I looked up as the door to the apprentice's lab opened up, unsurprised to see Snape enter. As far as I knew, he was the only other person in the castle who knew I could be found here. I liked the solitude of the place for working.

"Hello sir," I greeted before turning back to my notebook. It was the same one I'd started after the second task. I'd decide to spend my weekend copying recipes. My hand was aching, but I was already on my third year, which was farther along than I thought I'd be.

"You are becoming reclusive," Snape said as he shut the door behind him. I raised an eyebrow at him over my shoulder and smirked.

"Is that a bad thing?" I challenged as I set aside my quill, flexing my hand and trying to work out some of the stiffness. "It's quieter here than the Library," I explained with a shrug.

"Have you finished your Animagus reading? Snape asked, nodding to the books lined neatly on the shelf. I glanced at them, sucking in my bottom lip, and nodded.

"Yeah. I'll probably go back and review them after the third task before I meet with McGonagall, but I'm done."

"And what are you writing?" Snape continued, swooping over to stand behind me. Most students feared his looming presence over them as they worked. I actually found it rather comforting, because there was no way he'd allow me to make a mistake.

"I'm compiling all of my recipes," I explained, flipping back through a couple of pages to show him. "This far I've gone through the textbooks for first and second year, and now I'm working on third year."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise, compiling all of your recipes? Consider if someone else gets that book," he said pointedly. "And it's nearly filled – you won't be able to add anything else."

I smiled. "Now sir, do you think I'd go into this project half-baked? I enchanted this journal so that it never runs out of pages and it's compressed so that it doesn't get too ridiculously thick. Also, it's coded so that only I can open in. It's dirt, water, and fire resistant and there's a tracking spell on it so that I can find it in case I lose it or someone takes it."

I was very proud of my journal. It had taken me nearly three weeks to find all of the spells to make it as secure as I wanted it to be and to get the spells right. But now I had my own personal book of potions that I could carry in the pocket of my robes yet would hopefully hold hundreds of potions.

"You," Snape said slowly, "have created a grimoire."

I shrugged. I hadn't really thought of it like that, but I suppose I had.

"I just thought it would be convenient," I admitted.

Compiling my tweaked potions had been something that had danced around in the back of my mind for over a year but now was the time I was getting around to it. The past few weeks I had been focusing on it and my Patronus exclusively.

"And how are you progressing with your Patronus?" Snape asked. I set aside my quill and drew my wand from inside my sleeve, summoning a memory.

"Expecto Patronum!" I cried, and the silvery specter of my Patronus burst from the tip of my wand. It had gained a little definition. It was definitely avian, with wings that flapped lazily up and down, but it was only a vague bird-shaped outline. Details had yet to come.

Snape nodded approvingly. "Better," he allowed. He smirked down at me. "Do you have any other ridiculously large projects you're decided to pile on yourself?"

I bit my lip. "Actually sir…"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Good Merlin Potter, really? It's a miracle you're passing your classes."

"I know I know," I said hastily. "It's a lot, but I like being busy, sir, you know that."

Snape seated himself on the second stool, his cloak spread around him. Dark eyes peered down his nose at me, waiting. "Well? Explain."

"Have I ever told you what my Animagus form will be, sir?" I asked, knowing full well that I hadn't. It was a good introductory topic at least.

"No, but Minerva shared it with me. She was quite delighted," Snape replied. "I'm familiar with your transformative pursuits."

"I went into Pippin's last Hogsmeade weekend," I began, and explain the conversation I'd had with Miss Pippin, finishing with her recommendation that I begin brewing Sine Fraxinus for dragon reservations.

"Think about it sir!" I said eagerly. "With my Animagus form I could easily procure the tears and the other ingredients aren't too tricky – I can special order them. But I would be the only one doing it, meaning I could set the prices. I could use this as a start to my own brewing business!"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I knew you desired to become a Potions Mistress," he said quietly. "I did not realize you were already considering opening your own business."

