~~ Chapter 3 ~~

Hermione listened to Binns droning and shook her head with a sigh. She couldn't believe she was paying tuition for this. She thought back to a similar class her first week of this term. She had heard a snicker to her right. Susan Bones looked at the drooling Seamus Finnegan, who was having his face written on by Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley two desks behind Hermione. Susan caught Hermione's gaze and rolled her eyes. Hermione shook her head and smiled.

She thought about it and then wrote in large writing on a scrap of parchment: "want to get together to study for OWLS?" and held it up to Susan.

The redhead's eyes widened, and then she smiled and nodded.

And that's how it started. Susan dragged Hannah and Hannah's cousin Mandy from Ravenclaw to the study session. Mandy's fellow Ravenclaws: Morag and Padma proposed a study group for runes which included Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis who invited Hermione to a study session for astronomy. When planning the sessions, Hermione noticed the others had extra-curricular activities, and marveled. Arts were offered at Hogwarts? Apparently, yes. The meetings, led by ghosts and other students, spanned arts, languages, and other pass-times. Hermione was currently meeting with a dozen or so girls (and a few boys) taking dance lessons (of all sorts!), went to session of yoga with a muggle-born ghost who seemed stuck the seventies, and met with a German ghost who gave her piano (and German) lessons. It was nice to have music back in her life.

It was nice to have peers in her life.

It was nice to have friends, even if they weren't best friends.

Of course, her best friend wasn't at Hogwarts. Some people, mostly purebloods, preferred to act like Harry was dead to them. It was as though he'd never existed. She understood, in a way. These kids had never conceived of a life without magic. The existence of a squib was a horror their minds didn't want to compute.

Others, though, passed on well-wishes. She got quite a bit of ribbing when Lavender realized that she was dating Harry. Hermione never admitted it, but somehow Lavender knew. Hermione didn't realize it was her very face that gave her away. When she talked about Harry, there was a softening, a warmth to her gaze.

The opposite occurred when she talked about, or to, Ron. Where she excused people who didn't know Harry for their ignorance, she didn't – couldn't – with Ronald. They'd been a unit since the troll. How could Ron turn his back on Harry? It had been bad enough, last year, when he'd been a jealous lump. Harry had taken him back too easily, as had Hermione. She couldn't help but think if she'd had the peer support last year… but she wouldn't have. The kids all spurned Harry last year.

She understood that, too. They didn't know Harry, and the administration never came out and stated that Harry hadn't cheated. She blamed that squarely on the headmaster and his staff.

But Ron should have known better.

And this summer, when Mrs. Weasley had been so foul to Harry… and Ron had gotten mad at Harry for pointing out the truth. He had no sympathy for Harry, only a gleeful sense of self-superiority.

It was the same with his prefect position. He lorded his supposed authority over other kids, as though somehow, he was inherently superior. He was acting almost like Malfoy, and a part of her wondered if this was new or if her eyes had simply been opened. He'd always been a little mean and a lot lazy. Hadn't she gotten Troll: the 3-D experience, because he was vicious to her? But it was somehow different for a fellow student to be a bit of a bully and for a student in authority to be one.

He also was being a lot lazy with the prefect duties. He sneered at the firsties when they asked for help, so they never asked him anymore. She was carrying the majority of the duties and he was reaping all the benefits. She was having a decent year, even with Harry not there and all, but being a prefect wasn't at all what she'd hoped for.

She'd give it a bit more time, but she had a feeling something was going to have to change.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

It was a week before Halloween. Harry went downstairs to fix lunch and work on dinner – he enjoyed cooking and Kreacher didn't. When he went to the hallway, he heard Kreacher talking to the portrait of Sirius's mum. Sirius came into the kitchen while Harry finished up the fillings for the lasagne.

"Smells great!" he stated, enthusiastically.

Harry chuckled. "Garlic, onion, and sausage always smell great cooking. I'm making a lasagna. It'll be a while – dinner actually. But I'll have the sandwiches done for lunch, soon."

"I can make a sandwich," Sirius half-protested.

Harry raised a brow. "You can throw some meat on some bread. I'm making a grilled parmesan ciabatta with the rest of the chicken from last night, some fresh pesto I just made, roasted tomato and red pepper, and some mozzarella. Don't compare my cheffing to your kitchen hackery," he responded, channeling his best Malfoy snobbery.

Sirius snorted, and Harry grinned. "Nice. You really are a great cook. I think even Kreacher likes the food, though he'd never admit it."

"Well, when we go to restaurants, I like to look at all the stuff they serve – what it smells like and stuff. The books you got me help a lot. Where are you getting them all, anyway?"

"I send Remus out to scout used book stores and estate sales for things to keep us both occupied. Muggle fiction is way better than magical fiction."

"Agreed. What you can do for me is power the blender?" They'd hacked many of the muggle tools Harry was used to using. He could mix by hand, but blending was too much. Sirius cast the charm to whirl the blender blades and mix the smoothies that Harry wanted to serve at lunch. They did a good job of backing up the nutrition potions both of them still had to take.

Harry finished up the sandwich, cutting it into two smaller pieces for him and Sirius, and Sirius put the smoothies in cups. They sat down to the repast and Sirius closed his eyes after the first bite. "You're right. Your cheffing is superior."

Harry giggled. "Oh, speaking of Kreacher – which you kind of were – I heard him conferencing with the portrait of your mum when I was cooking. You might want to nix that. Nicely, though. Remember: if you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals?"

Sirius sighed, remembering saying that to Harry. He resolved to be nicer to Kreacher. He had to set a good example, after all.

This parenting stuff was hard.

