Harry Potter is not mine.
Hermione sat with Crookshanks on her lap, absently stroking the cat as she thought. Dumbledore had agreed to work on a plan to help Sirius, so she would have to wait, but she felt uneasy. Ron was eating a Peppermint Toad, so that was normal, but Harry was still in bed. She wasn't too suspicious, but something at the back of her mind was niggling at her…she had caught herself considering using her Legilimency on Harry just before, before realising that it would be useless. She wasn't much good at Legilimency, and if it was Vulpine…it would tip her hand. Vulpine was actually poor at Occlumency, poor enough that even she would be able to gain access to his mind, but his mastery of Legilimency was enough to let him control what anyone saw. Vulpine had excelled in several areas: Transfiguration, raw power, Potions, surprisingly- poisons, more specifically- but he was unequalled in the offensive Mind Arts. The one time she had broken into his mind she had thought she was in the mind of an eleven year old, he fooled her so thoroughly. It made him very dangerous, and if she tried to look into his mind she would see only what he wanted her to see. It was how he had fooled Voldemort into thinking he was Ron Weasley; Vulpine had ravaged Ron's mind until he could replicate it well enough to deceive the Dark Lord. Hermione admired that skill, in a sick sort of way. And if she had to duel him…Hermione shuddered at the thought of the memories she had shared with Dumbledore. The skeletal hands had been a spell that Vulpine had created, and rather poetically named The Hands of Gaia: his kills with that spell must have stretched into the hundreds, especially when he used it indiscriminately. He had never used the Unforgiveables, because he didn't need them. In a duel with him Hermione would probably last all of a minute, and the term 'collateral damage' haunted her mind. Vulpine had preferred to be subtle, but if push came to shove he had no qualms about wreaking havoc to cover his escape. No, she would have to play the waiting game…and if she became certain, she would hopefully be able to confront him during the holidays, while most students were away. Hermione looked up as Harry shambled into the Common Room, still looking tired.
"You look terrible, mate." Ron commented. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Cheers." He muttered, slumping into a chair. His eyes had dark patches under them.
"I couldn't sleep very well. After yesterday." He offered, and Hermione felt a surge of sympathy. Of course he wouldn't have been able to sleep, after hearing about Black. Ron was more or less oblivious, but Hermione felt her suspicions lessen. Surely Vulpine couldn't have acted this out: this must be the Harry she remembered. Impulsive, brave, reckless and innocent. A hero.
"Harry," Hermione said, "I know you must be upset after yesterday. But you mustn't do anything stupid." She said. Harry glanced at her.
"Like what?"
"Like going after Black." Ron said sharply. Hermione had rehearsed this conversation with Ron: Sirius was innocent, she knew that, but she needed to give Dumbledore time to come up with a workable plan to help Black. Ron made the statement that Black wasn't worth dying for, and Hermione saw some of the life leech out of Harry's eyes.
"Do you know what I see every time I get close to a Dementor?" he asked, his voice soft and dead. Hermione and Ron shook their heads, though Hermione knew what he heard. Harry stared at them as he spoke on.
"I hear my mother, screaming, and pleading with Voldemort. Pleading for him to leave me alive, to take her instead…and he just laughs. Something like that…you don't forget in a hurry. And if you found out that it was a friend of theirs who sold them out…"
Hermione felt her heart go out to her friend…he was still her friend in this time, she realised, not the monster who had worn her friends face and called himself Vulpine. Truly, she had never realised how terrible it must have been for Harry, to go through things like his Dementor memories. She had to help him. She had to save him.
"You can't go after Black, Harry. He's a fully grown wizard and a good duellist, leave it to the Ministry!" Hermione said. Harry looked at her, his expression bleak.
"You really think that the Ministry will manage to catch him? He managed to escape Azkaban, didn't he?" he said. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, mind working on how she could argue him around to her point of view, but then his shoulders slumped and the belligerence left his voice.
"But then, if he could escape Azkaban and stay away from the Aurors there isn't much chance of me catching him, is there?" he said softly. Hermione nodded slowly, hardly daring to believe that she had won the argument just like that. Harry sighed and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.
"It's been a while since we visited Hagrid. Thought I'd go and see him…"
"You aren't supposed to leave the castle, Harry." Ron said, looking worried. Harry frowned at him.
"I hardly think Black will be waiting in the Forest to jump out as us, Ron. Besides, it's better than sitting in here, isn't it?"