"It would be perfect, sir!" I exclaimed. "I could already have the groundwork for a business laid, with contacts all over. I could be ready to start really brewing the moment I left Hogwarts instead of interning with a Potions Master for a few years like most brewers do."

"And what would you brew besides the Fraxinus?" Snape asked calmly.

"I've already been looking into that," I said, ticking things off on my fingers. "Madam Pomfrey has talked to me about the most common potions she uses – Dreamless Sleep, Pepper-up, things like that – and I was thinking that if I could tweak them and make them a little easier I could get away with selling them a bit cheaper than most other companies do while still making a profit. Basic healing and cleaning potions are the ones most commonly bought by the average witch or wizard on the street, so they'd be the best place to start.

"So, sir?" I asked hopefully. "What do you think?"

"Your ambition is staggering," Snape finally said, eyes roving over me. "It has been many years since Slytherin has seen a student who I believe will be as successful as you will. Clearly, you are in the right house." I flushed in pleasure. "Though I admit I am slightly startled by your grasp of economics at your age."

I stared at Snape. "Do you know how often I've had to listen to Uncle Vernon rant about the economy, sir?"

"You know, of course, that all your plans will have to wait until you have achieved an Animagus form?" Snape asked pointedly.

I nodded. "Yes sir. But I have a firm grasp on the reading and I think I can get it down by at least the end of sixth year. That would still give me a year to work and brew here at Hogwarts before leaving school."

"And how will you explain your knowledge of Sine Fraxinus?" Snape pressed.

"The truth – a ghost told me."

"And when people connect the potion to the first task?"

"By the time the tournament has been over for a year or two, even if I win, people will have forgotten anything about how I faced the dragon beyond the fact that I 'tamed' it," I said with a snort. "Half my classmates don't even know I took a potion. Beyond that, even if pressed, who would believe that I got my information from a snake and some house elves?"

"I resent that."

Silas made an appearance from a small hole at the base of a wall, squeezing out and into the lab. I smiled at him and hissed a greeting. "It's true," I explained. "I'm not saying it's fair but it is true."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You are serious about this, aren't you?" I nodded. "Very well. Should you need any advice, my door will be open."

I grinned at Snape brightly. "Thanks sir. You're the best."

"Hardly."

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.

Sirius's words rang in my head as I hustled down the stairs to Potions class. I would like to believe he wasn't dumb enough to come to this close to Hogwarts, especially with all of the added Ministry presence from the tournament, but I didn't. His Animagus form was a brilliant disguise though, and I trusted that he was at least cautious enough not to go out in public in human form. That was compounded by the request for food – he couldn't be scavenging much as a dog.

The class was already filing into the classroom as I made my interest, sliding into the press next to Lily.

"There you are!" she hissed. "You vanished after breakfast."

"Library," I said with a shrug, which was the truth.

"Good thing you left when you did," Tracey said. "Right after the mail arrived. Who was that letter from anyway?"

"No one, just a note," I replied absently, before her words set in. "Wait, why is it good that I left?"

Lily and Tracey shared uncertain looks, pausing as they pulled out ingredients to brew their Wit-Sharpening potions. I looked between the pair of them suspiciously.

"What's going on?" I said sharply. "What'd I miss?"

"Show her," Nott said grimly as he lit a fire under his own cauldron. "Better she find out before Pansy chucks the magazine at her like she did to Granger."

"Magazine," I repeated blankly, but Lily answered the question for me when she dug out the most recent copy of Witch Weekly. She passed it over nervously. I raised an eyebrow at the curly-haired witch on the cover pointing her wand at some sponge cake.

"I don't need new recipes," I said slowly.

Lily shook her head. "Page twenty-two," she advised. I flipped open the magazine and found page twenty-two, rearing back in horror at the sight of a full-color photo of Harry looking upset.

Harry Potter's Secret Heartache

A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.

"That bitch," I snarled. "When will she lay off Harry?"

"Harry?" Lily said blankly. She peered around at the article and winced. "Oh, no. You're on the next page."

