XLVI

"I can't help with that," Madam Pomfrey's voice was loud enough, that Kakashi could hear her on the corridor. "I'm not a hairdresser."

Kakashi had never been here. He'd met Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, on his very first day in Hogwarts, but he'd never gone to the Hospital Ward before. There was a certain irony to that, he thought. After all, he spent a decent amount of time in the Konoha Hospital, but in a month in Hogwars, he didn't even need to know where the Hospital Ward was. From his many nightly trips through the castle, he had a rough understanding, where it was supposed to be, so he could find it easily enough.

"Please," the girl's voice whined through the door. "I can't go back to class like that…" The hoarse high-pitch was a dead giveaway to her having cried.

"I'm sorry," Madam Pomfrey replied, sounding both genuinely apologetic and a little exasperated. "That happens when you play around with potions." He could hear a chair scraping over the floor. "What were you thinking? Punching together potions in your holidays. You should be lucky, that it's just your hair."

"But Madam Pomfrey my parents need at least two days to send..."

The girl's voice stopped when Kakashi knocked. He entered when Pomfrey invited him inside.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, a bit impatient. She looked Kakashi up and down and her lips pinched even further when she noticed, that Kakashi was not injured nor in obvious pain—not that she'd know if he was. "Headache, nausea?"

As she asked for his health, she stepped around the bed the girl sat in to block his view. Clearly, she just thought, he was there to gloat. Behind her, the Hufflepuff girl ducked her head and futilely tried to hide her hair with her hands. Her shoulders shook slightly.

"I have hair dye," he said directly. "You dyed your hair, right? I have some if you need it." It wasn't her exact shade of brown. Her roots already came out in a very dark tone. Charlie had lighter hair. "It's not your exact shade but you can have some until your parents send you more of your own shade."

The girl turned and scrutinized him wearily. "You're Charlie, right?" Kakashi nodded. She was checking out his hair. Then she nodded and shrugged. "Thanks."

Kakashi felt quite relieved that she accepted so easily. He felt a little guilty, aware that this accident had only happened because of him. He wasn't so self-deprecating to blame himself completely, it was Harry's actions, after all, not his, but he felt at least partially responsible.

"Do you want me to bring it here?"

As he spoke Madam Pomfrey watched him like a hawk. He wondered, how much Dumbledore and Snape had told her about him.

Kakashi had enough now. Harry's attempts to figure him out, had been amusing at first, then got quickly annoying, and now, increasingly he was making everybody miserable. The Hufflepuff girl and her ruined hair getting exposed was only the start. Harry was terrible to be around even for his friends. While Hermione and Ron still stuck to him, it was clear that both of them disagreed with Harry's increasingly excessive attempts to expose Kakashi. Neville had started avoiding his own classmates…

Kakashi didn't enjoy being the cause for Neville's unhappiness. There were also the teachers, more and more picking up on Harry's horrible moods. Kakashi didn't want to meet Sirius again and then have to tell him, that he was the reason his godson was miserable and without friends, or even expelled from school.

So, one evening, when Harry had practice, Kakashi walked to the Quidditch pitch. He'd never gone there before. At least not to watch any of the training. Justin had explained the rules to him, and Kakashi knew roughly how the whole flying thing worked. It was the flying that he found the most interesting. He didn't trust these brooms, but if he could make them work for him, somehow, that would be useful. The game itself didn't interest him much. He'd stopped playing sports and games at age five when he graduated from the Academy.

He didn't come to watch. He came to find Harry in a private moment without his friends at his back.

When he arrived, training was already wrapping up, but the Gryffindors were still in the sky. Kakashi was impressed with the speed of the game. He hadn't seen such speed by wizards in all his time in this country. The dark iron balls – Justin had called them Bludgers – were fast, but the fastest thing on the pitch was likely Harry's broom. The difference in speed between his broom and that of the twins, in particular, was quite jarring. For a moment, Kakashi contemplated if that was fair at all.

