A/N: Let's try and raise the pace, shall we? Also this will contain my version of a Wizengamot explanation that may get a bit dry, and perhaps borrows from some other authors – not entirely sure to be quite honest, with the volume of fanfiction that I read.

Which brings me on to an important point. I stated at the start of this story that it was an expanded piece based on the work of Esama. What I think I forgot to mention, is it is heavily influenced by a lot of other writers as well. Some things are fairly subtle, others are blatantly obvious, but I realise looking back on some of their works that I've borrowed fairly heavily from people like Nemesis13 (who has written several very funny stories in this little Fem!Harry sector of HP Fanfiction that are well-worth a read).

So, yes. If you come across a line you think you've heard before, or the occasional similar themes, it is probably from whoever you're already thinking of. I have a small list of people it's likely to be in my profile (which is also something of a recommended reading list as well) and I'd appreciate it if you can tell me who I'm plagiarizing at any given time if they are not on that list.

Wow, long AN, time to get on with it.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.

Chapter 9

Jasmine stalked the corridors of Hogwarts with no little amount of frustration. The news delivered in the Daily Prophet was not good for her; Black had been caught on muggle CCTV in Scotland, disturbingly close to Hogsmeade. Considering Azkaban island was located West of Lands' End, he had come a long way North rather than fleeing the country. Word from the Ministry indicated one thing; they believed he was coming after her. Which, depending how she looked at it, was both good and bad. Good, because it might mean she could potentially capture him herself, bad because he was far more likely to be caught by the Dementors and have his soul sucked out.

It was a damned awkward situation.

Jasmine finally paused in her brisk walk through the castle as she realised she was close to her windowsill – the place she often went to think, or meet the girl currently sitting in it. Hermione had said nothing as she approached, and was staring out of the window listlessly, a strangely blank expression on her face. As the Ravenclaw slowly approached, she noted an open book on the stone ledge, and finally the bushy-haired girl spoke.

"I should have listened to you," she all-but whispered, her tone slightly ethereal. "you were right." Jasmine frowned worriedly; this wasn't like the Gryffindor to act like this, not at all. With a twist of her head, she took in the old book and read the title of the page. 'Ah,' she registered, putting the pieces together as she sat opposite Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione, you and your search for never-ending knowledge. There are some things in life you're better off not knowing," she softly closed the book, hiding the illustration of the Dementor upon the page.

"I read in the paper this morning that the Ministry had authorised a 'kiss on sight' order. I wanted to know what it meant."

"Well, now you know."

"How," she hoarsely replied, turning a gaunt face to Jasmine, "how can the Ministry work with such…?"

"Monsters?" Jasmine suggested, "inhumane creatures? Crimes against nature?"

"It's barbaric!" she exclaimed, "how can they subject anyone to those…things, regardless of what crimes they've committed?"

"Because the Dementors exist either way, and this way, they only feed off the scum of society, and create a very good incentive not to commit a crime. Would you prefer they roamed freely?"

"No, but…"

"Or perhaps kill all the Dementors? The only known method that works is Fiendfyre, which is quite a drastic solution, and there are I think more than two hundred to deal with."

"No, but…"

"Then what would you have them do?"

"I don't know!" the girl threw her arms up exasperatedly, showing emotion for the first time since they'd started talking. "But you can't excuse the Ministry using the kiss as a punishment. To actually suck out someone's soul…"

"Is the very definition of a cruel and unusual punishment?"

"Yes!"

"Well, remember that there are still plenty of places in the world which practice capital punishment; is this that much different?"

"Yes, but this is someone's immortal soul we're talking about, and having it eaten by some…"

"Actually there are different theories about what happen to a soul taken by a Dementor. It's believed by some that they were literally summoned from Tartarus – the deepest pit of the Underworld – a few thousand years ago, and that is where the souls they take go. Hence, why they guard a prison and punish the wicked essentially, by leaving them with their worst memories of the crimes they committed."

"Legends don't constitute fact, Jasmine, for all we know the Dementors could literally eat the soul, destroying it entirely. I mean, would you wish that fate on even Sirius Black?"

"What about Sirius Black?" entered a new voice, and both girls turned to find Nadia standing there, "I was wondering where you two were; is this about the sighting yesterday?"

"No," Jasmine answered, "and to answer your question, Hermione, the situation with Black is a lot more complex for me than you know."

