XL

"I can't find anything about an Obito," Hermione ran her hand through tangled brown locks. There was a huge tome open in front of her. Half of the writing Harry couldn't even read, and yet even in such a thick dictionary, they hadn't found anything. And initially, their search had been such a success. Hermione had dragged them into the library even though Ron and Harry hadn't believed there would be a Japanese-English dictionary. But they were lucky.

And still, nothing. Hermione didn't find Obito anywhere. And if Hermione couldn't find something in a book, it probably wasn't there.

"I even switched the letters around, just to see if Hannah misheard it. But nothing. At least nothing that makes sense." Shaking her head, she flipped through the pages. "At least I solved the whole bird thing."

"The bird thing?" Harry looked past her nest of bushy hair on the page half-hidden by her head. "What did you figure out?"

"Tobio—" She frowned as she tried to get the pronunciation sounding as Japanese as possible. "So, if I pull the T to the front… it means to fly, apparently."

"So, it was just a joke?" Harry was disappointed.

Ron grunted. "Of course, it was a joke…" He grinned. "Charlie's always fooling around."

Hermione hesitated thoughtfully. "I don't think he is," she shrugged at their questioning looks. "I mean, sure, he's lying. And most of it is apparently just nonsense. But he seems super serious."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "'cause he's a brilliant liar. Seriously." He laughed mirthfully as if this whole thing was a big joke. "I'm jealous."

"That's not—" Hermione looked frustrated as she hunched in even lower over the dictionary. "It's not what I meant… I just mean, that… I don't know!" Frustrated she threw her hands up and smacked the book shut. "There's nothing in here."

"So, what do we do now?" Harry asked, his voice a little deflated. When they found the dictionary, he'd already thought the riddle solved. And yet, they were disappointed once more.

"Did you consider that it might just be a name?" Ron asked absentmindedly as if it was obvious.

Hermione stared at him, then she smacked her head against the book. "A name…" She sounded close to tears in frustration. "Why didn't I think of that? Of course, it's a name!" She turned her head, so her cheek rested on the leather binding as if it was a comfortable cushion. "I'm getting too little sleep."

"No wonder," Ron commented, "with your schedule and the amounts of essays you have to write."

This made Hermione deflate even more.

They both seemed very certain that Obito had to be a name. Harry wasn't so sure, he'd heard the Hufflepuffs' description.

"You really think it's a name?" he asked doubtfully. "The Hufflepuffs said it wasn't human. Not really. More like a ghost."

"Yeah," Hermione said in a whiny tone. "But ghosts were once human too, weren't they?" She sighed. "In any case, they all have names."

She was right with that part at least. Between Nick, Myrtle, or Peeves… They all had names.

"They said it only looked half-human."

"You said it was missing an arm, and half a face, right?" Ron scratched his head. "So, he was deformed… But that doesn't mean… I mean Nick is half-decapitated."

Harry wasn't happy with the explanation. The Hufflepuffs had seen enough ghosts over the last few years, that they knew how ghosts looked. Then again, as he thought about it, he wasn't so sure. They hadn't seen a real ghost, after all. Just a Boggart.

"Can the Boggart change the way a ghost looks?" Harry asked, uncertain. Ron didn't seem to understand. "I mean when it turns into a ghost…like it wants to show the memory of a person… Could it turn into something that looks ghostlike, but not quite?"

"Yes," Hermione said, finally lifting her head from where the leather had already started to imprint on her cheek. She looked tired. "It's a Boggart. They're not meant to show something real. They show whatever the person fears most… So, there's nothing stopping it from showing a person grotesquely deformed and ghostly."

"So, it means, maybe this person… Maybe he's not even dead or deformed?"

Hermione shrugged. "Might not be, who knows? Maybe this Obito is perfectly healthy, and for whatever reason Charlie just fears seeing him injured and dead."

Harry nodded. "When he first told me about his past," he remembered, "he said something about a brother. That his accidental magic caused an accident… A fire, I think."

