The Ministry finally showed up with the full moon. It had been almost a whole month since the attack at the quidditch match, and was into December back on Earth. And still, Minister Fudge and his entourage came swanning into the great hall at dinnertime like conquering heroes. "Don't worry, children," the pompous man in the ridiculous bowler hat shouted from the dais with barely a by-your-leave from the headmaster, "now that we're here, we'll get Sirius Black arrested and back to prison, and then the wardens will have no further need to intrude."
Harry wanted to shout about Sirius' innocence, but what good would it do? This idiot had almost thrown Hagrid into Azkaban for even worse reasons. At least this time Lucius Malfoy hadn't come with him. Harry hoped Draco's father was still itchy from his last visit.
Lupin looked as annoyed as Harry felt. Managing to catch the defense instructor on the way out of the hall as the both left early, he noticed the man tossing back a huge draught of that glowing blue potion. "I could really use a meditation session tonight, sir," Harry said. They'd been making a lot of progress in the last few weeks, or at least Lupin had said Harry was. He was still having trouble quieting his mind, but he'd stopped falling asleep sitting up.
"Uh, yeah, I… I don't know if I'm going to be good company for that tonight, Harry," Lupin rubbed one hand through his hair while slipping the potion away with the other. His eyes were going slightly glassy, but there still seemed to be a lot of tension in his face. "Why don't you practice on your own and let me know how it goes?"
"Oh… okay," Harry said, a little confused. "See you in class tomorrow."
"Hope so," Lupin shrugged, nodding and wandering off.
Harry tried meditating by himself, but it was a lot harder without the professor's calm, soothing voice talking him through the centering exercises. And, the next morning, Lupin wasn't at breakfast. Fudge had helped himself to the professor's seat, having an animated conversation with Sprout about something that had her casting around for another professor to rescue her.
They had potions first thing on Thursday, and were surprised to find Gemma Farley, the senior Slytherin prefect, overseeing the class in place of Snape. "The professor is covering another class," she explained before they could ask, "but he says he expects everyone to give me the same respect due him. I will be reporting any disruptions." She looked warningly at the Gryffindor students. "I understand that we're doing an experiment with the toxicity of various natural poisons. As always, the antidotes cabinet is available, but I expect you to not kill yourselves on my watch."
For all her bluster, Farley was actually one of the nicer Slytherins, and the Gryffindors were on their best behavior: they'd honestly rather have her than Snape on any day. Even Neville managed to complete the class without any accidents; he was usually stressed enough to make some major mistake in any lab experiment with Snape breathing down his neck. But they were worried about what class Snape was in, if not his own.
They figured it out in the afternoon, when they found Snape in the defense classroom instead of Lupin (who had also missed lunch). "Excuse me, professor. Is Professor Lupin okay?" Susan Bones, the Hufflepuff, asked.
"He's indisposed, but shall likely be returned to you shortly. After all, he can't expect me to cover his classes indefinitely," the sallow-faced professor explained. He'd cast some kind of spell to black out the windows of the usually-calming classroom, making it much more like his preferred dungeons. "Now, third-years, what have you been covering in this class?" Hermione shot her hand up and Snape ignored her. At this point, it felt more like a battle of wills on Hermione's part than any remaining need to show off. She knew that Snape never called on her unless he had absolutely no choice. "Macmillan," he instead called on Ernie, also from Hufflepuff.
The boy explained, "We're on to how to keep our heads in a fight."
"Good enough," Snape said, sliding into his grandiose lecturing mode. "I wonder if anyone can tell me the story of the Midgardian hero, Cú Chulainn?" He seemed disappointed that the only hands up were Hermione's and Harry's. "Very well, Potter?"
"He had the Gae Bolg spear, and was trained by Scathach," Harry asserted. Admittedly, his research was entirely from mild curiosity about the terms in various roleplaying video games.
"Your Gaelic pronunciation is atrocious," Snape deadpanned. "But yes, the Gáe Bulg and Scáthach are both part of the myth." He pronounced them way differently than Harry had. "Anyone else?"