"What?" she replied, frowning. The ravenette hesitated before continuing, deciding how best to phrase her answer, and how much she should reveal.

"Black…he isn't just responsible for killing Pettigrew; he was apparently Voldemort's spy, and he was the secret-keeper to the Fidelius charm my parents and I were hiding under. He was their best friend, really, before he betrayed them to Voldemort by letting him inside the charm." She didn't miss Nadia's flinches at the name.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Hermione responded, her expression having lost its anger and likely forgetting the previous conversation about Dementors, which Jasmine took as a good thing.

"No, it's fine, he's just another of the Dark Lord's men," she stated, "and it's not like I care that great a deal about what he did. The Dark Lord killed my parents, not Black; he was just acting under orders. And besides, I can't really bring up any hate for him having anything to do with the death of the parents I don't even remember having." Of course, there was more to it than that. Not least that she did thoroughly hate that it was due to him she'd been placed at the Dursley household, and for growing up without her heritage.

"You don't feel anything about him?" Nadia asked curiously, "not even the slightest desire for revenge?" The girl seemed like she was trying to comfort herself, which Jasmine didn't comment on as she pondered how best to answer the question.

"I didn't say I wouldn't take revenge," she replied conspiratorially.

"You're planning something," Hermione stated firmly.

"Maybe," Jasmine relented.

"Spill," she demanded, and the ravenette shrugged before relenting.

"I currently have a group of mercenaries chasing him down for a bounty even as the DMLE is," she said. It wasn't a total lie, as she's put out quite the bounty on his head and a number of her men after him.

"You're paying men to kill him?" the bushy-haired girl said with wide eyes.

"Oh, no, I need him alive," Jasmine reassured her.

"What for?" the girl asked hesitantly.

"To stand trial before the Wizengamot and receive his proper sentencing."

"What does that matter; isn't the punishment for escaping Azkaban death anyway? It amounts to the same thing," Nadia inquired confusedly.

"Not legally," Jasmine explained, "if he goes to court, is sentenced, and is then sent through the veil, he will have legally fulfilled his punishment and served his penance – the same as if he had died in prison. This differs from dying while evading or resisting capture, or while on the run as a criminal."

"How is that different?" Hermione asked, still confused.

"If you die after or during serving your penance, then you are recognised post-death the same as any other citizen, with all due rights that you would otherwise forfeit as a criminal," the ravenette continued, sounding as if she was quoting from a book of law. "This includes, among other things, that your last Will and Testament is valid." The expressions of dawning realisation on both their faces was slightly amusing to watch.

"So, he dies after being sentenced, and his will can then be read," Hermione said, placing the sequence of events together, "I'm guessing you…"

"You are looking at the primary beneficiary of the will of one Sirius Black," Jasmine affirmed with a smile. "He last updated his will not long after I was born and named his goddaughter – since, you know, he couldn't access anything like that while in Azkaban. I think all but one or two of the others named are all dead, but they don't matter since he included a really important bit of wording. He left to me 'and everything else.'"

"So, he dies, and you take the majority of his stuff?" Hermione deduced.

"Oh, not just that," Jasmine was outright grinning, and it appeared Nadia caught on as her eyes widened.

"You're kidding?" the brunette said incredulously, "that includes…?"

"Yep," the Ravenclaw said, popping the 'p' a little with a smug smile.

"Holy shit."

"What, what am I missing?" Hermione asked, the byplay lost on her.

"One year after he entered Azkaban," Jasmine explained, "his mother – Walburga Black – died. She was the last head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black; a position which then passed to him, even if he couldn't use it while in jail, and probably didn't even know about it."

"So, when he dies, you'll be the head of that House?" Hermione deduced.

"That's right. And no-one can even contest it as there isn't anyone who currently carries the name Black, and I am a blood relation through my grandmother – Dorea Potter née Black."

"And, this will do a lot for you I'm guessing?" Hermione's lack of knowledge on this wasn't unsurprising – she was after all a muggleborn – and Jasmine only knew what with how involved she was becoming with steering the country's decisions.

"You have no idea," Nadia commented, still slightly wide-eyed. "You'll get the seats as well, won't you?"

"That's right," Jasmine looked truly triumphant as she considered the situation. "Hermione, how much do you know about the Wizengamot?"

