Chapter Thirty-Eight

Beleaguered by Halfwits

~*~

A/N:  Thanks to B Bennett, who listens to many things that are read out loud to her. She claims that this is voluntary, but in reality she has no choice.  Thanks to JEC for the legal advice.  Thanks to Firelocks, for never getting bored of hashing through ideas.

Thanks also, and always, to the super sexy beta readers: Cap'n Kathy, CoKerry, Firelocks and Moey.  Sometimes their nit picks make us bang our heads on walls.  Other times, their nit picks make us bang our heads on walls and then drink a beer.

~*~

It was the longest morning that Ginny could remember.  She wasn't tired - though the only reason she had been able to sleep was that she had wanted to be ready to help Remus in the morning.  But she had woken at sunrise with a churning stomach, too afraid to go downstairs.  He probably wouldn't want to see her.  She couldn't imagine he'd let her help him.  No matter what Sirius said, Remus wasn't going to forgive her for putting him through this. 

She dressed quietly and went to sit at the top of the stairs, wrapping her arms around her knees.  She listened to the distant slam of the back door, the low murmur of Sirius's voice and the stumbling of weak footsteps - of someone hopping.  Hobbling.  She heard the creak of sofa cushions and a sharp, anguished noise like a bark.  Remus, in pain.  Ginny heard Sirius mutter spells… heard his low voice continue to speak after the spells were long done… heard her name, and flinched.  She heard a teacup and saucer clink together, and another noise of pain.  Heard Remus rasp something unintelligible.  And then there was silence, interrupted only by a rhythm of deep, heavy snores. 

Sirius climbed the steps towards Ginny, weariness and anger in his eyes.  He stopped halfway up and stared at her.  "He's sleeping," he said shortly.  "Don't disturb him."

"I won't."  Ginny moved to let him pass, but when Sirius came to the step where she sat, he paused and laid a heavy hand on the crown of her head.  Like last night.  It gave her relief; she wasn't sure why, but she was able to breathe out. 

"He asked to see you before he fell asleep," Sirius said, very quietly.  "He's worried about how you'll take this."

Ginny looked up at him in horror.  Worried about her?  How could he be?

Sirius's pale eyes cut into her like razors.  "Makes it worse.  Doesn't it."  He left her sitting there and walked past to shut himself up in his room.

Ginny waited in still silence, listening for Remus to stop snoring and stir so that she could help him.  He had to let her help him.  She wouldn't stay up here any longer - she wouldn't be a coward.  When he woke, she'd go and face him; it was the only way. 

But she didn't know how she would look him in the face.

It was at least an hour before she heard the teacup clink against the saucer, followed by a heavy creak of cushions, as if he'd fallen back.

Ginny stood.  Her stomach was tight and she held both hands clenched behind her back.  She didn't want to see the damage she had done.  But she walked down the steps and into the front room without hesitation, and she fixed her eyes on the blanket-covered heap that was Remus.

His eyes were closed.  He was so pale.  And the shadows in his face were deep and blue and… not all shadows.  Bruises stood out, all along his jaw line, and he was gaunt beneath a glimmer of stubble.  Ginny had never really noticed how finely boned he was.  He was slight, like Harry.  And thin.  Perhaps quite strong, but easily broken. 

To prove it, his leg was in a splint, suspended by a charm so that it could heal properly.  She stared at it, and waves of guilt and sickness passed over her. 

"Come here," he said hoarsely - suddenly - nearly sending Ginny out of her skin.  His eyes were still closed.

She went towards him and stood over the couch, not sure what to do.

"Remus…" Her voice wasn't working.  Her heart beat painfully.  "Remus, I'm so sorry.  Please… can I help you?"

"Do you mean Heal me?"  His eyes fluttered open and his gaze was incredulous.  "I would have thought… you would have learned… something about limits."  His eyes fell shut.

Ginny couldn't stand up.  She sank down and sat on the table, trembling. 

"On second thought."  Remus sounded strangely like Dumbledore.  "Put your hands out, Ginny.  Open up to me.  Assess the state I'm in, and tell me precisely what you feel."

Ginny blanched.

"Go on.  It's good practice, isn't it?" 

She wanted to run away - but could not.  He couldn't have punished her better.  She got to her knees beside the sofa, held up her hands and extended them over his head. 

"Oh -" The cry escaped her before she could stop it.

"What?"  Remus lay very still.  "Tell me… exactly what the damage is, and where you feel it."

Ginny gathered all her strength - there wasn't much.  "Your - head hurts."  Her voice shook.  "You've got a bad ache, especially… on the left side.  You hit your skull."  She drew her fingertips through the air over his face and wished she had not grown so deft.  She could feel everything.  There was no guessing anymore.  "You've got a bruised cheekbone and jaw, and a swollen lip."  Her voice still wavered.  It sounded far away.  "But it's not swollen yet.  You bit it not long ago.  It's going to be bad in a little while, it already hurts, or it would if you pressed on it." 

Remus pressed his lips together and winced.  "True."

She didn't want to go on.  "You pulled a muscle in your neck… your throat hurts.  You…well.  You've obviously partly lost your voice."

He cleared his throat and nodded.

"Your arms are… all right.  No."  Ginny let her fingers linger in the hot air around Remus's right elbow.  "You hit your elbow.  Hard.  It's sore.  I think you split the skin."  She clenched her hands shut when they came to his fingers - his hands were in so much pain.  "You… ripped your fingernails," she whispered, noticing for the first time that there was dark blood crusted under all of them.   He must have nearly pulled them off, clawing at the walls.  "Remus…" And her voice was shaking again.

"It happens."

But it shouldn't have happened.  Ginny wished there wasn't so much more of him to assess.  She felt the air over his stomach; it writhed and lurched and she couldn't make sense of it.  "I don't know what's wrong with your stomach," she said honestly.  "But you're ill."

"Well, that's what comes of eating raw meat and not fully digesting it before transforming back into a man."  Remus opened his eyes and fixed them on her face, as if daring her to accept the full truth of his situation.

Ginny hoped she had kept the disgust out of her expression.  Carefully, she moved her hands down along the aura of his legs - first one and then the other.  His left one was fractured at the calf.  She shook her head and shut her eyes.  "I'm so sorry," she murmured, and didn't even bother to name the injury.  It was obvious to both of them.  She felt along his feet and realized that his toenails were as bad as his fingernails - they ached and stung - he'd nearly pulled them right off.

She couldn't speak any more.  She withdrew her hands and hid her face in them for a moment, then dropped them to her knees and sat back on her heels.  She wouldn't cry in front of him.  She wouldn't do it.  She was not the one in pain.  Ginny forced herself to look at him.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

"Horrible," she replied.

Remus studied her face for a moment.  "Physically, I mean?"

She wasn't sure why it mattered.  "Fine," she said.  "I'm fine.  But you're -"

"Think of what that means," Remus interrupted, his eyes bright.  "You're very open right now, Ginny.  And you're assessing a werewolf, just hours after a full moon.  And you are not in any pain."

Ginny stared at him.  He was right.  Shocked, she looked at her hands. 

"How very far you've come."  He sounded proud.  "That was a perfectly accurate assessment - congratulations.  You're clearly much readier to work than I recognized."

She looked at him and wasn't sure why her lungs were so empty and her heart was so tight.  "No I'm not," she said.  "I haven't come far, I'm an idiot.  Remus, I made you like this.  I hurt you."

He laughed faintly.  "Oh, I think we can safely blame someone else for making me like this.  You weren't even alive."

Ginny tried very hard to control the tears that wanted to fall.  "You know what I mean," she said, and swallowed.  "I wouldn't listen to you and I was… so stubborn and I thought I had it all… under control… but the potion…" She swiped at her eyes and bowed her head.  "I thought I could do everything.  I took on more than I - I didn't tell you I went back to work on Malfoy."

"At his home.  Without telling any of us."  Remus gave an angry snort.  "Sirius told me.  And I understand he told you in no uncertain terms that you couldn't have done anything more foolish."

Ginny nodded.

"Not that he has any room to give that kind of lecture."

She raised her head and found that Remus was looking kindly at her.  Sirius had been right.  It made the ache go deeper to know that Remus had already forgiven her for putting him through such an agonizing night.  She studied the bruises on his face - it was such a nice face - and tears sprang up again in her eyes. 

"Don't, Ginny.  It's as much my fault as it is yours."

"Wha -" She had to laugh, though it came out more like a cry.  "You have to be joking -"

"I never should have asked you to do something so time consuming while you were in the midst of your studies.  I knew it was a risk."

"It wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't been doing so many other things," Ginny said vehemently.  "And I've thought about it, and I'm not going to do other things.  I'm going to turn in my badge at the Ministry.  I don't need to be with the dragons anymore."

Remus quietly watched her.

"I won't work privately on anyone else until after my N.E.W.T.s, I swear it."

He nodded. "And you won't make the Wolfsbane Potion either.  I will take it at the apothecary."

Ginny's heart gave a nasty thud.  He wouldn't ever trust her after this.  "All right," she whispered. 

"Of course, if you choose to make it for me after you have passed your N.E.W.T.s, then we can make arrangements at that time.  But until then, I want you free of this responsibility."

She wasn't sure she understood.  "So you… you still think I…"

"I know that you can do it."  Remus smiled a little.  "For you it's not a matter of ability, it's a matter of focus.  Yours has been… scattered."

She nodded.  Hesitated.  She didn't want to give everything up - but she had failed Remus so profoundly that she no longer trusted herself to do much of anything.  "I'll just study for exams, then," she finally said.

"Yes."  Remus looked straight at her.  "And I imagine you'll want to keep working on the Grangers as well."

Ginny's mouth opened, but no sound came out.  She didn't know how to answer.  She desperately wanted to work on the Grangers, but she couldn't believe that Remus would even consider letting her near anyone else, after what she'd done to him.  "You… you tell me what's all right," she managed, after a minute.  "I'll follow whatever schedule you set."

Remus's eyes widened.  "Is that so?"

She nodded.

"Well."  He looked like he was trying not to laugh, and Ginny couldn't imagine why.  "If that's the case, then I can't see why you shouldn't spend an hour a night at St. Mungo's."

She had been spending two hours a night with the Grangers, and she would be sorry to give up any of that time.  She had also wanted to begin working on the Longbottoms… but she was determined to do what he asked.  "All right."

"I'd like to see you putting more effort into Arithmancy and Potions - Potions class, Ginny," he said quickly, when she winced.  "That wasn't meant to be snide."

"No, I know."  She was quiet for a minute.  "All right, I will," she said, determined to prove it.  She would improve her marks.  She would treat her professor with the respect he deserved.  There would be no more careless homework, no more childish demands.  She could hardly bear to think of her behavior up to now.  "I'll go and get my books.  But… I hope you'll let me sit with you today and get you what you need.  Your tea and things."  She paused.  "And I wish you'd let me take the pain out of your hands and feet.  But I'll understand if you say I can't.  You tell me what I'm allowed to do for you." 

Remus nodded, and Ginny got to her feet.  She went upstairs, still feeling horrible, but also strangely lighthearted.  She gathered her books and went downstairs, and wondered why she felt so grounded.  So tall.  She floated an overstuffed chair over to the couch, sat beside Remus, and opened her Arithmancy book.  He did not ask her to help him with his pain, and she knew it meant that she was not allowed.  At one point, she asked if he wanted more tea, and he said he wouldn't mind a bit more. 

But he was asleep again by the time she had returned to fill his cup. 

She sat sentinel beside her teacher, shushing Crookshanks when he meowed for supper, and waving Hermione out of the room when she got home from her work at the Burrow.  "I'll explain later," Ginny whispered, when Hermione looked curious and put out. 

Not long after that, lulled by the deepening shadows of the room and the relentless monotony of textbook Arithmancy paths, Ginny slumped in the chair and dropped into a very light slumber. 

"…not fair that you've spent your whole life as the pivot point for other people's personal realizations…"

Ginny stirred.  She didn't know how long she'd slept, but Sirius was talking. 

"Stupid people have always changed their ways at your expense, haven't they?"

"Ah yes."  Remus laughed quietly.  "Stupidity - that's obviously your problem. Both of you.  I'm beleaguered by halfwits."

