Chapter 6:


A/N: Every one of these chapters is longer than the one before it, and definitely not on purpose. I suppose it's a good sign, in some ways! In this chapter we finally reach Hogwarts.


Despite the Weasleys' insistence that Harry stay with them until school starts, Harry managed to fend them off with the excuse that his employer was expecting him back. They were disappointed, but Harry assured them he would see them at school before Disapparating back to The Hog's Head.

Aberforth looked up at his arrival.

"So. Death Eaters. That's what you wanted me to get Albus away from," he said flatly. Disapprovingly.

"If it makes you feel any better, he wasn't involved the first time. He must have left the campsite before everything kicked off. Nobody's hurt now that wasn't before because of you," said Harry. Aberforth grunted.

"Put a lot of fear in a lot of people, seeing that thing in the sky again," Aberforth said at last.

"I know," said Harry.

"You could have stopped it from happening."

"I know," said Harry, again.

Aberforth slammed his hands on the table and pushed himself upright. His chair fell backwards, landing with a heavy crack.

"So why didn't you? That mark - that symbol - it's a sign of everyone that we lost back then. Our worst memories coming back to light. A reminder of what it was like to live every day in constant fear. You weren't alive back then. You don't know what it means to see that hanging over the house of somebody you knew."

"I had my own war, old man," said Harry quietly. "I saw that vile thing in the sky more times than I can remember."

"Then why do it? Why let people remember those horrors when everyone's at peace? Happy, for fuck's sake!"

Harry raised his eyes to Aberforth's, feeling as tired as if he hadn't slept in days.

"You said it yourself. To remind them of those horrors. Of what's at stake. Of what's coming."

Aberforth growled, but picked up his chair and sat back down again. Harry could see the whiteness around his knuckles, hands clenched into fists, but the anger was simmering down. And Harry got the feeling that it wasn't directed at him. Perhaps hadn't been to begin with.

"What's the point in travelling back in time if not to stop that from happening again?" asked Aberforth.

"You don't get it," said Harry. "Even if I tell you a hundred times, you won't get it. You might understand the words, but you'll never truly know."

"Just tell me, boy. I thought you were here to stop that damn war from happening."

Harry gave a bitter laugh, joining Aberforth at the table.

"No. I came back in time so that we could fight that war. The first time was a slaughter. And it never ended. I mastered a new and forbidden branch of magic to get back here, but it wasn't so I could stop him from coming back. You can't stop him. I learned that lesson over and over again."

"Then why?" demanded Aberforth.

"So that we can fight the damn war!" shouted Harry. "Fight instead of die. And so that when we fight all the forces he can gather, all the evil in the world arrayed against us, we don't just fight, but survive. I didn't come back to stop it from happening. That's impossible. I came back to make it possible for us to fight this damn war and win."

Aberforth stared blankly into space for a long time, digesting Harry's words.

"He'll be coming soon, won't he?"

"In a way he's already here," said Harry. "Weak. Malformed. Without a proper body."

"Sounds like he's vulnerable. Catch him like that and end it, quick," muttered Aberforth.

"I could kill the body he's in, but his spirit would escape just like when I was a baby, and then I'd have no idea of what he's doing. Right now, I know how he plans to come back. I watched it happen, the last time. Ritual resurrection is a messy business," Harry said, and then paused for a moment before grinning ruthlessly. "And I plan to mess with it."

"You're going to make the ritual backfire?" asked Aberforth.

"Good guess, but no," said Harry. Aberforth raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation.

"It actually backfired the first time. Only the effects...they made him stronger than ever before. Truly immortal, not the wraith he became after he died the first time. Every time he died, the ritual reactivated. No need for sacrifices or full moons or fucking virgins."

"So the immortal Dark Lord Voldemort became even more immortal than before," said Aberforth sourly.

"And that's where I come in. First I make him mortal. Then I kill him for the first or fourteenth time, depending how you're counting. I know how that ritual works back to front. How it went wrong. How he became so powerful. I know how to change it so that it works exactly the way it's supposed to, and gives him a new but mortal body," said Harry, taking out his wand and placing it on the table.

He let out a long, tired sigh.

"I'm not like your brother. I can't match him in strength or knowledge. I'm a powerful wizard, but they're on another level. I've only ever escaped duelling Voldemort through dumb luck, being saved, or being a sneaky bastard."

"I'll agree that you're a sneaky bastard, Potter, but I think his lot might have you beaten at both sneakiness and being bastards."

Harry grinned mirthlessly.

"Oh, you have no idea. No idea at all. But I didn't just learn how to travel back in time."

Aberforth snorted derisively, but couldn't conceal the curiosity in his eyes.

"Picked up a few tricks when you were developing the spell?" he asked.

"Developed an entirely new branch of magic, more like," said Harry. "Beyond the wildest dreams of the Department of Mysteries. You're looking at the world's first Chronomancer."

"So what can a Chronomancer do, besides tend bar?" asked Aberforth.

Harry paused reflectively, and stared at his wand.

"You know, I'm still learning. And this is going to help me push the boundaries even further. I may be the only wizard to have mastered time magic, but I know there's still more I can learn to do." He pushed his wand across the table, and gestured for Aberforth to take it.

"This feels odd," Aberforth commented, running a finger along its length. "It's almost - what's the word? Faceted. Bumpy?" He shrugged. "I've seen some odd wand decorations, but never one with all those little spheres. You'd hardly know they were there unless you were close enough to get poked in the eye with it."

"Well, they're not supposed to be decorative," said Harry. "The wand chooses its shape, not the wandmaker."

"That's a load of bollocks. Ollivander does custom requests and modifications all the time," grumbled Aberforth. "The wand chooses the wizard, not its shape."

"It does when you make your own wand," said Harry.

"Huh. Work better for you than Ollivander's, then? To give you an edge over Voldemort?"

Harry shook his head, but smiled.

"No, nothing like that. It's perfectly tuned to my magic, but Ollivander's a master of the craft. His wands come within a hair's breadth of perfect matches in almost every case. At least, when he gets to help you pick it out."

"Then why not keep with your old one?"

"You remember how some wands are more suited to certain types of magic, like Charms, or Transfiguration?" Harry asked. "Mine is more attuned to Chronomancy. It's the first Chronomantic wand ever to have been made. It'll perform about as well as my old holly wand for most things."

"For most things?" Aberforth repeated. Harry smiled, and took back his wand.

"Time magic has been easier with it," said Harry. "And not just easier. I can feel a change in how it works. I'm closer to the magic now. This is what I need to take my mastery of time a step further. A specialist tool. And a teacher. And a partner." He gazed at it fondly, before stowing it away in a pocket.

"Your wand is your teacher?" snorted Aberforth.

"Is the magic in the wizard or in the wand?" asked Harry. Aberforth leaned back, momentarily stumped.

"The wizard?" he hazarded a guess. "But wands are magical too. S'just that the magic comes from the wizard. Goes through the wand. It's a tool, like you said. A focus."

"I bet your brother would have had a better answer," taunted Harry. Aberforth swiped at his head, but Harry easily dodged the tame blow, chuckling as he did so.

"It's in both of us. And this wand knows the magic of time in a way completely different to how I understand it. I can learn things from this wand that I could never do from my old one." Harry stared at the wooden tabletop forlornly, wishing he had the chance to experiment with some of his more esoteric theories. But now was not the time.

"What's it made of?" asked Aberforth,

"Birch," answered Harry. "It's a symbol of growth and renewal. The passing of time. It lights the way for others to follow, and inspires passion in the hearts of men."

Aberforth cuffed Harry on the side of the head.

"None of that airy bullshit, Potter," he muttered. Harry opened his mouth to object, and argue the important influence of wood choice when making a wand, but Aberforth beat him to it. "I meant what's in it. The magic bit. Unicorn cock? Middle finger of a grindylow?"

"Your imagination is inspiring," muttered Harry, while actually trying to work out what the magical properties of a wand made from a grindylow's middle finger might be. They were aquatic creatures, living in packs. Territorial and aggressive. Submerged under constant pressure yet also pressing outwards. It'd likely create a wand with good defensive properties, possibly with a quirky temperament, as some wands possessed; characteristics which caused them to act oddly under certain circumstances. Most likely it'd be more potent when several of them were used by wizards fighting side by side. Good wand for a soldier, Harry thought. He wondered if it might be worth trying to grab some fingers during the Tournament and try his hand at making some, but Aberforth interrupted his speculation.

"Well?" demanded Aberforth, impatiently.

"Centaur," snapped Harry, irritated at having his train of thought interrupted.

"What, a whole one?" asked Aberforth, in a voice so deadpan that Harry actually did a double-take and had to look at the man to be sure he wasn't serious.

"The optic nerve," he explained.

"Never heard of that before. You didn't get it from one of the local centaurs, did you?"

"I did," admitted Harry. Aberforth swore, loudly.

"Stay away from the forest if you want to stay alive, then, Potter. They're a vengeful lot. I don't know whether they'd just pepper you full of arrows or take both your eyes for the slight and leave you wandering in the dark."

