"Ah, there you are, Mr. Potter. Thank you for coming so quickly on such short notice. This here is Ragnok, the goblin from Gringotts who will oversee the rending of the basilisk. Ragnok, this is Harry Potter, the slayer of said basilisk."

Harry and Ragnok nodded at each other curtly, the goblin obviously sizing him up. Dumbledore noticed, and put a stop to it quickly.

Well then, gentlemen, shall we go? Mr. Potter, as the only Parselmouth present, you will need to be present to allow access to the Chamber. Have you anything important to attend to within the next few hours?"

Harry shook his head, and they walked out of the office. The trio met up with a group of humans and goblins in the Entrance Hall. Names were exchanged, but from what Harry heard, Ragnok was the only person- goblin- of importance, so he ignored the rest. Once in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Harry hissed at the sink, and walked down the stairs while the others were staring in amazement at the opening mechanism. Dumbledore stayed back to watch them, amused. They caught up when he was halfway down, and paused again they came across the first basilisk skin.

"Bloody fuck…" one of them whispered. In the quiet, stone hallway, it echoed. The group stopped in their collective tracks to poke and prod, running hands and gnarled claws over the scales. They had not decayed in the slightest, and were nearly as hard as the one currently attached to the corpse- being shed had done nothing to diminish its potential.

"That's only a bunch of scales. Leave someone to take care of it, and let's go," Harry commanded, startling the harvesters. They saw the sense of his suggestion, and one game of rock-paper-scissors later, they were back on the move. The man left behind was cursing, and wrangled a promise from one of his colleagues to be shown the memory later. WIth every skin they came across, the process was repeated, until only a dozen of the twenty harvesters arrived in the Chamber of Secrets.

"That's the corpse," Harry said, pointing at the massive, dead snake. "There aren't any more skins laying around, so don't bother searching. I don't know where they are- maybe she ate them, maybe they're just hidden, but that doesn't matter right now."

WIth that, Harry continued to the statue of Salazar Slytherin. WIth a loud hiss that startled the harvesters, the mouth opened, and Harry Levitated himself up on a Conjured stone platform.

Over the course of the day, Harry occupied himself with Naga, idly listening to the shouts of awe and irritation from the Gringotts workers that floated up to his level. After a while, Harry dropped into an intense workout, pushing his body to the limits. Because of his constant exhaustion from holding back his rage, he'd neglected his training for the better part of September. It was time to fix that, starting with whipping himself back into shape.

"I don't care what you do with the bones, meat, or venom. I just want the scales that were on the corpse- not one of the shed skins. The ones on the corpse are the freshest, and therefore the most durable. I want them to make a wand holster, and later, armor."

Ragnok raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Potter, that basilisk was long enough that you could make a new set of armor and a wand holster every year for the next century, and still have more than half of it left. Of course, that will be completely unnecessary, since one set can last you through a decade of constant battle, considering its hardness. Surely you do not need all of that?"

"Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Besides, it's my kill; I'm the one that decides what happens with it. I could just pay you in galleons and keep all the parts, if you want?"

The goblin raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Now, now, no need to be hasty, Mr. Potter. It was merely a question- with all the shedded skins, we have more than enough basilisk scales for whatever we may want. It is a shame that there is such a limited source of venom, however."

Harry nodded. "Contact me in a few months, and I'll see what I can do."

Ragnok looked confused. "What do you mean, Mr. Potter?" The boy remained silent, and they stared at each other for a long while. Eventually, Ragnok just sighed, and motioned for his entourage to go.

"I'll owl Gringotts to tell them to transfer the proper amount of galleons to you."

"Thank you. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter."

"Ah, Mr. Potter! Nice of you to return! I trust you have the basilisk scales?"

Harry wordlessly handed over a small pouch, enchanted with spatial and weight-reducing charms. Ollivander opened it and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of material. He turned it over, examining it carefully, before nodding in satisfaction.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter! It'll take a few hours, because I need to shape it manually- basilisk hide of this quality won't be affected by the normal spells- so I suggest you come back tomorrow. I'll have two holsters done by then."

Harry nodded, and left Ollivander's shop.

Having something covering the majority of his forearm was a bit disconcerting. It wasn't very heavy, and incredibly comfortable, but it still felt odd. Ollivander had warned him about that, that he'd get over it eventually. So, it was only a matter of time before the holster became another part of his body.