"Kid, you're ruining my appetite. But, OK. Kreacher!" he called.

The elf popped in, resentment on his face. "Bad master calls?"

"I order you to speak to no one alive or in portrait but me, Harry, Tonks, Remus, or Hermione," Sirius had learned that specific orders with Kreacher were the best way to go. And though the elf refused to speak to a werewolf, Sirius left Remus in anyway.

"Yes, master." Kreacher frowned but stayed as he hadn't been dismissed. Sirius noticed how he was much more well behaved than when Sirius had first returned to the house. In fact, his behavior had started improving right around when Harry had come to the house.

"Kreacher, you're acting much healthier now than you did just a month or so ago, before Harry came here. Will you tell me why? Will you tell me if there is anything I can do to make it better?"

"Kreacher cannot tell master."

"Can you tell Harry?"

Kreacher thought it over. "Yes, Kreacher can tell half-blood."

Harry swallowed his bite of sandwich. "Kreacher, please tell me why you are acting better than you did before I came."

"Half-blood did something to help Kreacher fill promise to good master Regulus. Bad master Sirius adopt half-blood, so now Kreacher help Bad master."

"What promise did you make to your good master, Regulus?" Harry asked. Sirius was biting his tongue, holding back his questions. He needed answers.

Kreacher told a tale of Voldemort and a locket and a cave of horrors. He told of the death of Regulus, and the telling broke Sirius's heart. He told how Harry's no-longer-enflamed scar had the same echo of a magical aura, when he first came to Grimmauld, as the locket, and that both auras had almost completely disappeared over the intervening months. Tears rolled down Sirius's face and he reached out to put a hand on the shoulder of the elf.

"Thank you, Kreacher. Thank you for your loyalty to my brother. Thank you for telling me the truth of him. I don't know how Harry's scar might relate to the locket – but I have a fair idea how I can find out. Would you allow me to take the locket to Hogwarts – or would you bring it there when I meet with Dumbledore to ask about it? It could be pivotal in the downfall of Voldemort. That's who I blame for Reg's death."

"Showing locket to crooked nose firebird man would help kill bad snake man?"

"I believe so, yes."

Kreacher thought it over then nodded. "Kreacher will bring when you call."

"Good. If Dumbledore won't let you stay, I promise to tell you exactly what he says about the necklace and if it was what I think it was." Kreacher nodded and stood, waiting for his next order. Sirius decided to begin as he needed to go on, "There's extra smoothie. If you'd like it – I know elves like fresh fruit and veg – you're welcome to it," Sirius offered, as a kind of olive branch.

Kreacher looked at the mixture in the blender, picked it up, and sniffed. He snapped a finger, the remains went into a glass he held, and he nodded. "Kreacher thanks master Sirius and master Harry," and with that he popped out of the room with the drink. Elves did not eat with masters.

Harry wondered if they ate in some sort of weird way, but decided not to think about it.

"So, we're going to have to talk to Dumbledore. I think it will go better if we go to Hogwarts. I don't want him planting any sort of spying spells here."

"I don't have to go, do I? I really don't want to be near Snape, and Dumbledore always has Snape lurking around for meetings."

"No, you don't have to go. I think I might know what that necklace was, and now I think I know what your scar was, and how you lived. But I don't want to tell you…" he continued over Harry's obvious question, "until someone smarter than me confirms it. It's too horrible to say, otherwise."

Harry nodded. "Do me a favor, though, will you? Take Lupin with you. Just in case." Harry didn't finish the just in case – just in case of confounding, compulsion, memory charm, imperius, potioning… the list of dangers in that castle, and particularly in that office, were too long to name. Sirius nodded.

"When he gets home from work," the werewolf was, funnily enough, working as a telemarketer to make some muggle cash, "I'll talk to him about it."

It ended up that Lupin had the following Tuesday off, so Sirius floo-called the headmaster, asking for an appointment. He was reminded that Tuesday was Halloween, but Sirius asked for a meeting well before the feast, so Dumbledore acquiesced.

Sirius told Remus the entire story before they went to the appointment and informed him what he thought the necklace that had so horrified his brother might be (horcrux). He then postulated what that would have meant about Harry's scar and why he would have survived the kiss. Sirius was working hard to control his anger, as he didn't know that Dumbledore knew what that scar was. But when Remus's eyes flashed yellow as he followed Sirius's logic, they both had to calm before they went to the castle.

Dumbledore opened his floo connection for them, and they stepped through. Sirius almost laughed at seeing Snivelly in the corner, lurking like a ghoul. Harry and Sirius had gone recently to a vintage B-movie horror film festival. Obviously, Snape had missed his calling.

"Sirius, Remus," Dumbledore greeted from his desk, "welcome back to Hogwarts."

"Dumbledore, Snape" Sirius acknowledged before taking a seat.

"Headmaster, Severus" Remus said, also sitting.

"Can I offer either of you refreshment?" the headmaster asked graciously.

Sirius shook his head. "No, I... don't think I could stomach it. I want to tell you a story." And he proceeded to tell the tale of Kreacher and Regulus and the necklace.

Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle and took on gravity as the tale was told. By the end, he was aquiver with excitement.

"Do you have the necklace?"

Sirius nodded. "If you will consent to me calling Kreacher?"

"Of course, my boy!"

Sirius called Kreacher, who brought the necklace. Dumbledore held it and studied it, casting many spells on it. He handed it back to the elf who popped back out of the room.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, a stunned look on his face.

"Horcrux?" Sirius asked, startling the older man.

"Your postulate is correct. It was a horcrux: the second of Tom's that I've seen. The first was a diary," he began, but Sirius already knew where he was going.