Ron conceded the argument, and they retrieved their cloaks from their dormitories and headed out onto the snowy ground, leaving a thin trace in the powdery snow that coated the ground.
Vulpine could hardly believe his luck. Not that he wasn't due some, Fate had seemed to be out to get him for most of his life, but Hermione seemed to be losing her suspicions. Even better, her Occlumency defences were weaker than normal, allowing him to skim some of her thoughts without alerting her. Vulpine was fascinated by how simplistic her plans were, by how much faith she had in Dumbledore to solve things. Personally Vulpine didn't trust the old man, certainly not as much as Hermione did. There was too much that rang false about the Headmaster for Vulpine to feel comfortable around him.
As they walked Vulpine found himself considering his options. He had realised last night, in something of a tiredness induced epiphany, that if he did manage to change things for the better he would be making things worse for himself. After all, most of his work as a hired…killer- he refused to think of himself as a hired wand, ridiculous name- had come from the Purebloods in government wanting a way of 'dealing' with their political rivals. No such luck if they didn't get into power, and the last vestige of conscience inhibited Vulpine from murdering people on the 'Light' side. In a manner, anyway. Vulpine was no supporter of Purebloods and their agenda: he liked to think of himself as unbiased. He was probably wrong, but it didn't change the fact that he needed another way to make a living, the Vault he had wouldn't last forever. There was just so much to do…firstly, he needed to stop slacking off. He wasn't a genius, no, but he could easily do better in all of his classes. He might not be able to usurp the position of highest achiever from Hermione, but he could definitely knock her off her perch in Transfiguration and Potions. Maybe he could transfer to Arithmancy as well? Vulpine was a decent Spellcrafter, but actually knowing how it was properly done would supplement his natural talent quite nicely. As well…maybe he should talk to Sirius. The Black family gained most of its income from illegal business, it was why Vulpine had gotten so little from Sirius' Will- though the Order of the Phoenix had gotten a lot more, something Vulpine saw the hand of Dumbledore in. And lastly…
Ron said something about Quidditch, and Vulpine was reminded of his last conundrum. What to do about the Weasley, little Ron the Death Eater? Of course, Hermione insisted that Ron had been a double agent, and maybe he had been: Weasley was susceptible enough to Mind magic for true loyalty to Voldemort to be mentally faked with any number of borderline Dark spells, and maybe that had fooled Vulpine. Romulus thought not, though. What to do with Ron…that was more a matter of time, being careful…idly, Vulpine wondered if Hermione still harboured feelings for Ron, and if the episodes with the Firebolt and the Rat would still happen. He mentally wagered not as they arrived at Hagrid's cabin. Ron knocked, but there was no reply. Vulpine looked at the door as Hermione and Ron debated if Hagrid was in, and Vulpine leaned against the door and listened. There were odd noises coming from inside- sobs, Vulpine thought.
"Hagrid!" Vulpine called, thumping on the door. He suspected that this was about Buckbeak, and he wanted to help Hagrid with that- he still counted the half-giant as his oldest friend. The door abruptly swung open, and Vulpine had a brief moment to register Hagrid's tear-stained face before the huge man collapsed onto Vulpine, sobbing hysterically.
"You've heard!" Hagrid bawled, as Vulpine staggered under the massive weight, indulging in a stream of mental curses that would have made the saltiest sailor blush. Happily, Ron and Hermione were not simply standing there, and between the three of them they were able to pull Hagrid upright and haul him to one of the massive chairs in the cabin. The big man slumped over onto the table, sobbing uncontrollably, and Vulpine spotted an official looking letter lying on the table. He picked it up, and read aloud.
Dear Mr Hagrid,
Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident.
"Well, that's OK then, Hagrid!" Ron said, and Vulpine wanted to slap him. Or punch him. Or headbutt…
Vulpine cut off that train of thought. Whatever the point, there was clearly something else wrong, given the way that Hagrid was bawling. Even someone as dense as Weasley should be able to tell that. Hermione had taken the letter from Vulpine, and was continuing to read down it.
However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and the Hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.
Yours in Fellowship…
Vulpine ignored the following list of school Governors.
