this is a new low."

Remus wanted to disagree, but couldn't.

"The wolf, it... I think it was depressed. It didn't even try to fight me, didn't growl or… sing. It sings, sometimes, on the full moon, and even though I don't want it to that makes me happy, when it's happy. But last night? All it wanted to do was curl in a ball and sleep. Worse even than after… a few years ago."

Sirius narrowed his eyes.

"You think it's because Harry wasn't here."

Remus lifted his shoulders once in a half-hearted shrug.

"Maybe. Probably. This whole thing is new to me, and I haven't had much luck finding werewolf enclaves that are willing to talk. Any infected of Fenrir's is taboo, in their minds, and for good reason."

Sirius looped a lanky arm around Remus's shoulder and squeezed.

"Buck up. Let's go back to my place and torture Kreacher a bit before a nice breakfast."

Remus snorted out a laugh, leaning into the hold, and let the wizard apparate them both away.

Hermione bounded down the stairs two at a time.

At the bottom, Draco Malfoy looked up with pleading eyes as her father, dressed in his white work coat, was in the middle of grilling the Slytherin about anything he could think up.

"So, you have no siblings?"

Draco squared his shoulders.

"No, sir."

The honorary gave her pause, shocked despite herself that the pureblood would have enough respect for a muggle to give it. Draco must have seen it, because his eyes narrowed. Her father continued.

"And your grades are good in school?"

Hermione, mortified, began to interrupt but Draco spoke first.

"I would be top of the class in most subjects, if Hermione hadn't beaten me to them."

Her father smiled proudly, and Hermione, her face beginning to flush, quickly spoke before her father could ask something even more intrusive.

"Thanks, dad, for keeping him company. We're just going to go study now."

Mr. Granger turned smiling brown eyes on his daughter, then glanced with a bit more warning at Draco, before nodding.

"I'll be down here, reading the newspaper, if you need anything while your mother's gone."

It was a bold hint that her father would be keeping a close ear out for any funny business, and the fact that it was so obvious only made her want to escape faster.

"Okay, Dad." She mumbled, before almost dragging Draco up the stairs.

She let out a deep breath when they entered the relative privacy of her room, and narrowed her eyes at Draco's smirk.

"What?"

Draco crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb nonchalantly.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it." Hermione mumbled, then sat with a grin and continued. "I've read the books, they are fantastic. I mean, I know it's only been a month, but I'm beginning to get the hang of this meditation, and I've started kind of organizing things. I was thinking of a maze, maybe a garden, with different pavers and flowers and plants for memories, with some of the plants magical and venomous, others easy to access. And of course, there would be animals in the garden, like rabbits, that can run fast and hide in holes. Oh, and birds, and insects, things hard to catch or small and unnoticeable. And..."

Draco interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

"Sounds like something Longbottom would dream up."

Hermione blushed, then scowled.

"I think it fits my personality."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"That would be pristine and peaceful?"

Hermione huffed out a breath, then laughed.

"Well, what would you suggest then?"

Draco tilted his head in contemplation, raising a finger to his chin in mock-thought.

"Perhaps a prickly thorn covered ruin, or a…" he looked at her offended face and smirked. "volcanic mountain?"

Hermione reached behind her, grabbed a pen, and tossed it at the boy. Draco dodged with a laugh, and it was a sound she had rarely heard while they were at Hogwarts. Carefree and just… well, free. As if a burden that was always there had been set down, for a brief moment. Then it was gone, and Draco's grey eyes were serious.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a fortress, thick walls and high towers, surrounded by a forest. I've been working on the beginnings of a wall."

Hermione let the subject change.

"Sounds like Hogwarts."

Draco looked momentarily surprised, then looked away.

"They do say Hogwarts is one of the safest places in Britain. And Merlin knows I don't want a place like the Department of Mysteries in my head."

Hermione joined in the laughter this time, and smiled.

"Nice to know we are at the same point. I was surprised when you owled about meeting. There really aren't any questions I have at this point."

Draco glanced around, then took a seat on the bed. Hermione looked at the purple bean bag shoved in a corner, and the thought of the Malfoy Heir sitting there like Harry had brought another grin on her face.

Draco spoke, still looking around her room.

"I just thought we could share any ideas better in person than by owl."

Hermione smiled wider. She hadn't expect him to agree so easily to her idea, but now that he had, it seemed he was willing to give it a good shot.

"Well, in that case, what do you think about breezes? Cause I know we mentioned clouds, but wind is even more insubstantial, who would expect a memory to be invisible? And if that's the case, then…"

The time passed in a volley of conversation, with multiple ideas being brought up and nearly as many being turned down for some reason or another. Hermione found herself leaning forward, eyes alight with excitement, loving the brainstorming activity and all the possibilities that kept popping up into her head. It was wonderful to be on equal footing with someone, and to be met thought for thought by another. She felt the way she imagined a runner would feel, sprinting alongside a partner in a race, easily keeping stride pace by pace.