"Well, what would you call it?"

"The inability to separate personal desire from actual reality."

Sirius was silent for a minute, and then he sighed. "Damn, it makes me miserable when you're right."

"Really?" Remus asked.  "Interesting.  How does it feel to be perpetually miserable?"

Ginny snickered.

"She lives."  Remus's voice was pleasant.  Less scratchy.   Ginny opened her eyes to see him sitting up and looking laughingly from her face to the book that lay open in her lap.  "I see you couldn't get enough Arithmancy."

"I… really did try to study," she began, but Remus waved her off.

"I know, and I'm glad you're awake," he said.  "You've got a visitor."

"I do?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her.  "My godson is outside." 

Ginny's stomach was ice.  Harry.  Tonight.  After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, she wasn't sure she had the strength.  "Oh," she said, and slowly put her book on the table.  "I'll… go outside then."

Sirius smirked and, to Ginny's immense disquiet, so did Remus. 

She hurried to the front door and smoothed her hair, and was immediately irritated with herself for doing it.  She opened the door. 

Harry was standing in the garden in the dark, and he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.  He came to the bottom of the steps and looked up at her. 

He looked so tired.

"I heard that Remus…" he began.  "Ron got it from Sirius that…"

"I ruined the Wolfsbane Potion," Ginny said matter-of-factly.  "Remus was a full werewolf last night."

Harry blew out a breath.  "Is he all right?"

"His leg's broken, he hit his head, he's got bruises and sick stomach, and he nearly ripped all his nails out." 

Harry looked aghast, and another wave of guilt washed over Ginny.  She had been the cause of all that, no matter what Remus said.  The blame was hers.  And it was just as well that Harry should know that she wasn't as gifted as everyone had believed.  Perhaps it would make him see that her feelings for him had had nothing to do with her Healing powers.  They weren't the most amazing powers in the world after all.  They failed sometimes. 

"Are you all right?" he asked more softly, looking up at her with real concern.

Ginny's stomach fluttered.  "Yes," she said.  But she wasn't sure what else to say, and Harry had already looked away from her and fixed his eyes on the steps.  He fiddled with something in his pocket, opened his mouth, shut it, and shook his head.

"Well, I… just wanted to be sure," he said.

So he was leaving already.  A wall went up around Ginny's heart.  "Thanks for stopping by," she said automatically, and then she remembered something else.  "I won't be back to Azkaban."

He glanced up at her.  "You won't?"

"No.  I'm finished with the dragons until after my N.E.W.T.s."

Harry looked surprised but satisfied, and Ginny crossed her arms.  He didn't have to be so happy about it - but then, he was probably just glad she wouldn't be on the broom with Malfoy anymore.  Not that she'd been anywhere near Malfoy since Sunday afternoon.

"I wouldn't've had an escort anyway," she muttered.  "Malfoy wasn't going to take me up anymore.  And -" Ginny hesitated, met Harry's eyes, and forced the words out.  "And you might as well know that I went over to Malfoy's house last week.  I did a bit more work on him.  Just so you know."

Harry's mouth dropped open.  "At - at his house?" he said heatedly.  "I mean, I overheard when you… and Ron said that you… but I didn't think you'd go."  His eyes flashed.  "Ginny, that was really -"

"Stupid," she finished for him.  "Yes, I've had a speech from Sirius already.  And from Remus."

"Good," Harry muttered, and Ginny couldn't help wondering if he was actually concerned about her, or if he was just angry that she'd seen Malfoy in private.  She decided not to try and work it out.  "How did Ron know that I worked on him?"

"Malfoy told him," Harry said, still looking as if he would have liked to give her more of a lecture.

But it was Ginny's turn to gape.  "Ron talked to Malfoy?  Why?"

Harry scratched his head.  "Well… Malfoy was arrested and put in Culparrat today.  They pulled him right off his dragon, hauled him off and replaced him with a new rider.  It was… really something."  Harry looked away at nothing, but his eyebrows went up as if he was seeing it happen again, and he pushed up his glasses.  "Ron questioned him after that, but I wasn't allowed any of the particulars."

Ginny couldn't fathom it.  She stared at Harry for a long time.  "Arrested?" she finally repeated. 

"Right."

"For… what?"

Harry peered up at her.  "I'm not entirely sure."  He narrowed his eyes.  "But Ron seems to think you might know something about it."

"Me?" Ginny said blankly. 

"Seeing as you worked on Malfoy and all.  It would make sense if you… knew things."  Harry tilted his head a little.  "So, do you?"

Ginny was so taken aback that it took her a while to answer.  Did she know things?  In her mind's eye she saw a flash of gaudy gold marked with an M, and she got a terrible feeling in her heart.  "I signed a confidentiality contract," she said, when she got her wits back.  "I can't… even if I did know, I couldn't."  And she didn't know.  Not really. 

"Right," Harry said again, and looked away from her.  "Well.  I'd better… get some sleep."

"I'd… better go and study," Ginny replied, wishing she could think of something else.  Something that would make him stay, even if she didn't know how to talk to him.  It occurred to her that, if she was able to work on a werewolf, then she might be strong enough to open up to Harry.  All she needed to do was let her guard down, and she would know how he felt.  She wouldn't have to guess.  He wouldn't have to sort it out for himself.

She wasn't sure why, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Night, then," Harry said, after a minute.

"Goodnight."  And, as Ginny watched, Harry turned and walked down the road without looking back. 

~*~

"Did you want to talk to me?"

The sudden appearance of Ginny's head in the fireplace of their tiny office made Ron tense with surprise.  But the sight of his sister was more than welcome; he had been trying to find time to talk to her all weekend, but ever since Remus's transformation she had apparently decided to be a hermit.  She was always busy, she wouldn't come over to the Notch – Ron suspected that had more to do with Harry than anything else - and he had finally told Hermione to give her a message. 

He wanted to talk to her about Malfoy.  Ron strode to the fireplace and crouched down to get her at eye level.

"I have some questions," he said.  "Apparate over here."

"I can't, I only have two minutes.  Remus is in charge of my schedule until I'm finished with school."

"Are you still in class?  It's nearly four o'clock, you must be finished," Ron protested.

"I mean until I'm actually finished with school."  Ginny gave him a look.  "Until I take the N.E.W.T.s.  But yes, actually I have to finish a potion.  You come over here."

"I can't, I'm busy."  Ron gestured behind him to Sirius, who was bent low over his desk, half-buried in a sea of papers.  "Malfoy doesn't want us to represent him, but we've still got to prepare our -"

"Ron," Sirius said sharply.  "Quiet."

Ron sighed loudly.  It was harder for him than anyone realized, this secret-keeping business.  Not telling things to Hermione and Harry was absolutely excruciating, and not being able to have a candid conversation with his own sister… well, it was just ridiculous.  But he wanted Malfoy to stay in prison as much as he wanted the Cannons to win the league - perhaps even more than that - and whatever it took, he would do it. 

"Hey, did you really quit Azkaban?" he asked keenly.  "Harry said you -"

"Yes."  Ginny gazed serenely at him.  "I'm not doing any more extracurricular activities until Remus says it's all right - I'm not doing personal work, I'm not going back to Azkaban and I'm not… making the Wolfsbane Potion anymore."  She paused, and her eyes flitted over Ron's shoulder, towards Sirius.  "Nothing except for my work on the Grangers."

Ron raised an eyebrow.  She sounded awfully obedient all of a sudden - she must've felt really guilty.

"I'm going to be late," Ginny fretted, turning her head a little and looking away.  "Come over later if you want to talk, I've got to go."

"No, wait."  Ron leaned closer to the fire.  "Ginny… Malfoy said you were over at his house. And then Harry said it was true - is it true?"

Ginny glanced at him, and her eyes darkened.  "Yes, all right?" she finally said, very stiffly.  "I went - once.  But you'd better save the lecture, I've already had three."

Furious, protective anger surged through Ron, but he fought it down as hard as he could.  Ginny never reacted well to being babied, and just now he needed her in her right mind.  "What did you see over there - what did you… you know, feel from him?" he asked, half excited at the prospect of finding out something that might seal up his case, and half sickened by the fact that his sister might have any intimate knowledge of Draco Malfoy.  "I know there has to be something - what can you tell me?"

"Nothing," Ginny said simply, and turned her head again.  "I signed a contract - look, I really have to go.  Sorry.  See you."

"Ginny, wait a minute -"

But her head vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, and Ron was left, chagrined, in front of the empty fireplace.  "She can't just withhold information," he began, but Sirius interrupted at once.

"Yes she can, and it would compromise our case if she didn't."

"But -"

"But?  There are certain things we all have to keep quiet, in order to preserve the integrity of our work.  Think about what you've kept secret."

"But it's Malfoy."  Ron stood and straightened his robes, still irritated with Ginny for being so elusive, though he supposed he shouldn't have asked her anything in the first place.  After all, if she had her own professional ethics, then that was a good thing.  Sort of.  "It's Malfoy," he repeated, feeling that somehow there should be an exception to the legal rules in cases of hateful, pointy little bastards who deserved to rot for life.

Sirius looked up at him.  "I know the feeling, Ron, but that doesn't change things.  And if you really want him, you'll have to play clean, because I have a feeling that whoever he hires won't miss the smallest chink in our armor."  He rubbed his head.  "And as Ginny's going to have to stand as a witness in the first hearing, you can tell her absolutely nothing."

"She's a witness?" Ron narrowed his eyes.  "I thought she signed a contract?"

"Doesn't matter.  The point of the first hearing will be to disprove that she ever breached her contract - we'll have to insure that the evidence against Malfoy cannot be suppressed.  Malfoy's Advocate, I'm sure, will want to prove that Ginny breached her contract, so that everything that was discovered in the raid of Malfoy Manor will have to be struck from the record.  That way, Malfoy will have to be released."

"That's crap.  She never told me anything."

"And that's just the way we want it, for now... until we can find a way to nullify that contract." Sirius sifted through another handful of papers, and he narrowed his eyes at a tiny slip of parchment.  "Do me a favor - check the archives for any files the Ministry might have on Galfrid Thinstone."

"The Hogsmeade jeweler?"

"He comes up in Lucius Malfoy's receipts again and again.  It's probably nothing, but some of those Dark objects were -"

"Pretty fancy."  Ron frowned.  "You're right.  I'll be right back." 

He left the office with a thick roll of parchment and a couple of Self-Inking quills, and he headed up the wide, polished stairways that led to the Ministry's top floor, where the archives were located.  He was glad they weren't stuffed away in some rotting basement or shut up in a windowless library - he was here so often that he was grateful for the skylight.  He immediately asked Mr. Doyle where he could find information on Galfrid Thinstone - he had learned that, if he only asked, he would get more help than he ever could have dreamed of - and waited as the pensive archivist went off in search of papers.

"Just these," said Mr. Doyle, returning with a trolley full of books and files, most of which, Ron knew, probably only referenced Galfrid Thinstone in some microscopic way.  But just in case… He sighed, laid out his parchment, and with a flick of his wand he set his quills to work in midair.  A few precise words and the books began to turn their own pages as the quills flew rapidly from foot to foot of parchment, making note of everything Thinstone had ever done.

"That's a handy pair of spells," said Mr. Doyle, looking impressed.

"My girlfriend taught me."

"Oh?" Mr. Doyle asked indulgently.  "And what does your girlfriend do?"

Ron gave a half-smile.  "Oh, nothing much.  She's just a book lover, you know…" He paused for effect.  "And a Thinker.  You've heard of Hermione Granger?"

Mr. Doyle went round-eyed, and Ron bit back a grin.  It was always fun, springing Hermione on people.  She was impressive even when she wasn't there.  And as it was very rare to come across anyone who didn't know that they were dating, Ron basked in the satisfaction of the archivist's obvious awe.

A half-hour was all it took before the notes were complete.  Ron rolled up the parchment, thanked Mr. Doyle, and headed back down to his office, detouring only slightly to say hello to his father.  He didn't really have time, but his dad had looked more and more frustrated lately - the debates about who would make the most appropriate new Minister still raged among the P.C.s, and Ron sometimes wondered if his father even wanted to be considered for the position any longer. 