Seamus suddenly spouted out, remembering, "Don' refuse hospitality! Don' eat dog meat!"
"Two points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn," Snape corrected, but admitted, "and yet, Finnegan is proving that he is at least Irish enough to remember a small part of the myth. The hero's end came at the hands of weaponizing conflicting gaesa," again, he gave the term a Gaelic twist that Harry wouldn't be able to match. "This is something all spellcasters need to be aware of: if you are suffering under mystical compulsions, those who know their limits can turn them against you. In Chulainn's situation, he would break his vows if he ever ate dog meat, or ever refused hospitality. And so when offered a meal of dog meat, he would have to break one or the other and suffer the consequences."
Harry was actually somewhat excited about the way the lecture was going. So far, none of their teachers had talked about that kind of spell, that D&D would term geas/quest: long term magical curses or compulsions.
He was immediately disappointed when Snape explained, "But, no, the key factor that I want to talk about is the ríastrad, a battle frenzy sometimes translated as 'warp spasms.' Perhaps the Vanir in the class have heard of the berserkergang?" He sighed at the hand that had shot into the air, but grudgingly said, "Yes, Brown."
"One of my ancestors was a berserker, sir," she explained. "They were Aesir and Vanir warriors that could summon a ferocious battle rage, giving them the strength of twenty regular warriors. But Odin forbade any more to be trained centuries ago."
"Quite," Snape agreed. "And for a similar reason as in the Ulster myths. When Cú Chulainn entered his battle frenzy, his very visage twisted under the effects of his rage, and he would slaughter any enemies before him… and any allies that didn't clear the area. That is the cautionary tale of relying on rage to help you in battle: you can wind up doing as much harm to your own friends as to your enemies, as the fury clouds your mind. When you are in a true battle, you must remain calm and in control."
What followed was actually a pretty informative lecture. For all that he seemed to hate the Gryffindors and Harry in particular, Snape was a gifted orator when he wanted to be. He seemed to have a wealth of stories from the last war about times that battles had swung one way or the other when someone lost their calm or was goaded into a risky attack. The lecture was littered throughout with barbs to make it clear that he thought that "Gryffindor courage" was just recklessness that got people killed.
As the class was about to be over, Snape added, "While Odin disbanded the berserkers ages ago, the stories do not end there. For homework: a three-page research essay on berserkers and similar rage curses in modern times. Dismissed."
"A three-page research essay?!" Ron complained as they were walking back to the dorm. "Doesn't he care that it's a Hogsmeade Sunday?"
"Well I think it's fascinating," Hermione disagreed. "If I understand correctly, it was a personal magical attainment to become a berserker, but if that kind of magic can then be passed on genetically… I'm heading to the library."
"Might as well. I think Luna and Padma wanted to meet there for our free period anyway," Harry agreed. The entirety of third year had the last period of Thursday free, as did the Ravenclaw second years. Unfortunately for the totality of the study group, Ginny had chemistry in the afternoons.
Which was probably for the best, since it was her month-and-a-half with Harry.
Whatever random method the girls had used to settle on the dating order had resulted in a Hogsmeade weekend that would be light on couples. Ginny had been matched with Harry and Luna with Ron, and both girls were too young to go. Meanwhile, Hermione and Parvati were on one of their breaks. That just left Dean with Lavender and Neville with Padma to actually have a date for the fair.
And that had its own difficulties.
Lavender was proving unhappy about giving up on dating Ron, despite the original agreement. And while Padma liked Neville okay, she didn't seem thrilled with him being her first date off of the bench. Neville was easygoing about it, but had found it really easy to date Luna (especially since there wasn't the pressure of going on an actual date at Hogsmeade). Harry gave the whole situation until Valentine's Day to totally self-destruct. He was still barely talking with Parvati after the mess they'd made.
Though it might not actually implode until the spring. That was when Ron was scheduled to date Hermione. Based on a few things the redhead had said, Harry got the impression he was way more into Hermione than he was into Lavender, despite how much fun he'd had dating her. Lavender might be very upset if, after the grand experiment, Ron wanted to date Hermione rather than her.
