Perhaps because of how much he'd eaten, or just because of the fact it was Sunday, Harry slept later than normal.
When he finally did wake up, the sun was already up, and Ron was digging through the sheets on his bed.
"Huh?" Harry asked, rolling over, and fell off the bed. There was a thump, one of his wings stuck up for a bit before he reeled it back in, and he snagged his glasses off the bedside table and put them on before looking around.
"Harry, good," Ron said. "Um… can you quickly check, you didn't land on Scabbers or anything?"
Harry checked, but he didn't find any squashed rat beside him or underneath him or anything like that.
"Is he missing?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, I can't find him," Ron replied. "I didn't see him last night, but I was way too tired to check."
"I don't blame you," Harry admitted. "Okay, hold on."
He took a deep sniff, then blinked.
"Huh, that's odd."
"What's odd?" Ron asked anxiously. "Can you smell him?"
"Well, yeah, but not all that recent? I think?" Harry replied. "I'm not great at tracking things, but I can usually track Trevor… but I can smell something else, as well. Sort of like fox."
"What!?" Ron demanded. "You mean like that pet fox the Slytherins have?"
"Yeah, that's the one," Harry agreed. "But it's all over the place, and I know she only came into Gryffindor tower for a few minutes yesterday – I handed her straight over to Percy and he took her down to Slytherin."
"Then someone must have let her back in," Ron guessed. "But… hold on, all the Gryffindors were at the Halloween feast, weren't they?"
"Yeah, that's what's weird about it," Harry agreed. "And I can smell the Smiths as well. I think."
He shook his head. "I can't tell if its just smelling them on her, or what… and I can't smell any blood, either, so if the vixen went after Scabbers he got away."
Ron seemed to find that a bit comforting. He was about to say something else, but Neville came running up the stairs and burst into the dorm room.
"Guys," he said, panting a little. "I just got the Daily Prophet."
"Did you see Scabbers?" Ron asked.
"What?" Neville said, thrown. "Why would Scabbers be in the Daily Prophet?"
"I don't know," Ron admitted. "But I asked you to-"
"Never mind that!" Neville insisted. "Look!"
He put the paper down on his bed, and Harry and Ron crowded around to read the front page.
SIRIUS BLACK MOSTLY INNOCENT?
There was a big photograph of Sirius Black, who Harry had seen in a photo or two before, but this time he looked deeply befuddled.
"Isn't he – but – how can he be innocent?" Ron demanded. "Didn't he betray Harry's parents or something?"
"It says mostly innocent," Harry replied. "So… did he betray Mum and Dad only a little bit?"
After thinking about that for a moment, he shook his head. "No, that doesn't make any sense…"
Deciding there was no other way to find out what was going on, he started to read the article.
"Long-time inmate of Azkaban and the head of the notorious Black Family, Sirius Black was once thought to be the most devious henchman of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," he read. "But events last night at the Ministry of Magic cast doubt on what we all thought."
He paused. "Isn't Black kind of an ominous name, now I think about it? I know it's a Muggle surname as well, but..."
"Is it a Muggle surname as well?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded, but most of his attention was on the article as he read through.
"He didn't get a trial?" the young dragon asked. "Wow."
"Well, everyone thought he was guilty, I guess," Ron replied. "It's not like anyone else could have betrayed the Potters if there was a Fidelius charm going on… wait, hold on, how could anyone else have betrayed your parents? Or was he guilty of that?"
"I'm still reading," Harry answered. "It says that..."
He stopped.
"It says what?" Ron asked.
"It says Peter Pettigrew got brought into the Ministry last night by Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape," Harry told them. "And he had a Dark Mark on his arm, and they used truth potion and he confessed to being the one who betrayed my parents."
Harry sat back, automatically twisting his tail around to act as a rest. "I mean, um… wow?"
"How did they find him?" Ron asked. "That's what I want to know."
Hermione came running up. "Have you seen the – you have!"
"Yeah, I'm still trying to get my head around it," Harry admitted.
"I know!" Hermione agreed. "I couldn't believe that Pettigrew was an illegal rat animagus who was hiding at Hogwarts for the last several years."
There was a short pause.
"What?" Ron asked. "Did you say he was a rat animagus?"
"Well, yes," Hermione replied. "There's a picture on page two, or rather, two pictures. One of Peter Pettigrew in human form and one in rat form."
Ron picked up Neville's copy of the paper and turned it to the next page.
"...well," Neville said, after a long moment. "It looks like Scabbers is in the paper."
The way Harry felt for the next half hour or so was something he couldn't really put words to.
Firstly, he was feeling a lot like he did when he wanted to test out how well he could fly, so he powered up to the level of the clouds and then just stopped flapping or gliding – tumbling through the air in freefall.