"There's more?" I winced, turning the page. I gaped at two pictures of myself at the top, one in either side of a broken heart outline. One was of Iliya embracing me after we got out of the lake, the pair of us wrapped in our towels. The next was of me in Hogsmeade. The photo had been taken through the window, but you could clearly see Malfoy reaching around me to pay for my chocolate and the surprise on my face as I turned to look at him.

"Oh dear god," I muttered and started reading.

Lorena Potter's Love Triangle

Readers of the Daily Prophet will remember the article detailing an altercation between Lorena Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Iliya Dimitrov at the Yule Ball. Lorena Potter, an illegal entrant to the Triwizard Tournament, was seen dancing with the Malfoy heir before slapping him only minutes later and storming off with her date of the evening Dimitrov, close friend to famed Quidditch player Viktor Krum.

At the time there was speculation that young Mister Malfoy had revealed feelings to Miss Potter and been soundly rejected. However, new evidence has come to light, writes Rita Skeeter. While Dimitrov was taken to the bottom of the lake as 'the thing Miss Potter would sorely miss,' she was seen scant weeks before in Hogsmeade with Mr. Malfoy.

One can only speculate as to Mister Malfoy's motivations in pursuing Miss Potter after her rejection at the Yule Ball. However, some of her fellow students have their own opinions. Pansy Parkinson, a fellow Slytherin and betrothed to Mr. Malfoy, had this to say: "Potter's always trying to climb the social ladder. I think it's because she's so jealous of her brother. But she's completely crazy. She threatened me with physical harm in the hallway, told me to stay away from Draco and that she'd hurt me if I didn't. But I don't care, because Draco and I are destined to be together!"

Miss Potter has made quite a name for herself as a Parselmouth and possible rising Dark witch. Now, perhaps, a gold digger as well? (For details read 'Triwizard Champions Selected' a Daily Prophet article by Rita Skeeter.) Is Lorena Potter genuinely caught between two boys? Or is she taking advantage of the feelings of young Draco Malfoy for the sake of his money? Only time will tell.

"Merlin," I groaned aloud. "How many times is she going to misuse Parseltongue?"

Lily gaped at me as I tossed the magazine back to her and began brewing my potion. "That's what you got out of that?" she demanded incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"It's not like any of it's true," I said with a shrug. "You lot know I've got my own money and the day I start dating Malfoy is the day hell freezes over. That's not even what we were talking about at the Yule Ball. Confessing his feelings? Hardly. "

Tracey shook her head. "I dunno," she said skeptically, shooting a glance at Malfoy who was bent over his own potion, Zabini working calmly beside him. Now I noticed that Parkinson looked a little upset as opposed to triumphant like I'd have assumed she would. I was gratified to see her looking mildly disheveled as she shot me a glare.

"What's got Parkinson's wand in a knot?" I asked carelessly, tossing a sprig of dried sage in with my scarab beetles and picking up my pestle. I began grinding them into a fine powder. "Has she finally figured out no one likes her?"

"Sort of," Tracey allowed. "You should have seen Malfoy after he read the article, he was furious. She tried to cheer him up-"

"Draped herself off of him and shoved her breasts in his face?" I guessed.

Lily snickered. "Pretty much. But you know normally Malfoy eats up the attention… he just shoved her off and stormed out of the Great Hall."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well I mean, he had Parkinson leeched onto him, I'd toss her off and sprint for the hills too."

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger..." I looked around and found Snape looming behind Ron, Hermione, and Harry, who were all turned around and staring up at him in horror, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry glanced over at us Slytherins. I saw Malfoy flash a POTTER STINKS badge across the dungeon and rolled my eyes as Harry's narrowed. Malfoy looked a little cheerier than he had a moment ago.

"Ah...reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor... oh but of course..." Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings..."

The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. Harry looked furious as Snape started to read.

"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache... dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps...'"

Snape paused at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione was blushing scarlet now.

"'...Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching," sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins. "Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

Snape trailed after Harry as my brother furiously packed away his materials and stormed to the front of the class. I watched him go, not feeling anything but relief that Snape hadn't found the article about me and Malfoy. God only knew what would have happened if he'd decided to read that aloud.