Honestly, Harry was starting to dream of the girls that he didn't spend hours every day with, since he could imagine that they'd be highly compatible (those fantasies were a lot easier, not knowing everything about someone). He knew she was in Slytherin and technically the enemy, but Daphne Greengrass in his arithmancy class was beautiful, smart, and not too mean (if a bit aloof). Wong's cousin Cho was gorgeous, and she was also a quidditch seeker (for all that he wasn't that into quidditch). Susan Bones was pretty and nice.
Harry really wasn't sure why he hadn't put his foot down harder about this whole business. Maybe he'd make an argument about it… probably after Christmas, so Ginny wouldn't be heartbroken that he was ditching out early on her turn.
Regardless, the research session before dinner went well enough, Harry dealt with yet another meal with Ginny sitting so close to him on the bench that she was just short of in his lap, and they had a decent fencing session after dinner. One thing about the month-previous blow-up with Ron: he had started to take the martial training seriously, and showed up more often than he didn't. Plus, playing with swords was fun. Harry wasn't actually sure whether his mood was better after a meditation session or a sparring session.
He even included what he thought was an interesting aside about battle, testosterone, and controlled anger in his essay. Which Lupin was there to accept on Friday afternoon.
"Uh, why are you handing me essays?" the professor asked.
"Professor Snape assigned them," Hermione explained. She'd written four pages.
"Is he going to grade them?" Lupin scoffed. "Like I told the other classes he gave homework to, it's not required." As Hermione's face fell and Ron and Seamus high-fived each other at work saved through procrastination, the professor said, "But I guess I'll look at these for extra credit?" Hermione beamed at him. Only Harry, Hermione, and Ernie Macmillan had actually turned one in, though Hermione had gotten Dean, Neville, and Lavender to at least start on theirs. Clearly, the rest of the class was planning to do the homework over the weekend (if at all).
Lupin glanced at the essays as if completely unaware of the topic and then rolled his eyes, placing them aside to grade. Harry figured it must have been yet another way of Snape making fun of Lupin. He resolved to get the professor to actually explain what James Potter and his friends had gotten up to that made Snape hate them all so much.
The next morning, they headed down to Hogsmeade again. Snow had fallen across the picturesque hamlet and surrounding woods, creating a sublime winter scene. It was the one time Harry regretted Colin Creevey not being around to take a picture, but the second-year wasn't able to come on the shopping trip any more than Ginny and Luna were. The pack of Gryffindors and Padma migrated through the stalls for a while before Harry suggested, "Hermione and I are going to go off to look for gifts for the rest of you."
They weren't, really, but the price of Dean and Hermione covering for Harry's morning mission was that Hermione got to come to meet Sirius Black and develop her own opinion. After a brief stop to make a purchase, the two of them managed to break line of sight to the crowds, duck behind a stall, and Harry let down his invisibility cloak and managed to get Hermione under as well.
With all the various dating and hormones in the group, holding her tight so they could both be invisible was a weird experience. Ginny would probably be upset if she found out about the excursion.
Trying to stick to areas where the snow had already been cleared so their tracks wouldn't be a dead giveaway, it took a while to get out of the village and into the treeline. Not seeing anyone else wanting to brave the trail to the Roaring Rampart on the snowy day, he let the cloak return to its mode as a scarf (which was actually quite helpful in the winter chill) and they walked into the woods. Periodically he'd call out, "Sirius? It's Harry," trusting in canine hearing and hoping Sirius had the same plan to meet.
Finally, midway up the trail, he spotted the big black dog bounding through the trees. With one final leap, Sirius transformed back into human form to land on the trail. "Pup! New girlfriend?" he said in greeting, noticing Hermione.
"Uh, not until next month," Harry said, which had Sirius cocking his head in confusion. "It's complicated. This is Hermione. Hermione, Sirius Black."