He stood next to one of the tribunes, not completely hidden but not easily detectable either, so it took a moment for any of the players on the pitch to see him. It was one of the Chasers. A girl Kakashi's age with brown skin and wavy black hair. She flew a loop to get around a Bludger when her eyes landed on him. Ducking under the second bludger, she pointed down at him and called out to her teammates, though her words were lost to the wind.

The other players heard her well enough though. The Keeper stared at him, pointed, then dipped his broom down. He rushed so fast at Kakashi, that Kakashi took up a defensive position, thinking the boy would just try to mow through him. Instead, the seventh year jumped off his broom just in front of Kakashi, red coat flapping angrily.

"You! What are you doing here?" He didn't look directly at Kakashi but at his school uniform. Then an angry glare met Kakashi in the face. "Hufflepuff, huh? Is Diggory sending his spies already?" He pointed right at Kakashi, voice rising in volume. "What did you see?"

Kakashi had no idea what was going on? Spying? Surely, if he'd been spying, he'd hide better. And what would he be spying for?

Behind the Keeper, the rest of the team landed.

"Who are you? What did you see?" the boy yelled at him, a bit of spittle spraying Kakashi.

"Oliver," one of the twins called out. "I doubt he even knows the rules, give it a rest. That's the new kid."

The boy, Oliver, frowned in confusion. He tilted his head towards his team. "What new kid? I don't know of any new kid. He's a Hufflepuff and McGonagall said, if Malfoy doesn't get better, we might play them." His eyes zeroed in on Kakashi again. "Did Diggory send you, huh? He already thinks he's going to play, doesn't he?"

Cedric Diggory was the Quidditch Captain of Hufflepuff. Justin had mentioned it offhandedly although Kakashi only knew the boy as their fifth year perfect.

"We told you about him, Oliver," the twin argued. "Charlie… you remember? The new kid. Missed the first two years."

Oliver looked even more confused now. At least in his confusion, his anger mellowed somewhat. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he admitted. "But he's been watching our moves."

The twins shrugged. "Doubt he's sat on a broom before. Why would Diggory send a kid who wouldn't know much about the sport."

One of the girls nodded. "Yeah, I heard some of my classmates talk about him. He never even had flying lessons."

Oliver's forehead furrowed in contemplation. "Doesn't mean Diggory hasn't taught him the rules."

"Yeah," Harry finally spoke up. "He can't be trusted." Glowering at Kakashi, Kakashi wasn't certain if Harry spoke to him or to the captain. "He's a sneaky little liar. The Hufflepuffs probably sent him because he'd be the least suspicious since he never used a broom before."

"Oh, cut it out," the girl who'd seen him first grumbled. "I've seen you throw stuff at him yesterday, Harry. Oliver, the Hufflepuffs never spied on us. If he wore green, sure… But Diggory?"

Oliver looked uncertain. "You can never know. Especially with Diggory. His team's good, from what I heard. Eager to win."

Fred shrugged. "Everybody's eager to win. But Angelina's right. Cedric, really?" He looked up into the sky. "Leave him be. Anyway, it's getting late, we promised Lee…"

"…to help with his Transfiguration essay," George supplied, taking off his leather flying gloves.

Both Oliver and Harry eyed them wearily and Angelina rolled her eyes tellingly. Kakashi didn't really want to know what they were planning, but he was happy to see that despite Harry's attitude against him, the twins didn't seem to dislike him.

"I just wanted to talk to Harry," Kakashi announced.

Harry crossed his arms. "Not interested."

"It's important," he insisted.

Oliver looked conflicted, but then he shrugged and ushered his team to the changing rooms. "Harry, please don't bring your friends from other houses to the pitch again."

"He's not my—" Harry started and was about to follow his team to the changing room when Kakashi quickly stepped up behind him, clasped a hand around his mouth, and pulled him into the shadow of the tribunes where only their silhouettes would be visible to Oliver.

"What did you say?" Oliver asked turning to look at Harry, then frowning when he wasn't there anymore. Searching for the boys with his eyes he soon found them in the darkness behind the tribunes. "Never mind then…" he muttered bushing slightly. "Don't bring your friends to the pitch, Harry!" he called out again and something in the way he said friends made Kakashi think the boy was severely misjudging the situation.