Hermione looked at him almost pitifully. "Harry, that's probably not true."

"Maybe he didn't lie about everything," Harry insisted. He knew it probably wasn't true, but maybe if just one thing Charlie told him was true, he knew at least something about his friend… former friend? He hated this uncertainty!

"I don't know," Hermione relented. "Maybe he has a brother." But she didn't sound convinced. Neither did Ron. As if it was obvious, that anything Charlie had told them in the past had to be a lie.

And Harry had nothing to say against that. As far as he knew, they might be right. In fact, everything Harry knew suggested that his friends were correct.

"So?" He came back to the initial question. "What now? If it's a name… I doubt we can just ask in the ministry or Dumbledore if they know a person called Obito?"

"I don't know," Hermione picked up the tome to put it away. "Maybe… Maybe we should ask him."

Harry huffed. "So, he'll just continue lying to us? I'm sick of it!" And he was.

"This time, we won't let him," Hermione said self-assured. "We have more information now. We know he speaks Japanese, so he's probably Japanese, and he's hiding the way he really looks…"

"And it's not like we have any other ideas," Ron added. He looked a bit annoyed. As if he didn't really care about it all anymore. As if it had just been a stupid riddle for him and now that they were close to the solution but missed a vital piece, he was willing to give up. But Harry wasn't willing to just give up. Charlie had lied to him! Why?

There was only one explanation in his head. The reason everybody lied to him! Voldemort… Whatever Charlie had to do with Voldemort, Harry was almost certain, that they were connected. Why else would he lie? Why else would Charlie go to such effort trying to get into Harry's good graces? That's what he'd done, wasn't it? He'd walked from Horley to Little Whinging just to suddenly pop up right where Harry was… Walked from Horley… Yeah, right!

For the last few days, Harry felt incredibly stupid, that he'd fallen for such an obvious lie. Who walked from Horley to Little Whinging? It would've been a day's journey… and then Charlie just coincidentally found him? How could he have ever believed that?

Of course, Harry knew exactly how he fell for it. He'd wanted to believe it. Charlie had been nice enough to him, and Harry had been so excited at the prospect of a friend living so close by, that he'd just thrown all his rational thinking overboard. Idiot! Charlie had probably known this and used it to his advantage, too.

Harry remembered Arthur Weasley saying, that they should be glad, Charlie and the Knight Bus had found Harry before Sirius Black did, but really… Had Charlie saved him from Black or had he come to kill Harry himself before the Knight Bus arrived and stopped him. The way Charlie had stepped out of the darkness… What had been his intentions then?

In a way, Harry almost hoped, Charlie had just wanted to kill him. He was used to that already! He wouldn't be the first to try, and Voldemort had learned thrice already that Harry wouldn't be so easily killed. It would be a familiar danger, that Harry knew how to deal with. If that wasn't Charlie's intent though, if he wanted something else…manipulate Harry for some purpose Harry couldn't see yet? That was more frightening to Harry. It was a terrifying unknown.

"No," Harry said trying to sort through his thoughts. "I don't think we should… It can't be that easy. He's been lying for weeks. Even to Professor Dumbledore. If we confront him now, he'll just come up with something new. Even if we don't believe a word he says, that doesn't mean he'll tell the truth."

He didn't trust a word out of that mouth… Or maybe he would. Harry knew himself well enough. There was still a part that hoped to get that connection back, that he'd felt with Charlie for the last few weeks. If the stranger with Charlie's face just said the right words, Harry would believe him against his better judgment. And he didn't want to risk it. Eventually, they'd learn that it was just another lie, and then it would be the same hurt all over again.

"So, what do you suggest?" Hermione asked curiously.

Ron's eyes were sparkling adventurously. Harry felt almost giddy then. Even with how hurt and disappointed he was, he felt an oddly familiar excitement at the realization that they wouldn't just sit around any longer. It was time to turn the game around.

"He's still in disguise. I'm sure you know a nice spell, to lift that," he grinned at Hermione.