"Your concern is touching," said Harry, amused by the warning, although he was well aware of how dangerous centaurs could be when riled. "But I didn't thump one over the head with a brick and pluck out his eye. He traded it freely."

"Fuck, Potter. What did you offer to make a star-gazing horseman give up one of his star-gazers?" spluttered Aberforth, eloquent as ever.

"Sight," said Harry, simply.

"Oh, fuck you. I get enough of that vague and mysterious shit from my brother."

"Tell me about it," muttered Harry in understanding. "He was a nightmare when Voldemort was hunting down the prophecy. Getting an honest answer out of him was like squeezing blood out of a stoat."

"Don't you mean stone?"

"Have you ever tried to squeeze a stoat until it bleeds?" Harry asked rhetorically. "It's fucking difficult. At least stones don't fight back."

"Do I even want to know?" asked Aberforth.

"Transfigured a Death Eater into a stoat. Grabbed him. Squeezed. There were a few other things happening, but you get the gist," said Harry.

"I don't know whether I'm more curious about what happened with the stoat or the prophecy," said Aberforth. He stood up, and made his way to the bar, where he began the daily ritual of setting things up for the evening's customers.

"Well the stoat bit me, so it won first blood, but then I squeezed it even harder, and…" Harry stopped speaking when Aberforth threw a dishrag at his head.

"Start cleaning the tables. And tell me the other story."

"Right, you must have heard part of it, too."

Aberforth grunted in acknowledgement. Harry waited in silence for him to admit it verbally. It was part of an ongoing attempt to get Aberforth to converse with actual words. Even after so short a time as Harry had been living here, it was showing results.

"Caught a wet-behind-the-ears Death Eater spying on Albus when it happened. Only caught a bit of it," Aberforth said at last.

"Did Albus ever tell you the rest?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. Surprised the hell out of me. I thought it'd be another of his secrets in the closet, but he called your parents and the Longbottoms here, and told them about it. Right here, in front of me. Guess he might have thought I'd heard more than I did."

"Or maybe he just wanted somebody else to know who wasn't involved," suggested Harry quietly.

"Maybe," said Aberforth, after a long pause. "You'd never think it, but he's as lonely as they come. Maybe he just wanted somebody else to know the score. And we're brothers. Shared old and terrible burdens for decades, so what's one more?"

Harry was surprised at that. He couldn't imagine Dumbledore, the centre of attention wherever he went, as a lonely man. But then he remembered how alone he often felt himself, despite being singled out as the Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, or whatever other name some idiot could think up for him. Harry actually felt a little sorry for Dumbledore, upon realising that. He was still only human, after all. And the only two people who understood that were right here in The Hog's Head.

The silence suddenly felt awkward, so Harry broke it.

"The prophecy's dead now, you know. I already fulfilled it. Even though I'm back in time, before it was completed, it's still tied to my fate. It's just an empty glass ball now."

"Does that change anything?" asked Aberforth.

"Not a damn thing. He chose this fight when he heard the prophecy. I chose this fight when I found out he killed my parents." A slow smile spread across Harry's face, and he looked over at Aberforth. "And I chose it again when I learned how to travel backwards in time. But this time, it's happening on my terms."

"Hnf," said Aberforth. Harry rolled his eyes. It was worse than trying to teach a teenager to speak properly, sometimes.

"Think you can win?" Aberforth asked. Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Probably not." But then Harry straightened and brought back his cold smile from before. "But I'm damn well going to make it possible for somebody to win, even if it doesn't end up being me. He'll lose. Even if I lose first."

"Don't lose first," said Aberforth. Harry laughed, but silently agreed that it'd be rather pleasant if he wasn't murdered by Voldemort any time soon.

"That's the beauty of it. Even if he manages to kill me, he'll eventually be gone for good because of what I'm going to do. I win either way."

"Win the better way," grumbled Aberforth. "But win."

The two men worked in silence preparing the bar, and between the two of them, it was soon ready.

"It'll be a pain doing all this by myself when you go back to school," said Aberforth in a surly voice. Harry recognised what he was really saying, though.

"Aww, you'll miss me? I'm touched."

"But then again, it'll be nice to have the place to myself again," said Aberforth, biting the words out through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I get it. You miss having time alone with Betsie. If you want, I could spend a night at The Three Broomsticks to give you two some privacy," teased Harry.

Aberforth looked like he was going to throw something at Harry, but to Harry's pleasure, the old man couldn't find anything nearby that wasn't breakable and full of alcohol.

"Actually," Harry began, suddenly serious. "I won't be quitting this job when school starts up." Aberforth gave him a confused expression, so Harry continued. "I need to get into Hogwarts, as a Hogwarts student. But I don't exactly plan on going to class and doing homework. That's not what I came back for."

"If you want me to save you room for you, you'll have to start paying rent," stated Aberforth.

"Didn't you just hear me? I won't be quitting the job. That covers rent and more," said Harry.

"Albus won't like it."

"I wasn't planning on asking permission."

"He'll find out," warned Aberforth.

"I know," said Harry, and then he grinned. "But he doesn't exactly have a choice. The worst he could do is give me detentions I won't go to."

"So let me get this straight. You're going to Hogwarts to compete in the Tournament, but not to go to school. You're not going to go to class, or do homework, or, basically, act like a student?"

"That pretty much sums it up," said Harry cheerfully. "Although I'll probably go to classes for a little while, just for fun."

"Redoing a year of school hardly sounds like fun to me, Potter."

"Which is why I'm only going to redo, I don't know, about two months."

"Still not fun."

"It will be for me," said Harry. For a fleeting moment, Aberforth felt sorry for his brother.

After some idle days and busy nights, September finally arrived.

"I'll come by twice a week to work my shifts," said Harry.

Aberforth nodded, and went back to his paper. Harry waited for a response, but none came forth, so he sighed, and set off towards the door.

"See you in a few days, old man," he said. "Bye for now."

As Harry opened the door, Aberforth put down his paper, and banged his fist on the table.

"Oi! What're you doing?"

"Going to Hogwarts?" Harry answered, nonplussed.

"The carriages don't set off until the train arrives, Potter. You're eight hours early."

Harry paused, still holding the door open, and Aberforth groaned.

"Merlin's beard, boy. I can guess what was going on in that thick head of yours. Apparate down to London, take an eight hour train ride back up to Hogsmeade, and waste your whole day?"

"Er...yes?" said Harry.

"You're an idiot," said Aberforth. His voice was so flat that it wasn't even an echo of an insult. Just a statement. "Did you think the students who live in Hogsmeade travel to London and back?"

"I didn't know there were students living here," said Harry truthfully. Hogsmeade had been in ruins in his future, and he'd not spent too much time wandering the streets while living with Aberforth. The only times he'd gone into the village proper had been for an errand, and although there had been children and teenagers present, he'd assumed they were visiting for the shops, like Diagon Alley.

"You're an idiot," said Aberforth again. "The largest magical-only settlement in the country and you think that none of your classmates live here? How did you manage to survive with a brain so withered from lack of use?"

"Luck and charm, mostly," quipped Harry.

"Bah! The only thing you could charm is a goat."

"Are you hitting on me, Aberforth?" accused Harry in mock tones of horror.

"How the fuck did you draw that conclusion?"

"Well you obviously have a special connection to goats," said Harry. "And if you tell me I possess a certain goat-like charm, what am I supposed to think?"

"Would you shut up if I told you to fuck off?" asked Aberforth.

"Has it ever worked before?"

"No," said Aberforth, sadly. "No, it really hasn't. Merlin knows I've tried."

"So how do students from Hogsmeade get to the castle?" asked Harry.

"Same way as you, Potter," said Aberforth in exasperated tones. "Do you have to have everything spelled out for you?"

"Clearly. Because I take the train. And you just told me they don't take the train. I know you haven't started drinking yet, so I'm going to assume that you're either senile or a dick."

"Walk down to the Hogsmeade Train Station, where all your little snot-nosed friends are spilling out of a train, and get into one of the carriages that you've ridden every other time."

"Oh," said Harry.

"Are you feeling stupid?" asked Aberforth. "Because you should be.

"You must really be upset I'm leaving if you're being this much of a dick," said Harry cheerfully. Aberforth muttered incoherently for a while.

"Having sober company was a nice change," he said grudgingly.

Harry brightened at the hidden compliment, and then realised something which made him frown instead.

"Then why do you insist on forcing drinks down my throat constantly?" he demanded. Aberforth shrugged in reply, but Harry glared daggers at him until he responded.

"I said it was a nice change, not that I wanted to spend all my time with somebody sober. Besides, you're a barman now. You need to be able to outdrink anyone in the bar -"

"And still count change for five orders while breaking up a fight, yes, I remember," Harry said, trying not to smile. He wasn't going to encourage the bastard force-feeding him firewhiskey. Harry didn't really mind, if he was honest, but he objected to the lack of choice involved in the whole matter. "So the train gets here in about eight hours?" he asked.