Meanwhile, Harry didn't remain quiet. He was thrashing and screaming for Oliver's to stay and help, to come back, and then, as the boy vanished in the dark, for somebody, anybody to rescue him. Or well… he was trying to thrash and scream, but Kakashi held him quite securely. Wide green eyes stared at Kakashi in sheer panic.

"Are you done now?" Kakashi asked thinking this whole thing went a little out of hand. He hadn't wanted to give the boy a heart attack, but how could he have known that Harry's teammates seeing him would escalate in such a way? He'd just hoped to catch Harry on his path back.

Harry was still squirming but tired from practice, his short struggle had quickly exhausted him. He was clearly panicked, which again, Kakashi hadn't aimed for, but he'd rather give him a scare than continue having hexes and potion-filled balloons hurled at him. It was a miracle that Snape hadn't figured out, who was stealing his potions supplies, yet.

Well, it wasn't quite as dramatic as that, but it was still getting annoying, and Neville was the one most affected by it, it seemed, as he tried to remain Kakashi's friend but didn't know why Harry wasn't anymore. And of course, Harry didn't explain it.

Now, who was the one lying? While Harry very much demanded to know everything himself, he hadn't told any of his friends other than Ron and Hermione… And possibly the twins. The twins at least knew something, from the way they sometimes looked at him.

"Will you be quiet for a moment," Kakashi growled half-threateningly, half-annoyed. "I just want to talk to you alone."

It was as if Harry didn't even listen to him. His arm twisted in Kakashi's grip, futilely trying to reach the wand in his cloak.

"This is stupid," Kakashi rolled his eyes. "If I'd wanted to kill you, as you seem to think, you'd be dead." He grinned, flashing white teeth in the moonlight. "I told you I'm a trained assassin, right?" Not that Harry had believed it and not that Kakashi had tried very hard to make him believe.

Harry's eyes widened at what he clearly perceived as a threat, even if it was meant as a bit of a joke. In his shock, at least his limbs became lax. Carefully, Kakashi finally let go of him.

He watched Harry, as he worked his jaw and rolled his shoulder. Then just as Kakashi took a step back, a hand shot into red Gryffindor Quidditch robes and pulled out a wand. Kakashi's first instinct was to slap it out of his hand, but then, as the tip raised against his chest, Kakashi decided to just give the boy this victory if it made him feel better.

"Expelliarmus," Harry croaked in a surprisingly steady voice.

Just one time, Kakashi had seen this particular spell in action. From Snape's demonstration during his skill evaluation, he thought it was a general disarming spell. For Harry to opt for this spell in a situation he clearly thought life-threatening was endearing and cute. Kakashi let himself get hit, thinking at least that way Harry would be more inclined to listen instead of panicking.

He was knocked two steps back and his wand came flying from his robes. Embarrassingly, a kunai and five shuriken also fell from his sleeves.

Kakashi glared at them disgruntledly. "Whoops," he laughed, to bring some levity to the situation, even as Harry's gaze was glued to those sharp tools. "In my defense, if I'd wanted to use them, I would've already done so…"

Harry's brows furrowed. Then he picked up Kakashi's wand and weapons. He slowly poked the sharp edge of a shuriken with the fleshy tip of his finger. Kakashi cringed at the unprofessional handling and Harry cringed as the tip immediately drew blood. What had he expected? He almost let it go, so Kakashi snatched it out of his hand before he would accidentally chop his foot off or something like that.

"It's not a child's toy," he grunted.

"What do you need it for?" Harry asked seeming totally unbothered by the fact that Kakashi had a deadly weapon in his hand. Clearly, with both his and Kakashi's own wand in his hand he thought himself in the superior position. Very likely he also thought Kakashi's wand was the most dangerous weapon that he had to take from him, totally disregarding the fact, that with this little shuriken, Kakashi could put a shuriken-sized hole in his skull…. Not that he needed the shuriken for that.

"It's a throwing weapon," Kakashi explained.

There was suspicion in Harry's eyes, but feeling confidently safe now, he held Kakashi at wand point and nodded at the shuriken with interest. "Show me."