Her eyes gleamed immediately. "Something against hair-dye and other physical, or magical disguise?" She smiled triumphantly. "Oh, I'm sure, I'll find something."

On the morning, when Sirius crossed the border to Scotland, there was a steady cold drizzle coming down from the sky. It wasn't enough to turn the ground muddy, but it made him cold and clammy.

Widow's Peak was the first magical village just across the border. It was a fairly young settlement from what Sirius knew. In his youth, only a few houses were there around the supposed burial site of one of Dorcas Wellbeloved's ill-fated lovers.

Back, when he was a boy, Sirius had spent quite a few vacation days here. It was where Moony had grown up. Just outside the village close to the forest there was a small cottage, where Hope and Lyall Lupin had built their home before Moony was even born. Sirius' relationship with Moony's parents had never been as great as the one with James', who'd become Sirius own surrogate parents by the time he was sixteen. Yet, he had still gotten along well with the old Lupins. In a way, Lyall had done what Sirius – when he was still very young and naïve – had hoped his parents could do. He'd faced his prejudices and changed them, instead of punishing his son for his own intolerance.

Lyall Lupin had hated werewolves so much, he'd gone out of his way to provoke one of the most dangerous and notorious werewolves of their time. An equally brave and stupid move, that Lyall's son would have to bear the consequences for. Fenrir Greyback had targeted the Lupins in retaliation, biting Remus as a young boy, before he'd even reach Hogwarts age.

And Lyall… Instead of punishing his son further by keeping his old prejudices had worked to build a good relationship between father and son. Sirius knew, that Moony had suffered from the knowledge, that if it hadn't hit his son, Lyall would still see werewolves as monsters, that Lyall only ever challenged his old prejudice, because of his son, yet they still made it work. Sirius as a young boy had hoped his parents could do the same. That they could be accepting of muggles, muggleborn, and blood-traitors if their own son turned into a blood-traitor himself bringing muggleborn friends home. It hadn't worked that way with the Blacks…

While Lyall was a mostly hard and somewhat guild-ridden man that was – despite everything – at times difficult to get along with, Hope had been one of the most kindhearted people he'd ever met. She'd been outgoing and fun-loving and had sadly died the same year when the marauders graduated.

Normally, Sirius would try to avoid wizarding villages even more than non-magical ones, and yet this time, he strolled around the village, all the way to the end to get a glimpse of the old house. He didn't really think he would see Remus there, but he thought, it was possible. After all, Sirius knew the kind of prejudice Moony would've to face when searching for a job. It wasn't entirely impossible that he'd still live with his old father – never mind that, if Lyall was even still alive now, he would be old and might need the support in the house.

How likely it was to meet Remus here, Sirius couldn't say. And even if he would see him, what did he think to achieve? The last time they'd met was the only time Remus – or anybody – had visited him in Azkaban just to tell him how much Sirius' betrayal had hurt him, had hurt their friend group. To ask him how he could've hurt James and Lily, or Peter, or young Harry like that. Remus had not believed his weak attempts to proclaim his innocence. Truly, Sirius had barely tried to convince him. So, even now, if Sirius appeared in front of him, he doubted Remus would believe him.

Moony was one of only three people alive who knew of his Animagus form. Kakashi – he hoped – wouldn't tell anybody. Neither would Peter if he wanted to maintain his monstrous lie. But Remus, what reason would Remus have not to rat him out? Sirius was truly baffled, that clearly, Remus hadn't told the authorities already, and his best bet would be, that he stayed quiet about it because he didn't want to have the ministry invest the reasons why he hadn't told them about the Animagus form earlier, believing himself guilty for enabling Sirius' escape.

Maybe, Moony hadn't told anybody about his dog form yet, but if he saw the familiar shaggy dog, he might still either attack him or betray the secret after all. So, revealing himself to anybody in this village, if Remus really lived here and could get wind of his presence, would be dangerous. And yet, something made Sirius take the risk regardless.