There were two types of holsters; flick, and spring-loaded. The names were fairly self-explanatory. With the flick holster, you had to flick your forearm, the force dislodging the wand, and sending it flying into your hand. The spring-loaded holster had a trigger that was activated by bending your wrist back a certain amount, causing your wand to blast out of the tube it sat in. This type was less popular, because the reflexes required to successfully catch your wand were insane. Even for people who could do it, there was far too much risk involved. In combat, you likely wouldn't even have the time to activate the mechanism, and since you were always on the move, it was near-to impossible to grab your wand, leaving it to go flying across the battlefield. As such, aurors and the like tended to use flick holsters. The spring-loaders were more for people that wanted to show off.

Harry had a flick holster. This was custom made, as all holsters were due to differing arm sizes and wand lengths and whatnot, but Ollivander had added a little extra something. Rather than keeping the wand in a full tube, Ollivander had made it so the storage component was only half of a cylinder. As such, Harry's wand was always in contact with his arm, so he could cast spells without pulling out his wand at all. He'd have to be careful when doing that, however, since it was possible that the spell could clip his hand on the way out, blowing it off or something. Harry didn't want to risk that, so he compromised. He quickly figured out how to cast spells while flicking his wand out. The magic was channeled when the wand was fully sheathed, and when it shot out of the holster, the speed with which it moved launched the spell. After that, he could cast spells as he normally did.

Along with his normal training regiment of duelling and physical conditioning, Harry spent a few minutes each day practicing with the holster, to reduce the chances of him messing up in a high-pressure situation.

He'd also added in something popular among Muggles; acrobatics. Flips, handstands, beam-walking, it all did wonders for his balance. Using the equipment produced by the room, he was able to build up muscles in different places from his typical workouts, which made it incredibly easy to toss himself around, increasing his general movement speed. The improved flexibility was also quite nice. It lent itself well to his new application of the Sticking Charm, which he'd accidentally discovered during his traumatic experience with the Knight Bus; wall-crawling.

By channeling Sticking Charms to his feet- wandlessly, of course- he could add another dimension to his movement capabilities. Though wizards had the ability to change their altitude at will, it tended to be rather clumsy, and required a fair amount of concentration; something that can't be spared in a fight for one's life. With the Sticking Charms, he could Transfigure columns to climb, allowing him a height advantage. They also doubled as shields against some spells, and could even be used as launching pads. Using a combination of wall-crawling and acrobatics, Harry could bounce around in tight spaces like a rubber ball. In theory. In actuality, most of his attempts ended with him slamming face-first into the stone pillars. It was a good thing his glasses had runes that made them Unbreakable, or he'd have had to replace them at least twenty times by now, and far more in the future.

The difficulty was two-fold, if you thought about it in simplistic terms. First, there was the application of the Sticking Charm. You had to time it just right so that you stuck to the surface long enough to boost off of it, but not too long that when you did jump, you ended up dangling by your ankle. That seemed like a good way to dislocate something. Then, there was the issue of orientation. If Harry was going to jump from a wall to the ceiling, he'd need to be able to rotate in the air, as well as not get nauseous from the sudden change in perspective. The latter was a bit easier, since he was used to flying upside on his broom, whether it be during a Quidditch game, back when he actually played the sport, or just a leisurely flight. The former is where the acrobatics came in. The ability to flip around at a moment's notice was essential, and something he'd need to practice more at if he didn't want to keep awkwardly slamming into things. Obviously, there were the leg strength requirements, but so long as he kept the target platforms at a relatively close distance, he wouldn't have to worry about that. Transfiguration would help, because it allowed him to bring the landing area closer to him.

This was something he'd have to work at, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was persisting.

Today's morning run was cancelled before it began, due to a strange event. It began as normal, Harry walking out the main entrance of the castle, dressed in his typical workout gear of a t-shirt, windbreaker, sweatpants, and tennis shoes. He waved at his cloaked, non-human friend, who was approaching him rapidly.

Why is it moving so fast…?

The thing was now a stone's toss away, which is when it normally slowed down and drifted over towards him, but for some reason, it kept flying at him like a broomstick. Its arms were outstretched, and not just because that was how the cloaked figure normally held its hands. Rather, it seemed to be actively reaching for him.

And then, Harry felt it. That bone-chilling cold. This chill wasn't caused by his own ice. Harry's ice didn't make his blood freeze in his veins (well, not anymore, at least), didn't make his mind sluggish, his stomach churn, his heart beat erratically. Harry's ice did not make him feel fear.

"Grab Harry and run!"

"James, no!"

