Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Warning: Harry loses his temper. Gee. Not like you've ever seen that in fanfic before. I wonder what my cliché counter is up to now?

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Chapter 36: Confronting Sirius

They weren't sure if they should take it to Hermione, Dumbledore or Remus. Harry and Draco settled for taking it out to Simon, and Luna decided to go and find Hermione and Ron, who should have finished their classes by now.

"What do you think, Simon?" Harry asked, holding up the Sickle.

The horse had the most perplexed expression on its face Harry had ever seen on a horse (although Simon was the only horse he'd ever actually met) as it snorted at the golden semicircle.

"Don't blow your nose on it," Draco scolded, but ruffled the black mane affectionately. "Blow your nose on Potter instead. It might teach him to carry a handkerchief out of self-defence, if not manners."

Oh, that's right. Harry had told Draco about his handkerchief problem – and he was regretting it already. "He seems to know it's special."

"Well, horses are edge-creatures. Maybe it's so highly magic even Simon can sense it. I wonder if you can smell magic?"

"Huh. Maybe horses can. I wonder if dogs can?" He'd have to – to not ask Padfoot. The sun, which had been warm on his shoulders, cooled. "What about it, Simon? Does it smell like carrots or apples to you?"

"Something new, by the look of him. Definitely not peppermints."

Simon flicked his ears but otherwise ignored the boys.

Figures were approaching the bottom of the hill. Harry tucked the Sickle into his robes just in case. Simon seemed to take offence at this and laid his ears back, looking quite disgusted as the Sickle disappeared.

But it was only Ron, Hermione and Luna, who were puffing by the time they reached the gate.

"Harry! Welcome back, mate. But… you're out of the Infirmary and the first place you go is to a paddock?" Ron said in disbelief.

Harry shrugged. Ron had a point. "It seemed like the best place to do some thinking. I needed to work out where the Sickle was. And I did."

"Excuse me? The Sickle? You really did find it? 'Mione, why didn't you tell me?" Ron cut off Hermione's reply as he leaned over the fence to get a better look at Harry. "Well? Where is it?"

"Oh dear – you didn't lose it already, did you?" Luna asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course I didn't. I just needed to be sure you were who you looked like…"

"Well, that was sensible," Draco drawled.

Harry ignored him. "I wanted to be sure it was you, is what I mean. I'm not sure if we should be showing the Sickle to anyone. Someone might take it off us. And it's said that it could be used to destroy Hogwarts."

"Really? Let's see," said Ron.

"Sure." Harry pulled it out again.

"Well, it looks like it's made of gold, all right," Ron said at last, turning it over in his hands. "Bit small, though. Especially if you want to hack a castle to bits." He grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes again as he snatched the Sickle back. The only one suitably impressed by it had been Simon, who had gone back to standing with his head slightly lowered and staring at the Sickle as if he were trying to work out whether it was an enemy or not. "Honestly, you lot… It's the bloody Golden Sickle of Helga Hufflepuff. It doesn't matter what it looks like. So long as it can cut the mistletoe and help us make the potion."

"Any idea where the mistletoe might be?" Hermione asked.

"I could find some with my gloves," Draco offered. "Which reminds me, where are they, Potter?"

"Um."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, oops, sorry, Mendeleev gloves don't take to time travel very well. They died just after I arrived." After pointing towards Severus. But that wasn't something he could say, because it would mean explaining too many things. While he might one day discuss it with Hermione, he couldn't bear to hear Ron's rant on the topic of greasy gits: the impossibility of friendship with. He certainly didn't want to explain matters to Draco. Draco, who'd gone out looking for Se- for Snape, wouldn't want to hear Harry's story of how Severus had become a Death Eater because Harry had gone back in time and Severus had gone down a tunnel looking for something to help Harry and found a werewolf instead. No, he most certainly didn't want to tell Draco that story.

"Oh, now that's nice. You're sorry. My bloody gloves are gone and you're sorry. Do you know how hard it is to get a pair of Mendeleev gloves?"

"Look, Malfoy, I'm sure your daddy can buy you a new pair – ouch!"

Simon had just bitten him. Then, after a moment when the horse seemed to weigh up the situation –

"Ouch!" Draco yelped. "What'd you go and bite me for?"

Harry rubbed his arm, which was throbbing with the promise of a bruise tomorrow. Horse teeth weren't so much sharp as designed to crush. Thankfully Ron wasn't grinning, Harry noticed. Although if Ron did grin and set Draco off like a firecracker, he expected Ron would be the next one looking for a salve to heal a horse bite. After that nip to Draco, it looked unlikely that Simon was favouring anyone.

Maybe they could train the horse to mediate between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

"Because we were both arguing," Harry sighed. Speaking of mediating between Slytherin and Gryffindor, what would Robert Python say…? He forced himself to relax as he added, "And what I said was a really stupid thing for me to say, so I certainly deserved a nip. Sorry, Draco."