"Oh." Ron said. Eloquent as always, Vulpine mentally snarked. "But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad Hippogriff, Hagrid. I'll bet he'll get off…"
Ron would lose that bet, especially with the deep pockets Lucius Malfoy had, though Vulpine did have to wonder why Malfoy would bother. Indulging his idiot son, perhaps? There was no other value to having Buckbeak killed that Vulpine could ascertain. Then again, there might be some long game Lucius was playing that Vulpine couldn't be bothered to work out. On the other hand, Malfoy could just be acting like an evil bastard, which would be right up his alley…His train of thought was broken by a loud chomping noise, and he swung around to see Buckbeak the Hippogriff lying in the corner, chewing on what looked like a stoat. Vulpine fought down the urge to laugh, settling for a smile. Ah, Hagrid. Only a few people could appreciate admittedly dangerous creatures like he did, and most of those happened to be murderous and borderline insane. Those in Britain, anyway. The foreign Dragon reserves and their Keepers weren't so bad. Vulpine dragged his attention back to the conversation.
"You just have to put up a strong defence, Hagrid." Hermione was saying consolingly, putting a hand on the big man's arm. "I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe."
"Won' make no difference!" Hagrid sobbed. "Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o' him! An' if I lose the case, Buckbeak…"
Hagrid cut off in a renewed flood of tears, and Vulpine suppressed a sigh.
"What about Dumbledore?" Ron asked.
"He's done more'n enough already." Hagrid groaned. "Got enough on his plate with the Dementors, an' Sirius Black lurkin' around…"
Vulpine saw Hermione and Ron shoot him quick glances, but he didn't react. He seemed to remember that he hadn't bawled out Hagrid for not telling him about Black the first time this had happened, either. Curse his soft heart.
"You just need to show that Buckbeak was provoked. You can call us and the rest of the Gryffindors as witnesses if you need…" he said, receiving an approving look from Hermione. It didn't really help, and neither did Hermione offering her assistance. The weeping was starting to grate on Vulpine's patience. This was a bad thing, given that Vulpine had been deprived of his usual means of venting stress- killing Death Eaters and Ministry stooges- and Weasley was well within murder range. Even if this Holly and Phoenix feather wand had an aversion to Dark Magic that deprived him of most of his favoured arsenal, he could take everybody in here. Except, he didn't want to. Granger was too important to his plans and, if Vulpine was honest, to him personally, given that he still viewed her as a friend. Sort of. Hagrid was his first friend, and one of the most stalwart. And murdering Ron before them would blow his cover and probably end up with him in Azkaban, a place he'd rather avoid. All that said, Vulpine mentally sighed and set to assuring Hagrid that things would be fine, noticing that Ron actually made himself useful by providing tea, and lots of it. So he wasn't without uses. Eventually Hagrid managed to pull himself together, though Vulpine missed the first part of what he said.
"-No-one likin' me classes…" Hagrid was saying. Hermione hastily interjected.
"We do like them!" she said, a blatant lie. Vulpine noticed Ron crossing his fingers as he added his contribution.
"Yeah, they're great! Er…how are the Flobberworms?"
"Dead." Hagrid said gloomily. "Too much lettuce."
A real pity, Vulpine thought. He had been entertaining the thought of enlarging a Flobberworm massively and setting it on Malfoy. It would be seen as a harmless prank, and provide Vulpine with amusement. He needed something to stop him from going mad with boredom. Oh, right. Hagrid was still talking.
An' them Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an' all. Gotta walk past 'em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 'S like bein' back in Azkaban…"
He fell silent, gulping at his tea. Vulpine suppressed a yawn, plastering a look of breathless interest onto his face to mimic Ron and Hermione. Yes, Azkaban was terrible. But Hagrid had been in there for a few weeks. Sirius had been in there for thirteen years, and nobody had ever seemed overly concerned with him.
"Is it awful in there, Hagrid?" asked Granger. Vulpine fought down a sneer. She was fully aware of how bad it was, now she was just acting. It was a good thing he'd come back, it was looking like Hermione didn't intend to change things at all.
"Yeh've no idea. Never been anywhere like it. Thought I was goin' mad. Kep' goin' over horrible stuff in me mind…day I got expelled from Hogwarts…day me Dad died…day I had to let Norbert go…"
Vulpine decided that he should find and talk to Sirius. The man might not be entirely sane, but he was trustworthy enough. And besides, Vulpine could get some food to Sirius. Vulpine himself had lived off rats, in his Animagus form. It hadn't been the most pleasant of things, but he had managed. Sirius' Animagus form was much larger that Vulpine's, however, so living on rats would be a lot harder for him. Vulpine turned his attention back to the talk, mind made up.