It wasn't just loneliness and isolation, he thought. Part of him wanted to—needed to know that Lupin was alright. That not all four of them had lived miserable or way too short lives, but that at least one of them had found a place in this world where they could feel at peace. Was that naïve of him, to even dare hope that Moony could've found peace even after all the losses he'd endured?

Ultimately, all his musing turned out to be rather pointless. When he arrived at the house, he caught no whiff of his old friend. Old Lyall Lupin still lived there. Grey and wrinkly he sat out on the porch, reading the Daily Prophet, reclining in a creaky rocking chair. There was a small pile of old newspapers in the corner of the garden, where the man collected his garbage. He seemed to live alone.

Sirius watched him for a while, trying to commit the familiar face to memory. Lyall Lupin had aged significantly these last ten years. Deep lines were edged in his face, and his hair was almost gone from the top of his head, leaving only white whiskers at the sides. He still had his beard, though. As thick and full as ever, just a lot greyer now.

Through the forest, Sirius edged as close to the garden as he could, until he had a clear sight on the terrace. He watched as Lyall turned the page. On the front, Sirius could see his own likeness.

"What a mess," the old man grunted in a gruff voice. "Who'd be so stupid to believe that?"

For a moment, Sirius liked to pretend, Lupin was talking about him. Then he was pulled out of his thoughts, when the widower pushed himself up to his feet, to grab a gnarly walking stick. Holding the newspaper in his other hand, he shuffled back into the house, before the door fell shut.

Recognizing his chance, Sirius jumped out towards the garbage area. This time, he didn't much care for the food that might or might not rot there, instead, he quickly grabbed the thrown-away editions of the Daily Prophet that lied up top on the pile and left again. He doubted the ministry would share any sensitive information about the hunt for him in the papers, but it would be convenient to have at least an overview of what they were telling the public.

"Look who's here?"

Kakashi stopped at the familiar snarling voice. He turned, but Malfoy was around the corner where Kakashi couldn't see him.

"Don't you have Astronomy, Longbottom? You'll be late."

"Malfoy," Neville's voice was quiet and uncertain. "Let me through, please."

Draco Malfoy laughed, an ugly mocking sound. "Oh Longbottom, I'm just looking out for you, you see. You're already huffing and puffing. I fear you won't survive the stairs, all the way up to the tower… Truly Sinistra must hate you or she would've already moved her—"

"Malfoy." Kakashi came around the corner, interrupting the Slytherin mid-sentence. The blond boy stood in the middle of the corridor, creating a physical barrier with his broad-shouldered, much sturdier locking goons, standing between poor Neville and the stairs. Neville was pressing his bag to his chest as if he felt it might get stolen if he didn't hold it tight.

"What are you doing here, Major?" asked Malfoy looking slightly put-off by Kakashi's sudden appearance. "Shouldn't you be writing a Potion's essay on Polyjuice about now?"

He was right, but of course, Malfoy couldn't know, that Kakashi's clone was taking care of that, as they spoke. "We had a deal," he reminded the blond boy.

Malfoy huffed, trying to look cool, although there was a tenseness in his shoulders, showing that Kakashi's appearance made him feel uncomfortable. "I gave Longbottom three weeks. I think that's enough." He glanced at his friends as if waiting for support, but neither the pudding-haired Crabbe nor big-footed Goyle seemed to know what was going on. Kakashi didn't think, Draco had told them, but if he had, it wouldn't be a big surprise for them to forget it again, either. Those two weren't the smartest tools in the shed… Indeed, Kakashi didn't remember the last time, when he'd interacted with anybody so dense and dull as these two. How Draco Malfoy could stand it was beyond Kakashi.

"That wasn't what we agreed on." Kakashi strode past Neville and towards the three boys. Grabbing Draco's collar, he quite enjoyed the way the boy paled. "Neville. Be on your way," Kakashi said, as he pulled Draco aside, leaving a gap between Crabbe and Goyle.