"Is my dad available?" he asked Lawrence, who opened the door at once.

"There's an emergency meeting – Mr. Weasley, is it all right if – "

His father looked up.  "Come in, Ron."

Ron's curiosity was piqued.  "Okay..." He hurried into his father's office and his eyebrows went up. 

Nearly everyone who headed the P.A.P. was there.  Harry, Charlie, Cho Chang and Mick O'Malley stood around the Minister's desk in their dragon gear; Rose Brown hovered anxiously at his father's side with her clipboard; Moody was beside her, looking grim, and even Sirius had been summoned.  Lawrence closed the door behind Ron, who joined the rest of them around his father's desk.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, rolling his stack of parchment a little tighter and shoving it into the pocket of his robes.  He caught Harry's eyes and immediately wished he hadn't.  Harry looked dead on his feet.

"It's the Dementors," Harry said faintly.  He didn't look like he was going to be able to stand up much longer.

A horrible chill shot through Ron's heart.  "No one's hurt, are they?"

"Not… yet."  Harry swayed slightly, and Ron pointed his wand at once, floating a chair towards the desk.  Harry sat down in it, looking more than a little embarrassed.  But it seemed he had no choice.  He leaned back, and it seemed he was only concentrating with incredible effort; his eyes were glazed over. 

"They've gone wild," Charlie said grimly.  "Out of control.  All of them - worse than it was at the beginning.  Far worse."

"They're hungrier," Sirius said quietly.

"But that doesn't explain why they've suddenly started shooting out of the prison in hordes," Cho said, pushing a hand through her short hair.  "They've been getting hungrier all this time.  Why would they snap now, all at once?  Why are they suddenly escaping by the dozens?  We could hardly turn them back today - it took everyone on shore to keep them at bay, and to be frank, I'm really worried for the people in Stornoway.  We need to get people out there -"

"Tonight," Charlie finished.  "She's right, Dad.  There's no time to waste."

"It's critical," Cho went on.  "We don't even have time for this meeting, we need help right now."

Ron listened.  He had a lot of questions, but he had a feeling that they would be answered if he just paid attention, and everyone seemed so worried and afraid that he didn't want to break their focus. 

"Could it be the new rider?" Arthur rubbed his chin.  "Is he honestly prepared to be out there, or did you give him the position too soon?"

"What, Joe?"  Charlie snorted.  "We've been putting him through the wringer for months, he's a fine dragon rider.  Hasn't missed a beat, has he, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"Granted, he's only been out there for five days -"

"It's not Joe."  Harry let out a tired breath.  "He's doing far better than I am."

"Harry…" Cho began.

"No, he is," Harry said matter-of-factly.  "He's the best of us right now.  He has more energy than the rest of us because he hasn't been out there."

Mick shrugged.  "True enough."  He looked exhausted too.  "He made up for the two of us today.  Let's not put the blame on Joe."

"Is it Ginny's absence?" Arthur leaned back in his chair and looked around at all of them.  "She came to me on Friday  night and turned in her Ministry badge.  She said that she has no intention of returning to work until she's completed her studies, and I agree that it's probably the wisest thing…"

"But if we need her," Rose said, "then we need her."

Harry sat up straighter, and his eyes gained back some of their focus.  "It's not Ginny," he said.  "This has nothing to do with the dragons.  Norbert was better behaved today than he's been in months - she did her job."

"Viking's in great shape too," Mick put in.

"The dragons are perfectly healthy."  Cho shrugged.  "But if it isn't Joe and it isn't Ginny, then I don't know what's caused this sudden shift."

"Well, you're all blind as bats."  Moody's callous interruption got all their attention at once; several heads turned towards him as he crossed his arms and humphed.  "Or else you just don't want to name the truth, and I can't say I blame you, but honestly.  A bunch of intelligent officials like yourselves, ignoring the obvious answer.  What's the world coming to?"

Everyone was silent, and Ron met Sirius's eyes.  He had a feeling that he knew what was coming, and he was sure that he had no desire to hear it. 

"Malfoy."  Moody eyed each one of them in turn.  "He was arrested on Thursday?"

"That's right."  Arthur pushed back what little hair he had.

Moody nodded.  "And since his arrest, the Dementors have gone wild, as you put it, Mr. Weasley."

Charlie shrugged.  "I suppose, but Malfoy could hardly have been responsible for -"

"I'm not going to jump to conclusions either way."  Moody's magic eye rolled across each of their faces.  "I'm just pointing out the facts.  Malfoy was there, and the Dementors were controlled.  Malfoy's gone, and the Dementors are rushing to shore in massive groups."

Harry slumped back again.  "Bring Malfoy back then," he muttered.

"Hell no," Ron said, before he'd thought about it.

They all turned to look at him, and Ron's ears went hot.

"I just mean - you know -" he stammered.  "He's got to stand trial first.  We're not just sending him back out there a free man, not until he's proven he deserves it."

"And how could it have been Malfoy?" Charlie demanded.  "It's not like he was there twenty-four hours a day, he went home at night.  If it was something he was doing, then the Dementors would have gone mental every time he left."

"How did they behave on Friday?" Moody countered.  "Is there a log book?"

"Well, yeah..." Charlie scratched his head and Cho pulled the log book out of her rucksack.

"Friday saw a slight increase in Dementor activity, but nothing too out of the ordinary…" she mused, turning pages.  "Saturday… was worse.  Yesterday was bad – we saw a few big groups trying to escape and we weren't sure what was causing it.  But today was absolutely out of control."

"So if Malfoy was doing something, it might have worn off by now?" Harry looked up at Moody, who shrugged.

"I don't have answers, Potter," he said.  "Just observations."

Mick rolled his head from side to side, and his neck cracked.  "Well, I'm not sorry Malfoy's gone," he said bluntly.  "But I'll tell you, if today is any indication of what it's going to be like out there from now on, then we're going to need all the help we can get.  Harry nearly -"

Harry's head snapped up and he glared at Mick. 

"Harry nearly what?" Sirius said, stepping forward.  "Go on."

Mick gave Harry an apologetic glance, then fixed his attention on Arthur.  "I lost contact with him for about a minute, at the end of our shift," he said.  "So I told Joe to keep an eye on both my section and his, and I flew around to Harry's side of the island."  He shook his head.  "I can't tell you what happened.  All I know is that I saw Norbert getting very close to the water - it looked like he was driving back a group of about four Dementors all on his own."

"Harry wasn't on him?" Sirius demanded.

"Oh, he was on him."  Mick gave a weak laugh.  "Lying flat across his harness on his stomach.  It looked like… well, I can't be sure.  I only know what I saw.  But it looked like Norbert had just caught him from a fall."

Ron looked at Harry in alarm, and was unsurprised to see that his friend's face had become an emotionless mask. 

"Harry," Sirius said, his voice shaking.  "Is that true?"

Harry kept his mouth shut. 

"Harry," Ron began, but Harry shot him a look so venomous that Ron could not continue.

It was Arthur who got his attention.  "Harry, you need to explain to me what Mick saw," he said, in a quiet voice that Ron knew very well.  It was a voice that always got an answer, no matter how difficult the question was.  It had worked on all of them for as long as Ron could remember, and it was doing its magic on Harry now; Harry drew back in his chair but his mouth opened slightly.

"It wasn't anything," he began, but Arthur raised his eyebrows and Harry went silent. 

"You won't jeopardize your peers, Harry," he said.  "You won't put me in a position where I'm forced to make a decision without crucial information.  Will you."

Harry shook his head and dropped his gaze.  "I…"  He rubbed his eyes.  "All right.  I passed out."

Sirius drew a sharp breath and took another, manic step towards him.

"Sirius."  Arthur's voice was hard.  "Not now.  Go on, Harry.  What exactly happened?"

"There were… there had to be ten of them.  I would've called for help, but I didn't think it would be a problem."  He laughed, and the sound was somewhat mad.  It made Ron's skin crawl.  "I mean, I've done better."  Harry laughed again.  "I used a Patronus, but it didn't work on all of them.  There were still three coming towards me, and I raised my wand, but I couldn't say the words."  His breath came quickly.  He kept his eyes on his knees.  "I could hear… in my head.  Things I couldn't get away from."

The room was terribly still, and Ron wasn't sure whom to look at: Harry, who was at this moment incredibly vulnerable, or the rest of them, who were watching in shock as Harry came apart.  

"I didn't have anything left," Harry said.  "And they just came closer.  I tried to get away, I tried to get out of my harness, but before I could grab my broom…"  He gripped his knees.  "It all went black." 

Ron was strongly reminded of third year, and of watching, terrified and unable to help, as Harry had gone unconscious and plummeted towards the hooded beings on the Quidditch pitch. 

"And you fell?" Arthur asked, though his voice was not as steady as it had been a moment ago.

"I don't know," Harry said.  "I think so.  When I came to, I was lying on my stomach, on my harness.  I heard Mick calling for me, but I just had enough energy to climb back in and buckle up."

"And how did you get onto your stomach?"

"I can't remember.  But I think…"  Now Harry looked up.  He shrugged at Charlie.  "I think Norbert caught me.  I know he drove off the last of the Dementors on his own.  You were… right about dragons."

Charlie looked torn between horror and joy.

Ron was only horrified.  And it was clear, from the anguished expression on Sirius's face, that he was not the only one who felt that way. 

"Harry," Rose said shakily.  "Why didn't you tell Mick?  Or anyone?"

Harry blinked at her.  "What good would it have done?"

"You could have gone to shore - you could have been replaced -"

"No I couldn't."  Harry gave another unhinged sort of laugh.  "Replaced?  There's no one else ready to be out there.  Please replace me, if that's an option."

Ron's mouth dropped open.  Had he ever heard Harry demand help like that?  He tried to think of a time.  He drew a blank.

"It's not an option," Charlie said faintly, after a moment.  "There are two other riders in training, and they'll be ready in… Harry, it'll be weeks.  At least.  I can't in good conscience put them out there until - well, possibly by May, but -"

"May?"  Sirius rounded on Charlie.  "May?  Did you hear him?"

Charlie stood up straight.  "It's May," he said stoutly.  "Or it's bring back Malfoy."

Moody gave a gruff bark of a laugh.  "Bringing Malfoy back isn't an option at the moment," he said.  "So we'll send reinforcements to shore.  That should take the pressure off the riders.  I'll spare what Aurors I can tonight, and they'll stay out there until you can replace them, Arthur.  Until then, Black, your trials will have to wait, and so will the Imprisonment Enchantment, because there won't be enough of my people at Culparrat."

Sirius and Ron exchanged a dark look, but before anyone could protest, Moody was already talking again.

"There aren't enough Aurors to patrol Culparrat and Azkaban at once, and Azkaban is now the clear priority.  But Arthur, that can't last.  I need those people to serve in other capacities.  You'll have to replace them."

"How?" Rose demanded.

Moody shrugged.  "Hire as many wizards as are willing to protect the shoreline along the camp - and on the island itself, to stop the Dementors from ever hitting the water.  And then I recommend you speak to Diggory and station Enforcers around Stornoway until something else can be done."

Rose made a noise of dismay.  "We can't afford to hire new staff," she said.

"We can't afford not to," Arthur said quietly.  "All right, Moody. I appreciate your input.  I'll… speak to Diggory and the Privy Council straight away and see what arrangements can be made.  But for tonight -"

"Tonight you'll have the Aurors." 

"And what about tomorrow?" Sirius burst out.  "Containing them isn't good enough - look at these riders, Arthur, consider what happened today.  Another solution must be found. I've been saying all year -"

"I know it," Arthur said, and gave a weary laugh.  "But we've pooled our ideas time and time again, and no solution has presented itself.  What would you have me do?  Is there new information?  Some way to destroy them that we have overlooked?"

Sirius opened his mouth, glanced at Ron, and then shut his mouth again in a tight line.  He was quiet for a moment.

"I'll take that as a no," Arthur said gently.  "I'm sorry, Harry, but our options are so limited at the moment that we -"

"Wait.  There's a spell."  Sirius put a hand up to stave off the questions that had already formed on everyone's lips.  "Not a working spell, nothing we've ever used.  It's something Hermione Granger developed that I've been working with on my own, and I want to test it."