Aberforth shrugged, which was beginning to really infuriate Harry, but spoke up before Harry reached for his wand.

"Something like that," he said nonchalantly, with no idea how close he'd come to growing a goat's tail.

"Well then," said Harry. "I suppose I'd better go find something to do."

"I have some logs that need chopping," said Aberforth.

"I was thinking more like taking Padfoot for a walk," said Harry quickly. He just had to go find where he'd left his blasted godfather. He'd taken to wandering in the Forbidden Forest for long periods of time, revisiting places he used to go with Harry's father and Remus.

"Right," said Aberforth. "You coming back after?"

Harry had his bag slung over his shoulder, containing all his possessions. He thought it over for a minute, and then shrugged.

"Nah, I doubt it. I'll be back for the shift on Thursday. Don't drink everything while I'm gone."

"Don't bring any students with you," Aberforth retorted. A moment passed. "Unless they're overage."

Harry laughed, and raised a hand in farewell before walking out the door. He didn't want to start smuggling booze into Hogwarts, but smuggling an older student into the pub might be a pleasant way to pass an evening.

"What's got you grinning like that?" asked Sirius. Harry whirled around and saw him leaning against a tree, eating an apple in the shade. Between the tree and the pub, he was entirely obscured from sight, but Harry still got nervous whenever Sirius was in his human form in public.

"I just realised that I'm the only student at Hogwarts with access to a pub, a bartender who'll serve whoever I bring, and a private room above it."

Sirius laughed.

"Your mother would blame me for corrupting you if she heard that!" he said, grinning to match Harry. "Your dad, now, he'd probably be proud of your initiative, but only so long as Lily wasn't in the room."

"And you?" asked Harry.

"I'm just proud that you're looking for time to have fun while you're on this mission of yours. All work and no play makes Moony a ravenous monster, as the saying goes."

"That's terrible," said Harry.

"Oh, Remus didn't mind."

"I meant it was a terrible joke," Harry clarified. Sirius barked a laugh, and nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. It was Peter's, now that I come to think of it. Wormtail never had a good sense of humour. Or sense at all."

Harry saw the familiar anger overtaking Sirius, and quickly worked to distract him with something else to think about.

"How are you at curse-breaking?" he asked.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, and stared.

"Seriously? I'm a Black. I grew up in a house where everything was cursed. Sit in the wrong chair and it'd turn your legs into ash. Our housepet was a Boggart."

"That's nice," said Harry offhandedly.

"It really wasn't."

"But it could be nice. Today could be a really nice day. I just need you to break one teensy little curse."

Sirius regarded him warily.

"You never say teensy weensy unless some significant shit is going on. What's the curse?"

"I don't actually know," said Harry. "A Withering Curse, but powerful and warped. There's a ring cursed to kill anyone who wears it."

"Standard cursed jewelry, then," said Sirius with a sigh.

"No," Harry added. "Nothing standard about this at all. But let's see what you can do. Go woof." Sirius rolled his eyes, but shifted into Padfoot as requested.

Without warning, Harry grabbed Padfoot's ear and Side-Along Apparated him to Little Hangleton.

"Voldemort's actually living in this village," he whispered to Padfoot, who immediately growled. "We can't confront him yet. But we can steal away pieces of his power. He's in the largest mansion in the village, a few miles from here. You'd be able to see it if not for these trees."

Padfoot growled louder, and attempted to move in the direction Harry had been staring. Harry was still holding his ear, however, so it only took a sharp tug to stop him. Padfoot whined pitifully, and then nipped Harry's wrist.

Harry quickly let go of Padfoot's ear and rubbed his wrist. It stung, but had barely drawn blood. But at least he'd gotten Padfoot's attention back on track.

"So if Voldemort's in the largest mansion, you might be wondering why we're here, by the shabbiest shack in the village," said Harry, gesturing to their left.

An old, run-down cottage was nestled between some trees. It was built with stone as much as wood, but it looked ancient and out of place compared to the Muggle dwellings in the village lower down the hill.

"We're alone," said Harry, after checking their surroundings. "You can shift back."

"You're telling me that Voldemort's in a mansion but hid a cursed ring in this hovel?" asked Sirius. "I'd get it if it was a random trap for anyone who came across it, but you've got that look on your face. This isn't just about removing a piece of vicious Muggle-bait, is it?"

"No, it isn't," said Harry. "The curse was to stop people from taking the ring. There's something else hidden under the curse. That's what we're here for."

"The piece of Voldemort's power we're stealing?" asked Sirius. Harry nodded in reply, and set off towards the Gaunt shack.

The gate creaked ominously, and the combination of dereliction all around the building and a dead snake nailed to the doorframe made it a distinctly creepy place.

"If it's so important, why isn't it better protected?" asked Sirius.

"He hid it in a location nobody would think to look. Anonymity can be more secure than Gringotts when choosing a bank vault for special items. Besides, that curse is nasty enough. It doesn't draw attention to the shack like wards would, and it kills any trespassers, leaving their withered bodies as evidence of who his enemies might be."

Harry lit the tip of his wand, peering into the darkness of the shack. Sirius did the same. It was almost unnecessary. They found the ring almost immediately, lying in the dirt-floor of the shack as if it had been dropped and forgotten.

At the angle it lay positioned at, the emblem of the Deathly Hallows was clearly visible on the stone set within the Gaunt ring.

"Hey, I know that symbol!" exclaimed Sirius, moving towards it. "It's embroidered into the lining of your dad's invisibility cloak."

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. He'd never noticed before. In his moment of surprise, however, Sirius had reached down to touch the ring. Harry swore, and stabbed his wand in a spiralling motion towards his godfather, who promptly disappeared.

He moved over to the ring, felt the compulsion radiating off it, and felt nothing but hatred powerful enough to override the magically inflicted desire. Not having any gloves to pick it up with, Harry looked around the room for something to use to avoid touching it. The shack was devoid of everything but dead leaves and the ring.

Harry sighed, and went outside to fetch the dead snake pinned to the doorframe. He pulled the nail out, and brought it back inside. Yeah, this was nasty, but it'd do in the meantime. He wished he'd thought to bring gloves. Or a hazmat suit.

With the tip of his wand, he forced the ring down the snake's mouth, deep into its stomach. When he was satisfied it was deep enough not to accidentally fall out, Harry picked up the snake. It felt as horrible as it looked.

Now that that was done, he had to deal with Sirius. He took a few steps back cautiously. It shouldn't be long to wait.

Sirius reappeared in the exact same location and position a few minutes later, crouching towards a ring that was no longer there. He blinked, and then stood up, shaking his whole body like he did when he was a wet dog.

"Ugh. That was some compulsion. Sorry."

"It's alright. I got the ring, though it's still cursed. At least the curse is in the ring and not my dog," said Harry.

"What did you do to me?" asked Sirius. One moment the ring was calling to me, and I saw that symbol. I was going to pick it up so I could show you the carving on the stone, but then - I don't know. It was like the world sneezed."

Harry laughed.

"That's one way of describing it, sure. I wouldn't have been able to stop you from touching the ring in time, so I had to go for my wand."

"Some kind of paralysis spell?" guessed Sirius. "It was pretty damn potent. It was as if I was there one moment, and here the next. Not like the Body-Bind which leaves you conscious and able to watch."

"Not really a spell at all, I suppose," said Harry.

"What?"

"I sent you forwards in time. Just a few minutes, so I could get the ring hidden away. Out of sight, out of mind. Do you feel any traces of the compulsion?"

"No," said Sirius. "But wait, you sent me travelling through time?" he exclaimed.

"It's my thing," said Harry.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Sirius. "How does that even work? It's not like Apparating somewhere. The future doesn't exist yet. There's no fixed destination."

"Technically true. But you're also completely wrong," said Harry.

"About what?"

"Most of it. Technically the future doesn't exist. Neither does the past. I just sort of set you aside for a few minutes, and you snapped back in here when the present back then had caught up to the present we're living in right now."

"I understand all of the words in that sentence," said Sirius, rubbing his head with a hand.

"Time doesn't work the way we think it does," said Harry. "It's almost like magic, in its own way. Don't try to think it through logically. You'll go mad."

"So how did you develop time magic, then?" asked Sirius.

"I went mad," said Harry, matter-of-fact as he could be. "But aren't we all?" He flashed Sirius a smile. His godfather returned it weakly.

"But - what did you do to me?"

Harry sighed, and tried to think of an appropriate analogy.

"Imagine that time is a boat with no oars or sail. I just pushed you into the river, and the current pushed us both along at the same speed until you managed to climb back in."

"...okay," said Sirius at last.

"It's nothing like that. But it's sort of like that."

Sirius looked incredibly bewildered. Harry patted him on the shoulder.

"Try not to think about it."

"What did you do with the ring?" asked Sirius, eager to find something else to think about. Harry held up the snake. "Oh, that's gross. Did you Transfigure it into a snake and the curse withered it down into that?"