Neville was uncertain though. His eyes flitted from Kakashi to the two gorilla-like boys, who were at least smart enough to quickly close the gap where Malfoy had been. With a shuffled step, Goyle moved shoulder to shoulder with Crabbe.

Kakashi glared at them. Sometimes, he was vividly reminded of the fact, that all these brats were only thirteen, and he like them considered to be just a child. Having to bother with some bumbling school bullies sparked his annoyance enough, that he leaked a bit of killing intent.

Crabbe trembled, but dumbly he gazed at Malfoy, waiting for a command.

Malfoy's skin had turned even whiter. His eyes were huge, the light grey irises looking almost translucent. He finally dragged his eyes away from Kakashi to nod at Crabbe and Goyle when they started looking uncertain. "Let's go," he announced. But as he tried to free himself, Kakashi didn't let go of his collar. Draco stopped short. He yanked at his clothes, almost ripping his shirt before he turned to Kakashi. "Come on, Major…" His voice was pleading.

"No, us two, we'll have a little talk. I'm sure your friends can do their own homework for once." Kakashi's gaze drilled into Malfoy's. "Send them away," he commanded.

Malfoy seemed fearful, but then he relented stiffly. "Go to the Common Room," he told his friends, barely even looking at them.

Crabbe and Goyle shuffled off without further question. Kakashi didn't know if his shortly leaking killing intent had been enough to scare them off so they wouldn't linger around to ask questions, or maybe they just followed Draco Malfoy blindly. In any case, with them gone, Neville finally had free passage.

"Thanks, Charlie!" he exclaimed. "I owe you one. You're a good friend."

"Hurry," Kakashi nodded towards the stairs. He watched after Neville until the boy disappeared at the top of the stairs and his heavy steps weren't echoing off the walls anymore.

"What's that supposed to be?" Malfoy hissed when they were alone. Putting a hand against his shirt, he tried to twist out of Kakashi's hold, but without paying his pathetic attempts any mind, Kakashi dragged him after himself to the closest empty classroom. He basically threw Malfoy inside.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Malfoy drew himself up to his full height after Kakashi finally let go of him. "You can't push me around like that. If my father—"

"We had a deal," Kakashi interrupted him again, not caring about Malfoy's father. "I help you avoid the Boggart, and you leave Neville alone."

Malfoy huffed. "So what? Now, I broke it. What can you do about it? Will you just run after me, playing babysitter for Longbottom?" He laughed. "Can he not protect himself?"

Kakashi crossed his arms, glaring at Draco. Although Kakashi was a year older, Malfoy was his height, if not maybe half an inch taller. It didn't concern Kakashi, yet obviously, Draco drew some confidence from it, judging by the way he puffed himself up like a pale rooster. "He should just man up."

Kakashi's eyebrows rose in mock. "Says the boy who runs around with his own set of bodyguards." The irony was truly beyond Malfoy, evident in how the surprise struck him mute. "Honestly, I don't care much. You won't be the one to make Neville man up, in any case."

It was hilarious, how Draco mimicked his gesture, raising his eyebrow similarly to Kakashi. The Malfoy had the art of the single-eyebrow-raise perfectioned almost to the same level as Snape. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

It was a challenge and one Kakashi would gladly take. As he stepped closer to the Slytherin, the boy evaded backward, but not fast enough to escape from Kakashi's grip. In a single Body Flicker technique, Kakashi had pulled him halfway across the castle.

"What the fuck!?" Draco yelled out, as Kakashi let go of him. The wizard stumbled and fell on his arse but didn't show any pain. His eyes were fixed impossibly round on Kakashi. "How can you apparate in the castle?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kakashi replied, as he walked up to the rumbling desk drawer. "Nobody can apparate on school grounds."

Draco wasn't satisfied, clearly. "You did—Then what was—" He seemed to reconsider his question when he started looking around himself. The dusty shelves and desks, the half-cleaned blackboard. "Where are we?"

"Old Arithmancy classroom it seems," Kakashi explained, as he worked to get the drawer open.