Draco laughed again, that same sound as before, and she noticed the way his eyes lit up with humor, so unlike the dark grins and smirks of their time in school. She was distracted wondering why it was so, why a pureblood would be more comfortable in a muggleborn's bedroom than the halls of Hogwarts.

"Hermione?"

She flushed, realizing with a start that he had been speaking.

"Sorry, I was, ah, daydreaming."

She flipped her arm in a helpless gesture, smiling apologetically. Draco smiled, then sighed.

"I have to go. It's getting late."

Hermione mirrored his frown, then glanced outside and her eyes widened.

"It's dark!"

Draco stood, brushing off invisible lint from his trousers, then simply stood, arms hanging limply at his side.

"It was… nice, talking this over."

Hermione nodded slowly and smiled.

"Thanks for coming over. It was great."

They stood there a moment longer, and Hermione fought down the urge to fidget. Why were things so awkward all of a sudden, when they had been talking so easily moments before?

Finally Draco started out, and Hermione bit her lip and followed, at a loss. Was she supposed to say something else?

Her father was at the stairs, opening the door for her mom. Draco stood uneasily as she invited him in for dinner, but declined with a polite shake of his head.

Hermione watched him leave, still frowning in thought.

Remus looked over the documents with a neutral gaze.

He might have just found the one werewolf community willing to meet with him, but it would require entering the Unites States, a feat extremely difficult for a werewolf to manage.

The paperwork alone would be immense, and with no guarantee it would be approved.

But it was a chance. Most, if not all, European werewolf communes had barred their doors at the mere mention of Fenrir, and Remus's condition was obvious by scent to be connected to the Death Eater. There was one in Australia, supposedly, but he could not find any way to contact them. The same could be said of the few in Asia and Africa.

But in the Americas, across the atlantic ocean, there was a much greater chance. And one in particular, established only a decade ago, had the most promise. It was supposedly opening its doors, figuratively, to any werewolf who wished to help establish a new pack. They should be able to tell him more about his situation.

It was a chance, a hope, which was more than he had before.

Remus lowered the papers resolutely.

He would need to start the paperwork immediately, to travel by international floo to Raleigh, North Carolina, in the United States of America.

Harry took Hermione's hand, waved goodbye to Remus, and transported them to the clearing in the Forest.

Again the clearing was dark, so dark it took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the brightness of phoenix flame to the totality of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione squeezed his arm and whispered.

"I can't see a thing. This is even worse than the first time."

Harry glanced up at the cloud covered sky, then spoke, his voice loud in the night.

"Clouds. No starlight."

Hermione sniffed, then reluctantly let him go. She didn't spread out the blanket as she had last time, but looped it around herself with a shudder. Harry smiled, knew she couldn't see it, and began to step away. Behind him he heard her mutter.

"Don't know the point in coming if I can't even see you."

Harry kept moving, and this time as he stepped into the circle he was waiting for it, the inner light he had seen twice before.

It began to glow the second his bare feet hit the soil, the moon's light somehow shining from himself. He needed to ask Hermione if she could see it as well, or if was something only he could see.

Dread began to materialize, a complaint on his tongue.

"I would like to stretch-wings for more than a slithers-time."

Harry smiled and reached out, caressing the soft feathers along his side.

"I apologize, beautiful one, but the other nest-mate would be most frightened of you."

Or fascinated, more like, Harry thought to himself. Remus would want to study Dread, and Harry didn't need more questions.

Dread hissed along, the crest on his neck ruffled in aggravation. It wound about his arm and tightened, causing Harry to grimace, before relaxing again.

"Speak, Master, for it is darkest-night, and the time."

Harry made himself relax, though his heart pounded in his chest and he felt the slightest tremor. It was the third rune, and after this the effects of the ritual would only get worse.

The third rune, to complete the offensive spell structure on his right fingers.

Harry raised his head and looked up, knowing where the moon was though he could not see it, feeling her presence like the cold touch of a dog's wet nose. Or a wolf's.

Her power reached out to him, waiting to embrace him, waiting to strike. The contradiction didn't bother him as much as it pained him, that inevitableness of fate, his own lack of choice.

But he had made the choice years ago, in a clearing much like this, the first step on a path he had had no idea the length of.

Dread slithered into the open air, his red and green feathers gleaming eerily in the light cast off from Harrys form. He met the snake's eyes, looked into the slit pupils, and drifted free from himself, becoming the blade.

Feathered steel, Harry thought, looking down at himself with wings spread wide, emerald eyes staring blankly up at the dark night sky.

Then he watched as his own lips moved to shape the word.

"Thurisaz."

It was breathed more than spoken, and Harry saw the magic swell and rise, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Zayin was the lighting bolt, justice swift and sure and righteous. It was the powerful strike, the hammer that ended lives. Thurisaz was the storm that spawned it, growing and growing every moment in power, chaotic and unpredictable and relentless.

Thor-is-as, the power of Thurses, the Giants of Norse myth and legend, representing all that was destructive in the world, the ultimate enemy and yet ultimate victory. A storm of energy, of electricity, of power and light bonded together.