"Not Harry! Please, have mercy!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Warmth blossomed within him. This wasn't the furious heat of his fiery rage. This was more… Comforting. Soothing. Gentle. It filled him to the brim with all types of pleasant feelings, and he couldn't quite put a name to any one of them. Instead, they blended together into a potent cocktail of… Happiness.

White, glowing mist burst into existence, surrounding Harry. It flowed over and past him, swirling into the shape of a spectral wolf. With a silent howl, the beast pounced, rushing at the black-cloaked ghoul heading straight at him. The demon shrieked when the ghostly figure came close, and was pushed back when they made contact. It turned around, tattered robes flapping, and fled at a greater speed than what it had approached with. The wolf gave chase for a few dozen feet, before turning around and trotting back towards him. He watched the misty form as it came closer, then passed right through him.

With a gasp, Harry whirled around, and saw the phantom being patted on its flanks by a person with a familiar scarred visage, then disappearing in a puff of white mist.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, voice breathy and quiet. The man smiled gently at him.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. Beautiful morning, isn't it? Although, I've always been of the opinion that the sunrise is better viewed from a window high up, not outside on the ground."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he simply nodded.

"Now, what were you doing out here?"

"I… I was going for my morning run, like I always do… Professor, what just happened?"

Lupin grimaced. "What you encountered just now, Mr. Potter, was a Dementor. They are demonic creatures, unkillable by any method known to wizards, and they feed on souls. They also have an aura around them, which drains the happiness of any person nearby, bringing forth all their worst memories to make them suffer. They are horrible monsters, Mr. Potter, and you would do well to stay away from them in the future."

Harry nodded silently.

"Come, let's go back inside and get you some chocolate. It lessens the effects of the Dementor's aura, and is tasty to boot!"

The enthusiasm brought a small smile to Harry's face. "By the way, Professor, what was that spell you used?"

Apparently, the amount of happiness needed to power the Patronus Charm was unprecedented in Harry's life. No matter what memory he called upon to fuel it, nothing worked. Not Quidditch, which had been ruined by Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Not time spent on his studies, both mandatory and extracurricular. One was plain boring, and the other filled him with pride instead of happiness. Definitely not time with his friends, who were keeping their distance as well this year- then again, considering how temperamental he'd been lately, he couldn't exactly blame them, despite how much it hurt.

Daphne seemed like she was somewhat regretting her choice to abandon Draco's clique, since Harry couldn't exactly protect her if she was avoiding him. Tracey obviously followed Daphne. Luna and Ginny, between being in a younger year, and a different House for the former, hardly saw him in the first place. The Weasley Twins still shot him greetings whenever they saw him, but no longer included him in their pranks, either as a planner or potential target. Hermione looked torn between approaching Harry, and running far away from his fiery rage. It didn't help that he'd nearly burned her to a crisp on two separate occasions, which was likely a large factor in her hesitance. She settled on a happy medium; stay the hell away so she didn't need to run at all. It was pragmatic, but more importantly, it hurt Harry. A lot.

Before Hogwarts, Harry had never had a friend. So, for him to finally make seven (eight, if you counted Ron), but then have them all abandon him, sucked major hippogriff nards. His nonhuman friends, Naga, Hedwig, and Buckbeak (who he hadn't gone to visit since his run-in with the Dementor), didn't count. Those memories filled him more with contentment than pure joy. Obviously, his morning runs with his Dementor friend were out for a mix of both reasons. Getting attacked by a soul-sucking demon, whether it was his friend or one of the hundred others roaming the ground, tended to do that.

The less said about life before Hogwarts, the better.

"Professor Lupin, I don't think I can do this. I've gone through as many happy memories as I can recall, but nothing seems to be working." To emphasise his point, Harry held up his wand and concentrated. From the tip emerged a single, nearly transparent wisp of white smoke. It didn't even glow.

Lupin stared at the ground, a forlorn expression playing across his face. Finally, the man sighed. "Harry, I don't think it's as simple as you not being able to do it. I think it's more along the lines of you just not having found the right memory. As of now, you're incapable of mustering up the happiness to perform the Charm, which I must admit to feeling partially responsible for. You are the son of two of my best friends, but I wasn't there for you before now. However, I'm here now, and I'll do my best to help you find that perfect memory, the one that will fill you with enough joy that you'll be able to produce the largest Patronus ever seen!"

The fire in the normally-calm man's eyes made Harry smile. "So basically, I can't do it?"

Lupin sighed once more, but he seemed amused as well. "No, I suppose you can't."