Harry looked up at him, hope obvious in his face.

"On the Dementors?" Arthur said doubtfully.  "What exactly is the spell?"

"The one she used on her parents," Sirius said.  "The one that sucked the pain out of them.  I've adjusted it to suck the life force out of the Dementors.  To drain them of their energy."

"You've… adjusted?"  Arthur frowned.   "Has any licensed spellcrafter worked on it? Has any Thinker approved it?  Has Hermione -"

"Just me.  And I want to test it," Sirius repeated.  "All right?  This is an emergency, and we should exhaust every possible avenue before we choose to send these riders up there again to be preyed upon -"

"I agree."  Arthur folded his hands on the desk.  "Whatever this spell is, leave the plans with me, or meet with me immediately after I speak to the Council - and Diggory.  Tonight, if you can stay."

"I'll stay.  But the Council and Diggory can only provide you with temporary relief," Sirius said desperately.  "It's high time to strike at the root issue -"

"And if your spell is the way towards that, then I'll be thrilled."  Arthur took a deep breath.  "But though the root issue is ultimately more important, there are immediate issues that must be addressed.  The safety of the residents of Stornoway and the enhancement of security around Azkaban must be dealt with first.  Perhaps they are surface problems, but right now they need our attention."

Sirius made a noise of impotent fury.

"That's all, for the moment."  Arthur looked around the room.  "Thank you for giving me this information so quickly."

Charlie nodded.  "We've got to get back up there, Dad," he said.  "See you."  He and Cho headed for the door.

"I should get back up there too," Harry mumbled, standing up on shaking legs.  "There aren't enough people."

"Harry, mate."  Mick put a hand on his shoulder.  "Don't be stupid.  You're barely making sense.  Go home and sleep before you get yourself half-killed again tomorrow."

Looking glad of the direction, Harry stumbled out of the office. 

"Go with him," Sirius said, looking slightly deranged and pointing at Ron.  "I have to stay, and he needs help."

Ron was well aware of it.  He handed his archival notes to Sirius and followed Harry out of the building, tailing him until they were both on the Ministry steps.  "Sure you're up to Apparating?" he asked.

Harry gave him a dazed sort of look.  "Huh?"

"Right."  Ron took him by the elbow and steered him toward the Leaky Cauldron.  "Floo powder it is.  Want a drink first, Harry?"

Harry laughed weakly.  "Yeah, right."

Ron glanced sideways at Harry as an idea occurred to him.  "You know," he said, "it's none of my business.  But you look like hell, and you almost got yourself…"  Ron couldn't bear to finish the sentence.  The idea of Dementors bearing down on Harry and trying to make a meal of him was more than Ron could stand.  "If you're going back out there again tomorrow, then you'll need to be in better shape than this."

"Sleep," Harry mumbled.  "That'll help.  And food."

"Or Ginny could help," Ron said honestly.  "And she'd do it.   I don't care how tidy she wants to make her schedule, she'd do anything for you."  They were strange words to say.  But they were true.

Harry stopped cold.  "Tidy?" he said softly.  "What do you mean?"

Ron waved the question off.  "Oh, you know.  She's upset with herself for what happened to Remus and she says she isn't going to do any more Healing until she's finished with school."

"Not even the Grangers?" Harry asked, lifting his head and pushing up his glasses.  "Really?  I find that hard to -"

"Just the Grangers, she said.  But nothing else."  Ron studied Harry's face.  He looked like he'd been run over by a dragon, rather than saved by one.  "Go and tell her what's happened, and let her help."

"No."  Harry looked ahead, down the road.  "And don't you tell her either."  He reached up and rubbed his own neck.

Ron looked at him in irritation.  Always noble, always self-sacrificing - Harry was really a pain in the arse.  "You're an idiot if you don't go to her," he said hotly.  "Anyone else in the world would kill to have a Healer to help them, and here you are, and you've got her, and she's right up the bloody road, and you're acting like -"

"You don't get it," Harry said.  His voice was barely audible, but there was such helplessness in it that the rest of Ron's tirade froze on his tongue.  "I don't have her, all right?"  Harry turned away.  His eyes were suddenly red, and so was his face, and he looked disgusted with himself.  "Drop it, just drop it." He tried to stride off ahead of Ron, but he stumbled and had to take a moment to catch his balance.

Ron forgot about Ginny.  He forgot about the Dementors.  He forgot about Culparrat, and Aurors, and Malfoy.  He forgot about his job as a Defender, and he stepped up beside Harry, deciding that the rest of it could wait.  What mattered was getting Harry back to the Notch in one piece - this had been his first job, really.  And, he realized vaguely, as he tossed a bit of Floo powder into the ramshackle fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron and pushed Harry into the flames, this was probably a job he was going to have for life.

He didn't mind.

~*~

"Back again, Black?"  Alastor Moody's tendency to sneak up in silence always made Sirius jump. 

"Back again," Sirius said, not moving his eyes from the elaborate model of Azkaban in front of him, through which the Peeping Charm was activated.  He didn't mind being startled by Moody; he knew that his lack of self-defense drove the old Auror mad.  It usually amused him.  But since the Ministry meeting a week ago, Sirius had taken to spending most of his time at Culparrat, and there was little he found amusing. 

No one seemed to think it odd that he had spent more time at the prison this week than in his office, and he was glad that no one had questioned him.  Remus probably would have, if he had known about it - Remus was always suspicious of any abrupt change in Sirius's behavior.  He was far too wise that way.   But Remus was busy with Ginny; the two of them had been deep in study ever since the failed Wolfsbane Potion.  And Ron was so absorbed in preparing Malfoy's case that he didn't seem troubled by what Sirius was up to.

Sirius smiled grimly.  It had been a while since he had got away with anything of this magnitude - not that that was the point.  This was… well… serious.  This was something that had to happen, and it couldn't wait another moment.  Other people were unable to give time to it right now, but that wasn't going to stop him.  Not anymore.  This had required attention for nearly a year  - he couldn't believe that no one had done anything about it.  He couldn't stand to see Harry looking the way he had looked in Arthur's office last week.  He wouldn't stand it. 

He had waited a week, in order to plan his attack.  He had also waited in the hopes that Arthur and the rest of the Ministry officials would quickly turn their attention to the heart of the trouble.  But since he had presented the spell to Arthur, nothing had been done.  They were all occupied with the wrong things - no one would pay heed to what Sirius knew was the first priority.  The Dementors had been allowed to run rampant long enough.  They had wasted enough resources, enough time, and enough lives.  Something had to be done.  Right now.   And if no one else was going to do it…

Moody moved to stand across the room from Sirius, viewing the model of Azkaban from the opposite side.  "The dragons haven't failed yet," he said.  "Seems Ginny Weasley worked a miracle there.  But the Dementors are still mad as pixies."

"Except for these," Sirius said, pointing to a group of three Dementors standing in Azkaban's main guard station, a small hut that was connected to the castle by an underground corridor so that it seemed separate.  "They've stayed in there all week."

"That's why there's only one wizard guarding that section at the moment." Moody ran his finger along the island's shoreline.  "The worst concentrations seem to be around the main entrance hall and the old kitchens, but they haven't done any damage.  It was a good move on the Council's part to approve the reinforcements.  None of the Dementors have made it past the dragon camp, and no one's been hurt."

"It's still a miserable situation," said Sirius, watching as a Patronus in the form of a waterfall cascaded toward the prison.  "This is a ridiculous system.  One of them will slip by, and someone else will be Kissed - it's only a matter of time."

"And not much time at that."  Moody agreed.  "Well.  Since you've been spending so much time in here analyzing things, have you noticed whether or not they appear to be eating anything? There's no possibility that we could just starve them to death, is there?"

"I think," said Sirius, bending even closer to the model, "that there is enough residual human emotion in Azkaban to keep them well-fed for centuries."

"Pity that.  But this Ravenclaw spying charm is excellent, isn't it?" Moody said, walking back around to survey the map with Sirius. 

"It's unsettling," Sirius said.  "I always thought Ravenclaw girls were prudes, and all the while they were probably watching me shower.  Lucky little tarts."

Moody threw back his head and laughed.  "Ah, Black.  It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

Sirius smirked.  "It most certainly is…  Shouldn't one of these maps be set up at the dragon camp?"

"Tomorrow," said Moody, the sound of his wooden leg resounding as he headed towards the door.  "This one was the test model.  Now that she's got it working, Miss Chang's going to duplicate it up at Azkaban in the morning."  He snorted.  "Unless you can work out how to get rid of the Dementors before then."

Sirius started.  "What do you mean?" he asked, but he sounded guilty even to himself.  Had he been that obvious?  Did Moody know what he planned to do?

"Did you think you were being subtle?"  Moody narrowed his good eye at him.  "I know what you're on about, Black, and I'm on your side.  They need destroying.  Just don't do anything foolish."

Sirius forced a smile.  "I won't," he said lightly, and picked up his things.  He pulled his wand.  "Well then.  Back to work."

"And me."  Moody stumped out of the room, grumbling about retirement and how he planned to take the Ministry up on it any day now. 

Sirius waited until Moody was out of earshot and then quickly left the prison - but he didn't go back to the Ministry.  He walked away from Culparrat and down the rocky shore of the bay to where he wouldn't splinch.  When it was safe, he Apparated to the shore line opposite Azkaban, and steeled his mind, going once more over the plan he had made.  He knew it wasn't entirely rational, but most people thought he was deranged anyway, and sometimes he thought he might as well live up to their expectations.

And the Dementors were destroying Harry.  It  was his job as godfather to put an end to that.  It disturbed him to see James's eighteen-year-old son look older than James had ever been.   It disturbed him to see Harry's white hairs and his ashen face every time they spent five minutes together.  It disturbed him to know that his godson's soul had almost been sucked out last week by creatures that were apparently unstoppable.  But nothing was unstoppable - nothing.  He had escaped Azkaban.  He had seen Voldemort destroyed.  The Ministry had pardoned him.  Nothing was impossible, save bringing back the dead, and Sirius was tired of waiting. 

Standing on an isolated outcropping in front of the P.A.P. headquarters, Sirius squinted out to sea.  The weather was terrible – he shivered and quickly cast a Warming Spell over himself - though he was glad for the thick fog and the light drizzle.  It would be much easier to avoid being seen, in this weather.  His only worry was that the perimeter of the prison was bathed in charmed light that extended several hundred meters out to sea.  The light made it easier for the dragon riders to spot Dementors, but it would also make Sirius's plan more difficult to execute.

But he had come prepared.   Sirius shrugged his rucksack off his shoulder and reached into it.  He had considered borrowing the Invisibility Cloak, but somehow, the thought had unsettled him; instead, he pulled out an old set of robes that he had found in the attic of Lupin Lodge.  They had, most likely, belonged to Remus' grandfather, and although they were ripped and torn in several places, the fabric was strong.  More importantly, they were gray, too big for him, and had an enormous hood.

He slipped the robes over his head, revulsion sweeping him as he did so.  He had to remind himself several times that they were just old robes and nothing more, but he was chilled to the bone by his choice of costume. Still, if he did his job properly, he wouldn't have to wear them for long. 

Taking a deep breath, Sirius put his broom carefully on the ground, next to his rucksack, and then, slipping his wand inside his robes, transformed into Padfoot.  This would be the easy part.  He'd swum this route once before as Padfoot, and as long as the dragon riders' attention stayed focused on the things that were leaving Azkaban, they probably wouldn't have occasion to notice a relatively small, very dark canine swimming towards the prison.

It would be far more difficult to remain hidden once he reached the guard station on the prison shore.  But after several mornings of observing the model of Azkaban at Culparrat, Sirius had learned that the guards along Azkaban's shoreline changed shifts at three o'clock, and that there were three Dementors that seemed never to leave the guard station.  Sirius had never imagined that he would be glad to know the habits of Dementors, but the three in the guard station were ideal for his purposes.  They were fairly stationary and entirely contained, and it was on them that Sirius planned to try his own version of Hermione's Weeping Spell. 