Feeling rather unimpressed with the task, Kakashi lopped the weapon at a wooden bar holding the tribunes up. It struck dead center and remained stuck there. Harry watched with some awe. "Good aim," he complimented. There was no specific target, Kakashi had aimed for, and if hitting a wooden beam that was just ten feet away counted as good aim well… It probably meant not a lot of people scored points in this flying broom sport. Half the objective was throwing a ball through rings and it occurred to Kakashi then, that they probably only threw the thing from just a few feet away.

Which… granted, from what Kakashi had seen, the Quaffle didn't have the most aerodynamic shape, but it was a shame that they would waste so much time flying, instead of scoring from the middle line.

"Can you do it again?" Harry asked. He pointed at one of the other shuriken on the ground. Kakashi picked it up—he didn't want Harry accidentally stepping on it and losing a toe. "Go," Harry demanded.

"I'm not a circus act," Kakashi growled, but he let the shuriken fly anyway… So what if he was show-boding a bit?

When Harry pointed at the other two shuriken with the tip of his wand, Kakashi had enough, though. He picked them up and quickly vanished them up in his sleeve. "That's enough. I wanted to tell you to stop."

Harry looked confused then.

"With your potions experiment. It's going too far."

Green eyes hooded and squinted in anger. The wands in Harry's hand trembled slightly as he gripped it tighter. "Why should I?"

Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Cause you're making life difficult for everybody including yourself and to be completely honest excluding me." He crossed his arms. "You know I can smell your stupid potion from a mile away?"

Harry looked taken aback. "Hermione solved the scent issue!" Then he bit his lips as if that had just come out unwanted. Kakashi had thought Hermione had stopped working with Harry on this endeavor, but somehow Harry had convinced her, it seemed. That at least explained who was making the potions.

"I can still smell it," he tabbed at his nose. "Look," raising his hands in a placating gesture, he spoke in a hopefully soothing voice. "I get it. You don't believe me. Frankly, it doesn't matter much to me. But I want to be able to talk to Neville in peace without him feeling bad about it for betraying you in whatever petty war you're fighting."

Harry flushed angrily. "It's not petty." But it was. It absolutely was. Even Ron was acknowledging it, keeping mostly out of it now, and the girl Angelina from his team had just mocked him for it. Harry couldn't be so blind. And indeed… "The others just don't know what it's like!"

"Mah," Kakashi shrugged, "I get it. You're paranoid and you think I'll hurt you." Truthfully, meeting him with caution and paranoia was the most sensible thing anybody in this naïve, peace-fattened country had done since he'd arrived here. Most people looked at him and only saw a child, and Harry not doing that was almost a bit refreshing. Being seen as a child to Kakashi was demeaning, especially since he hadn't been treated that way for almost a decade now.

"I can't even blame you," Kakashi admitted, "I did lie to you. So, whatever… But this farce has to stop. You're making everybody miserable. Poisoning the whole Hufflepuff table? Are you mad?"

Harry blushed. "I didn't think that would happen," he sounded appropriately embarrassed at least.

Kakashi frowned. "You thought I'm the only student dying my hair?"

Squaring his shoulders, Harry pushed his jaw forward defiantly. "How could I have known that she was hiding that? It's just dye."

As if it would be justifiable if people just used it for a fashion statement rather than hiding an embarrassing prior accident… Kakashi couldn't really judge though. Compared to what he had done all his life, exposing somebody's natural hair color seemed like a student prank. It wasn't seen as such here. Professor Sprout had been furious, and Harry too looked ashamed, even as he defended his actions.

It struck him once again, how peaceful this world was if that was seen as more than a joke. It bothered Kakashi how much he himself had gone soft these last few weeks, feeling genuine compassion for the girl and her hairy problem, and anger at Harry for having done it at all. Normally, this level of malice would probably fly under his radar as mostly harmless.