Christmas hols came and went. No progress was made on the Patronus, and Harry only received two gifts; a few boxes of chocolate from Professor Lupin, and a broomstick. Specifically, a Firebolt. According to the bits of conversation he'd heard recently, it was the newest, fastest, and overall best broom on the market. Many students had stated their overwhelming desire for it, along with envy for the richest families, who would surely get one. Draco had been bragging to just about anyone who would listen that he'd definitely receive one as a Christmas gift. Apparently, so had Harry.

It came with no note, not even a scrap of parchment with initials, so Harry had absolutely no clue who sent this. Harry suspected the Headmaster, since the old man had done the same thing with his Invisibility Cloak- which he didn't use much now that he could perform the Disillusionment Charm with impressive efficiency- but ruled that option out. If Dumbledore were to get him a gift, it would be practical. Perhaps a book with obscure spells, or something along those lines. Not a broom, especially when Harry had once ranted to him about much he disliked Quidditch now (more specifically, Quidditch at Hogwarts). Still, that didn't mean Harry hated flying. He just hadn't much of a chance, what with the Dementors, and his promise to Professor Lupin not to go outside without an adult capable of casting the Patronus Charm. Unfortunately, that also meant he wouldn't have much of a chance to test out the Firebolt for the rest of the year, or until whenever the Ministry decided to recall the Dementors back to Azkaban. So, the broomstick simply went into his chest, where it would sit for a while next to the Nimbus 2000 McGonagall had gotten him in First Year.

It was slightly disheartening that none of his old friends had gotten him presents, but at least he wouldn't have to get them anything. Made his life a little easier.

And a little more lonely.

The castle was in an uproar. According to the rumors, Sirius Black had been in the castle just last night. He'd snuck into Gryffindor Tower, unimpeded by the portrait of Sir Cadogan, the temporary replacement for the Fat Lady, who refused to return after Black attacked her painting.

When did that happen?

Upon being granted access- Cadogan said Black got the right password, after listing off all the old ones from a sheet of parchment- Black went straight to the Third Year boy's dormitory, where he slashed up the bed curtains of one Ronald Weasley. The redhead had thought it a nightmare and passed out within moments, but upon waking up and finding the torn fabric, he shrieked loud enough to even wake up the girls, who were on the opposite side of the Tower. Ron was currently in the Hospital Wing, drugged to the gills with Calming Draughts, lest he turn into a babbling psychopath. There was talk of bringing in Mind Healers for the boy who had come face-to-face with a deranged murderer.

Meanwhile, McGonagall was furious. She had stomped into the Great Hall upon learning that Black somehow had a list of the passwords, and demanded, in all her Scottish fury, to know who had created such a thing. There were even two Aurors flanking her, since that person was currently suspected of aiding and abetting an escaped criminal. After the threat of questioning every single person in Hogwarts, student or otherwise, Neville Longbottom reluctantly confessed. He was taken to the DMLE offices for interrogation, despite his insistence that he simply could not remember the passwords without writing them down. Aside from that, he was stripped of his right to Hogsmeade visits, given detention for the rest of the year, and received a public Howler from his incredibly-vocal Gran soon afterwards.

To make things worse, nobody was allowed to tell Neville the weekly portrait password. He would have to wait for somebody to open it for him, or travel with someone else. Unfortunately, since he had no friends, there were very few people willing to do either. As a result, Neville spent many nights huddled in front of the Tower entrance, shivering against the cold stone. His terrible grades plummeted further, somehow. There were a few small rumors that he likely wouldn't pass Third Year, usually accompanied by snickers.

"Neville."

"H-Harry!?" the pudgy boy cried, not expecting to be approached by anyone due to his disgrace.

"Follow me."

"W-where to?" Neville asked warily. He'd been pulled aside into many side corridors and hexed to unconsciousness by many of his fellow students, and he knew that Harry Potter was powerful. If the emerald-eyed boy were to do the same, it would probably hurt more than normal.

"Somewhere safe."

Despite his misgivings, Neville figured he had nothing to really lose, and only another night in the Hospital Wing to gain. So, he followed.

"W… What is this place?"

"This is the Room of Requirement. It's where I've been living since I got kicked out of the Tower last year. It can make beds to sleep in, bathrooms with showers, tables to study at- pretty much anything you think of, and the Room can do it. You can call on the House Elves to bring food, too, which is why I don't go to the Great Hall often these days."

Neville, having grown up in a traditional magical household, knew what House Elves were. He had a few back at Longbottom Manor. Still, the rest of the things that Harry claimed seemed a bit unbelievable… Then again, this was magic they were talking about. Neville decided to accept what the boy was saying, but that still didn't explain everything.