That left Draco visibly off-balance, as politeness from Harry always did. "Huh. Well."

"If it's any consolation, the gloves managed one last location – they set me on the path towards getting the Sickle. I'd love to make another pair…"

"Well, if you really want to, I'll see if I can find the instructions," Luna said. "I've been meaning to have another go – this time I'm sure they'll turn out right and not try to suck anyone's blood." Oblivious to the others' four-way exchange of looks of dismay, she slipped through the gate and clipped a leadrope to Simon's headcollar, draped the other end of the rope over the gate and began to check that the horse's cover wasn't making any sore patches. "Professor Snape made me write everything down so that I wouldn't bother him all the time when I forgot something," she said cheerfully.

Harry went very still.

Draco was watching him closely, as was Hermione.

"Who helped you back then?" Ron asked, eyes flicking from Harry to Draco. It was easy to forget that Ron wasn't as lacking in perception as he sometimes seemed to be.

"Dumbledore, a bit," Harry said, which wasn't a lie.

"Funny how we found a potions book with Snape's handwriting in it… all about how to send someone back through time and make a potion for breaking a temporal misalignment spell," Draco said quietly. He was probably remembering how Harry had called Snape 'Severus' back in the hospital. And Hermione had already been very careful about not asking Harry who he'd met back in time. He could feel three pairs of eyes boring into him as he stared down at the ground.

Luna had Simon's cover folded back over the horse's hindquarters. Harry tucked the Sickle back into his robes again – a little too roughly, this time, and he felt something that might have been his T-shirt tear – as he walked over to the horse and stroked the satiny shoulder. Simon turned his neck around to touch his nose gently to Harry's arm. Possibly it was coincidental that it was the same spot he'd just bitten.

"Yeah. Funny. So funny I don't want to talk about it right now."

"But you will."

Harry turned to face Draco, who seemed half-angry, half-curious. "Yes. I will. But not quite yet."

"Who else did you see?" Ron asked.

Harry leaned forward. He'd missed the smell of horse. "Some people. I… It got a bit personal."

"Oh."

Ron must have developed tact some time this year – in the past he'd not have let a statement like that lie: as Harry's best friend it was his duty to know about the personal – instead he'd have seen it as his duty to know about the personal even when it was private, and thrown a wobbly over Harry keeping secrets from him because Harry thought he was famous and better than Ron or something…

Thank Merlin people grew out of their insecurities.

Or not, Harry thought, recalling Severus. He lifted his glasses and rubbed his hand over his eyes, remembering as he flexed his fingers why they still felt a little stiff. Lucius Malfoy had a bony face and Harry's hadn't hit him quite square on the nose… Dumbledore had needed to call Madam Pomfrey in to mend the broken nose and then call the Baron to have a word with Peeves about assaulting people.

Even the memory of Peeves being blamed for something Harry had done couldn't made Harry smile now.

"So. Anyway. We've got the Sickle. So now what?"

"We find the mistletoe, make the potion, and use it to break the barrier," Hermione said practically.

"Sounds like a plan," Harry said. "But… How do we find the mistletoe?"

"Neville's working on that," Ron said, eyeing Draco as if he expected the Slytherin to say something about this, but Draco was watching Simon, who was falling asleep again as Luna brushed him. "And Hermione thinks she's worked out the potion. We just have to find the trees."

"Two of which are outside the barrier," Harry pointed out. "Are you sure about that, though?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "While you were away I back-chained some Arithmantic formulae to work out the fundamentals of the spell."

"Oh. Two trees," Harry said, vaguely. "If you say so. Um… How do we access those?"

"Yes. That's something we hadn't managed to quite figure out yet."

"I've been working on something," Draco said. He frowned and tugged at his lower lip. "But it's not something I'm all that sure about."

"Do you need any help on it?" Harry asked.

"Probably." Draco grimaced. "Think you could talk to Hagrid for me?"

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Because Draco wasn't confident about his idea, he didn't want to tell Harry what it was, which was a little annoying but not hugely so. Harry was too busy keeping himself busy and not thinking by running around carrying books for Hermione to worry about Draco. He'd taken the time to talk to Hagrid, though.

Harry hadn't been sure how to approach Hagrid with the suggestion he help a Malfoy, but when he went to the hut for a cup of tea two days later, Hagrid turned out to be surprisingly neutral about the prospect.

"Ah well, Harry; young Malfoy's been behavin' himself arright lately… it's having a pet that's done it, mark my words. Amazing how animals settle a body down." He slapped Fang, who drooled happily as he eyed the uneaten rock cakes on the table. "Pets bring out the best, that they do." Hagrid sighed and took a long slurp of his tea. "Well, might as well tell Malfoy t' see me this evenin'."