Harry snorted away a laugh at Sirius' wild guess.

"No, not quite. I jammed the ring down the snake's throat so I wouldn't have to touch it."

"That's even worse," exclaimed Sirius.

"I know," said Harry despondently. "Do you think you'd be up for another go at the ring?"

Sirius took a moment to consider it, but at long last he sighed, and met Harry's gaze.

"No, that compulsion had me. Even with preparation and Occlumency, I don't know if I could hold it off. I probably could in the right circumstances, but then I'd be too busy fighting that off to remove the curse. You'd need an insanely good curse-breaker to get past that thing. Probably two, one for the compulsion and one for the curse."

"Damn," muttered Harry. "Can't get anyone else involved in this. I'll have to settle for stealing it instead of destroying it."

"Are you going to keep it in there?" asked Sirius, nodding towards the snake carcass.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Nobody's going to go looking down a dead snake's throat. It's a safe a hiding place as any."

"Where are you going to keep the snake?"

Harry shrugged.

"I dunno. Around."

Harry had taken to wearing the snake as a scarf. Padfoot gave him occasional looks of disgust, but otherwise the road was deserted. In the end, Padfoot grew exasperated, and shifted back in the middle of the street.

"Look, Harry, you can't just wear that!"

"Don't worry, the smell isn't too bad. My nose isn't as sensitive as yours," said Harry.

Sirius growled like Padfoot.

"Even if it's covered, that thing is cursed. Dangerous. You don't want it that close to your skin. Its influence will be diminished, but still seep through. Like the compulsion. Which has clearly being affecting you, because you're wearing a dead snake as a scarf!"

"It was the only only object nearby that I could use to pick it up. I didn't exactly pack dragonhide gloves and a barbecue fork to grab it with."

Harry laughed at Sirius concern, but took the snake off his shoulders to show he wasn't being mesmerised by the ring.

"No compulsion on me. I was just being a dick."

Sirius stared.

"I - oh. Well, sure, I recommend being a dick at all times. It helps make life bearable. But don't wear dead snakes. It'll attract a lot of attention. The kind you don't want."

"Seagulls?" offered Harry innocuously. Sirius ground his teeth, grabbed the snake, and stuffed it into one of Harry's robe pockets.

"At least you didn't try using magic on it. Any spell could have activated the curse as easily as if you'd grabbed it," Sirius muttered. And then he turned to grab Harry's head, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Snake bad. Dead things bad," said Sirius. "What has happened to a Hogwarts education since I attended? People used to learn these things! Even in first year, I didn't like snakes or dead things!"

"Not all of us are as smart or scared as you, Sirius," said Harry, pulling out of his godfather's hold.

"I'm not scared of snakes," growled Sirius. "I eat them."

Harry stared at Sirius until he was sure he was serious about that statement.

"Just how much time do you spend as Padfoot?" Harry asked.

"Most of it. Why?"

"I can tell. I can really tell. We're going to have to get you regular breaks to be human in before you lose your mind."

"You're the one acting mad, Harry!" snapped Sirius. He went silent, but then put a hand on Harry's arm, causing him to stop. He looked Harry dead in the eye, as serious as Harry had seen him. "Actually...that might be a good idea. I don't mind being Padfoot. Sometimes I like it better that way. I've grown used to being Padfoot, but...maybe I need to find some more stability."

"Azkaban doesn't help with stability much, does it?" said Harry.

"Being Padfoot helped keep me sane, but it's almost a madness in itself. It changed me. Twisted something inside. Now that I'm away from the Dementors, I can feel whatever was wrong inside starting to change and heal. It's like the new happy memories I'm making are filling the empty spaces left by the Dementors."

There was something unspoken but obvious behind his words, his stare, and the way he gripped Harry's arm so tightly it was almost fearful.

"But these new happy memories are Padfoot's," said Harry. Sirius nodded silently. He was on the right track. "So you need more time for Sirius to heal. Like two different people in one body. Padfoot's better, but you're not, are you? Not yet?"

Sirius let out a long breath, and finally released Harry's arm.

"I will be. Padfoot is me. I am Padfoot. But if the strongest parts of my mind are Padfoot, then I can't help but think like Padfoot when I need to be Sirius."

"I can't pretend to understand how your mind works, but I get it. What you need. You'll have to hide as Padfoot in public for now, but we can find a way to get you spending more time as yourself. Build you up a core of good memories to replace the feelings that the Dementors sucked out of you."

"Padfoot's already there, so that's us halfway done," said Sirius, giving Harry a wry grin.

"And what about Sirius?"

"I've got two. Finding you - and flying to freedom on Buckbeak," said Sirius.

Harry remembered the sheer joy of flying on Buckbeak for the first time. It had been a wild, uncontrollable exhilaration beyond anything he'd felt on a broom. Because Buckbeak was alive. Wild. Magic. Everything Harry loved.

"Where is Buckbeak these days?" asked Harry, thinking fondly of the Hippogriff.

"He actually followed me back to Scotland when I got your portkey. Like he knew exactly where I was going to be. I've been visiting him on the days I didn't get to see you," said Sirius.

"I did wonder what you were doing off in the forest," mused Harry. "Sounds almost like he's your familiar."

"I've been wondering the same," admitted Sirius. "We both escaped our execution and flew off into freedom together. That's a pretty potent act. And we hung out afterwards, which would have given enough time for a bond to form. Never heard of anyone having a Hippogriff familiar before, though."

"Any magical animal can become a familiar," said Harry. "Most just don't want to, on account of being wild magical animals who live outside and like to fly around or eat ferrets, or whatever it is their thing might be. That's why almost all familiars start off as regular pets"

"I wonder if he'll deliver my post for me," suggested Sirius. They looked at each other and burst into peals of laughter, picturing a screeching Hippogriff bearing down on the Gryffindor breakfast table.

"I don't think people are used to bowing before the postman or getting disemboweled," said Harry

"Most of the people I'd want to get in touch with are a touch impolite," Sirius said thoughtfully. "Then again, most of the people I want to avoid are a bit impolite to me, so maybe I should send Buckbeak to them with a letter."

"I'm sure Lucius Malfoy would be thrilled to hear from you," said Harry in a deadpan voice.

"He was the bastard pushing to get Beaky executed, right?"

"And a Death Eater," Harry added.

"Fuck that guy."

"Don't worry," said Harry consolingly. "I'll bully his son at school and then we can kill him next summer. Deal?" Harry held out his hand. Sirius stared, and then grabbed it, laughing.

"Wait," he said. "Kill Lucius or his son?"

"Lucius," said Harry. "Draco might even grow up to be a human being with Daddy removed from the picture. "It's really for his own benefit."

"Can I kill him with Buckbeak?" asked Sirius.

"How?" asked Harry, genuinely curiously.

"What do you mean, how? Beaky's a lean, mean, killing machine. And my familiar. So don't question his killing power!" exclaimed Sirius excitedly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I meant specifics," he said. "Are you going to duel Malfoy, then have Buckbeak deliver the finishing blow, or are you going to fly overhead raining down curses from Buckbeak's back? Or are you even going to leave it to Buckbeak, and lock the two of them in a room together until Lucius insults him and gets mauled?"

Sirius opened his mouth in wonder.

"Harry, you have a bizarre and overactive imagination. Where were you during my Hogwarts years? You would have been a much better fourth Marauder than Peter ever was!"

"I'm pretty sure I didn't exist back then," Harry said sardonically. "But if I did, it was in your fellow Marauder's left testicle."

"Why left?"

"Why not?"

"I can never tell whether you're mad or just a dick," said Sirius at length.

"I'm often complimented for both."

Sirius just sighed in response.

"You've changed a lot since I met you. You're a lot more like your father now."

Harry glanced at Sirius.

"Is that a bad thing? You don't sound too pleased."

"I just regret that I never got to see you growing up. I was in Azkaban until you were thirteen, but I had hoped that after that I'd be able to watch Lily and James' boy grow up. But you've already lived nearly as long as I have, despite your appearance, haven't you?" Sirius asked, sounding melancholy.

"I'm a few years younger than you if you add it up that way, I suppose," said Harry. "But I wouldn't count twelve years of Azkaban as twelve years alive. Your mind is probably still caught between Padfoot and you in your twenties."

"So I'm actually younger than you now," asked Sirius wryly.

"No, I'm seventeen through and through. Chronomancy affects more than just your body. It cuts to the heart of who you are. I think and feel like a seventeen year old, although I do have all those extra memories running around in my head. Once you get past the surface, you're probably a few years older than I am right now. On the inside, where it counts."

"Pity it doesn't show on the outside," muttered Sirius. That made Harry pause.

"Of course," Harry whispered under his breath. "Why did I never think of it before?"

"What are you planning now?" asked Sirius warily.

"I can probably help tune things up a little better. Match your body and mind."

"You're not going to make me grow mature, are you?" asked Sirius. "I hear thirty year olds are a real bore. Might want to think about leaving me cracked in the head but fun."

Harry smiled, but shook his head.