"W-why are you showing me this, Harry?"

Harry stared at him for a few moments, expression undecipherable. "I'm not going to lie to you, Neville. I pity you. I find you pathetic. To me, you are the epitome of weakness and incompetence; lacking magical power, the ability to make coherent sentences, and completely missing anything resembling a backbone. You are more worthless than the dirt I walk upon."

Against his best wishes, tears had sprung to Neville's eyes, and took a step back as if struck. "W-why…?"

"That's why, I'm going to help you become the strongest. Starting now."

Why is there a dog here?

Harry had taken a rare trip down to Hogsmeade to stock up on some quills and ink, as well as pick up a few things for Neville. He still had one or two, but was worried they wouldn't last through the entire week. So, he headed on down to the horseless carriages, climbed into an empty one, and was towed to the village. Once there, he hopped out, and caught sight of the black mutt.

It was staring at him intensely, intelligence obvious in its grey eyes. After a drawn out moment, Harry walked over, and slowly held a hand out in front of him. The dog hesitantly crept forward, and poked his palm with a wet nose. Then, it barked happily, and began licking his hand. Harry smiled, bringing his other hand around to scratch it under the chin, kneeling so he could reach better.

"What's your name, hm?" Harry asked, patting the dog on its rather bony flank. He frowned a bit when he noticed how tangled and dirty the long hair was.

The dog stuck its nose against his cheek, and began sniffing incredibly loud, almost exaggeratedly.

"Alright, I guess I'll call you Sir Snuffles-A-Lot. Snuffles, for short."

Obviously, Harry couldn't very well bring Snuffles back to the castle via carriage, and he definitely couldn't bring him in through the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore might like Harry, but he'd probably still uphold the rules. It wouldn't do to show favoritism, after all. So, he'd have to go find out about some less-than-legal methods to move in and out of the castle. Who better to ask than the Weasley Twins? So, he approached them as they were leaving the Great Hall.
"Fred, George, walk with me."

"Oh, it's ickle Harrikins!"

"Although, he's not really very ickle anymore, is he?"

"No, I suppose not, oh brother of mine. I miss the days when he was just a tiny little Firstie."

"Too right- back when we could actually prank him and get a good reaction."

"Yup. Now it's all fire and brimstone if he stubs his toe."

The Twins wisely shut up when Harry glanced over his shoulder at them, steam curling off his robes. They followed silently until they reached an empty classroom, the three slipping in. Harry cast an eye around, and satisfied that they were alone, turned back to the troublemakers.

"Alright, what do you two know about secret entrances into the castle?"

Their grins were, admittedly, rather disturbing.

"We thought you'd never ask, Harry!" they said in unison. One of them pulled out a rather large piece of parchment, laying it onto a desk.

"Were you expecting this?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Yup! Considering how rare it is to see you these days, we figured you were spending your time outside the castle."

"Oh? And how do you know I wasn't just in an out-of-the-way classroom?"

"That would be because of this."

One of the Twins pulled out their wand, poking it to the piece of parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"

Ink appeared suddenly, scrawling across the piece of paper in a series of boxes, circles, and swirls. At the top of the parchment, an underlined label appeared; The Marauder's Map. To the left-hand side, a series of numbers, descending from seven to two, then becoming the letters G and D. Then, the red dots started showing up. Each had a small name underneath, some of which Harry recognized- such as Ronald Weasley, moving away from the area labelled Great Hall- but some were a bit less familiar, like Penelope Clearwater. He vaguely recalled that she was one of the people petrified by Naga's mother last year, but that was about all he knew of her. The dot labeled as Clearwater was incredibly close to the dot labeled Percy Weasley. In fact, they were almost on top of each other, and the box they were in was incredibly small.

"Is this…?" Harry began, but was unable to finish the sentence due to his shock.

"A map of the school?"

"With the names of everybody in the castle labeled?"

"Telling us their exact location at all times?"

"As well as revealing any secret passages?"

"Why, yes it is, Harry!" they cheered in unison. Harry just stared at them for a while.

"I think we broke him, Fred."

"Dear brother of mine, I think you might be right for once."

"Oi, I'll have you know I'm right more often than you are!"

"Remember last Potions class?"

"Listen, it's not my fault that newt tails look like salamander tails!"

"Yes, but it is your fault for not reading the labels correctly, you dolt!"

"Hey!" Harry barked, interrupting them. "Secret passages?"

"Ah, right. Well, that would depend on where you're going."