"It's the main legislative body of the Ministry isn't it? A bit like the House of Commons mixed with the House of Lords?" the muggleborn replied.

"Kind of. It is basically the power in this country – the Minister is just a figurehead, the real decisions are made by the Wizengamot," the Ravenclaw explained, sharing the knowledge each pureblood grew up with, "it's comprised of roughly two hundred individual seats."

"One hundred and ninety four," Nadia supplied, "last one added was the Dawes, thirty years ago."

"Thank-you," she nodded at the Gryffindor, "and all of those seats belong to families, and are inherited and controlled by said families rather than elected."

"That's stupid; what if you have a complete moron come into a seat?" Hermione queried.

"That's just how things work," Jasmine asserted with a shrug, "the old pureblood Houses hold the power. Now, not all of those seats have an individual voter; there are cadet and inherited Houses which are subordinate to another House that can then use their vote. Cadet Houses tend to be offshoots of the main line – usually where a marriage contract between a larger and smaller House allows the latter to move up in the world but giving up some of its autonomy in the process, or these also count for Houses that have been won by secession or combat or debt or something else. Inherited Houses are those that have died out and become extinct as there is no-one to hold the name, and the last member of the bloodline was a woman who has then married into another family, which then receives their vote. Being inherited is something people try to avoid so long as to keep their name alive – usually by having marriage contracts through which the second child of the couple is given their name rather than the one of the family they were born to, becoming the next heir."

"Wait, sorry, how does that work?" Hermione asked.

"Well, let's take the McKinnon's as an example," Nadia's eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent so Jasmine continued, "last generation; their family only had two daughters – Marlene and Alice. Mary died in the war, and Alice married Frank Longbottom – becoming Alice Longbottom. The House of McKinnon is now acknowledged as extinct as there is no-one carrying the name, and their vote on the Wizengamot is currently held as an inherited seat by Augusta Longbottom. Now, say in ten years, Nadia has a child – and for the sake of the argument, as part of her marriage has kept the Longbottom name."

"Wait, you can do that?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, but rarely does it happen since men don't like taking a woman's name. It tends to occur when someone is marrying above their station, most often into a dying family. Now, if I may?" Hermione had the decency to blush, and made a movement for her to continue, "convention dictates Nadia name her first child as a Longbottom – in order to continue the line. Her second child however, she can name as the McKinnon heir, at which point the House will be recognised as no-longer extinct when that child reaches their age of majority and can take their seat on the Wizengamot."

"Ah, I see," the bushy-haired girl sat silent for a moment, "this all seems very archaic, but I'm guessing your point is that the House of Black counts for several votes?" Nadia snorted, and shook her head.

"Try the most votes for any single House on the Wizengamot," the brunette stated, "they hold nine seats."

"Which, for this last decade, have been held by proxy of Lucius Malfoy via a claim through his wife – Narcissa Malfoy née Black – and his son stands to take on the Black line as Head of House when he reaches seventeen, making them then subjugate to the Malfoys after another generation," Jasmine explained. "That's why Lucius Malfoy has been so powerful for the last few years. Aside from being rich, he holds the votes of – including his own House's three – twelve seats. Which is a record, by the way."

"Bloody hell, no wonder he's so powerful if he holds five percent of the vote on his own," Hermione muttered. "Is it common for a House to hold as many as that?"

"Oh, no," Nadia replied, "most Houses only have the one; it's just the really old ones that tend to have extras, or those who have worked to gain them. The Blacks are both – they have kind of been known for centuries as the most ruthless and vicious of the Dark Houses, and they've made several others extinct and taken their wealth for their own. I mean, their feud with the Meadowes went on for three centuries, I think, before the Blacks finally wiped them out and took their seats."

"You can just take them?" Hermione asked.

"No, it's more ritualistic than that," Jasmine supplied, "by rite of combat, defeating your enemy thrice is enough to lay a claim – and that's old magic, dating back long before any form of government – however you also have to make sure you're dealing with the person currently holding the title or whatever, directly or indirectly."

"So…if I defeated Malfoy three times, I could claim his titles?" she ventured.

"No. It has to be a feud from Head of House to Head of House, or vassal from said, and you usually have to be the victim, not the aggressor, before it's possible to be acknowledged and you can lay a claim as compensation. Its complex," Nadia stated, "even I don't understand all this stuff, and I was taught it from five years old."