The Warming Spell that he had cast over himself only dulled the chill of the water, and Padfoot shivered as he began to paddle towards the shore, making sure to keep his head low.  It would have been much quicker to fly to the shore, but the new guards and the dragon staff had been warned not to let anyone near the island, and he wasn't going to take any chances.  Padfoot paddled harder, swallowing salt water and spitting it out again, remembering far too clearly the last time he had done this.  The memory made him feel suddenly invincible.

He had escaped this place.  He had escaped these creatures.  Azkaban had been his unwilling home for twelve long years.  And if he bloody well wanted to pay it a visit, then no one in the world had a right to stop him. 

*

"Expecto Patronum!"

"All right there, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."  Harry watched a pair of Dementors race back towards the prison.  Panting with effort, he slicked back his sweaty hair with a gloved hand  and tilted up his face to feel the wind, glad that it was a cool April. 

He tried to imagine a time when he hadn't been riding Norbert on a daily basis, but found it difficult.  If this were last year, then he'd be sitting in Potions right about now, cutting up insects that he'd never have to look at ever again for some disgusting concoction that he'd have to drink.  The fact that Snape would never be able to force him to drink a potentially dangerous potion ever again made Harry oddly sad. 

He couldn't say that dragon riding was boring.  In many ways, it was much better than school.  No homework, for example.  And when he went home at night, he could read whatever he wanted, or play chess with Ron, or listen to Quidditch, or visit with Sirius and plot future adventures - though he hadn't been over to Lupin Lodge at all in the past few weeks.  The only problem was that he had to wake up at five in the morning, and if he didn't fall into bed the night before by ten o'clock at the very latest, then he'd go through the rest of the day in a half-awake daze.  But getting to bed by ten hadn't really been an issue lately.  It wasn't like he'd had anyone important keeping him awake. 

She'd looked so tired last week.  Harry's mind wandered back again to their conversation - the only one they'd had in nearly a month - and he saw her again in her work robes, standing still at the top of the steps with quiet defeat written all over her face.  Harry wasn't sure why it had made him want to hold her - perhaps because she had seemed, for a moment, to actually need him.  He wasn't sure if that was true, but he had a feeling that if he had just walked up the steps and hugged her like he'd wanted to, it might have solved a lot of problems.

Or perhaps it wouldn't.  Whether they had hugged or not, she would probably want to know why he had shouted all those horrible things at her - things about Malfoy, and about her family and his, and about the cupboard under the stairs… Harry grimaced.  And she would definitely want to know how he felt about her; she'd made that very clear.  Harry restlessly fingered the letter in his pocket, but he shook his head for the hundredth time and withdrew his hand.  He just wasn't ready.  He wondered how he would know when he was.  He wondered if Ginny would still be there for him when he decided what to say.  Perhaps she was already gone - but he couldn't entertain that idea.  It made him feel so empty that he ached.  

"Eleven of them! Eleven! Ha ha!  Top that!"  Mick voice sounded again in Harry's ear.  He patrolled the stretch of sky that saw the most Dementor activity, but he somehow kept his spirits up.

"Remind me to get your autograph at the end of this shift," Harry said.  "I've already got Krum's."

"Shut up, Potter, or I'll ask for yours."  Mick was as tired as he was, and Harry knew it, but it was somehow important to keep up the jokes.  "What's your record today?"

"All at once?" Harry asked, feeling a bit useless.  "Three."

"Joe?

"Er - seven," Joe said, and his grin was audible. 

Harry still wasn't used to the new dragon rider's voice.  He kept expecting to hear Malfoy, and it was jarring to have normal conversations with a decent person after so many months of that obnoxious sneer. 

"Seems I'm the man, then," said Mick, laughing, and the Communication Charm crackled out. 

In truth, Harry was glad that he hadn't been the one to turn back eleven Dementors.  He never wanted to see that many in one place again, and he was grateful that there hadn't been another dangerous episode like last week's.  Dozens of wizard guards around the prison and on the shoreline of the dragon camp made things far more bearable.  Still horrible… but bearable.  In fact, in some ways, work had actually been better since Malfoy's arrest.  Not seeing Malfoy's pointed face in the mornings made Harry's toast digest easier, and not having to listen to his suggestive jeers about Ginny was a definite plus.  Even the absence of his shiny red dragon was somehow encouraging - the Ministry had taken Mordor to Wales for observation, and the dragon keepers there had reported that he seemed to miss his master, which led Harry to wonder whether Malfoy had been singing lullabies to his dragon during his shifts.

"Want a hand, Harry?" Joe asked suddenly.

Harry steered Norbert around and looked down at the island.  "I don't think so," he said.  "Keep an eye out, though."  

A cluster of Dementors hovered not far from one of the Azkaban docks.  Harry flew in close and made Norbert circle them in the air a few times.  The wizards on the island's shore could only help if they could get in front of the Dementors and drive them back towards the castle, and this group was already too far out.  The docks were isolated, rickety, and narrow, and Harry could see a witch standing at the end closest to the prison, having arrived too late to precede the Dementors on the dock.

Instead of running inside for cover, the Dementors scattered as Harry flew over them.  Three went to his left and two to his right.  

"Damn!" he muttered, looking quickly right and left.  He had just decided to go left when an enormous, silvery waterfall appeared to that side of him, driving the Dementors away.   Harry steered Norbert to the right and sent the remaining two Dementors scurrying up the dock to the prison.

"Thanks, Joe," Harry shouted as Joe and his Welsh Green, Tardonius, gracefully pulled up from the water.   It didn't surprise Harry that Joe was the only person who had so far passed Charlie's battery of tests - he had previously been a Seeker for the Sumbawanga Sunrays, so his flying skills were unquestionable, and he seemed fearless where dragons and Dementors were concerned. 

"There's more -" Joe called back, pointing.  "Got them?"

"Yeah."  Another group of Dementors had slipped past the guards and slipped out across the water, towards the shore.  Harry pushed Norbert into a dive, raised his wand, and summoned his brightest thought.

Ginny.  He wasn't sure why she was still the first face to come into his mind, but she was, and a sliver of joy sliced through the fog of his fatigue and made him capable again.  "Expecto Patronum!" he cried, and Prongs galloped forward, full and fast.

Harry sat back, watched the Dementors glide miserably back into the prison, and idly wondered if there were substitutes for "I love you."  If there were words that meant the same thing, and didn't taste so strange in his mouth.  Not that it would be any easier to say "You're the source of my Patronus" - he winced at the very idea.  Might as well give her the pink princess hat as say something that stupid…. No, there had to be something else.  Something comfortable and normal and not so frightening.

But what it was, Harry couldn't imagine.

~*~

Padfoot's hind legs grazed something hard and rocky, and he realized that he'd reached the island.  Allowing his belly to rest on the rocks, he kept his head just far enough above water to sniff the air around him.  There was a person close by.  Very close.  To his right.  Before he even had a chance to look, he ducked his head under the water, afraid of being seen, and tried to float to his left.  Bringing his head up for air a moment later, he groped along the shoreline until he found a small crevice, and he pulled himself up further, hiding behind a rock. 

The man was standing just outside the old Azkaban guard station.   He was humming.   Panting, Padfoot pressed closer to the rocks.  He sniffed, and surveyed the area in front of him.  It would be possible for him to crawl along the top of the rocks, and then climb in through the old window in the back of the guard station.  If he timed it right, he could approach at the same time as the replacement guard, and then it wouldn't matter so much if he made a bit of noise. 

Slowly, Padfoot inched his way to the top of the rock he'd been using as a shelf, and flattened himself on the cold, wet stone.  He didn't know what time it was, but he expected he had a few minutes to spare before three o'clock.  It was difficult to tell without the benefit of sunshine.

The old guard station building was small.  It looked much smaller, even to Padfoot, than it had to Sirius back at Culparrat.  It looked bleak and cold and inhospitable, and he could remember the first time that he had seen it, as a young man in chains. The day that he'd thought he'd killed Peter Pettigrew.  The day he knew he'd killed James and Lily.

"Oi! Expecto Patronum!" The guard's voice made Padfoot jump, and he almost rolled off of his rock.  He recovered himself just in time to see the doors to the guard station open.  Two of the three Dementors who never left glided out towards the space where the guard was standing.

"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"  The third Dementor slithered out to join its companions, and Padfoot could smell the guard's fear as nothing but a loosely-formed wisp of smoke emerged from his wand.

Why had they put such an incompetent guard out here, alone, to guard the Dementors?  Most likely because these three had been so quiet for so long.  Padfoot inched along, fighting the urge to transform into Sirius, who would be able to help.  Or would he?  No, Sirius could be no help to this man in fighting the Dementors.  His best option was to remain as Padfoot, and, if anything, charge towards the man and carry him away from the creatures.  It would sabotage the plan, but even Padfoot knew that this man's soul was more important. 

He stood on all fours and began to run towards the guard station, but skidded to a halt when another man, on a broom, swooped in to land. 

"Jeremy!" said the young wizard, relief evident in his voice.  "Expecto Patronum!" And with that, the wizard finally made a Patronus strong enough to drive the Dementors back inside.

"Thought you could use the help, Steve," said Jeremy.  "Go and grab some lunch – I'll look after things until you get back."

"I had it under control," mumbled Steve.  He trudged across the rocks, towards the place where he'd stashed his broomstick, and gave a sudden scream of fright.

Jeremy ran across the rocks to where Steve was standing and Padfoot used the opportunity to position himself beside the window to the guardhouse.  He'd climb through it as soon as there was an opportunity. 

"It's a bone!"

"It's not a bone, you idiot – it's a shell."

"Looks like a bone to me.  Isn't it true that they didn't bury the prisoners when they died – just threw them into the water?  My Uncle Sidney came out here on official business once, and said he saw them doing it."

"Your uncle Sidney? That's a girl's name!"

"No it's not!"

"It is.  And haven't you explored the place at all?  There's a graveyard to the north - some of the prisoners were buried right here.  I expect it depended on who they were."

Padfoot could smell something rotting from inside the tiny building.  He didn't want to transform.  But if he was going to try this spell, now was the time. 

As the two guards continued to banter, Padfoot transformed.  Sirius stretched his back and felt suddenly very exposed.  He was a man, and he was on this shore for the first time in… almost six years.  Not even half the time he'd spent here.  The fact that he wasn't in danger of being kept here for the rest of his life did very little to relieve the bizarre, irrational panic that seized his heart.  Azkaban.  He could smell it - taste it.  He had come up here several times since last summer, but he had always stayed on the shore, near the dragon camp.  He had never come back to the prison.  Had he been mad to think that he could stand it?  His whole body hurt, and his brain threatened to sink under some terrible, invisible weight.  Forgetting what he had come for, Sirius stood paralyzed for several seconds, unable to control his fear.

But he couldn't let it get to him - he couldn't.  He was here to destroy the Dementors for good and for all, to rid the world of them.  To spare Harry the pain of being near them.  But more than that - more than that - he was here to obliterate them so that he would know, in the pit of his soul, that they would never find him again.  Never keep him cold and haunted and shivering in agony in the corner of a cell, unable to fight, unable to concentrate.  He wanted them gone.  Dead.  Forever.  He had never realized the depths of his desire, but stepping foot on this god-forsaken shore brought his fury to life.  His fury and his terror, and his loss.  His unbearable, unsalvageable loss.

If magic was truly a manifestation of will, as Dumbledore had told him many times, then this was going to work.

He didn't dare look towards the sky, where the dragons were circling; Harry might recognize his face. If the riders noticed his hood from above, he wanted them to think he was a Dementor.  Grasping his wand in one hand, Sirius pushed the window open with his other.  Paint crumbled from the rotting wood into his hand, and he brushed it off on his robes.  His head started to pound.  He could feel them now.  He knew too much about the way they worked - he knew that they could sense him.  Knew that they wanted what he could give them.  He stood frozen to the ground, already paralyzed by their presence.

Fight it.  You've fought it before.

But it was impossible to stop the shadows of the past.  They crept forward from the corners where he so carefully kept them, spilling from the tight, dark places at the back of his mind and making pictures in his consciousness.  Lily and James.  Hagrid.  Peter.  The sounds of maddened prisoners all around him, wailing like infants, begging for their freedom. For relief. 

You are not a prisoner any longer.