I watched carefully as Snape bent over, hissing angrily at Harry, who was cutting up his ginger roots and feigning deafness. Something got him though, because his head snapped up and he said something in reply. Snape reached into his pocket and held out a bottle of something clear. There were very few clear potions. The most likely option – unless it was some kind of poison – was Veritaserum.

There was a knock on the dungeon door.

"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice.

The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. We watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.

"We need to talk," said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After the lesson," Snape snapped. Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry.

Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. I debated scattering some crushed beetles on the floor – the little grains would take ages to get up – but I respected Snape more than any other teacher. If Karkaroff had barged in for a word with McGonagall I definitely would have stayed behind. As it was, I cleared my things away at the end of class and left with everyone else.

"Feelings for Potter? Please! Why would I feel anything but disdain for filth like her?"

I paused just outside the classroom door. Malfoy lingered near a flickering torch, the rest of the Slytherin boys gathered around him along with Pansy, Bulstrode, and Daphne.

"I mean, she's such a know-it-all, always closeted away in the library like some nun! And three guesses why – no one wants to be around her! If they don't hate her for her personality then her face will definitely do the rest of the job!"

Parkinson howled with laughter, pressing hopefully against Malfoy as Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle chuckled dumbly. I was a bit relieved to see that Daphne only gave a light ha of laughter and Nott and Zabini contented themselves with politely amused smiles.

Surprisingly, that hurt. Maybe it was because last time I'd said two words to Malfoy we'd actually gotten along. He'd been... nice, even. And now he was turning around and saying things like that about me? I felt the anger in my stomach stir, beginning to creep through my veins as I watched the torchlight flicker on strands of platinum hair. It was almost hypnotic.

"Come on, let's go," Lily hissed, grabbing my hand and trying to tug me away. I ripped my hand free and before I even thought about it I was speaking.

"In my defense, I can't help how my face looks," I said coldly, projecting my voice over to the group. I was able to watch as Malfoy's face drained of color, whipping around to see me still standing in the door to the classroom.

"Gold digger!" Parkinson screeched at me from Malfoy's side, curling her arms around his and nuzzling her face against his shoulder.

"Potter," Malfoy said slowly. I didn't blame him for being wary. Somehow my wand had made it into my hand. I raised it without thinking, the tip pointed at the howling Parkinson. For a random, wild moment, I wondered dizzily what she would look like howling with pain instead of laughter. The spell was on my lips, nearly breaking free before I forced it down.

"Furnunculus!"

Pansy howled as boils loomed on her face, thick and painful and oozing pus. She curled back against the wall, hands fluttering uselessly in front of her face. A boil on the tip of her nose burst and she whimpered.

"Potter," Malfoy said hastily, raising his hands. "I didn't mean-"

I didn't care what he meant. "Why did I think even for a moment that you were anything but a pretentious, self-centered asshole?" I said quietly. I flicked my wand once more and watched as the bogeys in his nose turned into big, black bats and flew around and battered his face with their wings.

Turning on my heel, I stormed away.

At half-past one, I made my way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village. The winding lane was leading me out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger. I saw a few growing magical herbs and plants. I were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then I turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood there, Harry holding a bag. Next to them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth.

"Hello, Sirius," I said, smiling fondly at my godfather. I ruffled the fur on top of his head fondly.

Sirius and I had gotten off to a very rough start. That night in the Shrieking Shack had included me screaming and cursing him and at one point physically attacking him. But correspondence and some time to process everything I'd learned that night had mellowed my feelings about him. We got on well now – at times, I even got along with him better than Harry, mostly because Sirius wasn't afraid to occasionally take the low road.

"Harry," I said, greeting him with a smile and a one-armed hug, my other arm supporting a heavy basket. He returned the hug, smiling genuinely. I felt a bit like I was going through the motions as I nodded to Hermione and ignored Ron, who was scowling at me. I don't think he'd forgiven me for the incident at the Slytherin table yet – but then again, what was he expecting to happen, coming over there like he had?