Hopefully the analogy didn't go any further than that, though, because when he'd started doing that at age eight or so it had taken him a few tries to get used to how to recover again. There had been some oddly shaped dents in a meadow not far from Little Whingeing for a year or so after that, until he'd finally got used to it properly.
Secondly, there was how Scabbers had actually been Peter Pettigrew, which was enough to wrap his head around to begin with.
Thirdly there was how apparently Mr. Barty Crouch was in really big trouble for not giving Sirius Black a trial. The Minister for Magic had only had time to give a quick statement, but he said he was shocked by the lack of care shown by the previous administration.
Then there was that Sirius Black had confessed to something else to what he'd been in Azkaban for. Apparently Professor Dumbledore (in his role as Chief Warlock, or Supreme Mugwump, or possibly Grand Sorceror) had visited Azkaban prison, and then Mr. Black had confessed to being an illegal animagus, to having recklessly endangered a fellow student at Hogwarts during his time there, half-a-dozen minor crimes, and to being 'ruggedly handsome' and 'deeply hilarious'.
The writer of the article thought it was quite likely that he'd go free based on time served.
About half past eleven in the morning, Harry and his friends were sitting around a table in the common room.
"Going down to lunch is going to be really odd," Ron said.
"Yeah, that is a good point," Dean agreed. "For both of you, too."
He shook his head. "Mum's not going to believe this."
"My mum's going to be really cross," Ron groaned.
He brightened a bit. "Though I guess Scabbers was originally Percy's pet, so maybe she'll be cross at him too?"
"I don't think your mum's going to be cross at any of you," Harry reassured him. "Peter was able to hide for years from Professor Dumbledore."
"Yeah, that is a good point," Ron admitted.
He went silent for a long moment.
"Any ideas what would be a good pet?" he said.
"Toads are nice," Neville tried.
"I don't think so," Ron denied. "Not if they're all escape artists like Trevor."
"Surely not all toads are like that," Hermione said. "That sounds very unlikely."
Harry tilted his head a little. "Have you ever seen a toad that isn't an escape artist?"
"They're the easiest kind to see," Ron snorted. "On account of how they're… you know, not escaped."
Hermione looked troubled. "I actually don't think I've ever seen a toad that isn't Trevor."
"There you go," Ron said. "So not a toad, then. What's the other things we're allowed?"
"Based on what I've seen..." Harry frowned. "Cats, owls, foxes, tarantulas. And you could probably have another rat, as long as it's actually a rat."
"No way," Ron insisted. "I'm not having another rat."
"An owl, then?" Hermione suggested. "Or a cat. They both eat rats."
"...owls eat rats?" Ron asked. "Blimey. Now I'm surprised Scab – um, Pettigrew lasted that long."
Harry was about to ask how Ron hadn't known that, but then Hedwig flew into the common room just ahead of Katie Bell.
"Whoa!" someone said, startled, and the snowy owl alighted on Harry's arm.
"Hey, Hedwig," Harry said, giving her a quick stroke. She clucked her beak, then dropped a small envelope in front of him.
"Sorry I don't have any bacon or anything," Harry added. "I'm guessing you couldn't deliver at breakfast because I didn't have any?"
Hedwig indicated with a little head bob that that was the case.
"That is one seriously smart bird," Dean said. "They've all got to be pretty smart to take letters, but waiting outside until someone opens the portrait door is really neat."
"Yeah, she was the only one who didn't freak out when I went into the shop," Harry agreed, opening the letter with one paw and a tail to hold it in place.
Inside was a note, which asked Harry to come and visit Professor Dumbledore in his office at any time between ten and eleven, two and three, or five and six, and giving the current password (which was 'marchpane').
Harry sort of had an idea what that was going to be about.
Once he'd let Hedwig out the window, Harry went down to lunch.
It seemed like everyone wanted to talk to him, and find out what he thought, and all Harry could really say was to give the answers to the most common questions.
No, he hadn't known Peter Pettigrew was alive or at Hogwarts.
Yes, he'd thought Sirius Black was guilty.
Yes, he didn't like Peter Pettigrew now he knew who was really at fault.
No, he hadn't been the one to catch Peter Pettigrew.
Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw asked him whether this meant he had a Dogfather now, which made him laugh (and realize how much he'd needed it), while Draco said something about Harry being lucky that Peter Pettigrew had been so much of a coward.
Harry had replied that he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not that Peter Pettigrew was a coward, because if he was the one who was had betrayed his family then it might be because of that. He didn't know enough to be sure, though, or even to know if Peter Pettigrew actually was a coward, and after he'd said all that Draco had looked puzzled for a minute or so before just walking away.
Harry was unable to concentrate on homework, so it was just as well he didn't have any.
Neville did, an extra-credit essay for Herbology, and Harry did his best to help his friend by looking things up. He wasn't sure how much help he was, though, and shortly before two in the afternoon he left Gryffindor to go to the Headmaster's office.