"I think I get what it amounts to," Hermione reassured. "If you can get Black sentenced, you become very politically powerful."

"And economically; the Blacks aren't exactly a poor family, and the Malfoys haven't been able to access the Black vault as they don't directly have power over the House yet, only by proxy. That only happens after Sirius is dead and Draco can attempt to claim it as the most direct descendant," Jasmine added. "If I can get this done, I will be heir to House Black until I'm old enough to become Head of House, and I will then also be able to use their votes on the Wizengamot."

"That's going to be a big snub to the Dark sect," Nadia commented, "having the oldest and most powerful Dark House under the aegis of the Potters."

"It'll be interesting to see the fireworks, that's for certain," Jasmine said drily.

###########################################################################################

Upon the day of the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, Jasmine sat on a window seat above the courtyard, watching as Hermione and Nadia walked over to Filch and presented their permission slips before moving on. She, of course, was unable to obtain such a thing – not that she had tried or needed one really. She had no parent or guardian to sign it at this time, and she had no wish to bring that to the attention of anyone, least of all the Headmaster. And, of course, she could leave Hogwarts any time she wished. However, she could only leave as Irene Adler, not as Jasmine Potter. And she could not go down to Hogsmeade with her friends. She wasn't quite sure if the emotion she felt counted as sadness as she watched the pair walk from sight. Melancholy, perhaps.

The ravenette was torn from said melancholy by the approach of a pair of familiar twins.

"Messrs Weasley and Weasley," she greeted, going by the names they had been using to test a few prank items for sale with the student populace. Her investment looked to be slowly taking off as more rumours trickled in of their exploits. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, Gred and I," one gestured to the other.

"I thought I was Forge?" the second commented, cementing that he was indeed Fred.

"That was yesterday," the other reassured his brother, "anyway, we were thinking."

"That a lovely little lady like you."

"Ought not be lounging around on her lonesome."

"On such a lovely day."

"Like this."

"Yes, well, I believe most of the populace are heading to Hogsmeade," Jasmine replied.

"Indeed they are, and Gred and I."

"Had deduced."

"That you don't have a permission slip."

"You'd be correct," she relented, not missing their terminology there.

"Well, seeing as how you've helped us start to get things off the ground."

"And what with saving our sister's life last year."

"Can't forget that, Forge."

"We decided to share with you the secret to our success."

Conspiratorially, George withdrew an old piece of parchment from within his robes, and opened it up. Jasmine raised an eyebrow at the unassuming nature of the thing.

"What's the secret?" she inquired. With a manic grin, Fred tapped his wand to the yellowed paper.

"I solemnly I am up to no good," he whispered, and before them a banner unfurled across the seam of the folded paper.

'Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, purveyors of aid to magical mischief makers, are proud to present: The Marauder's Map.' The name of the product itself was much larger than the words above it, being surrounded by a quickly forming copy of the Quidditch pitch, but Jasmine's attention was upon the four men's names: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

Her mother's journal had listed many things – much of which she was still going through – from altered potions to function better, the occasional new spell or arithmetic arrays for half-finished ones, to notes on advanced Charms, to normal diary entries upon occasion. Some of those entries mentioned the boy who grew into a man ceaselessly pursuing her heart while playing pranks with his three friends. And they always referred to each other in private not by their real names, but by nicknames only they understood. And after the time she later spent around them in sixth and seventh year, she grew to know them by those names: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. What they actually meant she hadn't known, as James had refused to tell her unless she married him, and the journal finished at the end of her seventh year with the last entry noting she would have to buy a new one.

"The Marauders," she muttered, as she gazed upon the parchment.

"We owe them everything – this has been invaluable to us, and we've long considered ourselves their successors," George stated.

"Where did you get it?" she inquired curiously.

"Nabbed it from Filch's office in first year – he has a file labelled 'extremely dangerous,' and we couldn't resist," Fred answered. "And you haven't even seen what it does, yet."

With one movement, the parchment was unfurled, the unfolded paper displaying a map of Hogwarts. Every floor, every room, the grounds, the Quidditch pitch and even the houses each detailed separately floor by floor. And then Jasmine noticed the movement. All over the map, small pairs of feet could be seen, and inked next to each of them was their name. Scanning the map, she noted Albus Dumbledore pacing in his office. She could even make out the Fat Friar on top of the Astronomy tower, and Peeves was doing something outside Filch's office.