Sirius barked a greeted and nosed at the basket over my arm. I smiled. I'd hit up the kitchens earlier that morning with Silas. He'd gotten an egg from Hilly, who seemed very fond of him – I wondered if she was sneaking him extra eggs, because despite the fact that I'd cut back on his treats he still seemed to be roughly the same size.

I felt a bit bad about lying to the house elves. I told them I was taking a picnic out to Hogsmeade with friends. That wasn't technically a lie – I was going to Hogsmeade with friends, but it wasn't exactly a picnic, per say. Sirius would be eating all the food. I had fresh rolls, leftover bacon, a whole chicken, a couple of cobs of corn in aluminum foil, and several thermoses of pumpkin juice. They'd even given me a couple of wrapped-up cookies.

Sirius turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. We climbed over the stile and followed. Sirius led us to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but we were soon out of breath. We followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour we climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, sweating in the sun, the handles on the basket digging into the crook of my arm.

Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when we reached the place where he had vanished, we saw a narrow fissure in the rock. We squeezed into it and found ourselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of them. I smiled as I approached him and bowed. Buckbeak lowered his head in response.

Grinning, I hurried forward and began scratching the join where his beak met his chin and the spot behind his wings.

"Hello, gorgeous," I whispered to the hippogriff. "How are you?"

Buckbeak gave a low, warbling cry in response. I smiled at that and lowered my head to rest on his warm, feathery neck, reaching up to scratch the top of his head.

"How do you like that? The bird gets a better welcome than I do!"

I turned away from Buckbeak to stare at my godfather, now in human form. Sirius was wearing ragged gray robes, the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been when he had appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted once more. He looked very thin.

"I raided the kitchens for you," I said pointedly, passing over the basket. Harry reached into his bag and pulled out a napkin wrapped around a bundle of food and passed it over, looking a bit sheepish as Sirius went into raptures over the chicken and bacon I'd brought him. I thought he would faint in delight at the sight of cookies.

"Thanks," said Sirius hoarsely, cramming a cookie in his mouth sitting down on the cave floor. He chewed and swallowed before reaching for a drumstick from Harry's package and tearing into it. "Do you know how long it's been since I had something sweet? I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade - I'd draw attention to myself."

He grinned up at Harry and I, but Harry returned the grin only reluctantly.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" he said.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harry's face, said more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter... well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing papers and magazines every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."

He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. Harry, however, continued to stare at Sirius.

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

"You're forgetting it's not common knowledge that he's an Animagus," I reminded Harry. "So long as he stays a dog most of the time he shouldn't have any problems. You are staying in your Animagus form, aren't you?" I asked my godfather sternly as he grabbed another drumstick.

Ron nudged Harry and passed him the Daily Prophets. I leaned over his shoulder to look at them. There were two: The first bore the headline Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, Ministry Witch Still Missing - Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.

I scanned the story about Crouch. Phrases jumped out: hasn't been seen in public since November… house appears deserted... St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment... Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness...

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here..."

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed Sirius. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry slowly, still reading the story. "The night my name came out of the goblet..."

"I expect part of that was outright shock," I reasoned. "Imagine his surprise when the Goblet of Fire pops out a fourth piece of paper. You saw Dumbledore – he was outright cowering. The only one who took it even remotely well was Bagman, and I think he just likes the unexpected."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius, pacing. "What's he like?"

"He's okay," said Harry. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now?" said Sirius, frowning more deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me," said Harry.

"Hmm," said Sirius, looking thoughtful.

"He was very concerned that you were late to the second task," I recalled, then remembered him running around making bets at the World Cup. "You don't suppose it's because he's put money on you?"

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione told Sirius. "Remember?" she said to Harry and Ron.

"Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" said Ron. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How d'you know?" Hermione shot back. "How d'you know where he Disapparated to?"

"Come off it," said Ron incredulously. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"Well Harry did say he saw a man standing there, but he couldn't see any features," Hermione said stiffly. "It could have been Bagman."