Harry was still wondering exactly what marchpane was as he entered the office, and found that Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.
"Professor?" he asked, a little confused, and then the fire flared up green and Dumbledore came through.
"Ah, Harry," he said. "Either I'm a touch late or you're slightly early."
"I think I'm probably early, Sir," Harry replied. "I didn't want to be late."
"That makes perfect sense," Dumbledore agreed. "I did not want to be early, so it seems we have both got what we were after. Please, take a seat."
Harry did so, and Professor Dumbledore came around to sit opposite him in one of the other chairs.
For about ten seconds, there was silence.
"The first thing I want to say to you, Harry," Dumbledore began, "is sorry. I realize it is quite a short word, and so often has to bear so much weight, but I would not be able to forgive myself if I had not said it."
"Sorry, sir?" Harry repeated. "I… don't think I properly understand."
"Ah, the innocence of youth," Dumbledore said. "Harry, I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and I was a friend of both your father and of Sirius Black – and, I thought, of Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black has been dreadfully wronged."
He let out a sigh. "Harry, would you be willing to hear the explanation as to why I made such a terrible mistake?"
"Of course, Sir," Harry agreed. "I really don't understand most of what happened, I'm afraid. The newspaper said a lot about it, but I don't think they gave all the details."
"That is only to be expected, I fear," Dumbledore told him, nodding. "The Daily Prophet is sometimes informative, sometimes entertaining, but the only thing that is truly consistent about it is that it is always printed on paper."
Harry giggled, unable to help himself, and Dumbledore winked.
"I find the Quibbler has the virtue of also being entertaining," he added. "Though I notice no Quibbler has arrived yet. I imagine old Xenophilius is furiously updating the November issue. In any case, Harry… what happened was the result of the brave intentions of a good man and their ability to trick even myself."
He steepled his fingers. "You see, I was the one who cast the spell that hid your parents' house, and I duly made Sirius Black the Secret Keeper. It would be impossible for anyone to find them unless the Secret Keeper told them, and told them willingly."
After listening to that, Harry tilted his head.
"So..."
"So Sirius, James and Peter made a plan to trick everybody," Dumbledore explained. "There is a potion called Polyjuice, which is very hard to brew, and which allows the drinker to take on the body of any other living person. In secret, they prepared this potion – which would have taken months, unless they already had some made – and had Peter Pettigrew drink a potion prepared to make him into Sirius Black."
Harry nodded, seeing where that was going. "And so you cast the spell on Peter, but you thought it was Sirius?"
"Exactly," Dumbledore confirmed. "And then Peter told Voldemort of where your parents were hiding. When Sirius came after him, Peter blew up a street, faked his own death, and vanished into the sewers with the rats."
He sighed again. "So that is why I thought that Sirius must be guilty… I attended many of the trials that took place, but I could not attend them all, and when Sirius was placed in Azkaban I made the misguided assumption that all had been done according to the law."
Harry was quiet for a few minutes after that, thinking about what Professor Dumbledore had said.
It sounded like a series of awful mistakes had happened, made by everyone involved.
"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me my mistakes, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
"Sir, I don't think you're the only one who made a mistake here," Harry replied. "I think everyone involved did."
Then, because he wanted to be correct, he added, "...except for me, I think. I certainly think I was involved, but I don't remember making any mistakes."
Dumbledore nodded, a twinkle in his eye at that last comment.
"I am curious about something, though, Sir," Harry added. "How did Peter Pettigrew get caught?"
"Ah, I might have said that that was not my story to tell," Dumbledore replied. "But since it involves you so, I believe I will be able to clarify."
He smiled. "You see, the trick is in the twins who joined us in Slytherin this year. Doubtless you are aware that Miss Forrester and Miss Sanura are not exactly what most would call human."
"Yes, Sir," Harry agreed. "I did notice that."
"Well, they are not our only non-human students in this year," Dumbledore explained. "You see, Mr. Smith and his sister Miss Smith are kitsune – though the local way of describing them would be that they fall into the category of fae."
"I've read a bit about them," Harry said. "They've got some of their own kind of magic, and they can change into foxes as if they're all animagi. So that means that their pet fox..."
"...is in fact Miss Smith herself," Dumbledore confirmed. "Yes, though please avoid spoiling the surprise for as many people as possible. The two of them asked that I please allow them to keep up the joke. In any case, it seems that they have been engaged in a little series of pranks for some time now, and they entered into the Gryffindor dormitories while everyone was at the Halloween Feast."
Harry nodded, realizing how they'd got the password, and felt a bit embarrassed about it.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Naturally, their intent was to see whether they could play a prank on the Weasley Twins. But you can doubtless imagine their surprise when they got the wrong dorm rooms, and saw your friend Mr. Weasley's pet rat reading through a book called Redwall."