At his initiation into the ANBU, his comrades had kidnapped him from his home, held him captive for a day, and questioned him about the village's secrets. That had mostly counted as a prank too. Something one just had to go through to become an ANBU and there had been no hard feelings after. In fact, the very next day, he would've gladly laid down his life to save every one of them. And now he felt angry on behalf of a few kids that might be forced to reveal their natural hair color.

"Whatever," Kakashi decided not to argue any further. He was too confused about his own stance on the issue. "Will you stop, if I just take the potion?"

Harry eyed him suspiciously. "Just like that?" he asked doubtfully. "What's the catch? If you just want to drink it, why not this morning?"

Kakashi hummed in agreement. Valid question…and easily answered if Harry stopped to think about it. "I don't want to transform in the middle of the Great Hall."

"Cause everybody would see you for a liar," Harry spoke with contempt. "The teachers—"

"The teachers know," Kakashi interrupted. At least they knew his natural looks, now, if Dumbledore, Sprout, and Snape had told everybody. He assumed they had by the way Professor McGonagall kept watching him as if trying to get behind the secret of his transfiguration. It made him a bit self-conscious.

Harry's lips had parted, and eyes widened with this last information. "No way," he huffed. "What did you tell them? Dumbledore wouldn't—You couldn't have fooled him so easily."

"I didn't tell them much," he admitted, "but it seems the headmaster doesn't think I'm a real threat to you if that makes you feel safer."

In the dark of the night, Harry scoffed. "It doesn't."

"So, do you have the potion here?" Kakashi asked to change back to the topic at hand.

Hesitating, Harry finally relented. He searched in his Quidditch robes and if he had a vial in these practice robes, he probably had one everywhere by now. It was maddening – though Kakashi appreciated the preparedness.

By itself, without the pumpkin juice or salad dressing, the potion had a pale blueish tint to it. It was mostly translucent though and as runny as water. Kakashi downed it in one swig, completely ignoring the by now very familiar scent.

Surprisingly, he didn't feel anything, but from the way Harry was staring at him, the potion took effect as it should. And considering Harry's eyes were more focused on Kakashi's Sharingan eye than his hair, it didn't just change his hair color back to original but got rid of the makeup and jutsu hiding the scar and false eye color as well. Thankfully, in the darkness of the night, Harry might see the scar, but not the patterns of Obito's eye.

"Are you happy now?" Kakashi asked trying to read Harry's face. When Harry scratched the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, Kakashi didn't think it was a conscious action. "Will you at least stop poisoning my classmates?"

As if he hadn't even heard the question, Harry's eyes traveled up to Kakashi's lopsided hairdo.

"It's silver."

Kakashi frowned. "That's just the moonlight," he argued. "It's just grey." He wasn't a piece of jewelry after all.

Harry nodded, though he didn't look convinced. "You don't look Japanese," he mumbled, and Kakashi had no idea what he meant because he hadn't seen a lot of Japanese people, but he thought, Harry meant his hair more than anything. He shrugged. After all, he wasn't Japanese. He already told Harry so, and it wasn't his problem that Harry didn't believe him. He also had no desire to convince him of the truth. Talking about his past was hard enough, proving it would be impossible without giving away even more details that he held far too close to his heart and that could be dangerous for Konoha if exposed.

"Okay," Harry mumbled. Kakashi didn't know if it was accepted, that he wouldn't throw his potion around anymore, or just general acknowledgment of the way Kakashi looked. Harry didn't elaborate either. He lifted the two wands, then he put Kakashi's dogwood wand on the ground and pushed his hands in his robes to slunk off to the changing rooms. Kakashi wanted to call after him but then decided against it. It was getting late.

Harry climbed up to Gryffindor tower, still a little dazed by what had happened and still cold and tired from training. He didn't know what to think about Kakashi. Clearly, he'd been honest about his looks and now that Harry had seen him, there was no point in trying to expose him to the assembled student body in the Great Hall, especially if Kakashi was right and the teachers knew anyway. But that didn't mean he believed Kakashi that he wouldn't harm him.

He'd felt it. He'd never felt that way before. Even with Voldemort, as he had met him in his first and second year, Harry hadn't felt that helpless. When Kakashi pushed him against the tribune, hand muffling his screams and body restricting his movement, Harry had known and felt with certainty: This boy could kill him.