"-the Dementors weren't keen on lettin' me go." Hagrid said.
"But you were innocent!" Ron protested. Hagrid snorted bitterly.
"Think that matters to them? They don' care. Long as they've got a couple o' hundred humans stuck in there with 'em, so they can leech all the happiness out of 'em, they don' give a damn about who's guilty and who's not."
Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea.
"Thought o' jus' lettin' Beaky go…try to make him fly away…but how do yer explain ter a Hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An' I don' wanna break the law…I don' ever wanna go back ter Azkaban."
Hagrid looked up, and Vulpine was surprised to see tears beginning to streak his face again.
It was night, and Vulpine was sneaking towards the kitchens. He was hidden by his Invisibility Cloak- how he relished having it back, the Disillusionment Charm really was no substitute. The familiar painting that concealed the entrance to the kitchen swung open, and Vulpine strolled in, pulling off his Cloak. He wondered if the mad House-Elf Dobby would be here yet, but since nothing was tackling him he supposed not. And Elf wandered up to him, asking what he wanted.
"Oh. Well, you see, I have a friend who's currently having to live in the Forbidden Forest. I don't suppose you could pack some food for me to take to him?"
The Elves seemed positively delighted to do so, bless their little hearts. Vulpine waited patiently, running through what he needed to do. He needed, especially, to brew the potion that would hide him from Hermione's cat. At least the potion was quick to brew…he could get it done tonight. As well, he could do with crafting his new wand…maybe he should make one for Sirius as well. Vulpine gave a mental shrug as an Elf rushed up, carrying a sack of food that he would be hard pressed to carry. Lucky he was a wizard, then. Vulpine shrank the food, stored it in a pocket, thanked the Elves and left, donning his Cloak again. Now to find Sirius.
As it turned out, finding Sirius wasn't hard. The Point-Me spell, in its original incarnation, showed North. That wasn't useful. However, with slight changes it could be altered to point to a person or object, and that was how Vulpine used it, still under his Invisibility Cloak. Once he got close he tucked the Cloak in his pocket and moved forward in his Animagus form- didn't want Sirius smelling him and getting spooked. The massive, bear like dog that was Sirius in his Animagus form was curled up next to a tree, shivering slightly, and Vulpine felt an unexpected pulse of sympathy. He should have brought some clothes as well. Next time. Regardless, Vulpine made his way up to the dozing dog, and resumed human form.
"Wakey wakey Padfoot." He said cheerily. To his enormous amusement, Sirius jumped and skittered away, resuming human form half way through from shock and ending up in a heap. Vulpine grinned at the shocked, dishevelled man.
"Really. It isn't that bad." He said. Sirius stared at him, his voice as croaky and rasping as Vulpine remembered.
"What. How. Guh…"
"Very eloquent. Long story short, Padfoot, I'm from the future. Time travel. You probably don't believe me, so I'll make it quick. I know about Wormtail being the traitor. I know he's in my dormitory now. I know about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Good enough?"
Sirius gaped at Vulpine, who smiled in a manner he knew was distinctly predatory.
"What? Cat got your tongue?"
"You don't think I betrayed your parents? But it was my-"
"Sirius. Padfoot. Stop. Your idea to switch to Wormtail was a good one. It wasn't your fault that Pettigrew was a traitor, and even if you hadn't made the switch for all we know you might have been captured and Veritaserumed into giving up the location anyway." Vulpine said flatly. Sirius stared at him silently, and Vulpine sighed and fished the sack of food from his pocket.
"Here," he said, enlarging it, "I know what it's like to live off rats."
Sirius stared down at the food, before abruptly bursting into tears and embracing a shocked Vulpine. Well this was…new. And odd. Vulpine awkwardly patted Sirius on the back and sat him down, waiting for the fugitive to calm down.
"Sorry." Sirius managed. "Just emotional."
Vulpine waved it away, watching silently as Sirius turned his attention to the food and started eating.
"So," Black managed between bites, "How did you time travel again?"
Vulpine frowned.
"You know, you're accepting this really easily." He noted. Sirius shrugged, pausing in eating.
"You knew I was innocent. You're an Animagus. You found me in the Forest, and you know where Pettigrew is. Either you're an insane genius or really a time traveller. I prefer to think that only one of us is mad."
Vulpine laughed.
"Well, that's fair enough. Make yourself comfortable, this is quite a story…"
Almost an hour later, Sirius looked thoughtfully at Vulpine.