"Pleased to meet you," she nodded, regarding Sirius warily. He stank, and was still indistinguishable from a hobo. But he looked better than he had when they'd first met. He had less madness in his eyes, and he must have found a knife or something, since his beard and hair were hacked shorter than they'd been previously. He even seemed to have winter-weight clothing rather than the rags he'd had on previously.
Sirius explained, "I think Hagrid's been leaving me supplies out by the helhest pen. And the horsemen don't seem to be looking for me too hard. Guess you convinced the old man I'm innocent?"
Harry nodded, "But the Minister is in town, and he doesn't seem to be willing to believe me. Watch out for his people." Sirius nodded in appreciation of the warning. "Any luck finding the rat?"
The animagus shook his head, dirty hair rasping over his shoulders. "Unless I've forgotten his scent, I don't think he's been anywhere I can get to. Peter was never woods-wise, so I doubt he'd try to flee cross-country. He's probably still in the castle, stealing food from the kitchens. He might try to sneak onto the train when the students leave. Maybe you could search it?"
Hermione shook her head, "It's not like a rat couldn't slip in with the Hogsmeade traders or the Minister's entourage. We can't search everything, even if the Ministry was on our side. We need some kind of tracking spell, but I assume the headmaster already tried that."
"Animagi in their animal forms are notoriously hard to track," Sirius agreed, fidgeting nervously. "Too bad we lost the map…"
"Map?" Harry asked.
"Your father's and my greatest prank," he explained. "As a runes project, we made an enchanted map that showed the school. We managed to slip in and bind it to the school's ward keystone. So it basically used the magic of the school to constantly cast a tracking spell on everyone. Made it really easy to avoid prefects and staff when we were out at night."
"What happened to it?" Harry checked.
"Peter lost it," Sirius' eyes darkened, "Maybe intentionally, if he was a traitor even then. He borrowed it to slip out one night and got caught by Filch. It got confiscated. Maybe destroyed."
"But if we could find it?" Harry checked.
Sirius considered, "I don't know if the enchantment would hold up. Might be hit or miss even if it's still working. And difficult to track an animagus… but it would be a lot easier to watch for his name to pop up than to constantly try to track him and hope you get a hit."
"Even if we can't find it, we could suggest that the headmaster cast something similar," Hermione nodded. "Though I wonder why he hasn't thought of it before?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "Maybe he just figures this is my quest this year, so doesn't want to do it for me." To Sirius' questioning look, he explained, "It's a whole thing. My aunt and I think that he's making sure I have lots of adventures to train me up for something."
That got a nod. "With the war on, we kind of felt the same. The old man seemed to encourage us to get into fights with the baby Death Eaters over in Slytherin. Manipulative old goat. But he's on the right side, at least." Sirius cocked his head and said, "I think someone might be coming."
Harry thrust the bag of food they'd purchased on the way out of town at the man, "Merry Christmas, Sirius. It's just some food. I didn't know that Hagrid was helping you."
He was still tearing up, but limited himself to a manly slap on Harry's shoulder rather than going for the stinky hug. "And I didn't even get you anything. I was going to try to order you a broom, but it didn't seem like you were really playing…"
Harry shrugged, "I did last year. But the training took too much time from all the other stuff. It's fine, you don't need to get me anything."
"I'll think of something. Have a happy Yule," Sirius nodded at both of them, then transformed back into a dog and bounded off into the woods.
Harry once again wrapped himself and Hermione in the cloak as they passed Jake Flinton and Christopher Flack, two of the seventh-year prefects, laughing and holding hands on their way up the trail. "Just in time," Harry whispered about their near miss being caught by the seniors.
"It's about time," Hermione corrected. "I've seen those two on prefect rounds for the last two years."
"You… uh…" Harry said, aware again of the girl he had wrapped in his arms and his cloak, "...you know people probably figure that about us, right?"
"Which is why the invisibility," she agreed, primly, but didn't pull away.
As they once again entered town and were looking for a safe place to become visible, Harry couldn't help but spy Minister Fudge, Lucius Malfoy, and Rector McGonagall entering the Three Broomsticks inn together. "I'm going to see what that's about," he said. He was particularly annoyed that Malfoy had finally shown up, rather than keeping his itchy fingers out of Hogwarts business.