"Bloody hell," she exclaimed, wondering just how much work this had taken, and what Arithmancy was behind all this.

"We know, amazing right?" one of the twins commented.

"This is the single most complex piece of magic I've ever seen outside of wardstones," she stated firmly. With a quick incantation, she touched the tip of her wand to the parchment and lifted it up, pulling with it a ghostly white network of dozens, if not hundreds of runes. Though, they appeared but for a moment before flickering out and the whole map went blank before text began to appear letter-by-letter as if being written with a quill.

'Mr Moony detects someone attempting to tamper with things that are not theirs.

Mr Padfoot would like to know who would be so bold.

Mr Prongs would like to tell them to bugger off.

Mr Wormtail would like to reiterate Mr Padfoot's question, while also asking why they attempted this.'

"You've done it now," Fred said gravely as the words faded once more.

"They won't let you use the map until you can explain yourself – it took us ages of talking to them and gaining hints before we figured out the password," George added.

"Explain myself? How?" she asked.

"Touch your wand to the parchment and say what you want to say," Fred explained. Taking a moment to formulate her response, Jasmine tapped her wand to the yellowed parchment.

"To answer Mr Padfoot and Mr Wormtail; Mr Prongs' daughter grew curious about what appears to be a very interesting map," she ignored the gaping of the redhead twins at her words – apparently they didn't know of the real identities of the foursome.

'Mr Wormtail believes this to be a lie as Mr Prongs is far too immature to ever have children.

Mr Prongs would disagree with Mr Wormtail and express his love for his flower.

Mr Padfoot would agree with Mr Wormtail.

Mr Moony would ask for proof of her heritage.'

Once again the letters faded, and Jasmine spent a moment formulating her response.

"Mr Prongs gained his first date with my mother after Mr Padfoot was caught placing monitoring charms in the showers, and she and Mr Prongs subsequently devised a way to remove Mr Padfoot's genitalia for a week as punishment."

'Mr Moony believes this is entirely plausible of Mr Padfoot, and believes the Prongslet is telling the truth.

Mr Padfoot protests that a Marauder is never caught, merely implicated, and thus does not believe the Prongslet.

Mr Prongs would like to laugh at Mr Padfoot's prior predicament, and believes that the girl in question is indeed his progeny.

Mr Wormtail has changed his mind, and would agree with his fellows that the Prongslet is telling the truth.'

With a majority ruling, the map's lines appeared once more as the conversation faded.

"What, was that?" the twins said in tandem, finally able to speak once more.

"Ah," she gave a smile, "Prongs was James Potter; my father. I was telling the truth, my mother wrote down all their nicknames in her journal."

"So who are the others?" Fred asked eagerly, desperate to know who their idols were.

"Now that would be telling," she said with an evil grin.

"Oh, come on," George groaned, "you can't leave us hanging like this."

"How do you deactivate the map?" she asked, ignoring their pleading looks.

"Mischief Managed," they replied together, one tapping a wand to the parchment to make it fade away into an inconspicuous item once more.

"Brilliant," she stated, folding it back up. "Now you want that information…well, I'm going to have to be taking my newly discovered heirloom with me."

"Take it," Fred returned immediately.

"We were going to give it to you anyway," George added.

"Just tell us what you know about them?" the begging eyes were like little dogs, and she felt she could throw them a bone in exchange for the useful little present they'd given her.

"Alright," she relented, rolling the word around her mouth as she decided how to make it interesting, "two of them are still alive, and you've already met one of them."

"That's all you're giving us? George protested.

"It's a simple enough puzzle, since you already have all the information you need," she countered, "besides, I don't think they'd appreciate it if I made it easy."

###########################################################################################

"What have we here?" Jasmine stated as she walked up behind Nadia and Hermione within Honeyduke's, "I'm sure the Dr's Granger would be horrified to see their daughter within a confectionary establishment."

The pair turned around with frowns, and she caught Hermione's eye on the scarf she had given her for her first Christmas.

"I thought you didn't have a permission slip?" Nadia inquired, most likely having recognised her by her voice as her face was under one of her many practiced glamours – in this instance, a non-descript brunette.

"I don't," she replied with a smile, "but I do have useful friends from among the schools greatest rule breakers."

"This is quite a few rules you're breaking, especially with heightened security due to Sirius Black," Hermione reprimanded.