It didn't matter.  The Dementors had a hold on him so deep that he was overwhelmed by their proximity; he leaned against the outside of the guard hut and groaned. 

"If you're going to be sick, Black, then do it in the other direction."  Snape's voice had been not-at-all comforting as Sirius had bent over, feeling like he might retch on the silent Hogwarts lawns.  "I suppose that being trusted with a duty of this magnitude makes you nauseated."

"I'll tell you what makes me nauseated," Sirius had rasped, balancing his hands on his knees and trying not to vomit.  He couldn't believe that Minerva had partnered him with Snape to guard the castle perimeter, while Remus had been sent with Arthur towards the Forbidden Forest.  It had been the day of Harry's commencement - Voldemort's final opportunity to fulfill his promise that he would kill him at Hogwarts before he left school - and every member of the Order had prepared to be summoned at the slightest disturbance.   The only disturbance Sirius felt had been physical… but the sensations had been disturbingly familiar. 

"I'm not ill, I -" Sirius had stopped and his stomach had hitched.  He had heaved once, but nothing had come out. 

"Charming."  Snape had taken several steps away in obvious distaste.  "She should have paired me with the werewolf.  You're clearly going to be useless."

"I'm dizzy."

"My sympathies."

Sirius had stood up and glared at him, ignoring the pain in his gut.  "Look, you stupid bastard, I'm not ill.  I have a… strong feeling…" His throat had gone dry and he had fought for balance.  "Dementors," he had finally said.  "Nearby."

Snape had pulled his wand and peered down the lawns, towards the gates.  "They're here then," he said softly.  He did not look afraid.  "I wondered if he would make good on his word to do it here."

"He's not going to do anything here," Sirius had said vehemently, trying to ignore the horrible, clammy feeling that had settled on his skin.

"Oh, but he is."  A cold smile had flickered across Snape's hook-nosed face.  "Win or lose, there will be… significant damage."  He had looked almost satisfied, and his fingers had clenched more tightly around his wand.  "You are certain you sense the Dementors?"

Sirius forced himself into the present.  He sensed the Dementors here and now, and if he didn't keep his wits about him, they would take him by surprise.  Twelve years had practiced him in the art of keeping sane by clinging to one thought - one truth - and he had to do it now.  Had to find something to wrap his consciousness around.  For years it had been his innocence, and then, at the end, he had narrowed his mind to think only of Peter.  Peter and Harry.  The desire to destroy Peter and protect Harry.  For months he had repeated one mantra, and that focus, however mad it had been, had saved him from sinking into oblivion.

"He's at Hogwarts," Sirius whispered now - any thought to get his strength back - and his mouth moved effortlessly around the familiar words.  "He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts…" A strange sort of relief came almost at once; protecting Harry was the right thought.  Keeping his mind on Harry would make this possible - Sirius concentrated his energy on that.  He was here for Harry.  This was his duty.  To test this spell, to prove that it was ready for use so that the Ministry would use it, and to end the half-lives of the creatures who kept Harry from beginning his life.  James and Lily had given their lives to ensure their son's survival, but survival wasn't good enough.  They would have wanted him to live.

Quickly, before he could lose his energy, Sirius went over the spell in his head and conjured the map in his brain.  It will only take a minute, he reminded himself.  If he cast the spell quickly, then he wouldn't have to suffer long. 

Several yards away on the rocks, two guards continued to argue about shells and bones on the Azkaban shore.  They did not notice when Sirius Black climbed through the window and disappeared into the guard station.

*

Harry's stomach grumbled and he reached into his pocket for the cheese sandwich he'd made that morning.   He finished it in three mouthfuls and reached into his other pocket for the bag of pumpkin crisps.  Just one more hour, he reminded himself, yawning.  His body seemed to be full of cement; he wanted nothing more than to slump back in his harness and pass out.  But he could hold his eyes open for one more hour.

Another Dementor came gliding forth from the direction of Joe's skyscape, but Joe was over by Mick, helping him with the throng of Dementors who had decided to take advantage of the guards' shift change.  Harry sent Norbert into a dive towards the Dementor, glad that there was only one.  It was odd though - Dementors didn't usually come through the doors near the guard station - and upon closer inspection, Harry realized that it wasn't the only one, after all.  There were several others hovering along the shore, their hoods turned towards the guard station.  They were not moving towards the water, however, and Harry was grateful for that.  He swooped closer to the one that was escaping and gathered his strength for another Patronus.

Norbert's energy alone was enough to send the Dementor gliding backwards to he guard station.  Harry didn't even have to raise his wand.  Norbert gave a mighty snort, as if he knew that he had done something right, and Harry had to smile through his exhaustion.  He thought he was probably as fond of Norbert as Hagrid had been, and he was grateful to Ginny for restoring his natural personality.  The Healing had made an amazing difference.  She really was amazing. 

Harry reached again for the letter in his pocket, both sick and excited at the idea of telling her so.  More sick than excited.  He knew he couldn't.  Yet.

But he suddenly had the energy for another Patronus, and so he picked up his Omnioculars and scanned the prison shore, unsettled by what he saw.  Dozens more Dementors had come to at the doors and windows of the prison, all of them facing the guard station.  Harry wondered if they were up to something - if they were planning some kind of massive escape, or if they even knew enough to plan a thing like that.  He took note of two guards already on shore; they stood together on an outcropping of rocks.

It was quiet and calm at the moment, but that meant nothing.  Trusting his instincts, Harry urged Norbert to go lower, and he tapped his wand to his throat.  "Keep an eye out," he called to the guards, whose heads snapped up.  At the sight of him, they both looked awed, and Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  They'd worked here for a week.  He wished they'd stop looking at him like that.

"No problem, Mr. Potter," one of them called back, but the sound was nearly carried away in the wind.  He turned red and tapped his own throat with his wand.  "NO PROBLEM, MR. POTTER," he repeated hastily.

Harry shrugged and nodded, not sure how to respond.  He turned his attention back to the Dementors and narrowed his eyes.  More of them had already gathered, and they were pressing closer to the guard station.  Something was happening.  He only hoped that he would be able to sort it out before it went out of control.  "Mick," he said, after he activated the Communication Charm.  "Joe.  Come here for a minute, there's something wrong."

*

It was dim in the guard station; the only light filtered in through the window, and lit the room in a dusty shaft.  It was almost like sunset, although it was only three o'clock.  Sirius backed against the wall and pulled his wand, squinting into the dark corners of the room until he saw them.  His heart began to race.

"I sense them."  Sirius had marshaled every scrap of his self-control.  If it was going to happen now - if the Dark army had finally chosen their moment - then there was no room for weakness.  They could not succumb - he could not succumb.  Not now that they had all come this far.

"Is that… Weasley?"  Snape sounded honestly bewildered.  It was a tone Sirius had never heard from Snape; he had followed Snape's gaze down towards the gates and tensed with apprehension.

Even from that far away, the Weasley hair had been hard to miss.  It had been too short to be Ginny's hair and the person had been taller than Ginny - it had to be Ron.  But why had he strayed so far from the castle?  What had brought him to the gates?

"He was told to stay with Potter."  Snape had glanced up at the windows of the Great Hall, and real anxiety had creased his face.  "Foolish.  Always foolish…" He had begun to stride away from the castle's perimeter and towards the gates, a look of determination on his face.  "Alert the Order.  Now."

Sirius hadn't needed the direction; he had already been muttering the spell that would bring the Order to Hogwarts, and he strode with Snape towards the bottom of the lawns, preparing himself for whatever was coming.  The closer they had come to the gates, the more acutely aware Sirius became of the Dementors - there must have been an army of them - though it had been June, the air had been damp and chilled, and he had felt disturbingly at home in it.  Azkaban. 

Azkaban was in the present - he was here.  He had to concentrate.  There was no time for the shadows of the past, but they had suddenly gained abnormal strength and power, as horror always did when Dementors were near.  Sirius panted and worked to clear his mind.  He pressed his back to the wall and fought down the bile that threatened to rise.

Three Dementors.  In front of him.  Sirius's vision began to blur - he thought he had prepared, but the closeness of the creatures was more than he could bear.  He wiped his forehead - his sweat was cold - and an old, inescapable anguish washed over him.  He knew that he only had seconds to work.

The Dementors stayed in their corner, the dark sockets of their hoods turned towards Sirius as if they were studying him.  Perhaps they were so ill that they had truly confused him for another Dementor. 

Taking advantage of the pause, Sirius raised his wand.  The Dementors turned their enormous cloaked heads towards one another in silent communication. 

"Do I know you?" Sirius taunted, his voice very low.  "Were either of you good enough to be guards in my section?  I was a high security prisoner."

The Dementors remained still.  And then, slowly, very slowly, one of them began to lift his arm.   A bony, gray, slimy hand protruded from the sleeve of the decaying robes and pointed straight at Sirius. 

The floor seemed to disappear from under him and he could feel tears falling from his eyes. 

A cacophony of voices from very far away spiraled closer and closer to Sirius.  It came from inside his head and from the main gates of Hogwarts.  He had transformed and bounded closer to the gates, just in time to see them fly open in an explosion of horrible green light.  The Dark army had broken through. 

"NO!" Sirius shouted.  He steadied his wand.  "Expulso Animus!"  The guardhouse filled with a bright, bright light.

The lights were coming from the Dementors.  Spots appeared on their robes as bright pinpricks of light emanated from them and shot towards the ceiling.  The dots grew less distinct as everything began to blur together and concentrate around the Dementors, and a rush of unnatural warmth filled the room.  For a moment, Sirius was exhilarated.  The spell must be working.  The souls they had swallowed were bursting free, and the Dementors would be left without life.  And if it worked on these Dementors then it would work on the rest of them - maniacal laughter erupted from Sirius's throat and he watched in furious satisfaction as the lights began to die.  As the Dementors died.  And he had killed them, he had destroyed them.  He, who had more right than anyone to make them suffer.

For one last moment, the light was so bright that the Dementors looked almost like statues, and then the light exploded towards the walls and ceiling, clearing a dark space around the three hooded figures that still stood, their hoods focused on Sirius. 

Sirius held his breath and waited, not sure what he was waiting for.  Would they collapse, would they vanish, would their robes crumble into dust?

But none of those things happened; in fact, nothing happened at all.  Sirius wondered if the Dementors were frozen, or petrified - perhaps he had merely paralyzed them.  That would be a beginning.

And then, from the darkness within the nimbus of light, there was a low, rattling moan.  The Dementors tilted up their faceless hoods and, to Sirius's horror, the life force he had expelled from them began to rush back into their rotting mouths, draining the room of all light, filling them again with what they needed to survive. 

It hadn't worked.  The spell was not strong enough.  Sirius began to shake - they had survived and he was trapped here with them.  He had to Disapparate - but no, of course.  He couldn't Disapparate from here.  He gave a breathless, terrified laugh, and quickly launched himself towards the window, but gave a cry of terror and backed away from it at once.  Through it, he could see a crowd of hooded creatures, waiting for him - starving for him - sucking the remaining light from the room and stealing it from their fellows. 

They'd Kiss him next.

Sirius turned back on the three Dementors, trembling from head to foot, and could not stop the moan that broke from him.  "No…" he whimpered, and his wand hand faltered and dropped to his side.  He had been such a fool.  "Nooooo…" He had to defend himself - had to try a Patronus at least - but he could not piece together a single thought.  He could do nothing but watch in panic and abhorrence as the Dementors began to glide towards him, reaching up their bony hands to push back their hoods.

*

Harry hovered above the shoreline, craning to see over Norbert's enormous back so that he could watch the Dementors.  Their strange behavior chilled him; they were crowded around the hut, and Harry could have sworn that he had just seen a light pour through the window to which their hoods were pressed. 

"What's happening, Potter?" Mick shouted.  He and Joe had steered around to this side of the island, leaving their sections to the guards.

"I don't know..." 

Harry's voice trailed off.  From below, he heard a sickening sort of wail.  He had never heard a Dementor make a noise like that, and a cold stab in his gut told him that it wasn't a Dementor at all.  It was… it had to be a human.  One of the guards, perhaps - had the Dementors dragged one of them into the prison, in order to feed on him?  The thought made Harry ill.  He watched as the two guards on the rocky outcropping turned and ran towards the guard station - apparently they had heard the noise - but they stopped dead when they saw how many Dementors they were up against.