"That Ginny Weasley used to open the chamber?" Sirius asked. Snape huffed but otherwise remained silent.

"Mister Potter has been telling tales," Albus said, with a very small smile. But then his face became serious once again. "Yes, that diary. I couldn't be one hundred percent certain of Tom's method of immortality until young Harry handed me that diary. And then, I knew."

Sirius, however, was pissed. "You had to know he made more than one when he was resurrected. And you didn't know that something destroyed them. Why haven't we been looking for them?"

Albus put up a hand when Snape began to protest the accusatory and disrespectful tone Sirius had used. "I've been gathering information on what they could be and where they might be since Mr. Potter first presented me the diary. Tom hid his tracks and trails well."

"How many did he make, then?" Remus asked.

"That, I am not certain of. I have a possible line on one more – hidden at Riddle's family home. I think that might be Hufflepuff's cup."

"No," Sirius interrupted, "that was actually in Bella's vault that I inherited through primacy. It is certainly not a horcrux – at least, it's not one now. The Goblins would have confiscated the entirety of the vault if it had been. As it was, they fined half the value for the curses she had on the gold."

"Well," the headmaster seemed stymied, "One less I need worry about. I still must ascertain if one is at the old Gaunt shack."

"I'll go with you," Lupin said, "in case it's as cursed as that cave Kreacher told of. Snape can't go, because Voldemort might find out, and that would put him in too much danger." Snape sneered at the werewolf for that man's consideration. Remus raised an eyebrow and smirked in return.

"I believe that would be wise," Dumbledore nodded. "Severus informs us that Tom is no longer abusing the hospitality of the Malfoy estate, as it locked down with the untimely death of Mr. Malfoy. Heir Malfoy will not be able to lower the death wards until he reaches majority, just as young Mr. Potter could not get into Potter House until he reached his own majority. I suppose it must wait for his children, now."

Sirius nodded. Even as regent, he did not have authority to open the house. Narcissa, being married into clan Malfoy, could cross the Malfoy wards, but would not be able to allow anyone else in. Dumbledore continued.

"Tom is currently residing very near where I believe a horcrux to be hidden but is going to be recruiting overseas soon. We shall wait 'til he leaves so at least we do not have to contend with him living next door whilst we traipse around his ancestral lands."

There was a moment of silence before Remus leaned forward.

"I have my theories," the wolf continued, "but I'd like yours. What do you think happened to nullify this necklace?"

"Alas, I have too little hard evidence to postulate but… I believe that Mr. Potter may have hosted a horcrux, and that piece of soul is what the Dementors destroyed when they kissed him. When Tom latched on to young Harry, that piece of his soul that was a bit more… aware, as it was interacting with a magical core, albeit a very small amount, thanks to Lily's protection. When the dementor kissed that piece, it did what it could to stay coherent – it drained the other soul pieces. That would be why the snake went feral, and the locket and cup no longer host his soul pieces."

Remus nodded but Sirius remained angry. He would bet the entirety of the galleons in his vault Dumbledore at least suspected that Harry's scar held part of Voldemort, and he'd done nothing. But yelling or cursing now would do no good.

Azkaban had tempered some of his ridiculous Gryffindor personality.

"On a related topic, Sirius," Dumbledore continued, "I would like you to join in on the rotation guarding the prophecy at the ministry. We've recently lost two of our order and we need more hands. It doesn't help that we do not have a secure headquarters anymore."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, looking every inch the aristocrat he was born. "I'll tell you what, Albus: tell me why you want this object guarded so much, and I'll consider joining the rotation."

Albus weighed the pros and cons while Snape glared at the audacity of Black. Finally, the headmaster decided on an answer.

"It's a prophecy that concerns Tom and Mr. Potter." Sirius straightened and Remus's eyes flashed golden. Snape gave no reaction at all, which was telling in itself. "Yes, I see you understand what that means. It was why James and Lily went into hiding. And it is still active; I have checked. It is the reason I wanted Harry under the wards here at Hogwarts, though I suppose the wards at Grimmauld Place suffice, for now."

Sirius wanted to rage, wanted to vent his spleen. A prophecy, concerning Harry, and he was just now being told? Harry'd never been told?

"I'll talk it over with Harry and let you know," Sirius answered, barely keeping his temper in check. "Good day to you, Headmaster, Snape." He forced himself out the floo, followed by a stunned Remus. He locked down the floo in Grimmauld when Remus came back through. Sirius needed to brood. Moony seemed to know that, so he announced his own intention to go out for a bit and walk off his mood. He was going on a trip for his job that evening, so he needed to get the wolf under control.

Sirius nodded and as the front door closed, he looked up the stairs.

He needed to talk to Harry.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

Tom Riddle gazed out the window of his ancestral manor – the muggles had surely stolen this grand house from the wizards when the Gaunts had fallen on bad luck – and reflected on his own bad luck.

Four months. He had gone from the unparalleled genius of his resurrection during the rites of Litha to this… existence at Samhain.

He looked at the filthy muggle at his feet and snapped a wandless crucio at it, venting his frustration. It screamed and writhed, but Tom took little pleasure in the obvious suffering. His mind was preoccupied and his favorite pass-times just couldn't hold his attention.

His powers were diminished. Oh, he could still do magics that most would balk at attempting. But at this point, the old fool at Hogwarts would easily best the mighty Lord Voldemort. It was disgusting.

At least his prophesied enemy was squibbed. When Tom got his hands on Potter, that boy would suffer. Tales would be told of the suffering that waste of life would endure. It wasn't that Tom blamed Potter for all the ills of the world; that would be giving too much power and importance to the urchin. But the brat had the temerity to live when Voldemort decreed he should have died, at least three times over. It was galling. The child had never had power approaching the levels of Tom, even after the botched resurrection.