"The other way around. I can help revert the damage done to your body, match it back to your mind. The way you were before you were thrown in Azkaban."

"So you can make me twelve years younger, just like that?" asked Sirius, sounding both skeptical and hopeful.

"It's a bit more complicated than just waving my wand at you, but I think I can do it. It'll take time. And we can't do it until your mind has healed more, or we risk causing it to fracture," Harry warned.

"But...you can do that? Make people young again?"

"In a nutshell, yes," said Harry. He shrugged. "It's more complicated with you because of Padfoot and Azkaban. Easier with other people."

"I don't know what to say," said Sirius.

"That just about sums it up," agreed Harry, knowing the sentiment behind Sirius words.

"If people found out you could do that, they'd go mad. Spend fortunes for your help, and threaten you to teach them how to do it themselves. There's no limit to how far people would go, in either blood or gold. You've practically got an Elixir of Life on tap." Sirius' voice was low, dangerous. Harry was familiar with the dangers, but Sirius was just realising what they were for the first time.

"That's why nobody I don't trust implicitly knows," said Harry.

Sirius grabbed Harry in a fierce hug for a moment, moving so quickly that it startled Harry almost into drawing his wand.

"Promise me you won't tell anybody that you can do this. If it became public knowledge, people would come after you. And not just Voldemort's lot. Good people will do terrible things for a gift like that."

"Well you're getting this gift, and you're a good person. What terrible thing did you do?"

"Highest record for detentions in sixty-three years while at Hogwarts," said Sirius proudly.

"That's a little bit closer to bragging rights than a confession," said Harry.

"I always did disappoint my dear mother in committing acts of evil," Sirius mused. "I once tried to feed Snape to a werewolf. That was pretty bad."

"Nobody would have missed Snape," said Harry dismissively.

"That's not it. Remus would have gotten the blame, but it would have been my fault. I risked my best friend's life for a petty rivalry." Harry looked up at Sirius in surprise, but didn't say anything, wanting to hear more of what Sirius had on his mind. "We all knew how incredible it was that Dumbledore had let Remus attend Hogwarts. How hard he worked to give him a normal life. And in one moment of stupidity, I risked taking all of that away from him. He'd be expelled for sure. His wand snapped. Maybe Azkaban, maybe execution, but definitely both. In fact, they don't like to put minors in Azkaban, so execution was probably more likely."

Sirius had a grim set to his jaw, and his eyes were as haunted as they'd appeared on his wanted posters.

"Dad stopped Snape in time, though. Everything was fine in the end," said Harry. He was a little lost for words at this sudden confession. He knew that Sirius carried a lot of guilt, beyond his own parents' death, but he'd never heard Sirius so freely admit his own faults.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Your dad saved all of us that night. Snape from being eaten, Remus from being killed or imprisoned, and me from killing my best friend." He stared morosely ahead, lost in the past.

"Hey!" shouted Harry, trying to break him out of his stupor. "I thought my dad was your best friend, not Remus. Who's your best friend, Sirius? Tell the truth!"

Harry's antics were enough to get Sirius to blink, shaking himself free from memories.

"We didn't exactly have a ranking system in place. We were pranksters by day and wild animals by night."

"So...the food chain?" suggested Harry. Sirius laughed, but then looked contemplative.

"That sounds about right. Remus was quiet most of the time, but intense in a scary way when you got him riled up. Your dad was brilliant in everything he did, whether that was excelling in school or raising hell outside classes. I was right there with them, always had their backs, but I'm a pack animal, you know? I wasn't me unless I was with them."

Harry noticed that Sirius didn't mention Wormtail, but then again, a rat's place in the food chain was pretty obvious.

"So I'm part of your new pack, then?" asked Harry. Sirius cringed.

"Never call us that. I've got enough Padfoot in my brain as it is. And it sounds ridiculous."

"What are we, then, if we're not a pack?" teased Harry.

"Family," replied Sirius immediately, his voice quiet but firm.

"Yes," said Harry, after a while.

They walked in silence for a time after that. With nothing to do but wait until the time came for Harry to leave, he chose to spend it with Sirius. They hardly spoke, but Harry found comfort in just walking alongside the other man; the godfather he'd known for so brief a time and then lost almost as soon as he'd found him.

Sirius was just as out of time as Harry was. Harry took some comfort in that, knowing that he was not alone. At least he had his work to focus on, to keep him going. Sirius didn't have a goal. His life had been taken from him, and he'd not found a new one since escaping Azkaban, except in the mind of a dog. Harry had promised Sirius that he'd help heal the years stolen from his body, but he also decided that he was going to help Sirius find a reason to find purpose again.

Harry knew that he was the only factor in Sirius' life right now. And while he returned Sirius' devotion with his own affection, he knew that Sirius couldn't live just for Harry's sake. That was no life at all.

Even if there was no way to clear Sirius name, Harry was determined to give Sirius a purpose. And while he was hesitant to admit it, there was a role that Harry would need to offer him soon. Him and many others. The role of a soldier.

Harry grimaced as his thoughts took a dark turn. Voldemort's return was inevitable. War was inevitable. But this time, it was going to be Harry who started it. Every death from here on out would be on his hands.

He looked down at his hands and clenched them into fists. This would be his war, not Voldemort's. The people he cared about were going to be in danger soon, and Harry was the one who would put them there. It was a heavy burden, but he accepted it gladly.

Harry touched his scar. Now that it had faded into a silvery line, it was hard to see - unless it was active. He took out his wand and pressed the tip to his scar, and murmured the name of the rune it formed.

"Sowilo," he whispered.

Silver light radiated from the mark, like light through a crack in the door. It was the colour of a Patronus. The same colour as memories.

The Death Eaters hid their marks from sight, fearing their discovery. Harry would wear his mark openly, let it shine bright as a gesture of power when he walked into battle. He would be a symbol of terror amongst his enemies, as the Dark Mark had been a symbol of terror for all of Wizarding Britain.

"Harry?" asked Sirius, staring at his glowing scar. Harry winced. He'd been so wrapped up in thought that he hadn't noticed when the other man had stopped walking, or when he had turned around.

With another tap of his wand, Harry extinguished the light pouring from his scar.

"Sorry Sirius," he said with a small smile. "Just thinking about the future."

"The one you came from, or the one we're going towards?"

Harry smiled thinly.

"The one I'm going to make. The one I'm going to build with blood and fear. But it will not be our blood. And our enemies will be the ones who are afraid."

When Harry finally arrived at the Hogsmeade Train Station, the train was a speck in the distance. He smiled at the sight of it, but resisted the urge to wave.

He thought he was alone at the platform, but then somebody familiar and huge appeared from the path leading towards the boats, his distinctive shape illuminated by the flicker of the oil lantern which he carried.

"'Arry!" greeted Hagrid. Harry smiled, and made his way over to his half-giant friend. Hagrid swamped him in a bear hug, which Harry tried to return, but his arms only made it halfway around Hagrid's midriff.

"Glad to see you back on your feet after what I've bin readin'," Hagrid said. Harry got the feeling that this was going to be a recurring pattern in his reintroduction to Hogwarts, and felt a headache coming on. "But Dumbledore came and let me know that you were going to be right as rain and the papers were exaggerating. I hadn't even finished reading it when he came down to my hut tha' mornin'."

Harry made a mental note that he owed Dumbledore a favour for not letting Hagrid worry. Despite his appearance, Hagrid was one of the most caring people Harry had ever met, and had been his first real friend.

"That was nice of him," said Harry, uneasy about the topic he'd gone over so many times.

"Brilliant man, Dumbledore. Everyone knows he's a brilliant wizard, aye, but not everyone notices that he's a brilliant man under all the magic as well."

"You noticed," pointed out Harry.

"Ah, well, Dumbledore's been good to me when I had nowhere to turn to. He looks after people who don't quite fit in."

"Like us," said Harry. Hagrid laughed, and gave him a pat on the back strong enough to send him stumbling.

"Aye, Harry. Yeh might not be as big as I am, but you cast a shadow twice as big, with all you've done."

"And it's only going to grow bigger this year," said Harry, both reluctant and eager to get started. "I may as well let you be one of the first to know. I'm going to win the Triwizard Tournament."

"I bet you'd give 'em a fine showing, but they've got a new rule saying you have to be seventeen to compete. Too dangerous, otherwise, though I'd wager it's nothing so dangerous as you've done before, eh?" suggested Hagrid, winking mischievously, which was ever so slightly bizarre when it came from a man the size of a mountain.

"I'm seventeen now," Harry said, as he was sure to do a million times over the near future. "Magic is weird, but brilliant, isn't it?"

Hagrid looked a little uncertain at that, but gave Harry a wary smile.

"I don' think they'll let you compete even if you have grown a lot this summer. Older kids have bin through years more schooling, can do things that you haven't learnt to yet. Yer a brave wizard, Harry, but the Ministry's watching this closely, and they like their rules, that lot. I'd say you've earned a fair chance at competing, but it's all regulations and paragraphs and safety with this bunch overseeing everything."