"Effractum Domus!"  It was a man's voice, hoarse and panicked, coming from within the guard station.  "Corruo Moenia!  Corruo Domus!"

"EMERGENCY," Harry shouted, activating the Communication Charm so that everyone at the dragon camp would hear him.  "EVERYONE OUT HERE NOW!"

"What's happening, Harry?"  Charlie's voice was immediately in his ear, but Harry couldn't answer - he had to concentrate. 

There was a terrible noise, and the roof came flying off of the guard station.  It shot into the air and over Harry's head, landing in the choppy waters behind him.  Weak beams of light trailed out of the hut as its four walls collapsed.   It only took a moment for the dust to settle.  The floor to the guard station was all that remained, and it was bathed in a sickly green light.  The guards on the ground inched closer to it, and Harry pulled on his Omnioculars again. 

There were four Dementors in the guard station.  One of them crouched low to the ground, covering its head with its sleeves while the other three made a circle around it.  Dozens of others began to glide over the ruins of the shattered station walls, closer to the surrounded Dementor.  From a healthy distance, the two guards began to shoot Patronuses at the Dementors, but they seemed to have little effect. 

Harry couldn't understand it.  There was no man after all - were the Dementors trying to Kiss one of their own?  Were they capable of spells - of speech, when threatened?  Was the rumor that they'd start eating each other going to come true?  Harry felt a glimmer of hope at the thought that the Dementors might actually be on the way to destroying themselves - and then the crouching Dementor fell backwards.

It wasn't a Dementor at all.  It was a man.  A man with dark hair and pale skin, whom Harry had seen like this before.  Just like this.  His face was slack.  He was unconscious.  And they were all around him.

Harry thought he was going to be sick. 

Without a second thought, he unfastened his harness, grabbed his Firebolt, and sped towards his godfather.

*

Sirius could not fight.  He lay motionless, watching the worst moments of his life flash like a Kinolia, making pictures against his closed eyelids.  Remus, staring at him in unconcealed disgust when he discovered who had let Snape into the Whomping Willow.  James's face, pale and wide-eyed, lying amongst the ruins of his house.  Lily, collapsed on the floor of the nursery.  Peter's empty-eyed leer in the middle of the Muggle street where Sirius had given away his freedom.   The gates of Hogwarts bursting open to admit a host of evil - Ron Weasley's obvious hair disappearing into the onrush of Death Eaters, giants, Dementors…

"Ron!" Sirius had shouted, but the noise was too great and the army too dense.  Knowing that he had little time - if any - to get to Ron, Sirius had transformed, ready to bound in among the Dark wizards. 

It had been too late.  His way through had been blocked, and members of the Order had already advanced from the Forbidden Forest and begun to fight, making it impossible for Padfoot to see what was happening beyond them.  He could tell that many of the Order were having problems with the fact that so many of the enemy appeared to be students - but the students were vicious… and where had they all come from so quickly?  Still panicked for Ron's sake, Padfoot had turned and bounded up the lawns between them, amazed at how many seemed to have turned on their fellows.  Students had been leading students, who had appeared paralyzed, out of Hogwarts in long lines.  The frozen students' eyes were wide and some of the younger ones were sobbing silently - Padfoot had searched among them for Harry, and seen him nowhere.

As he had continued to run towards the castle's entrance, Death Eaters had swarmed around the perimeter of the castle and raised their wands.  As Padfoot had looked on, unable to prevent it, the ceiling of the Great Hall had started to collapse.  The ground beneath his paws had begun to shake.

And then there had been a terrible crashing noise, followed by a high-pitched scream of suffering. 

Don't let it be Harry…

But it couldn't have been Harry, for moments later, Harry had appeared in the entrance doors, along with Hermione and Ron -  

Ron.  Ron had flung the doors open.  Padfoot had stared for a moment at the shock of red hair, unable to comprehend it, and then, knowing that he needed all his faculties, he had transformed again into Sirius and pulled his wand.  If Ron was with Harry, then who had the Dark Army absorbed, down at the gates?

It hadn't mattered.  The war - possibly the end of the war - had begun around him, and everywhere his help was needed; Sirius turned to free the first frozen student he saw, but before he could take a step his legs locked and he toppled forward.

"Haven't seen you since Azkaban, Black."  Lestrange had stood over him, laughing. 

Azkaban.  That's where I am now.  Sirius tried to force himself to open his eyes, but he couldn't.   Something clammy and revolting brushed his cheek.  It was over.  His soul belonged to them.

"And I haven't seen you since Percy Weasley's murder, Lestrange."  Snape had appeared behind him, and Sirius had never been so glad to see his sallow face.  He held the tip of his wand to Lestrange's throat, and if Sirius hadn't known better, he would have thought that Snape was smiling. 

"A pity we won't be spending more time together in the future, Severus."  Lestrange seemed to have forgotten about Sirius for the moment.  Sirius had struggled to sit up on the lawn, but a hex kept him still, and Snape must have seen it. 

In a flash, Snape had taken his wand from Lestrange's neck and muttered a counter-curse, but before he could regain his advantage, Lestrange whirled on him, wand out, and threw a curse so violent that Sirius feared for Snape's life.

"Lacero!"

Snape had deflected it and stepped aside, his breath coming quickly, his black eyes alight.  "A valiant effort," he had hissed, and beckoned for Lestrange to try again.  "What else?"

Sirius had staggered to his feet and pulled his wand, but it was too late.  Lestrange's mouth had already been open in a curse.

"Minuo!"

Snape had already been laughing as the curse had flown back on Lestrange, who had begun to bleed from the nose and ears.  "Have we had this duel?  I seem to remember… ah yes.  The day we were Marked."  Snape had leered.  "But you must have learned something since then.  Or didn't they teach you new tricks in Azkaban?"

Lestrange had made a noise of animal fury, his dank hair swinging across his forehead, blood running in rivulets past his mouth and dripping onto his robes.  "Excorio!" he had howled.

Snape had sent up a shield with such efficiency that Sirius had been grudgingly impressed, and again the curse had deflected on Lestrange, whose skin had begun to peel at his hairline, exposing the red flesh beneath, as if his whole face was a mask about to be removed.  But he had raised his wand again, his eyes burning.

Sirius had held up his wand to help Snape block whatever else was coming, but Snape had only shaken his head.

"Go, Black.  I have things to discuss with my old friend." 

And, as the battle had raged around them, Snape and Lestrange had continued to duel, backing each other down the lawns and back towards the gates, locked in combat.  Sirius had known that he had to move - to help the others - to join the fight - but he had watched Snape go until he could not see him.  Until the chalk-white, insufferably arrogant face had disappeared into the raging ring of Dark wizards at the Hogwarts gates.

Until he had heard Harry calling for him… calling his name…

*

"Sirius!  SIRIUS!" Harry shouted from his broomstick, but Sirius did not stir.  "Expecto Patronum!  Expecto Patronum!  EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He soared down behind the Dementors.  Ignoring the danger, he plunged in between them, but they seemed impervious to his spells; Harry had never seen the Dementors so resistant – they must have been so starved for human emotion that they were refusing to disperse.

"Come on, Dad, help him," he muttered to himself. "Come on, Prongs - Expecto PATRONUM!"  That one seemed to have more of an effect; the silver stag charged towards the Dementors, and they made a collective move backwards, but made no effort to flee.

Harry landed on a pile of splintered wood beside Sirius, and turned towards the Dementor closest to his godfather.  A familiar, horrible feeling gnawed at his stomach and his head throbbed.  He was cold and ill. He was going to faint; there were too many of them.  Deep in his head, his mother began to scream, and there was nothing he could do to banish her voice.  The Dementors hadn't affected him this badly in a long time, but then, he hadn't faced them without Norbert.  The auras of the dragons must have been incredible, to keep this much of the terror at bay.

Happy thought.  He had to find one.  Something joyful - anything - Harry searched himself in a panic, desperate to save Sirius. In his mind he saw his godfather, his head thrown back in the car park of the cinema, laughing fit to burst.  Harry clung to the image; Sirius would live through this.  Sirius would come out of this, and they would go together on another Black and Potter prank - yes - Harry's nausea lifted; the necessary space cleared in his mind -

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he cried, and the Dementors in front of him were blasted away by the force of the Patronus he produced. 

Harry whirled, putting himself between his godfather and the rest of the Dementors.  But he didn't know how much more he would be able to help.  He had very little energy left.  He began to sway, and he fought to keep his footing, but the world was becoming a blur.  Between the Dementors' gathered, hulking robes, Harry saw the choppy water crashing against the rocks… saw the guards doing their best to drive off the outer ring of Dementors and work their way to the center… saw what looked like an army of wizards and witches on broomsticks rocketing towards the prison, Charlie at their head. 

"Expecto… Patronum…" Harry managed, as the Dementors crushed towards him, knocking him back.  He stumbled and fell, landing just in front of where Sirius had collapsed, and he crawled backwards, trying to hold out his wand as he protected his godfather with his body.  "Expecto Patronum…

But Prongs had deserted him.  Harry tried to concentrate, but could not.  Far away, he heard the shouts of Charlie and the other dragon keepers.  They sounded terrified.  But Harry wasn't terrified at all… he was resigned.  The fog in his head was growing thicker… the voices of his friends were growing dimmer… daylight was spiraling away…. was it his mind losing consciousness?  Harry only knew that it was suddenly very dark, and that it smelled like rancid meat, and that his wrist had been clasped by something bony and frozen, and that what felt like a skinless finger was lifting his chin…

"Not Harry… please not Harry…"

"HARRY!"

Harry couldn't answer Charlie now.  The stench of decay filled his nostrils and something cold and damp touched his mouth.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry gasped and stumbled.  A dragon, wide and warm and silver, blasted its way between his body and the Dementor that had been about to Kiss him.  It forced the Dementor several yards back, allowing Harry time to recover his wits and roll onto his hands and knees, and then it swooped upwards and vanished into thin air. 

Harry gripped his wand and pushed himself to his feet, squinting after the dragon and wondering how it had disappeared so quickly.  It took him a moment to realize that it was not a dragon at all - it was Charlie's Patronus - before it swooped to shore again and pushed the Dementors further away. 

And it was not the only one.  Harry heard Cho's voice, and Viktor's, and Mick's, mingling with dozens of others.  And all around him he saw explosions of silver light - another dragon, a giant eagle, a Manticore -

The Dementors were scattering.  The circle around Harry and Sirius was growing wider, and Harry was grabbed beneath the arms and hauled onto a stretcher.  He was strapped onto the back of a mediwizard's broom before he knew what had happened.

"Who is that?" someone demanded.

"Sirius Black."  Charlie sounded baffled.

"Is he alive?" Cho asked anxiously, and Harry craned his head to watch as Sirius was hauled onto another mediwizarding broom and buckled flat to a stretcher.

"What was he thinking?" Mick asked. 

"He really is mad, isn't he?" said someone else.

"Guess there's some truth to those stories…"

The voices died out as the mediwizard's broom lifted into the air, and all Harry could hear for the next several minutes was the wind that blew across him.  When they landed, they floated him into the medical tent and lifted from the stretcher to a bed.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the same thing was being done to Sirius.

Harry sat up and swung his legs out of bed.

"Mr. Potter, please -" the mediwizard began, but Harry got to his feet and crossed to the bed where Sirius was lying, still unconscious.

"Sirius?" he said, reaching out to feel Sirius's forehead.  It was almost as gray as his robes and was icy-cold to the touch.  "Sirius? Wake up."

Several dragon keepers were standing around, discussing what to do next, but Harry blocked out their voices and concentrated on trying to wake Sirius.

"Here!  Take this." Cho stood behind Harry – he didn't know how long she'd been there.  She held out a large bar of chocolate. 

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the bar from her and unwrapping it.  His hands were shaking, and he was surprised to realize that he was angry.  Relief was not his uppermost emotion.  He didn't need to ask what had happened - he knew that Sirius was insane enough to try that spell of Hermione's without telling anyone, and there was no other explanation for Sirius's sudden appearance in the guard station.  He hadn't arrived at Azkaban by accident.  Not this time.