Tom could admit to himself, now, that his return had, indeed been botched. Due to the bones of his muggle father, he'd had a few issues. In this case, the sins of the father multiplied in the son, as the original Tom Riddle contributed no magic to the rite.

Tom had hoped for one of his more powerful followers to accomplish the ritual, to overcome the handicap his sperm-donor once again saddled him with. But Pettigrew was – ha – at hand, and needs were met. It seemed, though, that magic had judged Pettigrew's ultimate betrayal and decreased the value of the sacrifice of the flesh of the willing servant. It was the only reason Tom had to explain the loss of more power after Pettigrew had died.

The real blow, however, had come that terrible night when his beloved Nagini had somehow been cursed. Not only had he lost all access to the beautiful gold in his wealthy followers' vaults, the treatment that kept him corporeal negated much of the power of the blood of his enemy. And now, Tom had relatively the same power he had as a newly-graduated Hogwarts student, with none of the power-boosting rituals and rites having taken place.

And as he had, literally, nothing left of his own to sacrifice, having mutilated his person and his very soul, the most power-enriching acts were not available to him any longer. He had Fenrir searching the continent for a vampire to harvest after Yule at Tom's personal circle in Albania. Not that Tom hadn't spent enough time in that area in the last decade to last five lifetimes. He was only thankful the area was saturated enough with his magic to help sustain his shade when he'd been… as he was. It was only that, and the presence of Nagini, that had kept him from losing his sanity.

If he could find who had cursed his beloved Nagini, he'd have someone more worthy to torture. Instead, he cast a transformation at the filth on the floor. Its blood turned to fire and the body turned to ash. And Voldemort was still bored.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

When Sirius had thought through a cup of tea, he went up to Harry's suite.

The rooms were much more welcoming now. The muggle paint that Harry had picked and applied was warm and masculine, and the hardwood practically glowed with polish. The area rug's pattern brought out the colors of the walls and the furniture, which seemed to have magic applied to it. He could see the elf magic; he supposed Kreacher had helped the boy. The bedroom had a nice four-poster he'd bought, now brightened with magical quilts. The sturdy wardrobe and dresser were now glowing with magic-expansion charms. As they were solid wood with pure metal hardware, those enchantments would hold. Harry was in what he called his office, where the refurbishment had continued. Harry had two books open on the large work table in front of him and was playing with some putty in one hand as he took notes with the other. He looked up at the knock on the door, his eyes unfocused as he thought on what he was reading.

"Oh, hey Sirius. What's up?"

Sirius sat on the couch and patted on the cushion next to him as an invitation for Harry to join him. When Harry shrugged and walked over, dropping next to his godfather, Sirius sighed. When would the kid catch a break?

He told Harry of the conclusions he and the headmaster had, independently, come to about the locket, Harry's scar, and the dementor attack. He couldn't hold the anger out of his voice when he wondered aloud why Dumbledore had never done anything to try to remove the horcrux from Harry.

Harry tilted his head and looked at his godfather. "The headmaster could have killed me. No one would blame him if I was keeping Riddle alive."

Sirius blanched. He hadn't thought…

"He had at least two other anchors, so no, you weren't keeping him alive. But all of those anchors seem to be gone now."

"When Dumbledore dumped me on the Dursleys, he didn't know about the other horcrux. He could have killed me and said I didn't live through the attack. McGonagall and Hagrid would have backed him up. They let him leave me on a doorstep in the middle of the night – and it snowed that night! He didn't kill me. He could have."

"Thank mother magic for small mercies," Sirius muttered.

"But now… well… huh." Harry's thoughts were following a trail, putting things together. "Riddle's mortal. And he's lost the advantages my blood gave him. Probably still pretty magical, but not what he was…"

The good news, of course, couldn't last. It was, after all, Hallowe'en.

"There's more." Sirius swallowed hard. He didn't want to say this, but Harry needed to know. "The order is guarding a prophecy…" and he told the tale of a prophecy, wording unknown, that linked Harry to Voldemort and was, against all odds, still active.

Harry got so angry that the ottoman in front of him and Sirius began to shake. "The headmaster's known this? All this time? From before when I was even born?! And he never prepared me for anything!"

"Harry… you're performing magic. Accidental magic." Sirius breathed out. Harry looked mutinously at his godfather.

"Yeah, the freak is a freak again." The ottoman stopped shaking and Harry's eyes, still shimmering with tears of anger, hardened.

"You knew? How long? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me?" The hurt in Sirius's voice was all that could reach Harry. His shoulders fell and he lost his fury.

"Sirius, you like me like I am. Not the freak or the hero. And if you knew, it would change. Yeah, I still have magic. I just wanted to be normal."

Sirius drew him in, Harry resisting at first, then giving in to the hug. "Nothing you are could be bad to me, Harry. Nothing," Sirius whispered vehemently into Harry's hair.

Harry held on for a minute, then pulled back. "Nothing? Well, I'll come clean then. I knew I was getting my magic back because… Dobby?"

"Master Harry calls?"

"Sirius, this is my friend Dobby. He heard about the attack in the summer time. He got all my stuff out of the Dursleys and brought it here to me as soon as I had enough magic to be found under these war wards."

It was a massive amount of information to take in. "You still have the firebolt?"

Harry grinned. "Yep. And Dad's cloak, and the map, and the photo album Hagrid made me. Dobby, can you unmask the other shelf?"

"Yes, master Harry." The little elf snapped, and the shelf with the used magical books and Harry's magical things became visible.