"Hogsmeade."

"Then you'll be wanting to look at the Third Floor." A Twin tapped the number three to the side of the castle layout. Whereas the G was circled before, now it was the three, and with it, the floor plan changed, as did all the dots and names. So those are to show which floor is being shown at the moment. I'm assuming G is Ground, and D is Dungeon.

The other Twin pointed to a section of the hallway outside the room labeled DADA classroom. Two lines branched off from the seemingly solid walls, forming a corridor, and in between was written One-Eyed Witch Passage.

"That leads to the cellar of Honeydukes. Wanna go now?"

"Dissendium."

The statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor slid three feet to the right, revealing a dark cavern behind it.

"Well, this is the way, mate."

"Best of luck!"

"Try not to get caught when you get back!"

With that, the Twins walked off, waving to Harry. The emerald-eyed boy stared into the darkness for a few moments, before stepping inside. The statue slid to a shut behind him, cutting off all light until he tossed up a Lumos. One long walk later, Harry exited the corridor in a dusty place, full of cobwebs and dankness. It looked like nobody had been down here in ages, which was probably how people have been using this secret exit without being caught, and the Honeydukes employees sealing it up. There was a visible path on the ground from where previous generations of Hogwarts students tread on their way to and from Hogsmeade. It led to a set of stairs, which brought Harry outside behind the sweets shop, rather than into the main floor. That was good.

First, Harry cast the Point-Me Spell, directing it to point him towards Snuffles the dog. With a quick set of stealth spells (Disillusionment, Silencers, and Track-Removers), Harry was walking quickly through Hogsmeade. He ended up a fair distance outside the village, coming upon a dilapidated shack, which looked ready to fall apart at any moment. Casting the Point-Me Spell again revealed that, unfortunately, this was the right place, so Harry cautiously opened the door.

"Snuffles?" he called, casting a Lumos. The place wasn't as broken down on the inside as he'd expected- at least, there weren't any holes leading to the outside of the building. There wasn't any furniture, but a few bookshelves lines the wall. That was about it.

"Snuffles?" Harry called again, louder. He glanced around once more, and saw that there was a set of stairs leading downstairs. Steeling himself, Harry walked down, wand in front of him. He was ready for just about anything- except to come across a man laying on a tattered mattress.

Harry froze, not even putting out his light. Minutes passed, and when the man did not stir, Harry concluded that he was likely asleep. Confused, Harry crept around the mattress, peering at the man's face with the aid of his magical light. Black hair, that looked like it would be wavy or curly had it not been so matted with filth. A gaunt face, which may have once had sharp edges and chiseled facets once upon a time. A shaggy goatee, and unkempt mustache. For some reason, he looked familiar…

The man's eyes snapped open suddenly, revealing grey pupils, and he shot into a sitting position.

"James?" he whispered, before catching sight of the boy's eyes. "Harry!?"

"Sirius Black."

The man hopped up, arms spread wide as if he was going to try and capture Harry in a rib-crushing hug. Harry did not plan on letting that happen. As soon as Black rose, he rushed forward, shoving his wand underneath the criminal's chin.

"Don't. Move."

Black froze, eyes wide and jaw unhinged, almost like he hadn't been expecting to be attacked at all. Harry chalked it up to surprise that a child could move so fast, and ignored it.

"H-Harry? What're ya d-!?"

"Shut up!" Harry barked, jabbing his wand at the man's throat, making him choke and stumble back a step. Black looked hurt, which made no sense. Then again, he'd been in prison for well over a decade. Crazy probably didn't even begin to describe him, as evident by his calling Harry James.

"I should kill you right now," Harry muttered, tightening his grip on his wand. The emerald light glowing at its tip emphasized his point, and Black looked truly frightened. He opened his mouth- to scream, or to say something, Harry didn't know- and Harry flicked his wand, sending the Killing Curse flying.

This time, Black did scream, as he dove out of the way. Luckily for him, Harry had aimed over the man's shoulder, because by the time he moved, the spell had long since passed him, blowing a chunk out of the dirt wall. Instead, Harry hit the man with a Stunner, following up with an Incarcerous, Petrificus Totalus, Leg Lockers, then finishing off by Transfiguring the dirt into steel chains that wrapped tightly around Black.

Harry sighed, staring at his wand. He had no clue how he cast the Killing Curse- there was no denying what the spell was- but he couldn't worry about that right now.

"Fawkes!"

Dumbledore sighed. "I do believe I'm getting too old for this, dear boy. How, exactly, did you simply come across Sirius Black?"