"That was quite the story, Harry. Uh, do I call you Harry, or-"
"Harry's fine, Padfoot."
"Harry, then. I have to say, I'm impressed."
Vulpine felt his eyebrows lift.
"Impressed. Not, say, disgusted? Or disapproving? Or horrified?"
Sirius frowned.
"Not particularly. Why? Oh, right, the whole 'serial killer' thing. Honestly? I can't find it within myself to care about pretty much all of the people you killed. Besides, right now you haven't killed any of them, have you?"
"Except Quirrell."
"Oh, yeah. But he doesn't count, he was evil."
"Uh…right. I admit, I was expecting more disappointment from you."
"Why? I'm still a Black. Murder and larceny is the basis of my family."
"I thought you hated your family?"
"Hmm? Oh, I do. But just because I'm on the 'Light' side,"-this was complete with finger quotation marks- "Doesn't mean I'm straight-laced and law abiding. Look at the Marauders- half our pranks on the Slytherins were downright malicious. I mean, I tried to get Snape mauled by a werewolf!"
"You're worrying me, you know that? You shouldn't really be proud of trying to get someone mauled by a werewolf."
Sirius rolled his eyes.
"I'm nigh insane with a tendency towards violence, Harry. I'm just happy to admit it. Maybe not in front of Dumbledore though. Nice man, but a bit...what's the word…"
"Good? Light? Law abiding? Merciful?"
"Pretty much. Are you going to reveal yourself to this Hermione?"
"Eventually, I'll have to. My Patronus will see to that. I have a nasty feeling that we're going to have to let Third Year play out as it did originally, just make sure that Pettigrew is caught at the end. Think you can manage that?"
"According to you I did before. And this time you'll be helping me, right?"
"Sure." Vulpine said, checking his watch.
"Damn. Sirius, I have to go. I'll come back in a few days, with some more food and some better clothes. Oh, and you want a wand, right? I'll see if I can craft you one."
Sirius nodded, settling next to a tree as Vulpine shifted to his Animagus form. The animal paused as Sirius spoke briefly.
"Oh, by the way, Harry…thanks." Sirius said quietly. The time travelling Animagus looked at the man for a moment, then dipped his head and vanished into the Forest.
It was Christmas Day, and Hermione Granger was troubled. Her memory was, contrary to rumour, not infallible, but it was good, and some things weren't making sense. Over the past few days she Ron and Harry had been working on finding some precedent that would allow them to help Buckbeak, but something was still off about Harry. For instance, she had found him reading a Potions book the other day. A Potions book. His explanation was that he had gotten tired of Snape taking shots at him, and decided to do something about it- which was fair enough, she conceded- but it was odd that he would do this now and not in the original timeline. Was her presence in the past changing things that much? Even worse, it was Christmas Day. The Firebolt.
The Firebolt. Of course, Hermione now knew that the Firebolt would be no risk at all, but should she still insist on having it checked for hexes, curses and jinxes? She had talked to Dumbledore about it, and the old man had gently suggested that she do so, in order to keep things as similar as possible until they absolutely had to change. Hermione supposed she could see the wisdom of that, but it hurt her to do this, knowing that it would lead to several weeks of being shunned by Harry and Ron. Nevertheless, it was something she had to do. Gathering herself, Hermione strode up the stairs, and burst into the boys Dormitory, successfully scaring the life out of both the occupants. Amusingly, Ron fell off his bed, grabbing at Scabbers the rat…well, actually Peter Pettigrew the Animagus. But Ron thought it was Scabbers the rat.
"Get that thing out of here!" Ron yelped, looking at Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. Strangely enough, Harry had also moved away from Crookshanks slightly, but Hermione put that out of her mind as she started acting the same old role.
"Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?"
Harry gave a crooked half smile.
"What, the socks? I've had those for ages, they used to belong to Vernon…"
"No, the broom Harry! Who sent you the broom?"
"Oh. No idea, there wasn't a card or anything." Harry said. Still acting, Hermione bit her lip, unable to shake off the suspicion that if Vulpine had been here he would have been howling with laughter at her performance.
"It's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, it's supposed to be a really good broom…"
"Best broom there is, Hermione." Ron butted in. Hermione spoke over him.
"So it must have been really expensive…"
"More than all the Slytherin teams broom put together!" Ron crowed. Once again, Hermione paid him no heed.
"So…well…who'd have sent Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they sent it?" Hermione finished.