"And your magic is 'coming back'? Does that mean it's still growing?"

"Master Harry as strong as Smelly Finnegan now," Dobby answered. "Magic be growing – real slow at first, but growing faster nows. Magic bein used to fixes Master Harry's bad bones and weak innards first. Then it fills him up. Master Harry Potter soon be strongest, bestest wizard. Dobby be allowed to be Potter elf now?"

Sirius nodded absently. "If you could help reinforce this floor so that only Hermione, Harry and I can come up here, we can fix a target room for Harry to practice magic. We just have to get him an untraceable wand."

"I have one already – from the lost and found at Hogwarts." Harry showed the wand to Sirius, who just shook his head.

So many secrets. Didn't Harry trust him? As if reading Sirius's doubt and disappointment, Harry gave his other reason for his silence.

"There was one other reason I didn't tell you. You'll tell Lupin, and he'll tell Dumbledore. And they'll make me go back to Hogwarts and be with all those awful people."

Sirius shook his head. Remus had been nothing but helpful since school had started, helping Harry plan and execute his studies. And he was one of James's best friends, and Sirius's only friend left from those days. "Why don't you like Remus?"

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"He was supposed to be one of Dad's best friends, right? Dad did all sorts of stuff to make sure Lupin felt protected and accepted?" Sirius nodded. "Where has he been the last fourteen years?" Harry asked, unable to mask the hurt in his voice. "No visits, no cards, nothing. Even if he couldn't get to me before I went to Hogwarts, he didn't even show up until third year, when he was paid to be there." The anger was creeping back into his voice, overriding the hurt. "I went through that fucking tournament alone. Just Hermione to help me, and you, when you could. The teachers – they all allowed the whole fucking school to call me a cheater and give me tons of shite day in and day out. But they work for Dumbledore, and he set that mood. Lupin… he should have been in my corner. He never has been. Never. I figure my Dad thought he had 3 friends. Pettigrew betrayed him to Riddle. Lupin betrayed him to Dumbledore. Lupin can get fucked for all I care."

Sirius ran his hand through his hair. "I ought to reprimand you for your language. But…" he continued when Harry looked mutinous. "But, I understand that you have a right to your feelings and frustrations. I haven't asked Remus why he didn't come to you. Harry, I've never asked," he stated with growing confusion. "I should have! I've seen that you were neglected. I've heard your stories of school. But I've never asked!"

Harry's brow furrowed, then his eyes widened in growing concern.

"Charmed? Hexed?"

Sirius nodded in agreement. "Or some kind of compulsion or curse. To make us forget you or ignore your needs. I overcame it, at least partially, because you're my adopted son. But it was strong. It would explain why I let Albus put you back with the Dursleys; why I didn't demand you come here."

"It's not like he was ever my guardian," Harry muttered.

"Got that in one," Sirius concurred. "At our next appointment, we'll have Dr. Zhou see if there's any remnants of any curses on you. And, I'll search through the Black library – if anyone has a record of a curse that could make everyone neglect a child – an heir – to weaken a family, the Blacks would."

Harry raised his brows at Sirius. "Your family is the magical version of the Dursleys? Great."

Sirius chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, the Blacks were worse. But I'll make it a new name now."

~~ this is a scene change ~~

Hermione sat in the library on a Friday afternoon. The Halloween feast was behind them and had been uneventful for the first time in her Hogwarts career. The first Hogsmeade weekend was tomorrow, but she was going to skip. She was a bit behind on her work and with all the upper years out of the castle, it would be quiet enough to get a lot done. She knew that she had the weekend to get through her homework, but she wanted to work on the defense research first. The project that had been assigned by the auror – find at least 4 defense methods for the cutting curse, aside from the counter-curse – was really interesting and challenging. She tried to think out of the box, as Harry always did.

She bet he'd have great answers.

Sighing, she decided she'd ask him after she had her own paper written. Just to get his opinion, not his help.

She didn't notice when the chair was pulled out across from her until she heard the throat clearing. She looked up, her eyes a bit unfocused, into the blue and gold tie of Anthony Goldstein.

She smiled at her fellow prefect.

"Hey, Anthony. What can I do for you?"

He looked nervous.

"I was wondering if you're planning on going to Hogsmeade tomorrow? I know the weather's not set to be great…"

She bit her lip and her face fell a bit. "Oh, I'm not, actually. I've signed up to stay back with the firsties and second years. Sorry."

She wasn't, really. Anthony was nice, and cute in a Ken doll kind of way. But she really wasn't interested.

"Mmm, well, maybe next time?" He looked into her eyes hopefully.

She sighed a little. "I actually, well, I have a boyfriend. Not here, at Hogwarts. In the muggle world."

He looked a little shocked and a lot downtrodden. "I hadn't realized. You never mentioned," he murmured, unsure of himself among the sound of crash and burn in his head.

She smiled a little. "As he's not magical, and we're sort of in a bit of a civil war on this side, I don't really want to bring attention to him or my family at all, really."

His eyes widened. "Of course not! We're the same with my mum's family. I totally understand. Well, um…"

"See you on patrol?"

He sighed and smiled, "Yeah."

"Anthony?"

He turned, and she noted he really was cute, if you liked blondes. And Faye did. "Faye's going, tomorrow, alone."

"Faye?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Dunbar. She's the quiet gryff in our year. She usually sits with me in runes?"

His confusion cleared. He knew Faye. She was cute. She was smart. He'd never really thought about her before, but maybe… He smiled at Hermione. "Thanks. Thanks, Hermione."

"She's in the creature section, I think?"