"I went to find a dog, but I found him instead."

The two wizards stared at each other for a long while, before Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. He realized that he would get nothing more from Harry with anything short of a full-on interrogation, and that just wasn't his style. The old man rose from his comfy chair.

"Well, then I will contact the DMLE and-"

"Wait."

Dumbledore paused, looking at the boy with a raised eyebrow.

"I want to talk to him. I want to know why."

The Headmaster nodded tiredly. Rather than going to the fireplace, he walked over to his shelves of odd knick-knacks. Tapping the side of the wall with his wand, the shelf flipped over, revealing a variety of bottled potions on the other side. Dumbledore grabbed one, and walked over to the still-unconscious Black. He forced the man's mouth open, then poured three drops of the clear liquid into his mouth. The potion was sent back to its place with a flick of his wrinkled hand, and another hid the potions from sight.

"That was Veritaserum, a potion which compels the drinkers to tell the truth in response to any question they are asked, regardless of their personal feelings on it. Since it is a compulsion-based magic, a strong enough Occlumens can fight it off… However, I doubt anyone would be able to do so after twelve years of being surrounded by Dementors."

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore Revived Black, who merely opened his eyes. Another wave, and the man was able to at least move his head around.

"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked.

"Sirius Orion Black." The answer was delivered monotonously, Black's eyes glazed over.

"When were you born?"

"November Third, Nineteen Fifty-Nine."

Dumbledore nodded to Harry. "The Veritaserum has taken effect. Ask away, Mr. Potter."

Harry stepped forward, a fierce glare fixed on Black. "Why did you betray my parents?"

"I did not."

Harry's head whipped toward Dumbledore, who looked just as shocked as him, his spectacles slipping halfway down his nose. Harry swallowed back some saliva, and licked his lips.

"Then how did Voldemort find them?"

"Peter Pettigrew told him the secret location of their house in Godric's Hollow."

Dumbledore gasped, and Harry knew they had reached the same conclusion. However, he had to be absolutely sure.

"Who… Who was the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm?"

"I was the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius that Dumbledore cast. When he left, James and Lily dissolved it, and cast a new one with Peter as the Secret Keeper. I told them it was a better idea, because as James' best friend, I was the most obvious choice."

Harry staggered back, falling heavily into a chair, and Dumbledore took over the questioning from there.

"Do you have a Dark Mark?"

"No."

"Have you ever, at any point in time, past or present, been allied with the Dark Lord Voldemort?"
"No."

"Who cast the new Fidelius Charm?"

"Lily cast it, with James as the property owner, and Peter as the Secret Keeper."

"What happened to Mr. Pettigrew?"

"After I heard that Voldemort had attacked Godric's Hollow, I went over there to try and help. They were already dead, but I found Peter in the house. He picked up a wand, which I don't think was his, and ran. I stayed to take care of Harry, but Hagrid came, so I left Harry with him and went after Peter. I cornered him on a street in Muggle London, and he started yelling about how he couldn't believe that I'd betray James and Lily, even though I didn't. Then, he cast a spell that blew up the street, killing a bunch of Muggles. He cut off one of his fingers and left it on the ground, then turned into a rat and went into the sewers. He's hiding as Ronald Weasley's pet."

"Wait, what? He turned into a rat?" Harry asked, temporarily coming out of his stupor.

"It was his Animagus form." Sirius responded.

"What's an Animagus?"

"A wizard that can turn into an animal, but still have complete control over their minds. It's different from Human-to-Animal Transfiguration, where the wizard gains the same instincts as the animal."

Dumbledore shivered- it was odd to hear the notoriously irresponsible Sirius Black giving a lecture. "How do you know Pettigrew is Ronald Weasley's pet?"

"Fudge tossed a newspaper into my cell during his annual inspection. On the front cover was a picture of the Weasley family, something about how they'd won a free trip to Egypt. I saw the rat on Ronald Weasley's shoulder, and I knew it was Peter. It was missing the pinky of its left hand, the same finger that Peter cut off twelve years ago."

Dumbledore swallowed heavily, wrinkled face paling until it was the same shade as his magnificent beard.

"Mr. Potter, I do believe we have a problem."

The Fat Lady swung open when the Headmaster told her the override password, her portrait slamming against its hinges. The old man looked to be in a rush, and she didn't exactly want to stand in his way, lest there be a repeat of the Black incident that caused her to vacate in the first place.