"Be careful," Hermione sighed, as he let go of her and moved off with the cloak, returning her to visibility behind a market stall. With a flicker of the cloak closing back up around him, he was gone.
Inside, Mr. Malfoy was talking to the lady that ran the bar, Madam Rosmerta, about a private room. "I already set up Room Five for you, upstairs," she told him as Harry slipped into earshot. The common room of the inn was packed with students at tables and booths, slugging back buttermead and eating bar snacks. Hurrying ahead, he found the room so labeled up the stairs, and seriously thought about just being invisible in the corner to overhear what they were talking about.
But, he realized, with McGonagall there, he had less to worry about with Malfoy attacking him. He decided it was time to give the Minister a piece of his mind.
Said portly wizard in the green bowler hat was saying as he walked in, "...simply a case of legal precedent, Minerva. Oh! I thought this room was ours."
"So it is, Minister," Harry agreed, gesturing to the table the innkeeper had set up in lieu of beds in the room, where he was already seated and visible.
"Quite. Irregular," Malfoy observed, using his cane to pull out the chair opposite Harry and gracefully take a seat.
"We didn't expect you here, Potter," McGonagall raised an eyebrow while taking her own seat next to him.
"Indeed," the Minister agreed, sitting opposite the rector. "To what do we owe the visit, Harry? May I call you Harry?"
"It depends on what you plan to do about the Sirius Black situation," Harry countered.
"Ah. I believe I've heard that you believe he's innocent," Fudge sighed, clearly politically astute enough to have realized what this meeting was probably about.
"What's easier to believe, sir?" Harry asked, having had barely a minute to put together the exact argument, but having been thinking about it for over a month. "An auror publicly murdered one of his friends and a bunch of civilians then returned to the scene of the crime? Or that friend—a rat animagus—faked his death and framed that auror?"
"You're young yet," Fudge began, "and clearly you wouldn't understand that we did have a trial–"
"Did Sirius speak at the trial?" Harry interrupted. "Or was he traumatized that two of his best friends were dead and another had betrayed him?" It was a good word, traumatized. Harry was thankful for Aunt Pepper for introducing him to it. "Did you interview Rubeus Hagrid? Did he tell you that Sirius found me in the ruins as a baby and handed me over?"
That all, indeed, seemed to be news to Fudge, who unconsciously glanced at Malfoy, who smoothly said, "I'm sure the trial was proper and thorough. Vanir justice can clearly differentiate between those who were coerced or bewitched, and those truly guilty." The implication of himself as an example was obvious, if not the kind of proof he believed it to be. "More importantly, Black's trial can be reviewed once he is back in Azkaban and Mindless Ones are no longer terrorizing Vanaheim. Minister, if I'm not mistaken, there are treaties for having someone released from custody, but not for calling off pursuit of escapees, yes?"
"Ah, yes," Fudge nodded, looking back at Harry. "Lucius has the right of it. Even were we to examine new evidence and commute Black's sentence, he must be in custody. The Mindless Ones are… well… mindless." He seemed to have a thought about a way around that, admitting," Or, I suppose, if you found the true culprit to replace Black with in Azkaban. But, as that's unlikely, if I promised you that the courts would review the case, would you ask Black to turn himself in? You know, if you happen to speak with him?"
It took all of Harry's willpower to not roll his eyes, especially with the smirk Malfoy thought he was keeping off his face but which was twitching the corner of his mouth. Instead, he simply said, "I'll see what I can do, Minister. Thank you for your time. I'll leave you to your meeting?"
"Ah, yes. Well then. Good to meet you in person, Harry," the Minister grated, standing to allow Harry to leave the room.
"Five points," McGonagall mouthed to him with an approving nod as he left the room.
As he caught up to his friends at the candy stall, he informed Hermione, "The Ministry isn't going to help unless we can hand them Pettigrew. We need to find that map…"