His smile grew a little. He nodded and turned. "Thanks for the advice. See you."

Lavender stood, silent in the stacks. Hermione had turned down a date with a hunk, and pointed him at another pretty brunette. When Lavender considered it, Faye and Goldstein would look cute together. She'd get the dish from Faye later, if she said yes. She'd tell Faye that Hermione set them up… or maybe she shouldn't? Hmm… She'd have to think about it. Maybe ask Parv.

She'd suspected Hermione was dating Harry, but she hadn't thought how dangerous it was for the Boy Who Lived Without Magic. She wondered how Hermione handled it… She wondered why Ron wasn't standing by the lone girl of the broken trio… and she wondered if Hermione choosing Harry had broken the red-head's heart. It was a pretty open secret that the gingerette in fourth year was heartbroken because Potter was gone. She acted like the grieving widow. It was weird. Lavender had thought Ron was kind of cute, but between him and his sister being so odd this year, she was was off redheads.

Well, there were plenty of fish in the sea. Hogwarts wasn't even the only school in the UK. But Ernie Macmillan, the puff, was kind of cute. She'd have to see what she could dig up on him.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

"I think the two of you know why I've called you here."

It was Sunday afternoon. November had come in with rain – cold rain – and the outside weather reflected the storm in the teacher's eye and voice.

Hermione and Ron sat in front of McGonagall's desk in her office. The professor looked seriously displeased as she observed her fifth-year prefects. Hermione kept her face blank; she knew that she'd written the first two prefect reports and turned them in. But she'd told Ronald he had to do the next two.

It was obvious that he hadn't.

She squelched the "I can't possibly oppose authority" feeling that her type-A, rule-oriented innate personality had. Harry had been right. The prefect position had no real perks and a lot of responsibilities she wasn't sure she wanted to shoulder anymore. She'd stayed back from Hogsmeade thinking she'd have time to work, but the younger kids had asked for all sorts of help and now, she was behind again. Was it really worth it?

Besides, it was the fifth of November. Perfect for a little bit of rebellion. She just hoped hers went better than Guy Fawkes's had.

Hermione remained silent. Ronald's ears slowly turned red as he realized Hermione wasn't going to cover for him. She'd been useless this year. If she helped anyone, it was one of the midgets. She never helped him with his homework, and now she wasn't writing the reports she was supposed to write. He had better things to do with his time. She liked doing that garbage anyway.

Why was she being such a bint? He thought she'd be better with Potter out of the picture, now that Ron was her only friend. She'd become a non-entity in the classes they shared. She never stuck her arm in the air, waving her hand like the swottty lunatic she was, so the professors called on everybody else. He'd lost points twice because he'd been called on unprepared. She sat with Neville more than she sat with him. He'd seen her goofing with Faye, Lavender, and Parvati at meals more than she'd hung out with him. He'd seen her studying with claws, puffs, and even a snake once… but she didn't study with him. He wouldn't care except he was getting worse grades now because she wasn't reminding him to do his work.

"The schedule I received from Mosby," the professor continued, grim-faced, "indicated that prefect reports were to be written by the seventh years for the first five weeks, you two for the next four weeks, then the sixth years to finish up term. The set schedule would ensure that, in spring term, you'd have maximum time to study for OWLS. And yet, I only see two of October's reports. Were these directions unclear?"

The two students maintained the stony silence, and Hermione's gaze didn't waver. Then, the girl who stood by a shunned best friend - the girl who set a professor on fire - got mad. But she modulated her voice as if she were telling a story.

"I believe, Professor, that you have eyes and ears just about everywhere. I believe you know what goes on in the tower. I believe that you are aware that Ronald only goes on rounds after I nag him about it; that I help the younger years more in a day than he has all term. More than the other prefects combined, actually. I know that you are cognizant of the facts that I'm taking more classes – in number and difficulty – than Ronald, and that he has several late and missing assignments in almost every class. And I know that you recognize my handwriting and that I completed the first two reports. I am very confused as to why I am being reprimanded for Ronald's lack of work ethic."

Hermione was relatively certain she had kept her tone respectful and cool. The tightening of the professor's mouth was just one indication that woman was also attempting to control her own temper.

"Miss Granger, the prefects must act as a team. I must endeavor to treat you all as one and I must have all appearances of fairness."

Hermione nodded shortly, "And, as the saying goes, there is no I in team. I understand." She unpinned the P pin that adorned her robe and placed it gently on the professor's desk. She had really wanted to throw it. "This I is done playing on your team, anyway. I've had enough."

McGonagall couldn't hide her shock.

"Miss Granger, this is a serious decision you are hastily making. Being prefect is a symbol of responsibility in our world."

Hermione kept the scoff in, somehow. She simply channeled her inner Snape, lifting a brow and coolly retorting, "And having that on my record will certainly help me obtain gainful employment in this society? Truly?" She held the professor's gaze in challenge, and the older woman's eyes fell first.

Hermione stood and Ron watched the showdown with a mixture of horror and wonder. No one would believe him if he told what happened here. Until they saw how many points Granger would certainly lose them tonight. That made him a bit angry, actually. It didn't cross his mind that those points were mostly earned by Hermione to begin with. Even without her volunteering answers, professors called on her when no one else knew answers and she'd always answer correctly. If he acknowledged that fact at all, it was to think of Hermione as a know-it-all-bint.

"As for appearance of fairness," Hermione continued in a cool, inquisitive voice. "You lied to my parents about my prospects in this world – how is that fair? I was set for the most prestigious of public schools and turned it down for this."

"Miss Granger, our society's policy is to ensure that all magicals accept a place in a magical school so that they learn to control their magic. Would you have preferred to have your memory capped and your magic bound?"