"You need to eat this," Harry said, shaking Sirius's shoulder.  "You need to wake up and eat this now."

Sirius groaned, but his eyes did not open. "Harry?" he mumbled.

"Eat this," Harry repeated.  "Don't talk."  He broke off a piece of chocolate and stuffed it into Sirius's mouth. 

Sirius swallowed, and his eyes flickered open.  "It didn't work, did it?" he asked weakly.  "They're… still alive."

"Yes, they're bloody still alive, Sirius!" Harry glared down at the lunatic on the bed.  He heard people whispering behind him, and he turned.  "He's all right!  Just leave me with him."

For a minute, everyone stared at him without moving, and then - "Come on," Cho said, shepherding the other wizards away from Harry and Sirius.  "They're okay, let's leave them for a bit."

Harry shot her a grateful look.  When everyone was out of earshot, he turned and broke off another piece of the chocolate bar.  Sirius, who was now propped up on his elbows, and still rather gray, looked sick at the sight of more chocolate, but he ate it without protest and immediately looked much better.  He sat up.

"I thought they were going to kill you," Harry said.  His fingers were shaking.  He half-flung the rest of the chocolate at Sirius, pulled his wand and Summoned a chair from across the tent.  It flew over with twice the necessary force and clattered to the floor.  Harry sank into it.  "Are you going to tell me what you were doing?"

"I thought I'd – " Sirius choked in mid-swallow and cleared his throat. "I thought I'd worked out a way to destroy them."

"And you just thought you'd come and try it now, for fun?  Without telling anyone? Just swim out to Azkaban and have a go at the Dementors because you thought you'd worked it out?"  Harry knew he sounded unhinged, but there was no other way to be.  "Are you stupid?  Are you mad?"

Sirius winced and touched his temples.  "Yes," he muttered. 

"Yes," Harry agreed vehemently.  "You are.  We fought a war - you're the one who told me never to go in alone, you never go in alone, did you forget that?  Didn't you just give Ginny a lecture on that?"

Sirius sat there, his shoulders bent, rubbing his head.  He didn't answer.

"What's the matter with everyone lately?"  Harry gave a hysterical laugh.  "I can't - you can't die, do you understand that?  You can't die."

Sirius moved a hand over his face and pressed his thumb and fingers to his closed eyelids.

"My dad left me to you.  Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Sirius barely whispered.

But Harry wasn't finished.  The dark thing that had begun to unravel in his heart in front of Ginny, weeks ago, was thrashing again.  Begging to be seen and heard.  "Both of you," he spat.  "Idiots.  Her going to Malfoy's, you going into Azkaban - what's next?  Hermione jumps off a building and Ron drowns himself?"

"Harry…"

"Just shut up."  He was furious.  "What the hell is wrong with you?  Do you want to die?"

Sirius turned and looked at him.  "Of course not," he said faintly.

"Well too bad, you'll be dead soon," Harry shot.  "Remus is going to kill you."

Some of Sirius's color came back and he gave a choked sort of laugh.

Harry swung out blindly and hit Sirius hard in the shoulder before he'd thought about it.  "You think this is funny?" he shouted.  "Yeah?"

"Harry – " Sirius said, swiping Harry's hand away and grabbing his shoulder.  "Listen to me, I'm being serious.  I know it was stupid, but this was for you.  Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"

Harry shook Sirius off and sat back.  He ran a hand through his hair.  "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means you look old," Sirius turned to sit on the edge of the bed and setting his feet on the floor.  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.  "You look older than your father ever looked, and you're younger than he was when he died.  You look like hell.  You act like hell.  The Dementors are affecting you –"

Harry gave another mad laugh.  "Affecting me?  Yeah, well that's probably because they nearly Kissed me just now."

Sirius went gray again.  "Nearly Kissed…"

"That's right.  What did you think was going to happen if you tried a stunt like this on my shift?  I went down there to get you, and one of them grabbed me by the face and you're right.  It had an effect."

For a moment, it seemed that Sirius was going to be sick.

"Look, just forget it."  Harry snorted.  "There's no point getting upset now.  We're both alive.  Thank Charlie Weasley for that."

Sirius shut his eyes for a moment and put his hand over them again.  "I will," he said huskily, after a moment.  "I'm…I suppose there's no point in telling you that I am sorry."

"Not really," Harry said mercilessly.  "You might tell the others, though.  It took about twenty people to drive back the Dementors after what you did, and they all risked themselves."

Sirius looked paler with every word, but Harry didn't care.  He was going to get this out.

"You know, I might look like hell, but at least I'm not a suicidal maniac."

"I'm not -" Sirius began, sitting up straight.

"You are.  You're insane.  Going down there by yourself with an untested spell -"

Sirius looked desperate.  "It was time.  The Dementors have to be -"

"Sirius, no one disagrees that the Dementors are a problem.  Everyone would like to see them destroyed.  But Mr. Weasley told you that other things had to be dealt with first -"

Sirius made a derisive noise.  "Other things," he said mockingly, and Harry wanted to hit him again.

"Don't talk about Arthur Weasley in front of me," he said coldly.  "Not one word.  Be as stupid as you like, but don't try blaming him for it.  He's brilliant.  He's been more of a father to me than anyone else ever has and I won't let anyone -" Harry felt his throat closing.

Sirius looked struck to the heart.

"Sirius.  Harry.  Good afternoon, both of you." 

Harry turned in his chair so fast that he almost knocked himself over.  Mr. Weasley stood between the open flaps of the tent, his fingertips steepled in front of his mouth.  He wore long, dark blue robes, a crooked, formal hat, and a grave expression.  He gave Harry a quiet nod, then fixed his eyes on Sirius and studied him from across the room, looking more truly like the Minister of Magic than Harry had ever seen him. 

He wondered how much Mr. Weasley had heard.

Sirius seemed to be wondering the same thing; Harry turned back to look at his godfather and was startled by the expression on his face.  Sirius looked apprehensive, afraid of punishment, and very, very young.  Harry had the distinct feeling that he was looking not at a man, but at a boy from Hogwarts.

"A-Arthur -" Sirius tried to stand.

"You had better sit."  Mr. Weasley dropped his hands to his sides and turned his gaze back to Harry.  "All right, Harry?" he asked quietly.

Harry nodded.

"That was a very brave thing you did," he said, and lay a hand on Harry's shoulder.  "Thank you."

Harry's shoulders relaxed under the comforting pressure.  "All right."

"Arthur, I'm sorry - " Sirius burst out.  "I didn't think."

Mr. Weasley looked at Sirius.  "I hope not," he said, still quietly.  "I would hate to believe that you considered the situation for even one minute before risking as many lives as you did.  I would prefer to believe that you temporarily lost your mind."

"He did," Harry muttered.

"Harry."  Mr. Weasley held up a hand to silence him.  "Let Sirius explain himself to me."

Sirius opened his mouth, and his expression was a familiar mix of defensiveness, self-righteousness and scorn.  But to Harry's surprise, before Sirius could get a word out, his eyes dimmed, his mouth closed, and he shook his head miserably.  "There's no explanation," he managed.  "I don't know what I… I thought I could…destroy them."

Mr. Weasley was silent for a moment.  "This is difficult," he said.  "I can't deny that I have a very personal reaction… for Charlie's sake, and Harry's.  And yours.  Not to mention the fact that I have trusted you to look after my son and daughter."

Harry glanced at Sirius and saw that he looked sicker than ever.

"But my reasons for suspending you from the Ministry are entirely professional," Mr. Weasley continued.  "Make no mistake about that."

Sirius's mouth fell open.  "Suspending me?" he repeated.  "Arthur, please, you can't - there's so much I need to -"

"I have to." Mr. Weasley looked grimly at him.  "Do you think I want to?  Do you think that it will make things simpler for me to organize and control?  I need you there, Sirius.  But you have trespassed on high-security grounds, you have impersonated a Dark creature, you flouted the mandate of the Privy Council - not to mention the Minister - that no action is to be taken against the Dementors without their full approval."

Harry's head spun as Mr. Weasley continued to list infractions.

"You have recklessly endangered employees of the Ministry.  You have endangered yourself.  And you are in direct violation of Misuse of Magic Code 50, Article 13 - no wizard shall publicly practice undeveloped and unsanctioned magic.  You have shown poor judgment all around.  How can I allow you to continue the trials of Death Eaters without first serving any punishment?"

"Punishment?" Harry asked at once, his stomach cold.  "What do you - you don't mean he has to go to -"

"These are not crimes worthy of Culparrat," Mr. Weasley assured him.  "But… they are crimes.  You are suspended, Sirius."

"For how long?" Sirius demanded.

"Until further notice." Mr. Weasley's disappointment was evident in his eyes.  "I will discuss it with several people and determine what is just.  Until then…I suggest you consider your actions and make amends to those you could easily have hurt."  He sighed, and his eyes grew gentler.  "You have every right to hate them, Sirius.  I don't pretend to understand what you suffered at their hands.  And I am sorry that they are still alive, for your sake."

Sirius looked away.  He gave a very faint nod.

"I will inform you when a decision has been reached."  Mr. Weasley went towards the tent flaps.  "Get some rest, both of you."  He left them alone.

The tent was silent for several minutes, and then Sirius got to his feet. "I'm going home," he said.  Harry could barely hear him.  "I'm so sorry, Harry, I'm so…" Sirius looked helplessly at him.  "I know it doesn't make a difference," he muttered, and pulled his wand to Disapparate.

"Wait," Harry said quickly.

Sirius lowered his wand and went still.

Harry stood and faced his godfather.  Sirius was taller, and technically he was older - the lines on his face were testament to that.  But he still looked strangely young, and Harry thought how truly young he was.  Or immature, at least.  Sirius had never had an opportunity to grow up.  He had been in school during a war too.  And before it had ended, before he had ever had an opportunity to think of anything else, he had been thrown in Azkaban, where he had learned nothing but fear and horror and revenge.  He had escaped - but only in time to fight another war - and now…

Now they were on equal footing.  Neither of them had had much time to get used to the real world, and both of them had done some stupid things.  And, Harry realized, he was no longer angry with Sirius.  Not really.  There was no point, now that Mr. Weasley had punished him. 

"It's all right," Harry said, into the silence.  "You don't have to apologize.  I'm… just glad you're all right."

Sirius bowed his head. 

"I'm sorry you're suspended."

"I deserve it," Sirius said harshly, not looking up.  "But the rest of the Ministry doesn't.  Ron doesn't - he's going to have twice the work.  I didn't think.  I didn't think."

"Yeah, well.  It… happens." Harry thought back on the times when he had done thoughtless, reckless things.  "But don't worry about me, all right?  We're…" He wasn't quite sure how to put it.  "We're all right, Sirius."

Sirius looked up at him.  "Yeah?" he asked, sounding no older than Harry was.

"Yeah."

A smile flickered across Sirius's face and then he was grim again.  "Thank you for what you did," he said.  "For… saving my life."  He shook his head.  "I'm sorry, Harry, I don't know what I -"

"Stop," Harry said.  "Forget it.  We're fine, all right?  I never thanked you for Expecto Sacrificum, so… we're even."

Sirius glanced at him and looked oddly hesitant.  "Does it… bother you, when I tell you how much you're like your dad?" he asked.

Harry's heart swelled, as it always did when the comparison was made.  "It's the best thing you can tell me."

Sirius nodded, and then he narrowed his eyes and gave Harry a very funny look.  "I just had a thought," he said.  "I… don't know if you'll go for it."

Harry waited.

"Instead of a prank… next time we do a Black and Potter…" Sirius looked as if he didn't quite know how to say it.  "Have you ever been to Godric's Hollow?  I mean - since you left it?"

Harry's heart began to beat fast and hard.  "No," he whispered.

"Would you… want to…"

"Yes," Harry said quickly.  "Yes, I want to."

Sirius nodded.  "All right," he said, and though his voice was dry, his eyes were rather wet.  "We'll do that.  I'd… better go and… talk to Remus."

Harry's chest was tight.  "Good luck," he managed.

Sirius gave him a fleeting smile, and raised his wand.  "See you later, Harry," he said, and Disapparated.