"Eh, a risk, but one worth taking. It's only a problem if I'm caught, after all. Besides," her smile became evil, "I am talking to the girl who suggested brewing polyjuice potion in a school bathroom."

The Gryffindor at least had the decency to blush at the mention of the potion, and the unusual brashness it represented in her.

###########################################################################################

With a sigh, Jasmine lifted her glasses slightly to rub the bridge of her nose, staring at the mess of papers upon her desk. Fudge was looking to be ousted sooner than she had initially planned, what with his bumbling this year. Rita – who appeared to be the most talented investigative reporter she'd ever seen or heard of – had managed to uncover that the orders for the searching of the Hogwarts Express with Dementors came from his office. As did the commands related to them guarding Hogwarts – which had led to the creatures storming the Quidditch pitch en-masse during the opening Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match.

And then, there were all the other various events over the years piling up. Hell, just recently during the summer holidays it was his fault Black was released; by leaving him a newspaper apparently.

He was practically begging for it, and she'd had to stop the blonde reporter from bringing all these things to the front page. They were better saved for later when a full and damning report could be done on Fudge.

It wasn't that she hadn't planned to have him removed – she didn't exactly trust Malfoy entirely, or rely upon him in any major way, and Fudge was firmly in his pocket – it was that she planned on preparing and grooming his successor gradually, bringing up public opinion of him as a saviour while compared to the bumbling current man. Having a candidate push into things fully after a vote of no-confidence in Fudge after two or three years had been her general idea, but it seemed she would have to begin much sooner at this rate. And frankly, she already had too many things to worry about without this, literally, covering her desk.

Absently, she pulled up the group of sheets relating to her most viable candidate: Marcus Fox. He was the twenty year old son of her other employee, and so she had a good stake in him already. He currently worked a mediocre job in the Improper Use of Magic office – essentially a bit of a dead-end for several years as far as job prospects went, as there was little in the way of promotion available except for the Department Head position, which he was ineligible for currently.

Making a decision, she picked up a quill and started penning a few items on a list to achieve, starting with getting him into Internal Affairs – that would be a good place to start, perhaps working a bit higher before starting a move to 'clear out corruption' from the Ministry. That would get the public's attention, and make it easier to play him off against Fudge later.

###########################################################################################

Jasmine was rather put-out as she was rushed from her comfortable seat in the common room where she had been reading a book on Sumerian runes. The prefects had appeared quite harassed, and hadn't answered their questions as people were pulled from the House and bustled down to the Great Hall.

Of course, she was even more put-out as she heard the rumour mill and made her way over to Nadia and Hermione with the Gryffindors.

"Is it true?" she asked upon reaching them.

"About the Fat Lady? Yes, or so she claims," Hermione responded. "Her physical portrait was damaged, that's for sure."

"She sounded pretty terrified as well," Nadia commented.

"She's a drama queen normally, but in this situation I agree it was likely genuine," the girl returned.

"So Sirius Black managed to get into Hogwarts," Jasmine mused concernedly. That he was attempting it was still baffling to her – he must know about the Dementors and that they were in place because of him. And furthermore, why Gryffindor Tower?

Unless the Ministry's belief he was after her was correct, and he assumed she was in Gryffindor like her parents.

She was distracted from these thoughts as Professor McGonagall began sorting them together into Houses, and then by year to make sure they were all accounted for, before sleeping bags appeared on the floor and they were told to get some rest.

As she laid down on the floor of the hall, staring up at the stars above her in the roof, Jasmine's mind was still turning its gears.

And then something clicked as a new piece of information came along from what she had gained just one day beforehand. The Marauder's Map.

Black was one of the four that created it.

That meant he knew about the secret paths and passageways inside and outside the castle. Furthermore, that was likely how he was getting inside.

And again, she hit by another thought; Lupin knew about the tunnels, and was aware Black knew, so had he told anyone? By the fact Sirius had gotten inside, she would presume not, although he might do so now.

Lupin; he was getting more and more important. She needed to find a way to get him to talk – and some of the theories hanging around her brain might be just what she needed. If he had any useful information, he'd share it, and if he was working with Black? Well, that would put her one step closer to catching him.

A/N: Chapters are flying out at a pretty good rate right now, so I'm going to try and keep this flow up while I can. Then again, this will go up over a more regular set of intervals, so I suppose it doesn't make a difference to you all.