Ron opened his mouth to keep arguing but all he got out was, "I'd rather believe it was Crouch-" before Sirius held up a hand to silence him. Sirius shook his head and ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's... He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that... It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"D'you know Crouch, then?" said Harry.

Sirius's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when I first met him, the night when I still believed Sirius to be a murderer. I was reminded of how hard Sirius had been living and how long he'd been locked away with the dementors. I could barely stand to be around them for a minute, I couldn't even imagine being around them for years.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial."

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together.

"You're kidding!" said Harry. I remained silent, clenching my hand into a fist. Well, that settled it. If I ever saw Crouch at the tournament again, I was sending a Stinging Jinx straight at his arse.

"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken from my basket. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?" We shook our heads. "He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," said Sirius. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical - and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the look on Harry's face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side... well, you wouldn't understand... you're too young..."

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us, why don't you?"

A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face.

"All right, I'll try you..." He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't. You know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing... the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere... panic... confusion... that's how it used to be.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side.

"He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..." Sirius smiled grimly.

"Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione.

"Yep," said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread Harry had brought, and tearing it in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while... gotten to know his own son."

He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.

"Was his son a Death Eater?" said Harry.

"No idea," shrugged Sirius, still stuffing down bread. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters - but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark.

"Of course not," I said grimly. "He couldn't not if he wanted to keep his reputation. He was at the pinnacle of his success and having his son found with Death Eaters was a serious blow to that success. Crouch himself defending him? It would have brought everything crashing down around his ears. Crouch's best option was to be as harsh with his son – maybe even harsher – as he was with everyone else."

"That's not a 'best option!'" Ron snapped. "That's a terrible option! Who thinks like that?"

I raised an eyebrow at Ron. "Slytherins do. Many Ravenclaws do. Politicians and officials do. I do." Harry cast me a nervous look, like he was worried I'd toss him to the dementors given the chance – he didn't need to worry, if one of us went to Azkaban it would probably be me.

Sirius nodded at me approvingly. "You've got the measure of him, Lorena. Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy... then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" asked Harry quietly.

"That's right," said Sirius, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though... they all went quiet in the end... except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them. I knew that look. It was the look a person got when they looked deep into the darkest parts of their memory, when they became lost in the muck and the mire of their past.

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry asked, breaking the spell.

"No," said Sirius dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He died?"

"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress - I watched them do it."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up one of my flasks of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic... next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius. I sneered and noticed Sirius look at me sideways.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," said Sirius, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," said Sirius.

"Yeah, it does!" said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head. I glared at Ron.

"If Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry, but Hermione broke in.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape -"

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him -"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno - maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out-"

"You dunno," I said mockingly, making myself sound slow and thick. "Then maybe you should keep your mouth shut. Snape's a bastard but he's not evil."

"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said loudly. Ron and I stopped bickering to listen.

"I think they've both got a point," said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at us. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other. I scowled. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.

"Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery - from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" said Harry quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

He showed Snape something on his arm?" said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. "Well, I've no idea what that's about... but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers..."

Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.

"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" said Ron stubbornly.

"Maybe because Crouch is obsessed and Moody's a paranoid bastard?" I suggested saccharinely.

"Well," said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though... he's a different matter... is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not... what's he up to? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all - quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic... maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long..."

Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

"It's half past three," said Hermione.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen..." He looked particularly hard at Harry and I. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but Sirius scowled at him.

"I don't care... I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?" He glanced sideways at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Do you lot mind waiting outside for a second? I want a word with Lorena."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised, and by the looks on their faces, so were the others. Harry shot me a curious look and Ron looked a bit put out and being left out of the loop. Hermione glanced at me sideways and hustled the boys out. I nodded at her thankfully before turning back to Sirius.

"What's this about?" I asked.

"What's your problem with Moody?" Sirius asked slowly. "I saw the look on your face earlier. What'd he do to piss you off so much?"