Giving-Great-Fear-in-Trouble-Times lashed out, fangs bared even as its steel tail struck the index finger of his right hand, the cut both delicate and swift, one quick downward motion for the stem of the rune, then another triangular slash to complete it.

And Harry cried out in a long breath as his right hand burned, fire spreading through his veins, his vision blinded by the overwhelming light.

It only grew, behind his eyelids, like an exploding bomb, ever and ever outward, and he had a brief wretched thought of simply lopping the whole thing off, anything to stop it, anything...

In a strangled breath, Harry cried out again the name of the rune.

"Thurisaz!"

It was a broken sound, like a twig snapped in the woods, but the light abruptly faded, and in its place a faint blue glow began to develop. Harry opened his eyes and simply stared as the force grew, a small storm of electricity, flashing like a muggle police car from blue to white to grey to black again in the night.

Harry looked at his arm, feeling numb now as the glow faded, looking at the runes with eyes that still spotted from the brightness of before.

Inguz, allowing for more than one storm to instantaneously develop. Dagaz, to create the change, to allow the transmutation of life-light to lightning. And Thurisaz, the trigger rune, that invoked the change, that summoned an offensive spell the likes of which could not be found in wand-casting books. A storm of power, able to be cast to places across a battlefield, whose flashing energy would strike and render any who fell prey to it unconscious in an overload of light, growing and growing from the seed that spawned it until summoned back to return to its rune.

And connected to them all, Zayin lay on his palm, its rune innocently hiding the power to fatally destroy anything it struck.

Harry felt the moisture growing in his eyes, and closed them tightly, shaking his head with a growl. He felt empty as the moon's power withdrew, like a glass shattered on the floor, everything it held spilled out forever.

"Harry?"

The voice was tentative and whispered. Harry realized with a start that he had completely forgotten his friend. He quickly whipped up his head, standing with a motion so fast Hermione blinked in the low light, wondering if he had simply teleported from one position to the next.

Harry wiped his hand against his trouser leg, only a small streak of blood marring its surface. He had sat for a long time, then, in the circle, for Hermione to approach him.

"I'm fine. It's alright."

"Okay." She whispered back, and he saw her bite her lip in indecision. He stepped out, still feeling detached, and lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. She reached up to grasp his hand with relief, smiling up at him in the darkness.

Harry quietly spoke.

"I don't feel real."

Hermione's eyes widened, their pupils blown wide in the darkness.

"Harry. Take us home." She whispered in that low tone, as if afraid to raise her voice, and stepped closer, drawing him into a hug. For a long moment he let her hold him, let himself feel grounded again, a living breathing part of this world, not a spectrum of light, not a constellation of stars.

Then he sighed and summoned up phoenix flame, the warmth of the fire filling in the parts still left cold from the ritual night.

It was like the calm before a storm, the quiet as a front began to move across a field, the stillness of the leaves before the whirlwind descended.

Harry lay back on his bed, watching dawn's light creep inside, and breathed deep, knowing how it would go.

Four more runes to this set, and each would weaken him further, until at the sixth he found himself incapable of anything remotely useful, unable to even protect himself. How would he cope? How?

Harry closed his eyes again, listened to the sound of Remus beginning to stir, and breathed.

Rufus sat in Amelia's office, watching the woman flip through the papers on her desk.

She glanced up, met his gaze, then dropped her eyes again.

When she spoke, her voice was crisp and dry.

"We can't fight the legislation."

Rufus knew this already. He inclined his head. Amelia's finger began its unique tapping motion, soft this time, soundless. A sign of deep thought.

Again she spoke.

"If the boy was not his enemy already, he will be now. It is obviously aimed at werewolves."

Rufus grunted in acknowledgment. Amelia's fingers paused. She rose her eyes to his.

"Remus Lupin has applied for a permit to travel out of country."

At that, Rufus raised an eyebrow. Amelia smiled, and it was not a nice gesture, but full of teeth and grim delight.

"It will be denied. I see no other outcome, with his status."

Rufus smiled, slow and wide, his yellow eyes gleaming, and spoke.

"The Minister is provoking him."

Amelia leaned back in her chair, her hands clasping together, and made a giddy sound of delight.

"Oh yes. He thinks to cow the boy, browbeat him if necessary, into submission. Go after his tutor first, find any weakness, exploit it. Underhanded tactic, an outright abuse of the system, and putting others at risk to boot. I'm sure he will even attempt to contact Lupin himself, explain the circumstances, perhaps hint that if Potter might perform some favor, some token of trust, then they might make an exception for him. Create dependence."

Rufus laughed, couldn't help the sound as it burst free.

"He doesn't know the boy at all."

Amelia only smiled.

"What he doesn't know can only help us."

Rufus returned her smile, and with a grin, stood.

It was time to move their plans forward again. It was an intricate game, as complicated and yet simple as any game of wizarding chess; the werewolf legislation but a pawn they would willingly give up to the Minister, to better maneuver their Queen to strike.

~*~To Be Continued: Moons Tame and Wild ~*~

~Review Please!~