That was enough of a surprise that Harry didn't really know what to say about it.
"After that, well, as I understand it Miss Smith detained the rat in question, Mr. Smith sought out his head of house for advice, and that is how we come to be where we are now."
Dumbledore shook his head. "The whims of fate are peculiar to us all."
"So that's why Professor Snape came to get you?" Harry asked. "And then you took Peter Pettigrew to the Ministry?"
"I did indeed, Harry," Dumbledore agreed. "We also visited Azkaban to talk to Mr. Black. It was quite a night, and I was most grateful to be finally able to get to bed."
He tapped his chin, thinking. "Unfortunately the legal process, long belated as it is for Mr. Black, will take at least a few days to resolve. I believe however that it should be possible for him to visit at some point next week. Do you think you would be available to see him?"
"If I don't have class at the time, I think so, Sir," Harry replied. "Or Quidditch. My first game's on Saturday, and that might take all day."
"Perhaps, perhaps," Dumbledore agreed. "And of course it would not do to interrupt your education… perhaps this day next week would be best."
He nodded slightly, then focused on Harry. "Though I feel I should warn you, Harry, Mr. Black has spent more than a decade in the Wizard prison, Azkaban. He will not be spending any more time there, I am sure – few things indeed could cause someone to be sent there for so long, and he has been wronged by the legal system besides – but so much time there has doubtless worn him out."
"I know they have Dementors there, Sir," Harry said. "I read it in a detective novel. They said that they take away all kinds of happy memories… it sounds dreadful."
"And indeed it is, Harry," Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Though Sirius has been sustained by his own knowledge of his innocence, as it was not a happy memory as such. He seems remarkably resilient for a man in his situation, but you should make allowances for how he will be when you do meet him."
"I understand, Sir," Harry said.
Dumbledore then checked a watch. "My goodness. It seems that this whole conversation has taken forty-five minutes less time than I thought it might. I don't suppose you have any more questions you might want to ask?"
Harry couldn't think of any, and said so.
"Then perhaps you will indulge me in a little pastime?" Dumbledore asked. "I have some small skill at magic, you see, and it's rare that I get a chance to show it off."
That sounded so odd that Harry had to see what Dumbledore could possibly mean. "I wouldn't mind that at all, Sir," he said, shifting a little in his seat.
Instead of retrieving his wand, however, Dumbledore took out a pack of playing cards.
"Pick a card," he said, fanning them out in front of him with the backs facing him. "Any will do."
Harry took the Two of Hearts, and memorized which one it was before putting it back in the deck.
Dumbledore shuffled them at that point, mixing them up thoroughly, then turned them all to face him and frowned.
After a long moment, he removed one from the pack with his slender fingers.
"Is this your card?" he asked.
Harry looked at the Four of Clubs, and shook his head.
"Bother," Dumbledore pronounced, putting the cards down. "It always seems very simple when the Muggles do it."
Harry thought to send a letter to Mr. Lupin that afternoon, mostly just to say that he hoped the man was okay – and that, even though it was all really complicated, he was glad that one of Mr. Lupin's friends had turned out to be both "alive" and "nice".
Hedwig went on her way with it, after a treat of some cubes of beef from the kitchens (George was only too happy to show him how to get in there) and Harry did his best to get on with as normal a week of school as could be expected.
Something that actually surprised Harry a bit was how normal that week felt. He still did Herbology working with Justin, who appreciated his more-or-less total immunity from the nastier plants but without just letting Harry do all the work, and in Transfiguration the only difference was a few questions about Animagi.
Apparently casting a spell intended to transfigure an animal on an Animagus who'd turned into that animal was "not safe, though mostly for the Animagus" and there was no limit on how long the Animagus could stay transformed.
Then Lily Moon asked whether an Animagus thought like a human when transformed, and Professor McGonagall told her pointedly that a transformed Animagus could certainly think well enough to concentrate on the Fundamental Theorem of Untransfiguration.
Potions was a little different. Harry was still working with Daphne, like he always did, but for some reason Professor Snape seemed a lot less harsh with anyone who made little mistakes than normal. When Ron put two frog brains in his potion instead of one, Professor Snape even came over to tell him and Dean exactly how to fix the mistake – a complicated process with at least four extra steps, which needed some of the supplies from the cupboard – and Harry did his best to scribble notes about it on a spare piece of parchment in case it was useful.
Maybe they'd be doing how to fix potions in another year, or maybe even later this year. It sounded more like a NEWT or at least OWL thing, though.
Harry also stayed behind after that class to say thank-you to Professor Snape for helping, which the Professor didn't quite seem to know how to respond to.