"He tried to touch my scar," I said shortly. "First class he starts rambling about Unforgiveables and then other dark curses. Brings up the Reminder and asks me if I know what it does." I scoffed, my fingers reaching up to trace the thin line on my cheek. "I did. He got real close to me and tried to touch it."

Sirius frowned. "That is a little odd. You'd think Moody would have come across it before. Then again, Moody's a little odd," he allowed. "How are your private projects coming along?" he asked hopefully. "Any progress?"

I drew my wand and cast "Expecto Patronum!" The bird-shaped blur of silver shot from the end of my wand. It had gained a bit of definition around the tip of the beak and the claws thanks to some practice, but it still wasn't truly corporeal.

"You're getting closer!" Sirius said encouragingly. "What shape is that anyway, d'you know?" he asked, reaching up to trail a hand through some of the silver streams floating off the wings.

I bit my lip. "Er, same as my Animagus form?"

"Huh?" Sirius gaped at me. "You already transformed?" he asked in disbelief.

"No!" I laughed. "But McGonagall's got this mirror that shows what your form is and how likely you are to achieve it. Some really old thing covered in runes," I explained. "It showed me. It was almost perfectly clear."

"What is it?" Sirius asked eagerly. "Some kind of bird? I could see you as a falcon or something… maybe a crow…"

I scowled at the last one. "Thanks. It's a… well, it's a phoenix actually," I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. Sirius's head snapped away from the Patronus to stare at me.

"Lorena," he said hoarsely. "Magical forms are really rare… and a phoenix… Do you have any idea why?" he asked me curiously.

I shook my head, smiling bitterly as I crossed my arms under my chest, ending the Patronus. The silvery light winked out of existence, casting the cave in darkness. "I don't. I can't imagine myself as anything that good."

Sirius stepped forward, a sympathetic expression on his face as he clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You're not nearly as bad as you think, Lorena," he assured me. "You try to hide behind this Slytherin mask but I can see that you really do care about other people and you want to be a good person. We all have both light and dark inside of us. What matters is what we choose to act on."

I bit my lip, turning my head away from him slightly. "But what if…" I sucked in a breath, remembering how I'd been tempted to use a Crucio on Parkinson instead of just giving her boils. "What if the darkness is too tempting?"

Sirius looked at me sadly. "Then you fight it. Some people have to spend their whole life fighting against themselves to become the people they want to be. Look at Remus – he has to fight every day to be accepted. Look at me," he said bitterly. "My family were pureblood fanatics – by all rights me and your dad should never have been friends. I should have been a Slytherin, buddying up with Snape." He made a face. I laughed weakly.

He reached up to pat my cheek. I wrinkled my nose unconsciously and Sirius winced. "Yeah, it's been a while since I had a chance to clean up."

I pulled out my wand and hit him with a couple of Scourgifys but they didn't do much. They got rid of the dirt, but Sirius had still been wearing the same ragged robes for over a year and his hair was still a wreck.

"It's something," I said helpfully. Sirius chuckled and nodded, urging me towards the opening of the cave. We came out together, the others looking at me curiously.

"I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," said Sirius, "see if I can scrounge another paper."

He transformed into the great black dog before we left the mountain, and we walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of us to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. We made their way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

"What did Sirius want to talk about?" Harry asked the moment Sirius was gone. I shook my head.

"Just some stuff I'd written him about earlier."

"Stuff," Harry said dubiously. "What kind of stuff?"

"A project I've been working on," I replied calmly. I couldn't exactly figure out why I didn't want Harry to know I was working on the Patronus Charm and becoming an Animagus. Maybe it was because I didn't want him to react the same way Hermione did when she found out about the Patronus thing. Maybe it was because I was worried he'd think I was trying to show him up or something by becoming an Animagus like our dad.

"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?" Ron said as we walked up the drive to the castle. "But maybe he doesn't care... It'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son."

"Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors," said Hermione severely.

"I don't know," said Ron skeptically. "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career... Percy's really ambitious, you know..."

We walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward us from the Great Hall.

"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron, breathing deeply. "He must really like you Potters... Imagine having to live off rats."