"I would have preferred to be told the truth and given an honest option, since I now know Hogwarts is not the only magical school. But that's not my only questioning of your 'fairness' policy. Last year, you let an entire school wear badges proclaiming that Harry was a cheater when the senior staff knew he wasn't. You let the whole school bully and harass a twelve-year-old, calling him the second coming of Voldemort. How on Earth is that level of systematic discrimination fair?" Though it was a question, the disdain in Hermione's voice was clear. And the professor didn't like it.

"That will be fifty points from Gryffindor and two weeks' detention with Professor Snape for your lip." The professor's eyes sparked. She somehow looked even more angry when Hermione shrugged.

"I honestly could not care less if Gryffindor was in the negative, ma'am. Am I dismissed? This is a prefect meeting, after all, and I'm not one of those anymore." She turned and walked to the door, leaving whether or not the professor answered.

McGonagall picked up the pin, exhaling sharply through her nose. Miss Granger had been correct in all of her accusations. But Albus had his way of doing things, and Minerva was only following orders. Her anger turned to the other fifth-year prefect. "Well, Mr. Weasley? Can you explain why you did not write the reports you were to write? Why you are missing assignments in my class, charms, potions, defense, herbology, and history? Why, when a prefect is to embody the epitome of a Hogwarts scholar, you are practically failing a full half of your classes?"

Ron wasn't completely stupid. He sat straight and prevaricated best as he could, "Losing Harry has really thrown me off, Professor. I'm used to working with him and it's just… hard."

Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't buying it for a minute. His actions – or lack thereof - had not only lost her the best prefect she'd had in years (and a potential apprentice), they'd caused her to have to self-reflect. She didn't like what she saw.

She wasn't going to be alone in her anger and disappointment. If she was losing her excellent prefect, Albus was losing his shite prefect. Molly would complain, but McGonagall could silence that harpy.

"If you cannot handle the stress, then you are not in a position to be a leader among the students. I'll have that badge, thank you."

Ron unpinned the badge with a shaking hand. He didn't like doing prefect crap, but he liked saying he was one, and his mum… Oh bloody hell. When his mum found out… He handed the badge over and muttered, "Sorry, professor," before bolting from the office.

McGonagall looked at the two badges. She'd wanted Potter and Granger. Albus told her she needed to give Weasley a chance, and she'd thought him mad. She should have stood up for her own instincts. But against Albus? She knew she never would.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

Hermione flounced into the common room. She felt guilty, angry, and strangely free. She'd not done much better than Guy Fawkes, in the end, but she certainly understood why his rebellion continued to be celebrated. A little rebellion was certainly good for the soul.

She saw Fred and George surrounding a second year who looked overwhelmed and just a bit nervous.

"We're not hurting Billings, Granger…" said twin 1.

"Not too much, anyhow!" finished twin 2 with a grin identical to his brother's.

Hermione shrugged. "Totally not my problem if you do or if you don't."

Silence reigned in the common room. Granger had been different all year. But this who gives a shite attitude… this was new. More than one eye noticed that her prefect badge was gone.

The portrait hole opened behind her and the youngest Weasley male stormed in, aiming right for Granger.

"You lost me my prefect slot!" he shouted at her, not noticing that everyone was listening.

"Pfft!" Hermione's eyes rolled as she crossed her arms. "Your pathological laziness lost your prefect slot."

"McGonagall said you should have written the reports!"

"She said we should have. I wrote the first two. I did everything else. All you had to do was write two reports. I suppose that was two too many for you."

"You like writing shite like those reports. You just wanted to make me look bad."

She looked him up and down disdainfully. "You make yourself look bad." There were a few quiet snickers in the room.

"I'm the only friend you have left now Potter's a squib. You owe me."

It was enough. She was done. In a quiet voice, that somehow was more powerful than a yell, she rebuked him. "I am not your mother, I am not your sister, I am not your girlfriend, and I am certainly not your friend. I don't owe you a thing."

"Yeah, you're a friendless swot," he sneered. "Everyone knows it. They know what a bint you are, too. You'd be alone if it weren't for me!"

"I'd be dead if it were up to you, you git! You never apologized for almost getting me killed first year, for shunning me over your rat that was really a Death Eater animagus, or for trying to turn Harry's friendship from me over a broom that wasn't even yours. You've never apologized for ruining the ball last year for me or for Padma. You're lazy, sloppy, you have bad hygiene, and you're a bully. Stay away from me, Ronald. Just stay away." Hermione turned and strode to the stairs of the girls' dorm. The dead silence was what told Ron the entirety of Gryffindor house had heard the confrontation or would hear every detail shortly.

Ginny looked at him with a combination of horror and shame; Fred and George, though, looked on in disgust and not a little anger. That didn't bode well. But it was Neville Longbottom that stood and walked over to Ron.

"Hermione is my friend. She has lots of friends. And we're all glad she's done letting you use her."

"Shut it, squib." Ron pushed at Neville. Neville pushed back, harder, and Ron landed on the floor.

"Sometimes when you push, people push back. Harry's not here to protect you anymore. Watch your step." Neville turned and walked away and Ron looked around. He didn't see many sympathetic stares.

Lavender followed Hermione up the stairs to get the rest of the story. There was a lot of gossip there, and this year, Hermione might just dish it up. She sat on her own bed as Hermione paced their room.

"He is such an utter berk!" Hermione raged, then stopped. She heaved a deep breath, let it out with an audible grunt, then repeated the action, visibly forcing herself to calm.

"Ron really almost got you killed?" Lavender asked quietly.

