Disclaimer: Cuz everyone's doing it… J.K. Rowling and various publishers own the rights to Harry Potter and the characters within. I'm not making any money off of this. You could try to sue, but you have to find me first!

Chapter 4

A Close Call

I never was a patient boy. I'm definitely not a patient man. So why am I sitting here playing this game?

I can't say, either. Guess it's another mark Azkaban left on my psyche. I'm not a patient man, but I know how to bide my time. Know how to wait until the halls are empty and the silence is so loud there's no way I can break it; know how to sit still until it's time to move and then run and bite and shred…dementer flesh tastes like death…and run again.

And if you haven't realized I was out of my head by now, there's your final clue.

So I sit and bide my time and play these cards until it's time for me to act, until I can run to Harry's side in a blaze of glory, and, if I'm lucky, die in one too. What do I have to offer the boy besides my life for his?

Well, cheery note, that. These cards are better than my memories, so I'll play the game patiently and pretend I'm not the same foolish boy anymore. Pretend I never was that boy.

Sirius had thought that the potions NEWT would be the worst of his worries. Although he'd been nervous about all of them, something he'd hotly deny if asked by anyone other than Remus, he'd been telling himself in the back of his mind that if he could just get through potions, the rest would fall into place.

Unfortunately, this was not the case. Though loathe to admit it, Sirius couldn't quite convince himself to pass off Dainspore's strange behavior as some sort of prank or strange fit, no matter how much he wanted to. As a result, valuable library time was spent flipping distractedly through the books of prophecy Peter had brought down from the shelves to study for his own divination exam.

"Don't you have transfiguration tomorrow?" Peter finally asked, tired of stealing his study books back from his friend. "Why are you so interested, anyway? I thought you said divination was all bollocks."

Sirius just shrugged, not wanting to admit the truth. That Dainspore's crazy rantings had gotten to him. With one last glance, he closed Peter's book on the chapter about fraudulent divination and shoved it at the other boy. Sighing, he returned to his own studies. Tranfiguration was too easy; he skimmed through the conclusion of Advanced Molecular Rearrangement in case of an essay question and then picked up Overviews of Elementary Numerological Diagrams with a grimace. Several hours passed in relative silence, until the magical candles began to flicker and Miss Pomperdine approached their table and looked at them over the heavy rim of her glasses and told them library hours were over.

Peter complained about how vague an art divination was as they made their way back to Gryffindor tower. "Really, how can they test us on something that half the books say is fake, and the other half skirt around so vaguely they might as well be instructions for baking biscuits." Peter went into a rant about how much random tossing of ingredients into various chalices of silver or freshly-picked gourds was necessary in divination, and how incredibly unreliable the results of such experiments were. It involved much gesturing and complaining about Dainspore in general so Sirius tuned it out for the most part, adding the occasional comment or grunt at the appropriate places.

It was when Peter began talking about some sort of secret prophecy chamber that Sirius started to pay attention. "Hold up, say that again."

Peter paused mid-sentence. "W-what again?"

"That bit about the room in the Ministry of Secrets. You mean the government takes it seriously?"

Peter seemed a little startled to have the full intensity of one Concentrated Sirius focused on him. He stuttered a little before finding his voice. "It…it's just rumors. Or hearsay. None of the serious divination texts talk about it. Most of the popular texts include it, but only as a brief mention. And even that's so vague it could be anything. I mean, one says it's a huge vault full of ancient scrolls, but another claims it's a chamber that contains the lost Greek Oracle. There's no fact behind it."

"But still, if a lot of books talk about it…" Sirius thought aloud, trailing off mid-sentence. The silence stretched a moment too long and Peter was about to open his mouth to say something reassuring that would wipe the slightly worried look off the other boy's face when Sirius shook his head and grinned a wide grin.

"You're trying to get me all worked up about Dainspore's weird act, aren't you?" he said, poking Peter's arm accusingly. "Trying to get me to buy into all that rubbish. Almost worked, too. Good one, mate."

"Um, yeah," Peter agreed. "Can't fool you."

"But you keep on trying," Sirius said, messing Peter's hair. "That's the marauder spirit! C'mon, we better get back before lights out or Remus won't let us look at his notes."

Peter sighed as Sirius rounded a corner. Sometimes, it was better to let the other boy think what he wanted. Better than an angry Sirius, and definitely better than a scared one. Glancing at Divination in Politics as if to make sure he still held it in his hands, Peter sped up to keep pace with his friend.

Lying awake in bed that night, Sirius listened to the noises of sleep around him. James' occasional muttering, Remus' heavy breaths, Peter's snoring. He wished he could fall asleep as easily as they had, could forget about the NEWTs and Dainspore's weird behavior and the way Annie Braxton had been looking at him from across the table at lunch because he really, really needed to be thinking about his studies at the moment.

His brain, on the other hand, had other ideas. He had listened as his friends' breaths deepened into sleep, heard the crickets grow silent outside Gryffindor Tower and watched the moonlight move along the dorm floor until it disappeared with the setting moon. And he hadn't had one useful thought about Transfiguration the entire time.

He rolled over in bed with a heavy sigh, hoping this time he could find a way to make himself comfortable. He lay with his eyes closed, willing his breathing into patterns of sleep for what seemed like hours to no avail. So he opened his eyes and looked at the clock; 2:27. Two minutes since he'd last checked. Bloody hell.