Luckily for Harry and Dumbledore, Ron was sitting at one of the tables in the Gryffindor Common Room, playing a round of Wizarding Chess with Dean Thomas. And, sitting right on top of the table, looking to be asleep, was Ron's pet rat, Scabbers.

A red light shot across the room, slamming into the rat and sending it off the table. Ron and Dean shouted, jumping up and scattering chess pieces. They looked ready to start a fight with whoever did that, until they saw a furious Harry and a stony-faced Dumbledore storming over to them. The boys had fear written all over their faces, but it morphed into confusion when the two passed them by, going to stand above the rat.

"Missing the left-most finger on his left hand… Black was right. Ron!" Harry shouted, startling the redhead. He jumped.

"Y-yeah?"

"How long have you had this rat?"
"Uh… I just got him this year, but before that, Percy had him. You'll have to ask him."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Lee Jordan. "Lee!"

"Um, yeah Harry?"

"Go find Percy, tell him to come down here. And get the Twins- tell them to bring the map." At the look of confusion and hesitance, Harry growled. "Just do it! They'll know what I mean."

Flames wreathed Harry's shoulders, his emerald eyes glinting dangerously in the firelight. Any second thoughts Lee had evaporated, replaced by terror of being burned at the stake, and he ran up the stairs to the dorm rooms.

For a few minutes, Harry and Dumbledore waited, with more people trickling down the stairs to check out the commotion. Hermione and Ginny walked up to ask Harry about the situation, but a venomous glare kept their mouths shut. Finally, Lee came back, Percy and the Twins in tow.

"Percy!" Harry shouted, before the Head Boy had even made it off the stairs, "How long have you had Scabbers!?"

The oldest redhead in the castle blinked in confusion, then tilted his head as he thought it over. "I'd say… A little over twelve years?"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded. The times matched up. "Fred, George, come over here!"

The Twins complied, one of them carrying a piece of parchment in their hands. When they saw the Headmaster, they tried to squirrel it away, but Harry Summoned it with a wave of his hand, ripping it from their grasp. Once in his hand, he tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The Marauders Map bled into existence, and Harry looked to the corner where Gryffindor Tower was located. The Map conveniently showed the level they were on, so Harry looked for his own name. Next to it was Headmaster, Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas, and…

"Wormtail? Who the fuck…?" Harry muttered. He looked back and forth between the map and the rat on the floor. Their positions corresponded, but the name was not what he'd been expecting at all.

"Alright, I've let you run roughshod long enough, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said amusedly. "The rest of you return to your dorms, please. That is an order."

Very few people moved, despite the Headmaster's stern gaze. They were more focused on trying to get a look at Harry and the rat, which pissed the boy off.

"Move!" he shouted, an inferno roiling in his mouth, wispy Fiendfyre skulls popping up to float near him. That got them out of there. They were nearly running, pushing past each other to get as far away from Harry as they could. Dumbledore gave him a disapproving look, but Harry ignored it. Once everyone was gone- including Ron and the Twins, with the assurance that they'd get the Map back- Harry turned to the old man.

"Can you turn him back to his human form?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely, almost like he didn't want to do it at all. However, he pulled his wand out, and pointed it at Scabbers. Within seconds, the rat began growing, taking on the form of a portly, disfigured, wart-covered, buck-toothed, all-around disgusting man. If Hermione thought her teeth were bad…

Harry glanced down at the Marauder's Map, and saw that, where Wormtail had once been, now sat Peter Pettigrew.

Pettigrew woke up after his forced shift, and began looking around in alarm. When he saw the hateful glare of Harry, and the devastated stare of Dumbledore, he squeaked. He tried to turn into his rat form again, but Harry slammed a Bone Breaker into both the man's legs. His shrill shrieks of pain echoed through the Tower.

"Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore cried, scandalized.

"Save it!" Harry barked. "This bastard got my parents killed- he's the reason I had to live with the Dursleys. This is nothing." It seemed that Harry wasn't as over the past as he thought he was.

"H-Harry, I swear, I didn't do anything to James and Lily! It was all Black's fault- he was the one that led the Dark Lord to Godric's Hollow!" Pettigrew shouted, trying desperately to beg for his life.

"I said SAVE IT!" Harry roared, the tip of his wand glowing a brilliant emerald green as he drew it back. Dumbledore acted in an instant, shooting half a dozen Stunners at Harry, causing him to slump to the ground. The Killing Curse fizzled out, along with the Fiendfyre which had been steadily melting the stone floor.

Dumbledore stared in shock at the emerald-eyed boy, who was so willing to kill at such a young age, and wondered just where he had gone wrong.