Mr. Lupin wrote back on Thursday, and Harry got the letter only after a tough evening Quidditch practice session. Oliver Wood had been having everyone else do drills on the slowest brooms he could find against players on Cleansweep Sixes and other faster brooms, to try and make sure they could deal with the way that Slytherin had a complete set of fast modern Nimbuses, and it was kind of head-stretching how you had to think about positioning much more when you were slower.
Harry wasn't immune to that consideration, either – he might have been the Seeker, but Seekers had a role in disrupting the other teams from their formation plays if they had the time to spare, and since Harry had wings and could fly faster than his broom could technically manage he was the most mobile member of the team.
It had been a lot to think about, so fortunately it was only when Harry was heading back up to the castle that Hedwig came flapping down to fly alongside. Harry opened the letter right there, holding his broom against his side with a wing, and blinked when he saw how long it was.
"Who's that from, Harry?" Alicia asked. "Normally letters turn up at breakfast."
"Yeah, Hedwig seems to have decided to deliver at all hours," Harry agreed. "I'm not sure where that comes from, but it's nice."
Hedwig seemed very pleased by that way of putting it.
The letter took quite a long time to get through, and the demands of homework and stuff meant that Harry hadn't actually finished it by Friday. Mr. Lupin seemed to have wanted to say almost everything that came to his mind, which Harry was sort of touched by, and the fact he was sorry for having believed the worst about Sirius was only part of it.
It was something Harry was sort of thinking about during Defence class, where they were dealing with the bit of Gilderoy's book about werewolves where he talked about defeating the Wagga Wagga Werewolf himself. Seamus had been dragged up to the front of class to act out the part of the werewolf, which made Harry wonder if June was having to do that bit in the Defence class for the First-Year Hufflepuffs or if that would be a bit much, and that made him wonder what the Homorphus Charm would do if it was cast on a werewolf like Mr. Lupin.
Or on a Warg like June, for that matter. She was certainly a wolf in body, and had been all her life, but would the charm reverse the werewolf-y bits?
Idly wondering what would happen if a Warg got bitten by a Werewolf, and if they'd become like Lupine from Reaper Man, Harry noted down the bits he already knew from Wanderings With Werewolves.
It did seem a bit odd that he only used the Homorphus Charm to deal with one of the werewolves, though. There were a total of six in the book, and Harry circled that thought just moments before the bell went.
The Professor took the time to wish Harry good luck in the Quidditch match, which was nice, and told everyone that their homework was to write a poem about the defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf.
The biggest problem Harry could see with that was that it was going to be hard to find enough rhymes for Wagga Wagga. Except for rhyming Wagga with Wagga, but that was sort of cheating.
He did want to look up where Wagga Wagga was, though, because about all that Professor Lockhart mentioned was that it was in Australia. That might be enough to make for a good rhyme, but some of the names of bits of Australia that Harry remembered would be really useful for that as well – like New South Wales (which could rhyme with Hails, or Wails) and Queensland (which was a bit harder, but which could rhyme with Hand?)
Maybe he should go and see if there were any rhyming dictionaries in Fort William after the Quidditch match.
The day of the match dawned a little gloomy, with scattered but quite dark clouds, and despite how it was the seventh of November it felt really quite warm. Harry didn't think it was the best flying weather he'd had, preferring high pressure whether hot or cold, but if you were going to have a sports match involving flying around at over fifty miles per hour in November in Scotland it was probably better for it to be quite a warm day for the time of year.
At least, if you didn't have a thick hide like Harry did. (And possibly an internal furnace as well.)
A little nervous about his first Quidditch match, Harry passed some of the morning reading a bit of The Sapphire Rose – the bit about Eosian church politics was surprisingly entertaining – before heading down to have some breakfast.
That done, he told Oliver Wood where he was going and went down to the Quidditch pitch early – making sure to bring both his brooms, so there was a spare in case something went wrong.
Oliver turned up about half an hour later, and started impressing on Harry how their plan was going to be to do as well as possible to score and save points – but Harry's priority was to go for the Golden Snitch as soon as possible.
Harry hadn't planned on doing anything else, but it was good to have the confirmation.
Then everyone else turned up, including Cormac (who would be substituting in if anyone was injured, so he could end up doing almost anything) and Oliver gave them all a strategy rundown – mostly reminding them all of things he'd been saying over and over for at least the previous month.
After that, out they went onto the pitch.
It felt a bit odd to have the whole school body staring at him at once. Harry's tail thumped on the ground a few times, watching as Madam Hooch had the two team captains shake hands, then she released the balls into the air.
There was a ten second pause to let the Snitch escape, and Harry looked up at the Bludgers circling ominously overhead as he mounted his broom. Then Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and everyone took off.
The Slytherin team rocketed into the sky on their much faster brooms, aiming to snag the Quaffle and score before Oliver had even made it to the goal hoops. Harry did what he was supposed to and flew as fast as he could, hammering the air with his wings to speed himself up, and managed to get in their way for just long enough that Oliver blocked the first shot on goal.