Draco had been a little dubious about meeting up with Hagrid, but he'd turned down Harry's offer to accompany him.

"I'm not blind any more, Potter," he snapped.

"Then you can find your own way out there," Harry growled back, and went off to check that Simon was safe in his field for the night before he went in to face Dumbledore. And the music.

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Harry had finally decided to talk to Dumbledore. It had taken him those two days to think it over, but now, with the mistletoe potion looking extremely promising since Neville had just this morning located some in an oak not too far into the Forest, things suddenly seemed to be running away from Harry.

Harry had felt like that when he'd gone into the past – and it had, in one sense, been disastrous. Maybe it was time to bring in someone older for advice. With a bit of luck Dumbledore's advice wouldn't be along the lines of 'you don't know what you're doing give me the Sickle and get back to your dormitory.' He was at the base of the stairs to Dumbledore's office when realised he didn't know the password.

He could go and see McGonagall, he supposed, but he didn't want to involve her. He could…

"Harry?"

…He could forget that he was meant to be avoiding Lupin. Remus looked as tired as ever, and the lines on his face were slightly deeper. But his eyes were patient.

"Are you waiting to see Professor Dumbledore?" Lupin asked.

Harry opened his mouth to say 'yes' and wasn't quite sure why he heard himself say instead, "No. I… was just thinking about something. That's all. I should get back to Gryffindor."

"Do you have another project you're working on?"

Harry tensed.

"Come with me, please."

Reluctantly, Harry followed Lupin to his office. There was a large, black dog waiting there. It stood up, favouring one leg slightly, and woofed happily when it saw Harry.

Harry didn't smile.

The dog's tail, which had been wagging, stilled.

"Harry. Sit down, please."

Lupin closed and soundproofed the door as Harry sat in the chair across the desk from Lupin's. There was a third chair. It was taken by Sirius, who flowed back into his human form.

Sirius looked haggard and even more tired than Remus. And a little angry.

"So. Feel like explaining yourself?" Sirius said.

"Hush, Sirius," Lupin said as he took his seat. "I think we're far past the time where we need to treat Harry like a wayward child."

"Well, going off and doing dangerous stunts like that is hardly the mark of an adult!"

"What, like turning into a dog and escaping from prison?" Lupin pointed out, a smile hovering in the corners of his mouth. He wiped it away with his hand. "But Sirius does have a point, Harry. Time travel? What on earth possessed you? You were gone nearly a week – all Hermione would tell us was that you'd gone back to the time of the Founders to find some information."

Ah. So that was what she'd said. Well, he had gone after information of a sort.

Lupin clasped his hands before him and went on. "Hogwarts was in an uproar. Professor Dumbledore said all we could do was wait. Poor Professor McGonagall was in a terrible state."

Harry winced. McGonagall hadn't deserved to be upset so. "I'm sorry about Professor McGonagall."

"What about us?" Sirius growled. "How do you think we felt, losing you?"

"I don't know," Harry snapped back, abruptly furious. "How should you feel? I'm not James! When you get right down to it, you'd probably not give a shit about me if I wasn't James' son! If it was Hermione or Ron, how would you feel? What if it had been Draco? Well?"

"Harry…"

Sirius shook his head. "I'd be mortified if Hermione or Ron disappeared. The Malfoy boy, well, I don't know him, so…"

"So he can rot as far as you're concerned. As can anyone else you don't care about. What if I didn't look like James?"

"Harry, stop this…" Lupin said more strongly.

"It doesn't matter what you look like!" exclaimed Sirius. "Do you think I escaped from Azkaban and spent a couple of years eating rats if I cared what you looked like? I could have been in Tahiti painting naked women, but I'm here because I care about you."

Harry was shaking as he drew his wand. "What about if I'd met you when you were at school? What about if you tried to send a friend of mine to be eaten by a werewolf? What about if I looked like this?" He spoke the spell and felt it settle into his skin like a hundred caterpillars were scurrying across his skin. "I bet you wouldn't care about me then!"

He didn't need a mirror to know that the spell had worked: the way Sirius and Lupin were staring at him was confirmation enough. By the dismay dawning on his face, it was Sirius who recognised him first.

"And no, I didn't go to the time of the Founders." Harry stood up and left before anyone else could say anything.

Neither man stopped him and Harry closed the door quietly behind him.

Outside in the corridor, it took two tries before the mask dissolved like burning cellophane. Luckily no-one noticed him before it was gone.

Harry took a deep breath and realised his hands were shaking.

He couldn't remember having been angry, but his heart was racing and he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. He set off for the library instead. With a bit of luck Hermione would be there and he could distract himself by doing some research on stopping the Blockade.

At least now he didn't have any desire to complicate things by going to Dumbledore.

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