"Just wait and see. You know how things tend to go a bit - crazy - around me," said Harry.

"'least yeh seem in good spirits about it this time. Usually this sort of business gets yeh down. You usually try ter avoid attention," said Hagrid. Harry was a little surprised that Hagrid had noticed that, and then berated himself for thinking so little of his friend. Hagrid was simple, but not stupid, and Harry respected him too much to want to slip into casual dismissals like thinking he wouldn't notice the change in Harry's behaviour.

"This time it's my choice," said Harry.

"If yeh say so," said Hagrid, looking bemused. "But don' get yer hopes up too high. Dumbledore'll be giving an announcement at the feast. Don' mention it to anyone before then, either, alright? 'sposed to be a surprise."

"Alright, I can keep my mouth shut," said Harry, grinning up at Hagrid.

"Better than whoever told yeh, I hope," joked Hagrid. "Oh, 'ere she comes!"

This was a new experience for Harry. He'd always boarded the Hogwarts' Express, never stood waiting for it to pull into the station and unload its cargo of students.

He barely had a chance to admire the gleaming engine before it pulled to a stop and bodies threw themselves eagerly out onto the platform. Harry chuckled at the writhing mob in front of him.

"See you at Hogwarts, Hagrid."

"Later, 'Arry," replied Hagrid, setting off on his annual task. "FIRS' YEARS! FIRS' YEARS OVER HERE!"

Harry tried to tune out Hagrid's booming voice, and scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. Most of the sea of bodies looked vaguely familiar, but mostly what he could see were Hogwarts robes.

The notion of looking for his friends grew less appealing as the platform filled with even more students, all seeming to blend into one another in an endless sea of roiling black fabric. After a long hard minute of peering under hats and around owls, Harry gave up, and fled for the relative peace and safety of the carriages.

He petted the Thestral closest to him as he passed. It rubbed its face into his hand, obviously enjoying the attention. Harry scratched behind its ears, enjoying the strange texture of the Thestral's leathery skin.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

Harry turned away from the Thestral and towards the source of the voice, climbing up to join the speaker in her carriage.

"Oh, hey Alicia. Angelina. Katie." Harry frowned. "Do you three travel in formation even when you're not flying?"

"Harry!" exclaimed Alicia, but she laughed, anyway. "What were you doing down there?"

"I was just saying hello to the Thestral pulling out carriage. They're lovely creatures, but a bit misunderstood," he said.

"There's nothing there," said Angelina bluntly, pointing directly at the Thestral.

"And thank you for that textbook example of one of the reasons they're so misunderstood, Angelina. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Harry sarcastically. All three girls looked a bit taken aback by his harsh response. Harry realised that his behaviour had become used to the coarseness of Aberforth's company.

"Sorry, Angy," he said. "I'm just a bit tired of people trying to tell me things aren't real when they're right in front of us."

"That's okay," Angelina replied warily. "I heard you had a rough summer."

Harry smiled ruefully at her.

"I still shouldn't take it out on you. But here, give me your hand. I'll show you."

She eyed Harry suspiciously, then offered her hand as a peace offering. Harry stepped forward, pulling her onto the edge of the carriage.

"Careful you don't fall," he warned. "You should be able to reach…," he said, stretching out. His hands fell just short. "Damn. Okay, well, let's try this way instead."

Harry put his arms around Angelina, and lifted her out of the carriage, holding her a significant distance closer to the Thestral. She squirmed and tried to break his grip, but Harry held on tighter, not wanting to drop her on the bewildered Thestral.

"Stop wriggling! I don't want to drop you. Just reach out your hand. No, your other hand. Down a little bit."

Angelina gasped. Harry sighed in relief, and hauled her back into the carriage. She was incredibly light, but it was still no easy feat for him to hold her up like that for so long.

"What was that? It was warm and felt strange, like the covers of an old book," she exclaimed.

"Thestral," said Harry. He shrugged. "Now you know. These carriages aren't actually magic. Just invisible death-horses pulling them along."

"Invisible death-horses?" asked Katie, sounding dubious. "Angelina obviously touched something, but what do you mean by death-horses? Are they ghost horses or something?"

"You can't touch ghosts," said Angelina, looking at her hand where she'd touched the Thestral. "You go through them. And it's cold. I touched something warm. It was alive, whatever it was."

"They can only be seen by people who've witnessed death, so they've always been thought of as a bad omen. But they're just animals," said Harry.

"Do you like animals?" asked Angelina suddenly. Harry was surprised by the sudden question, wondering what had prompted it.

"I guess so," he said. "I love my owl. She's been with me since I learned I could do magic. And I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures, though I don't know if it'd be as interesting without Hagrid as a teacher."

"We heard about your first lesson with him," said Alicia eagerly. Harry recognised the expression and groaned. They wanted storytime.

"You'd have to be at the bottom of the lake to avoid hearing about it, the way Draco kept going on about it," Harry said. "But Draco was an idiot and picked a fight with a creature bigger and deadlier than he was."

"I didn't mean that part. We all know Malfoy was faking it for attention after he came out of the Hospital Wing. He only got scratches."

"Big ones," added Katie, with a malicious gleam in her eyes. "You could even call them gouges."

"Draco wasn't the interesting part, though," said Alicia, glaring at Katie for interrupting her. "We heard about you flying on the Hippogriff like it was a broom."

"I saw it, actually," said Angelina quietly. "It was amazing. I've never seen anybody ride a Hippogriff before. Or since." Harry cursed Lucius Malfoy for that, once again. He was positive Draco had taken the class in an attempt to get Hagrid fired. "What was it like?" asked Angelina.

"I - I don't know how to describe it. It was nothing like a broom. I wasn't in control, or sitting on cushioning charms, or chasing a Snitch. Buckbeak is something wild and powerful, and for a moment, he let me be a part of that. I guess that was the moment I understood the difference between magical creatures and non-magical ones. Hippogriffs don't look magical, or use magic. But they're part of our world, not the Muggle world. And when I was flying on Buckbeak, I could feel what he felt. I saw the world drop away until there was nothing but the open sky and this beautiful wild animal who had acknowledged me as a friend."

"That sounds...intense," said Angelina.

"It was magical," Harry joked.

"What happened to the Hippogriff?" asked Katie. "We all heard he was going to be executed, but then there were all these rumours that it had escaped," she said, pointedly looking at Harry. He looked right back at her, refusing to take the bait.

But the staring contest grew old soon, so Harry relented. Or, at least, met her halfway. Because he was too stubborn to give in when he could make a meaningless compromise.

"If you're trying to ask a question, you're not doing a very good job of it," said Harry. Alicia laughed, but covered her mouth behind her hands to stifle the sound. It was too little, too late, and she earned a glare from Katie before she turned her attention back to Harry.

"Well if you're going to be fussy about it," muttered Katie, "We heard that you helped it escape."

"And flew off into the moonlight on its back?" Harry drawled, raising an eyebrow at her. She turned pink, and gave out yet another glare. This one was for him. Ironic, really, considering that he actually had flown off into the moonlight on Buckbeak's back.

"Well, I doubt it'll do any harm to tell you. Buckbeak's free now, and I can't imagine any of you were clamouring for his execution." All three girls vehemently denied having ever spoken against Buckbeak.

"We wanted to shake its hand. Talons. Whatever. For cutting up Malfoy," claimed Katie.

Harry laughed.

"I'm sure you did. But it's he, not it."

"What?" said Katie, confused.

"You call things it. Buckbeak isn't an it. He's a he."

"You talk about him like he's a person," Angelina noted.

"Isn't he?" shot back Harry.

The girls exchanged dubious looks, and Harry resisted the urge to laugh at them. He was just messing with them now, but he didn't want to be mean about it.

"He's an animal," Alicia said.

"Humans are just another type of animal," Angelina mentioned distractedly.

"The Ministry of Magic classifies Hippogriffs as an XXX rated beast," said Alicia, more to Angelina than to Harry.

"The Ministry of Magic likes to list everything off neatly and ordered, give them labels like beast or being according to arbitrary rules. That only works on paper," said Harry.

"But you can't be suggesting that Hippogriffs are the same as people!" exclaimed Alicia.

"They're definitely not the same as humans," said Harry. "But whether they're people? That's a different question altogether. All I know is that I looked into Buckbeak's eyes and saw him looking back at me, then we flew together across the lake and forest, and in that flight something passed between us that was deeper than conversation."

"They can't speak," reasoned Katie.

"They don't need to," responded Harry.

"And what other animals do you think might be people?" asked Angelina, sounding amused.

"Acromantula, for sure. The ones living in the Forbidden Forest can speak. The oldest one was about fifty. He understood family, friendship, and loyalty."

"There are Acromantula in the forest?" exclaimed Katie, looking excited.

"For about fifty years now, yeah," said Harry, amused by Katie's enthusiasm in comparison to the revulsion worn on the other girls' faces.