"Who cares?" Ron said impatiently, and for a moment Hermione conceded that Vulpine might have had a point when he called Ron impulsive, reckless, hot headed and often flat out stupid. Not that she'd ever tell anyone that she sometimes agreed with Vulpine. Ron was now begging Harry for a ride on his broomstick- Hermione repressed a snicker with a mental sigh at her juvenile behaviour- and spoke again.
"I don't think anyone should ride that broomstick yet." She said. Ron and Harry looked at her.
"What do you think Harry's going to do with it- sweep the floor?" Ron demanded. Unfortunately, whatever retort Hermione could have made was cut off by Crookshanks launching himself at Scabbers.
"GET-HIM-OUT-OF-HERE!" Ron bawled, Crookshanks having landed on his chest, claws ripping as Scabbers made a hasty attempt to escape over the redheads shoulder. Ron grabbed Scabbers by the tail, jumping up and swinging a poorly judged kick at Crookshanks. The kick hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking over the trunk and causing Ron to hop on the spot and howl with pain. Even worse, the Pocket Sneakoscope Harry stored in a pair of old socks fell out of the trunk and started whistling loudly. A small part of Hermione suspected that, from a neutral viewpoint, all this would be rather amusing, but unfortunately she was busy scooping up Crookshanks and beating a hasty retreat, followed by the squealing of the Sneakoscope and Ron's angry bellows.
The rest of the day was…icy. Hermione was angry at Ron for trying to kick Crookshanks- by this point, she wasn't even acting- and Ron was bitter over Scabbers and Hermione daring to suggest that there might be something wrong with the Firebolt. Harry stayed out of things as best he could, as they managed through Christmas dinner despite the histrionics of Professor Trelawney. When Harry and Ron left Hermione stayed behind, waiting for Professor McGonagall. She hated herself for doing this, but under the twinkling eyes of the Headmaster she knew that this was for the best. Who knew how things might change otherwise?
"Um, Professor McGonagall." Hermione said. The strict Scottish teacher turned a severe eye on Hermione.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
Hermione, despite being over twenty in mental age, still felt like a child under the severe gaze. She cleared her throat carefully.
"Ah…Professor, Harry got a broomstick for Christmas today. A Firebolt." She said. McGonagall arched an eyebrow, was about to speak, but Hermione rushed on.
"Professor, there was no card or name on the broom, and I was thinking that it might be…well…it might have been sent by Sirius Black!"
The last came in a babble, and Professor McGonagall looked severe, lips thinning, but Hermione knew that she silently agreed.
"Very well, Miss Granger. Come with me." The teacher said curtly, sweeping off. Hermione followed silently, feeling wretched, as though she had betrayed her friends. She followed McGonagall into the Common Room, immediately taking her place next to the fire and hiding her face with a book. She heard the gasp of shock from Ron, and a sigh from Harry as McGonagall announced that she would have to confiscate the broom while it was checked for jinxes, curses or hexes. To her surprise, however, Harry spoke.
"You think that Sirius Black sent me that broom, don't you." He said quietly, his voice resigned. Ron gawped at him, and Hermione peeked over her book. Harry managed half a smile.
"Oh, it was obvious." He said quietly. "After all, what better way to kill me, if Black wants to finish what his Master started?"
McGonagall looked taken aback.
"Well. If that's all, then..." she murmured, leaving the Common Room. As soon as she was gone Ron rounded on Hermione.
"What did you-"
"Ron. Leave it." Harry said softly. The redhead gaped at him, then stormed off to the Dormitory, muttering angrily, leaving behind a deep sigh from Harry.
It was the night of Boxing Day, and Hermione was confused. Not about Ron, she had known how he would react after Crookshanks attacking Scabbers and the broom. No, she was confused by the more thoughtful and level- headed reaction Harry had shown. He had always been somewhat more perceptive and calm than Ron, but this was just odd and, in the back of her mind, Hermione started to fear that maybe Vulpine had followed her back. Logical thought assuaged that, reasoning that Harry hadn't acted like Vulpine had, but her instincts screamed at her, and Harry was undoubtedly different.
At the moment Harry and Hermione were sat in the Common Room, just the two of them- Ron was off somewhere sulking, and neither Harry nor Hermione seemed inclined to go and find him. Hermione was reading through a weighty account of legal records of Dangerous Animal trials, trying to find something that would allow Hagrid to save Buckbeak. Unfortunately, so far the only times an animal had got off was when it was something unbelievably rare or impossibly terrifying, such as a Manticore. Harry was absorbed in a Potions book- he seemed to have taken an interest in the subject recently, another odd thing.