Hermione turned, noting the other girl for the first time. She nodded shortly. When Lavender stayed quiet, Hermione weighed her options.

No, she knew that Lavender had kind of a crush on Ron at the beginning of the year. The girl needed to know what a terrible person Weasley could be. But she'd keep Harry out of it.

"First year, he bullied me so much that I didn't go to the Halloween feast."

"That's right," Lavender concurred. "You stayed in the loo all day. Me and Parv and Faye wanted to help, but we weren't sure what to do."

Hermione smiled weakly. "The little know-it-all was just a cover for an absolute fear of this new world I was in. Weasley's final words were the nail in the coffin. I was going to go home. Ask to be bound and wiped. I wanted nothing to do with magic anymore."

Lavender gasped. Hermione was such a brilliant witch! What a loss it would be if she left!

"So, I paced that loo, accepting what was a foregone conclusion, and suddenly, I was sequestered with a super-odoriferous behemoth – the boys locked the troll in the bathroom with me. It was bashing things and I screamed." Her eyes glazed remembering the terror of that scene. "I think my scream alerted Harry I was in the room. They came back. Harry attacked the troll, and I coached Weasley through the levitation spell so that he could lift the troll's club and bash the troll with it."

"You didn't hunt it down? Of course, you wouldn't. Why was that the story that came out?" Lavender remembered it clearly – she remembered being terrified for her roommate then deciding that the swot deserved the scare.

"I told that lie because I knew if I grassed on Weasley, he'd make life hell. And I'd changed my mind about leaving." Her tone was so matter of fact, and her roommate had to concur. The Weasley tribe were not known for treating enemies with grace. But what changed Hermione's mind? Oh…

"Having the Boy Who Lived personally save me would certainly change my mind." Lavender smiled with a knowing glint in her eye.

"Don't call him that. He hates that." Hermione's eyes hardened as she looked seriously at Lav.

"What?"

"Think about it. Boy Who Lived implies someone else didn't. Who died?"

"His… oh Merlin, his parents!" Lavender was aghast. "We've all been gloating that he was orphaned. How cruel!"

"He never held it against anyone," Hermione quickly admitted. "He just really hated it."

"And held people who called him that regularly at arms' length," Lavender nodded.

Parvati had come into the room earlier and heard a bit of the conversation. Hermione was dishing about their first few years at Hogwarts? This was a prime opportunity!

"Hey, want to thank you for bringing up how Weasley ruined the ball for all of us last year," Parvati added as she sat on Lavender's bed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right? I wonder why he even wanted to go!"

"I thought he wanted to see the veela, personally. But then you came in looking all polished and gorgeous and he went all aggro. We all thought for sure you two would hook up this year."

Hermione couldn't keep the disgust from her face. "Eww. Do you know he doesn't even use tooth cleaning charms regularly? He has to be reminded."

Lavendar looked skeeved while Parvati laughed. "I guess that was your bad hygiene insult. But still, you guys were so tight for the last four years. I can't believe you just told him to piss up a rope."

Hearing the phrase from her Indian friend made Hermione laugh. "I cannot tell you how good that felt. We were always both Harry's friends. Ronald tolerated me, and let me know he was doing me that favor, often. I never told him that it was the same from my end. He is rather dull, you know."

"He's cute, on the outside," Lavender sighed. She had really hoped…

"He's ugly on the inside," Parvati contradicted. "He's jealous and regularly mean to other students – at the least, he's very callous and juvenile."

Hermione's brow scrunched. Was that true? She bit her lip and thought… it totally was!

"He's also kind of closed-minded," Lavender stated, thinking to how Ronald would pick at the "nerds" or "snakes". He even made fun of Hufflepuff. Just because they weren't Gryffindor.

"That comes straight from his mother," Hermione nodded. "She has very firm ideas of how things should be. If one of her kids got sorted anywhere but Gryffindor, she'd probably disown them. You should have seen how she treated Harry this summer…"

And that answered why Hermione had finally confronted Ronald on his treatment and didn't tolerate the other three Weasleys much more. They could imagine it, but didn't ask, because it was obviously a sore subject.

"So, what was the real reason you guys lost all those points first year, then? I assume you weren't just out past curfew?" Parvati's eyes gleamed and Lavender laughed, sitting down in a chair and getting comfortable.

Hermione huffed a laugh, finally relaxing a bit, and sat down on her bed to tell the true tales of what had happened in Hogwarts the first 4 years she'd spent there. At one point Lavender got them all tea – her aunt had given her a nice set for the dorm for her birthday that year. Faye joined them and they all heard tales of dragons, werewolves, dementors, a basilisk, polyjuice, and betrayals on a level that had Lavender in tears.

"I can't believe you got to punch Malfoy in the face! Can you make a memory orb of that?" Faye asked with hero worship in her eye and Hermione laughed. It had felt great finally letting go of all of those secrets. She'd never spoken before because Harry didn't want people looking at him any more than they already did.

But she stayed away from the summer, and the order, and what was going on now. It was too fresh and too… dangerous. She decided not to tell Harry about the detentions and problems with McGonagall because, really, what point would it serve?

Remembering the confrontations, she began to feel angry again and begged off from the gossip session. She wanted to take a shower and wipe the whole day away.

Over the next two weeks Lavender and the rest of the girls actually gave Hermione wide berth. She seemed angry almost at the edge of weepy, and being forced to have detentions with Snape daily gave her tension headaches to a degree she'd never experienced before. The only bright spot in her day was talking to Harry, and she made sure she didn't show how upset she was to him. He couldn't do anything about it, after all.

She absolutely could not wait for winter break.