"As long as that oldest one has lived, then," said Angelina. "They were introduced on purpose?" she speculated, sounding aghast.

"I really shouldn't be telling you this," said Harry, knowing that he was going to, "but you know how Hagrid got expelled when he was at Hogwarts?"

Alicia nodded, but the others' faces remained blank.

"He'd been raising Aragog in a cupboard. Bringing him food, teaching him to speak. Eventually he got caught and a prefect chased Aragog off. He ran into the Forbidden Forest, and has lived there ever since."

"But how did a whole colony come from one Acromantula?" asked Katie.

"Aragog wasn't just Hagrid's pet. He was his friend. When Dumbledore let him stay on as the gamekeeper, he visited Aragog every so often. Social calls with an Acromantula, if you can imagine it!" Harry chuckled at the ludicrous idea, remembering how disastrously wrong his visit to Aragog's hollow had been. "So one day Aragog told Hagrid that he was alone, and wanted a mate. And Hagrid managed to smuggle a female Acromantula into the country. They have a family of hundreds, and the father of the family is Hagrid's oldest friend, except for Dumbledore."

"Family and friendship, like you said," said Katie. Harry was a bit wary about just how interested she seemed in the colony, and didn't want to risk her wandering off in search of friendly talking spiders.

"Yeah, but there's something else they understand. Food," he said, emphasising the word. "Guess which one they'll be thinking of if they see you?"

Katie snorted, but didn't seem put off by it. Alicia, however, had turned green.

"Way to go, Harry," scolded Angelina. "Terrify Alicia with tales of the giant man eating spiders that live near the school."

"Just trying to make sure nobody gets eaten because I told them the spiders can talk," Harry said, holding up his hands placatingly, but giving Katie a heavy stare. She smirked slightly, but didn't say anything.

"They didn't eat you," Katie said, after a few minutes of silence.

"I ran away," Harry said dryly. "I ran as far as I could. Because at least a hundred spiders bigger than me were behind me. And hungry."

"So does Hagrid bring snacks with him when he visits?" asked Katie. Harry wasn't sure if she was teasing him or fishing for ideas.

"Hagrid's friends with the patriarch of the colony, so they're not allowed to eat him. Anybody else is fair game. Trust me, Katie, an Acromantula can talk to you, but it won't. It'll eat you."

"If I get one on its own and it's not hungry, it might talk," she argued.

"I suppose," said Harry. "Or it might kill you and drag you back for its family."

Katie folded her arms in tightly, and had a determined set to her jaw that he'd only seen when she was chasing a Quaffle. Harry groaned.

"If you get yourself eaten because I told you about the Acromantula, your blood will be on my hands. I don't really want to deal with accusations of luring you into the forest and murdering you with a demon spider this year."

"I'll make sure I don't get eaten, then," she said. Harry sighed, and turned to the other girls.

"You girls make sure she doesn't wind up eaten by spiders, okay? I wash my hands of her and all responsibility of what she does," he declared dramatically. Alicia giggled.

"I doubt she'll do it," said Alicia. Harry wasn't convinced. He shared a glance with Angelina, and saw the same worry in her expression.

"Seriously, I don't have the time to patrol the edge of the forest this year, so stay out of the trees and out of the spiders' stomachs."

"What's got you so busy this year?" asked Angelina.

"It's supposed to be a secret, but Dumbledore will be making an announcement at dinner about it. You can wait that long to find out, I'm sure," said Harry.

"If we're going to find out anyway you may as well tell us now," said Katie, suddenly interested in the conversation again. "If he's making an announcement it's not just about you. It'll be something affecting the whole school."

"That's true," Harry conceded. "But somebody asked me not to tell, and I don't share my friends secrets. Even ones like this. You'll find out soon, anyway."

"At least give us a hint!" cried Alicia in exasperation.

Harry smiled, and gave in. He didn't much care for keeping secrets, and he had far too many under his belt already.

"Well I won't spoil the surprise, but I will tell you that the thing Dumbledore announces, why, it's going to be what I'm doing this year. It's going to be what I'm winning this year."

"Something to do with Quidditch?" guessed Angelina. Harry shook his head.

"No, not the Quidditch cup. I hate to break it to you, but Quidditch is cancelled this year."

"Dont be daft," said Alicia. Clearly none of the girls believed him. He gave a lazy shrug, and let them think what they wanted.

"Don't listen to me. Listen to Dumbledore. Especially on the subject of the Forbidden Forest. Have you ever noticed the way he tells students not to go in there? Every single year? Katie?"

Katie ignored Harry, but her lip was twitching as she fought a smile. He poked her in the side.

"Ring a bell, Katie Bell? Forbidden Forest? Spiders will eat you, Harry will go to Azkaban, and Sirius Black will have to go back to that horrible place to break him out," he continued.

"What? Sirius Black?" said Katie, her resolve to ignore him broken by the infamous namedrop.

"Who else would come break me out of Azkaban? He's the only one that's ever done it, so it'd have to be him who rescued me," argued Harry.

"Why would Sirius Black want to rescue you?" asked Katie.

"I don't want to stay in Azkaban. He doesn't want to stay in Azkaban. We've got a lot in common. Besides, I already told you I'm too busy to babysit you when you try to go spider hunting. Don't you think that means I'm too busy to go to Azkaban?"

"I'm not sure they take personal inconvenience into account when dragging murderers to the cells," Katie replied.

"And I wasn't talking about personal inconvenience. I'm going to be busy achieving glory, honour, and one thousand galleons. Cash. You can't get any of those at Azkaban, Katie. Ask a Dementor if you don't believe me."

"You're ludicrous," she declared.

"Says the girl with the spider fetish?"

"Hey!" she shouted, blushing and standing up at the same time, causing the carriage to rock. "I never even said I was going to try to find an Acromantula!"

"I nearly went deaf from how loudly you weren't saying it," Angelina muttered.

"Great, now there's two of you," grumbled Katie, and flopped down in her seat. "I'm hungry. Why is this carriage taking so long?"

"Quit whining," said Angeline. "We must be almost there." She paused, and looked around. "No. We've stopped. Why have we stopped? Harry, are the -"

"Thestrals?" interrupted Harry, a step ahead of her. "Yeah, they're still here, wearing the harnesses. But they look nervous.

Alicia looked at the looming trees of the forest, only a short distance away. Harry stood up to get his bearings, and found that they were within the grounds, where the path ventured close to the forest in order to wind its way uphill.

"You don't think that it could be Acromantula, do you?" she said nervously. "I know it sounds silly, but you were just talking about them, and now the carriage has stopped somehow. Something's made the Thestrals nervous, Harry?" she asked, a nervous tremor in her voice.

"The colony lives much deeper in. And they'd have attacked us by now."

"So what is it?" demanded Katie. Harry gave her an appraising look. When Alicia had gotten scared, Katie had become angry. That was good. Fear held you back. Anger pushed you forward. Made you act. Sometimes you had to act quickly or die, with no room for hesitation.

But Harry knew this wasn't one of those situations. None of them had noticed when the carriage had stopped, which meant that they might have been here for several minutes. Fear was no good, either. But this wasn't the place for anger, leaping at shadows. No, this situation called for caution.

Harry glanced quickly over the bare hillside, then scanned the treeline with more focus. It took him a long time, but finally he saw one of them. A centaur, longbow aimed directly at him. An arrow was set against the string, but the centaur hadn't pulled it taut to fire. This wasn't an attack. It was a precaution.

He gestured for the girls to stay in the carriage, and climbed out himself, walking until he was mid-way between the carriage and the forest.

"I told you to find me when the school term began, but you're a little early. The term doesn't start properly until tomorrow."

Something rustled in the trees, like a too-long cloak being dragged over dry leaves, and then centaurs began to appear. The girls gasped from inside the carriage at their sudden appearance. Harry hoped that they had the sense to stay still and silent while he maneuvered this delicate situation.

Finally, Firenze appeared. He trotted out from the trees to meet Harry, stopping only metres away. Harry noticed that Firenze now sported an eyepatch, and there was a great deal of swelling around the eye socket. He felt bad for any pain he'd caused the centaur, but pushed the sympathy aside lest it cloud his judgement. If things went wrong, he knew he'd need a clear head.

"Firenze," Harry said, lowering his head in the half-bow that centaurs performed.

"Harry Potter," replied the centaur.

They said nothing else. Harry was all too aware of the girls fidgeting and whispering in the carriage, but this was his test, not theirs. Centaurs value patience. He had to demonstrate it. Or, at least, refrain from showing how sorely he lacked it.

He waited. Firenze waited. The ring of centaurs held their bows in place, but did not loose any arrows.

"You agreed to an equal trade," stated Firenze.

"I did," agreed Harry.

"You carried out the bargain in good faith," said Firenze, speaking in an odd monotone.

"I did."

"You returned the Sight to my people."

"I did."

"To all of our people, not to I alone."

"I did."

"This was not a fair bargain, Harry Potter," said Firenze in that same, strangely flat voice.