"I never was in here before," Malfoy sounded curious. He climbed back up to his feet, walking over to Kakashi to watch what he was doing. "What is that?" he indicated the drawer. "What's in there?"

"If you don't keep your part of the bargain, why should I keep mine?" Kakashi said, as with a well-timed burst of chakra, he forced the lock open. Stepping aside at once, he let the Boggart free itself.

"What? You can't—" Malfoy's voice died, when the drawer burst open, and in front of him, a man appeared. Tied and shackled and in prison robes that resembled the ones, Sirius had worn. Kakashi recognized them immediately. He thought, he recognized the man too, from the Daily Prophet, but this version looked a lot more exhausted, tired, and…angry. The left sleeve of his prison garb was ripped exposing an intricate tattoo of a snake in the jaws of a skull.

"Father."

Immediately, Kakashi understood. He'd wanted leverage over the boy. If his word couldn't be trusted, maybe Malfoy would keep his side of the deal, if Kakashi had something to hold over his head. The knowledge of the Boggart he had so desperately tried to conceal.

Now, he almost regretted it. He couldn't hold this over Draco's head…

Malfoy had taken a step back. He didn't look afraid, but more so devastated and sad and guilt-ridden by what he saw. His brows were furrowed, trying hard, to conceal his reaction, but there was water swimming in fragile eyes, and his jaw was clenched so hard it had to hurt.

Belatedly, he remembered, that he knew the spell to repel the Boggart, so he started fumbling in his cloak, pulling out his wand. "Rid—" But his voice didn't even finish the sentence. He hiccupped.

"You're afraid of your father?" Kakashi asked disbelievingly because that couldn't be it.

"Shut up!" Draco whirled on him, clearly trying to ignore the Boggart. "I'm not afraid of my father!"

"Then what—" But Kakashi had long understood. "You're trying to protect him."

There was a deep ache in his chest. How could he hold this over Malfoy's head? A boy trying to protect his father… Kakashi had heard enough about Lucius Malfoy, to know he was presumably one of Voldemort's loyal followers. Exposing his son's Boggart to the whole school... Would that be enough to solidify the suspicions against him? Kakashi thought it unlikely that a thirteen-year-old's Boggart would be evidence in a crime the boy would be too young to remember. But from Malfoy's own childlike perspective, it was probably a real fear.

Kakashi had enough of this. He stepped forward, grabbed Draco's arm, and pulled him out of the room. As they left, Kakashi only looked back once to see the Boggart transform into a shape very similar to the last. Hair just as long but tied into a knot and of a silvery color rather than pale blond. Shinobi uniform and Konoha Hitai-Ate in place of the prison garbs…

Sakumo Hatake could've needed a son to protect him better, Kakashi thought, as he closed the door in front of the Boggart, leaving the creature to freely roam the castle. He didn't care much about that.

We'll talk soon enough, he thought, when he lost his father out of sight. I'll find you… and then you can tell me all you want about the disappointment I was…

"You can't tell anybody," Draco interrupted his thoughts. The boy hadn't even noticed how the Boggart had shifted form just before they left. "Please! If they throw him into Azkaban—Please, Charlie."

Feeling exhausted, Kakashi noticed the use of the given name, that wasn't his own. He sighed. "I won't… Don't worry. But leave Neville alone."

"I will, I swear!" Malfoy agreed immediately. "For real, this time, just… If anybody finds out about this… About the Mark, that I saw it…"

Nothing would happen, Kakashi assumed. He'd heard the story of Malfoy Senior weaseling himself out of responsibility a few times by Harry, Ron and his own Hufflepuff classmates by now. Lucius having the Dark Mark wouldn't surprise anybody. Nor would it prove anything, just like Sirius not having it, hadn't proven him innocent. But it made sense for Draco to think so and as the only son of a supposed death eater, who knew what other incriminating information he possessed and could accidentally reveal to the public.

"I can't be the reason that he… if he—" the Slytherin continued pleading, rambling.

"You won't be," Kakashi assured him. "You're a good son, Draco, protecting your father like that."