"Found anything that might help Buckbeak?" Harry asked. Hermione sighed and shook her head. Harry frowned.
"Would it make a difference if we could prove that Malfoy provoked Buckbeak? Hippogriffs are well known to be proud, after all.
"I don't think that will work. The wizards don't much seem to care about things like that." Hermione said gloomily. She was cut off by a soft chime, and Harry paused.
"Oh. Right." He mumbled, searching through the bag that lay next to him and pulling out a vial of potion- reddish potion.
"What's that for?" Hermione asked. Harry smiled.
"I thought I was getting a cold. Apparently this is a bit like Pepper-up Potion, but it helps to prevent colds if you've only just started with the symptoms. I made it myself."
"Is it safe?" Hermione asked, slightly concerned- Harry wasn't the best Potions brewer at this point, from what she remembered. Harry laughed.
"I got Madam Pomfrey to check it." He said, smiling. He moved to uncork the vial, and Crookshanks took that moment to flash past, bumping Harry's arm. The vial fell to the ground and smashed, shards of red glass going everywhere among grey, acrid smelling potion. Hermione stared, and Crookshanks hissed at Harry.
"Bloody cat." Harry murmured, apparently automatically, and Hermione's brain worked horribly fast. She had seen the potion before, it was used to suppress the characteristics of an Animagus that caused animals to act differently to them. Vulpine had used it. Crookshanks had never liked Vulpine. Harry had been acting oddly. Oh, Hell.
Hermione moved fast, her book flying away as she stood. Her wand slid out- spell cast silently- red light of a Stunner rocketing forwards-
Vulpine moved. As fast as Hermione remembered he spun to his feet, his own wand flicking out. His hand gripped the chair he had been sitting on, and suddenly he threw the heavy chair. Hermione dived aside as the chair struck where she had been standing, realising that Vulpine had cast a lightening Charm so he could throw the chair then cancelled it half-way to turn the chair back into a projectile. On instinct Hermione threw up a Shield spell, to be rocked when three crimson Stunners hit the shimmering, translucent shield. Vulpine was playing nice, but Hermione was outclassed and she knew it. It was a good thing that the Common Room was empty for the holidays, she thought as the two of them exchanged spells. Technically Hermione had the edge in knowledge, especially as they were both sticking to not lethal or even particularly damaging spells, but Vulpine was a better duellist and more powerful. Hermione thought fast, bolting for the girls Dormitory- Vulpine wouldn't be able to follow her up there.
"No you don't!" Vulpine snarled, his voice suffused with the cold glee she remembered. A wand motion, and the splintered chair he had thrown transfigured itself into a barrier across the stairs. Hermione swore, spinning on her heel and casting a hasty Shield as Vulpine launched a combination of spells at her. Her shield broke on the third Stunner, but she dodged and cast back hard, trying to disorient Vulpine with a barrage of low level spells. There was no way out. The boys dormitory was a dead end, and Vulpine was blocking the Portrait Hole…
The lapse of concentration cost Hermione, as Vulpine hit her with a Silencing Charm and a Leg-Locker curse. Hermione collapsed, panicking as a Disarming Spell ripped her wand from her fingers, but then the cavalry arrived. The Portrait Hole was thrown open, and a tall, white-bearded figure in purple stormed in. Vulpine spun on his heel, and Hermione heard him swear as the Headmaster cast a series of spells, including a transfiguration of several chairs. Vulpine dived aside, hurled a Flame Cutting Curse at Dumbledore, hoping to distract the old man. From the corner of the eye Hermione saw Vulpine vanish and a white shape bolt for the Portrait Hole as Dumbledore blocked the Flame Cutter. She panicked, thinking Vulpine would escape, but Dumbledore was equal to the challenge. A Transfiguration blocked Vulpine's path, and a stream of spells brought the white animal down, returning him to the form of an unconscious human boy. Slowly Dumbledore approached and freed Hermione from the spells on her, but all Hermione could do was stare as her eyes filled with bitter tears. Vulpine was here. She had already failed half of her mission.
So. It's been a while, yes. I inexplicably lost momentum, but I'm back to working on this and Emerald and Argent. Hopefully there should be regular updates again soon. As always, read and review.