As soon as that was done, he turned to look for the Snitch. At first he couldn't see it, simply because he couldn't look at the whole pitch at once any more like he could when he was in the stands, but a moment later the little glint of gold showed up and he turned to aim straight for it.
"Look out, Harry!" Fred called, cutting across his path, and used his bat to knock a Bludger away. The impact was a loud whang, sending it off at ninety degrees to the path it had been taking before, but a moment later it curved around to come straight back at him.
Harry dodged, annoyed that he was losing momentum, and this time Fred knocked the Bludger directly towards Draco (who was the new Slytherin seeker). Harry refocused to going after the Snitch, looking around for a moment to see where it had escaped to before powering after it, but barely five seconds later the Bludger came right back around again and hit him in the side.
There was a groan from the Gryffindor portion of the stands, and Harry could faintly make out the sound of Hagrid assuring everyone that he was bound to be okay.
Then the Bludger hit him again, this time on the head, and Harry slewed a little to the side.
It was annoying more than anything, as he lost sight of the Snitch and now he had to look for it again.
Five minutes later, Harry had been hit at least twenty times by the Bludger and was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with it. He was fairly sure they were supposed to go after all the players, rather than just one of them.
He'd have to check Quidditch Through The Ages again just to be sure.
The score was also at least thirty-zero to Slytherin already, so Harry decided to try something different.
He'd looked it up once, and the rules specifically said there wasn't a limit on how high you could fly during a game. So he turned his broom upwards, spread his wings to the full, and climbed as fast as he could.
"You're supposed to be down here, Potter!" Draco called, flying close for a moment with his much more powerful broom, then turned away to orbit a bit higher than the highest part of the stands and look for the Snitch. The Bludger smacked into Harry again, knocking his glasses off, and Harry caught them just in time before they fell to the ground and got lost.
Then he decided he was about high up enough and pulled out of his climb. The Bludger was still following him, which was really very surprising, and Harry tried to ignore it as it bounced repeatedly off his back just over his wing inserts.
After about twenty seconds of looking, Harry finally spotted the little glitter of gold that was the Snitch flying low over the grass near the base of the Slytherin goal hoops.
So he turned his broom off and went into a dive.
The Bludger followed, but Harry was much faster like this than he was flying around normally – even with the aid of a broom – and outdistanced it easily. The wind whistled around his ears and tugged at his robes as he went faster and faster, rocketing past Draco, then flared his wings out with a snap to slow himself down.
He hit the ground still doing about forty miles an hour, which did sting a bit, but his paw closed around the Snitch in triumph.
Then the Bludger arrived.
Harry was pretty much certain this was the way it wasn't supposed to work. If it was, then it wouldn't have taken three people to pin the Bludger down.
Also, Oliver had said something about how Bludgers weren't supposed to do that, which Harry supposed was a sort of clue.
The next day, Harry went up to Professor Dumbledore's office again. This time it was in the morning, and the password was different ('Drumsticks', which Harry sort of remembered were a type of chewy lollipop).
When he got to the top of the stairs, Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him – and so was a tall man with long black hair, looking like he'd had a very rough time for the last several years.
It did look like he'd recently had a wash, though, and probably a haircut as well.
"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "I believe you've met, but it was quite a while ago and you might not recognize one another."
Standing from behind his desk, he walked around to introduce them. "This is Sirius Black, Harry. Sirius, this is Harry Potter."
"It is," Mr. Black agreed. "When I saw the Prophet I couldn't believe… but… those really are Lily's eyes."
"Did my mother have eyes like this?" Harry asked, trying to sort of indicate slit pupils. "And – it's nice to meet you, Mr. Black."
"Don't call me Mr. Black, Harry," the man said.
He hesitated, then smiled. "Call me Sirius. Or if you must be formal, call me Most Noble Head Of The House Of Black. I haven't checked, but I'm pretty sure I am now."
"I can see the two of you are getting on very well," Professor Dumbledore said brightly. "If you will excuse me, I'll leave the two of you to talk. I've got some marking to do."
"You do, Sir?" Harry asked, confused. "I didn't know you taught any classes."
"I do some years, but sadly nobody was interested in the noble art of Alchemy this year," Dumbledore told him. "Or last year, come to that. Perhaps I should tell people it's an option for NEWTs. No, this is a set of essays I found on my desk this morning."
His eyes twinkled. "I've got no clue what subject they're for, but it will be a pleasure finding out."
Harry chuckled, but Sirius started to laugh. It bubbled up in a great big burst that obviously caught him by surprise, and he gasped a couple of times before it finally stopped.
"I… really needed that," he said.
Dumbledore smiled, and went into the room next door.
Once the Headmaster had left, Harry didn't really know what to say – or what to start with, because it felt like there were so many things he could say and he wasn't sure if any of them sounded right.