The problem was Dainspore. Every time he started to drift off, his mind would work its way back to the man's blank stare, his unnatural voice, and the words he'd spoken. Not to mention the utter conviction in James' voice as he said he believed the prophecy. That, more than anything else, worried Sirius. James was, after all, a staunch supporter of the Divination is Rubbish Society. So why would James think that what Dainspore said could be true? What could the teacher have said to James that would make him believe something as completely off the wall as a prophecy could be even remotely true? Because something Dainspore had said had definitely worried James. But James didn't believe in prophecy or anything of the sort. So why would James think that what Dainspore said could be true?

Frustrated, Sirius sat up in bed and looked around the room. If he didn't do something about his spiraling thoughts there was no way he would get any sleep tonight. Even though tomorrow's exam was transfiguration, and Sirius was pretty sure he could do the exam with his wand hand tied behind his back, he really, really didn't want to risk it. Not if it also meant risking his chance at entering Auror training with James. Not to mention that Wednesday's examination was Magical Number Theory and he would definitely be staying late hours in the library to study for that one.

He shook his head to get his mind back on track and spotted Peter's divination books piled up haphazardly on the floor beside the boy's bed. Well, there was one way to convince himself once and for all that Dainspore's words had no meaning. Or at least give himself enough peace of mind to get a few hours sleep before examinations began again. Picking up his wand and muttering a silencing charm as quietly as he could, he slipped out from under his covers and tiptoed his way to Peter's bedside. He called up a light from the tip of his wand and reached down to read the titles.

"Why don't you make up your own?" Sirius froze when Peter spoke, cursing himself silently for being a fool, heart beating wildly in his chest. He hadn't even noticed Peter's snores had stopped.

He dared to take a breath again when Peter muttered something about bread pudding and his nightly racket resumed. Moving quickly, Sirius sifted through the books, barely taking the time to glance at the titles. Peter had said the popular books mentioned the Ministry of Magic room, so Sirius settled on England's Love Affair with Divination and hurried back to his own bed.

Just as he'd expected, it was a load of rubbish. He flipped through the first chapter on tarot and its various adaptations and their effect on the politics with the third and fourth crusades. He tried reading the chapter on persecution of alleged divinators in greater detail, but found himself starting to drift off about half way through. Instead, he skipped forward to the formation of the ministry of magic and several rearrangements of various departments within the divination section in relation to popular practices in current fortune telling technique and the consequential plots and intrigues that attempted to rearrange important celestial….

It was strangely quiet in the dorm. There was none of the usual morning ruckus; no alarm clocks going off every five minutes, no rustling of clothes or dropping of shoes, no half-mumbled curses. For a moment, Sirius thought he was back in his flat in London, wasting away his summer working double shifts at the shady pub downstairs.

Then he noticed the curtains pulled around his bed. There was nothing of the sort in his run-down summer flat. Hell, he didn't even have a bed, really, just an old mattress James had given him laid out on the floor. And then he realized his face felt funny, numb, as though it had been squished. Lifting his head, he realized he'd fallen asleep, and he'd done it on top of a book; on top of Peter's divination text, in fact.

Shit. Shit, shit, and shit again. Springing up, Sirius tore open the curtains and looked at the clock on the wall. 9:57. Three minutes until his transfiguration exam. Shit.

He probably set some sort of record that morning; fastest person out of bed without magical aid or some such thing like that. Still, it wasn't enough, and he knew it as he raced down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room with one minute to get to the transfiguration classroom.

The Gryffindor tower was just as empty as the dorm had been. Sirius paused just before the portal hole, realizing he'd forgotten his wand in his haste. He had to go back and get it; even if he made it to the test in time, he couldn't pass transfiguration without his wand.

He raced back up the stairs two at a time, barely slowing to open the door to the seventh years' room and grabbed his wand off his trunk shelf. He snuck a quick glance at the clock and froze. He had fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds to make it down six flights of stairs, providing those stairs stayed where there were supposed to, and then across the courtyard and through the east wing. It was impossible. He could kiss his chance at an Auror's career goodbye now.

Unless…

It took him only a fraction of a second to make the decision. It was risky if he were to be caught, but his dreams would be over if he didn't even try. With a silent prayer to whatever higher power looked after fools of wizard boys, Sirius gripped his wand tightly, closed his eyes, and whispered the word.

"Apparate."

Nothing happened. No strange feelings, no sense of movement. Which was infinitely better than the feeling of being ripped in half, which Sirius was pretty sure should have been his fate. He'd kind of only glanced over an apparating instruction guide once or twice, not yet old enough to take the test officially.

Since it seemed imminent death wasn't in the stars, Sirius dared to open his eyes. He was more than a little surprised to find himself in front of the transfiguration classroom. It had worked! He glanced around quickly. Evidently luck was with him; the hallway was free of last-minute study-crammers hurrying to their rooms. The bell began to ring as he stood there, calling the start of the test. With a sigh, Sirius opened the door to the classroom and walked inside, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that said there was no way he could get away with using such advanced magic in Hogwarts undetected.

He was Sirius Black, after all, Marauder extraordinaire. And Marauders could do anything.

TBC…

A/N: Um…wow. It's been a year. Sorry. Really, really sorry. What can I say—I'm a lazy bum. And this is a short chapter too…

Chapter 5 is in the works, and I can promise it will be posted before 2006. No, really, I'm serious.

Thanks to those who reviewed, and a special thanks toYamineko Byousaifor reminding me how much I love this story and how much I really do want to finish it someday.