What? Harry hadn't expected that, of all things. He'd kept to his part of the deal. But the centaurs would have simply killed him if they thought he'd broken faith with them. He tensed, but knew that something unexpected was happening here.

"After you took my eye, a sickness took its place. Infection. Fever. I was near death. But I could see the stars. As you promised. Our bargain held true. Whether I lived or died was of no matter to our bargain. The ordeal was mine to pass or fail. You gave the Sight back to me, as was promised."

"I am sorry for your suffering, if it's any consolation," said Harry. "I didn't wish to cause you pain. But taking your eye was necessary. If I had done it differently, perhaps I could have lessened your wound, and the risk to you."

"My ordeal was part of our bargain, invoked by the Old Laws you called into use. It was no doing of yours, Harry Potter. But still, our bargain was not fair."

"It was agreed upon," said Harry, trying to keep all emotion out of his voice. He had no idea what more the centaurs could want from him. They had no interest in wizards, only their lands and their stars.

"It was agreed upon in haste. An unfair bargain was struck. One which I have come before you to make right. We are centaurs. We honour our pacts."

Harry was beginning to feel incredibly nervous, but didn't dare reach for his wand. That was one sure-fire way of becoming a pincushion.

"We both agreed to the terms set," said Harry resolutely. "We have both kept to them. You have no quarrel with me, Firenze."

Harry prepared to draw his wand, already planning his escape. With a strong enough lumos, he'd be able to blind the centaur's sensitive eyes for a moment, and strip them of their night vision. In that distraction he could get to the carriage and use it for cover. After that...it was all going to be hope and hell until either he or the centaurs were dead.

"Indeed," said Firenze, stunning Harry. Harry was struck still by confusion, but also by the huge wave of relief that he hadn't reached for his wand yet and turned things aggressive.

"I am the one who has wronged you, Harry Potter. An unfair bargain was struck. Sight for sight, yes, but the sight of one was given to you, and you returned to us the sight of many. We must make even this debt," said Firenze, his voice rumbling with a deep insistence that reminded Harry of just how not-human the person he was talking to was. They lived their lives by different rules. Harsher ones.

"I chose the terms. Your eye for the eyes of all your people."

"It would be fair if all who took part in your gift were to pay the sacrifice," said Firenze, implacable. "If you agree, we will bring you an eye from every member of our clan by dusk tomorrow. And thus our debt shall be paid."

"No," said Harry, his anger beginning to rise despite his efforts to hold it down. "You will not mutilate your own people for this."

"It is a matter of honour, Harry Potter."

"It was a matter of trade! I offered the Sight freely to all others. To change the terms of our bargain and attempt to inflict what you have suffered upon your tribe would be dishonourable. More than that, it would render our bargain null and void."

"The bargain was not fair, Harry Potter," repeated Firenze. But this time, his flat voice held some emotion in it. One Harry recognised. Hope. "We gained far more from our bargain than we lost to you. In my heart I should have known, but we were so lost, and so eager to find our way again. You offered us the heavens when our eyes had turned against us. In my zeal to heal our people, I made a judgement in haste. In error. Our laws demand that we redress this slight against you."

"It will not be this way," stated Harry. "Whatever debt your people feel they owe will not be paid by repeating the sacrifice you made."

"It is our way. Sight for sight. One for one. Balance in all things."

"This isn't a matter of numbers. Your sacrifice had purpose. Meaning. If you mutilated others in a vain attempt to replicate it, there would be no meaning. You would add profanity to insult."

"We must complete the bargain!" roared Firenze, rearing onto his hind legs, and crashing down onto the earth. "I have no wish to carve the eye from every centaur and foal among us, but the Old Laws are absolute. This is the price I must pay for my mistake. For cheating you!"

Harry wished he could bash his head against a rock. Fucking centaurs. They were infuriating, implacable, and almost as stubborn as he was.

"If you are insistent, I will accept your debt," Harry said in a quiet voice. "But the debt will not be settled by harming others who had no part in our bargain. I will count any attempts to bribe me with severed centaur eyes as an insult, in violation of a trade agreed upon by both parties. It will only further your debt to me if you harm your own people."

"This - this cannot be allowed. The debt must be paid. I am grateful that you would save my people pain, Harry Potter, but there is no alternative."

"I do not wish to harm my kin," Firenze said quietly. "The Old Laws offer no mercy. And I made a mistake."

"If a debt must be paid, it must be paid. But you will not repay me by acting in this fashion. The Old Laws are absolute to centaurs. You cannot defy them. But neither will you defy me. Find. Another. Way."

"How?" asked Firenze

"Your sacrifice was an eye. A symbol of the Sight. One to represent all."

"Yes," agreed Firenze.

"You paid the debt for your tribe, Firenze. It was not a matter of viscera and blood. It was a symbol."

Firenze stood stock-still, face utterly blank.

"The Old Laws...will allow this. And yet I am still in your debt, Harry Potter. A new debt. For in solving this matter, you have given great aid to my people, and saved us from a grave harm."

"A self-inflicted one!" Harry cried. "I hold no responsibility over that. You owe me nothing."

"Yes I do, Harry Potter. I owe you the salvation of your people. And that is a heavy debt."

"I can't see how you plan to pull that one off," Harry muttered, sick of dealing with this infernal centaur.

"This debt gives me purpose. Meaning. It is so strong that it has unwoven the thread of my fate and set it against yours. I am bound to you until your fate has unravelled. The fate you have created for yourself."

"You are infuriating," stated Harry.

"I am simply accepting what must be, as is spoken in the Old Laws, as is drawn in the stars."

"Two minutes ago you had accepted a different fate. Are all centaurs so fickle as you are?"

There was a hiss of indrawn breath at the insult, and all the centaurs stepped forward, arms straining to hold back their bowstrings.

"No!" commanded Firenze, and the centaurs lowered their weapons.

"You understand how grave an insult that is. I see it in you. Why taunt me now?" asked Firenze, curious.

"I was rather hoping it'd encourage you to go away," Harry muttered.

Firenze smiled, and placed a large hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You do not understand what you have done tonight. But you will. In time."

"Go back to your people, Firenze."

"Our paths will cross again soon, Harry Potter."

"Is it written in the sky?" snarled Harry. To his surprise, Firenze chuckled.

"No. I will come and find you."

Harry wanted nothing more than to hex the departing centaur in the back, but he held himself in check, and collapsed onto a seat in the carriage.

"Harry..what was that?" whispered Alicia.

"Centaurs are all idiots," Harry groaned. "Were you listening?"

"We all were," replied Angelina. "But none of us had a clue what you were talking about.

"Centaurs are stubborn beyond belief. They thought they owed me something when they didn't. I had to talk them out of doing something really stupid and unnecessary."

"Cutting out their eyes?" Katie said, her voice oddly pitched.

"Yeah," Harry said, giving her a curious look, and wondering what it was in her voice that he wasn't hearing.

"Why would they think they owed you their eyes?" gasped Alicia.

Harry groaned, and thumped his head on the side of the carriage.

"It's all because they don't understand metaphors. Or allegory. I forget which. Probably both. They're literal to the point of being livestock, all because of those damned Old Laws they follow."

"I've heard about those," said Angelina, a dark look in her eyes.

"Yeah. A lot of nasty stories have come up through misunderstandings over the years. But it's not a set of rules. It's their magic, compelling them to act a certain way. Like house elves - and yet so much not like house elves. Ever see an elf punish itself by breaking its fingers or burning its hands?" asked Harry. The girls shuddered, but all knew what he meant.

"With centaurs it's similar, but so much more complicated. Swap out housework for honour, add in a predilection towards moongazing and violence with no middle ground, and a few horse bits, then you've got yourself a centaur." Harry buried his head in his hands.

"I just wanted a treacle tart before anyone started pointing weapons at me and swearing life debts."

Angelina laughed, but Katie frowned.

"Was that what he meant, by the last thing he said? He owes you a life debt?"

Harry took his head out of his hands and looked up at her.

"Honestly? I haven't a fucking clue. I got him to stop his tribe from mutilating themselves by making up some bullshit on the spot, and somehow it worked.

"So," began Katie, looking at Harry with a vicious smile. "Which ones are more human, centaurs or Acromantula?"

Harry groaned.

"Probably the Acromantula. Less complicated. All they do is kill, eat, and fuck." I can handle that."

"Sounds like a good life," added Katie. Alicia looked mortified, but Angelina laughed. Harry just lay slumped in a heap.

He worked up the energy to sit up, and moved over to where he could give the Thestrals a hard thwack across their hindquarters. It got them moving again, although they were so bony that it left his hand bruised and aching. Pushing the pain aside, and pretending that he'd never met a centaur, Harry wondered how late they were going to be. He was going to commit some severe property damage and minor arson if they'd missed the feast. Maybe in the direction of the kitchens, he added as an afterthought as his stomach rumbled.

A/N: Okay, so I wasn't entirely honest. We're at Hogwarts, but not in there just yet. Definite thing for the next chapter, though. They're practically at the door. What could go wrong?