Maybe it would help to think about how this sort of thing worked in books, but normally in books there had been some kind of terrible misunderstanding and they were meeting in a tense situation… not in Dumbledore's plushly appointed office, with a phoenix snoozing nearby.
"You said I could call you Sirius… what about Padfoot?" he tried.
Sirius blinked, then realized. "Oh – yes, Moony said he'd told you."
"Well, he told me about how you were Animagi," Harry said. "But the reason I know what your names were is that I got given the Marauders' Map."
That news made Sirius smile, which transformed his whole face, and the sight was so amazing that Harry had to smile as well.
"You got the Map!" the man said. "Brilliant! What have you done with it so far?"
"Um… nothing, really," Harry replied. "I… kind of feel guilty about that now, I might have been able to see Peter on it."
"No, I don't want to talk about Peter," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Let's talk about something else. So I heard that you're the Seeker this year!"
The conversation lasted a long time.
Once they'd actually started talking, Harry found it very easy to keep talking to Sirius. The man alternated between asking about Harry's life and what it was like to be a dragon and then switching into telling stories about his own life.
Whenever Peter Pettigrew was about to come up, Sirius abruptly changed topic, except for one time when it was simply unavoidable and he made sure to tell Harry very firmly and clearly that Peter was "a total berk".
Harry wasn't sure what a berk was, but he thought he got the basic sense of what Sirius was saying… if only from context, at least.
"...anyway, James had this idea of writing Lily a love poem," Sirius explained. "Because he was trying to really convince her that he was thoughtful and stuff."
Harry nodded, seeing the logic in that.
"The problem is," Sirius went on, drawing out the words with a real relish. "James used this metaphor, where Lily was a doe, and naturally that meant that he was in the role of the stag."
"Like how he could turn into one," Harry agreed.
"The way we said it was that James could turn into Prongs," Sirius clarified. "But the thing is, he sort of forgot that she had no idea about this."
He started laughing. "So he sent this poem to Lily, and she had no idea who it was by or what was with this whole deer metaphor. James was waiting for her to tell him how sensitive it was for a week before Remus and I took him aside to explain!"
Harry had to laugh at that as well, imagining his father being terribly disappointed that his clever poem had completely fallen flat.
When Sirius had finished laughing, he wiped his eyes, then blinked a few times.
"It's all a little strange," he said, eventually. "For the last week it's like I've been living in a dream… except I didn't really have many nice dreams in Azkaban."
He put his thumb and forefinger on his temples. "Sometimes I thought about trying to escape. I thought I could do it, they didn't know I was an Animagus, but… it didn't seem like I could do anything that was worth it. I didn't have a hope of finding..."
"The rat," Harry filled in, and Sirius nodded sharply.
"And I couldn't help you, either," he went on. "Though I can't remember if I even thought of it… but you were with someone, you could go to school, and that's more than I could give you."
Harry reached out a paw and put it on Sirius' shoulder.
"And – well – I feel like I'm about to wake up," Sirius explained. "And be back there, rather than be here and happy..."
He swallowed. "But I have to keep reminding myself. It's over. I'm out. And… and that things have changed, while I was in there. And they're good things."
"I really wish you hadn't been in there at all," Harry agreed. "It'd be nice if I'd known when I was eight that being a dragon was unusual."
Sirius snorted, then shook his head.
"I'm still trying to get my head around it," he said. "It might take me a while… but I can do it."
"I'm sure you can," Harry told him. "It took my friend Ron a while to get used to the idea that the trouble he was having doing spells was an old wand, not how good he was. And your thing's much worse."
He frowned. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"
"Well, Moony – ah, Remus – has been putting me up," Sirius explained. "There's a Black family town house in London, but it's going to take ages to clear out, everyone in the family was either Dark or disowned."
He snorted. "One good thing is that Remus isn't exactly very well off, and he hates charity, but I've been paying him about five times what a hotel room would cost. I don't think he actually knows that… don't tell him, okay?"
Sirius asked if the Defence Against the Dark Arts post was still cursed, and Harry told him that it seemed to be because their first teacher last year had actually been possessed by Tom Riddle. That meant that Harry had to explain who Tom Riddle was, and then Sirius seemed quite angry about the whole thing until Harry went on to tell him about how Professor Quirrell had left the castle.
Since the best way that Harry could find to summarize how the whole thing had ended was 'and then he got so angry that he imploded', Sirius seemed to find the whole thing very funny.
"Your friend," he said, trying to control a smile. "Your friend. Annoyed Voldemort. So much that… that… that he just imploded."
Harry nodded.
"Professor Dumbledore said that he's probably still around, in the same way he could be still around after he died the first time. But it took him ten years to come back as a not very good Defence teacher, so maybe it'll take him a lot longer to come back able to do something useful."
Sirius took that on board, smiling slightly at the description of Tom-Riddle-as-Professor-Quirrell's classroom skills. "What about this year? Who do you have this year?"
"That's Professor Lockhart," Harry replied. "He's written loads of books about how good he is at stuff, but I think we're mostly doing theory this term. He does know a spell that turns a werewolf back into a human, though"
"That does sound useful," Sirius agreed. "And how's everything else? Your Potions teacher treating you well?"
It sounded like he expected the answer to be no, and when Harry said that, yes, Professor Snape was usually a bit abrupt but was quite a good teacher it seemed like Sirius was dealing with an answer he didn't want to hear.
"...well..." he said, after a long pause. "I suppose I'll take your word for it."
He rubbed his fingers together, then frowned at them and tried again. On the third attempt there was a nice crisp snap, and he pointed that hand at Harry. "So! There's a very serious question I have to ask, Harry."
Harry nodded, waiting to hear it.
"Only one of my friends is still alive," Sirius went on. "And you're the only person who's any memory of my other friends. So… what do you want me to be, Harry?"
Harry tilted his head, not sure he understood. "I thought the options were human or dog?"
"No, then it would be a very Padfoot question," Sirius said. "I was talking about a very Sirius question."
That made Harry snort, as he finally got the joke. "That's terrible."
"It's been years since I was able to tell it," Sirius replied. "I have a much better name for joking than my brother Regulus did… anyway, Harry."
He sank back in the chair a little.
"I don't really know what I should be for you," he explained, with his eyes closed. "I should have stayed with you… I shouldn't have gone after the rat. But I've missed so much of you growing up, now, and I want to make sure I don't do this wrong."
There was a little catch in his voice, and Harry swallowed.
"Well..." he began, slowly. "I don't think I need a father sort of person. I've been getting on quite well so far, and I have somewhere to stay over the summer holidays with my aunt and uncle. But Uncle Vernon isn't much of an uncle sort of person. So it'd be nice to have one of those."
He shrugged a wing, flapping it out to the side before pulling it back. "And to have someone to talk about magic to, as well. I stayed with my friend Neville for the second half of last summer, and that was nice."
"All right!" Sirius said, sounding positively delighted. "Just you watch, Harry, I'll be the coolest uncle you can imagine!"
"But I'm not hairy," the young drake replied, tilting his head. "These are scales."
Sirius blinked for a few seconds, then a slow smile spread.
"I made that joke the first time I saw you, back when you were only a few hours old," he said. "You weren't hairy then either."
After checking the time, Sirius sighed.
"It looks like I'll have to go, Harry," he said. "I've got another appointment with the therapist."
"You've got a therapist?" Harry asked. "That sounds like a good idea."
"Well, she says she's a therapist," Sirius shrugged. "She's my cousin, Andromeda. But she is a healer, so I suppose it might be helping out."
He paused, then glanced in the direction of the doorway Dumbledore had left through.
"I think we've got a couple of minutes, though," he decided. "Want to see Padfoot?"
That sounded very interesting to Harry, and he said so.
Sirius took a deep breath, and then-
It was a very peculiar thing to see. It happened all at once, but not in the blink of an eye, so Harry sort of had a vague impression of joints changing shape and fur growing out.
Then instead of Sirius Black there was Padfoot standing there, a great big dog with jet-black fur and the same pale eyes he'd had as a man.
Harry was very impressed, and said so, and Padfoot wagged his tail before giving Harry a sudden, slobbery lick.
"Ah, what a pity," Dumbledore said.
Padfoot stopped abruptly and stepped back, and Harry turned his neck to look at where Dumbledore was. "Is something wrong, Professor?"
"Oh, I simply wanted to let Sirius know about the matter of the homework," Dumbledore explained. "I believe I have solved the conundrum, you see, and I wondered if he might be interested to know."
Walking around to his desk, Dumbledore winked at Harry before continuing. "After looking very closely at all the pages, it seems to me that these are in fact the details of a recently considered statute by the International Confederation of Wizards."
He shuffled them together. "I suppose it is a little embarrassing that I have found so many spelling mistakes."
Padfoot snorted.
"I should also let you know, Harry," Dumbledore added, "that you will almost certainly have to stay with your Aunt and Uncle for at least some weeks of each summer. You see, there is a form of magical protection in place that keeps you safe from Voldemort so long as you call that place home for around a month every year."
Harry nodded. "All right, Sir. That seems simple enough, I had a good time there last summer."
"Excellent," Dumbledore pronounced. "Oh, and if you do see Sirius, please let him know that I would like him to teach you Occlumency when he gets the chance. There's no rush – a summer project is fine."
AN:
oops I accidentally a plot
Severus, naturally, considers this situation to mean he has won their rivalry forever. It's done wonders for his mood.