It was a terrifying realization. He thought, he'd be safe in the castle, under Dumbledore's watchful eye. But at that moment, at the Quidditch pitch, even with the whole team virtually in shouting distance, he'd never felt so helpless, afraid, and alone. Kakashi could've killed him. There was no question about that. How could Dumbledore allow such a person to live in the castle? Didn't he know the danger Kakashi posed?

Harry still remembered, in his first year, when Dumbledore told him that due to his mother's protection, Lord Voldemort couldn't touch him. Harry hadn't really comprehended it then. He'd just accepted it as a layer of protection that didn't exactly make being targeted any easier. There was still a mad man out to kill him, and a magical shield on his skin that he couldn't see and couldn't be sure really existed… He never quite acknowledged it as true protection. With Kakashi, there had been no such layer. The boy had touched him just fine, could've killed him easily, with his wand or these sharp throwing things. Without that layer of protection, was he truly defenseless?

He couldn't believe that Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and the other adults would allow such a monster into the castle. Kakashi, Harry knew with certainty, was a danger to the whole student body, but it seemed like the only one to acknowledge this danger was Harry himself. He felt alone in this, and it was a terrifying realization. Kakashi already had his friends slowly turning against him. It wasn't just Neville, who was clearly sitting between the fronts, but Ron too, grew increasingly exasperated, and the only way to convince Hermione to still help him was to appeal to her curiosity. Now, it seemed the teachers might be wrapped around Kakashi's finger as well if they truly knew and didn't do anything. Harry had trusted Dumbledore to keep him safe…

"Fortuna Major!"

"Yeah, yeah." The Fat Lady glared down at him, then with an annoyed huff, swung to the side. "We're moody these days, hm? Don't let it out on me!"

Harry wasn't about to answer and acknowledge the truth of her statement. He'd been in a consistently bad mood for days. Who wouldn't be in his situation? Well... it almost seemed like everybody, but that was only because the others didn't know. They – like him – thought Dumbledore had their best interest at heart and would not let a monster into the school.

Harry's dark thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing noise in the common room. "What's going on?" he asked Ron and Hermione after he managed to fight his way through a crowd of children gathering around the blackboard. His friends were currently working on their star charts for Astronomy. Harry sighed, realizing he still had to do that too.

"Hogsmeade," Ron answered. "The first weekend is at Halloween."

While everybody seemed to be excited about the news, Harry slunk into a cushioned chair. Uncle Vernon hadn't signed his permission slip, so he didn't think he'd be able to go there. It was unfair.

"I'm sure you can come next time," Hermione said, patting his thigh supportively. "They're bound to catch Black soon, he's been sighted once already."

Harry didn't know about that. Not about Sirius Black, of course, he hoped they caught him soon, but about Hogsmeade. With or without Black, he still didn't have a permission slip.

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron, "Ask McGonagall if you can go. Who knows when we can go again—"

"Ron!" cried Hermione, "Harry's supposed to stay in school…"

And there they went again, fighting over his head, about him, then Crookshanks appeared to hunt down Scabbers, and they started fighting about their actual issue. These stupid pets. Tired of it all, as they ran off to catch their animals, and bring them to safety, Harry started copying down their star charts that they left abandoned on the table. He went to bed before they settled their fight and only woke briefly when Ron came into the dorm a few minutes later, rat cradled against his chest.

The whole next morning, Ron and Hermione barely talked.

Harry had his own reason, why he remained silent throughout the first few classes. They shared both Herbology and Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs. Which meant he'd have to spend four hours with Kakashi and each minute, he felt his gaze itching on his skin. He knew Kakashi was watching him, had always been watching him, but it was only now that he knew how deadly the boy could be, that these looks became increasingly uncomfortable.

Kakashi looked his usual fake self again. Brown hair, brown eyes. He didn't even look flustered, when Harry caught him staring, just smiled and waved or winked as if they were sharing a secret. Which they were. With Ron and Hermione fighting and both not being too eager to investigate Kakashi anymore, Harry hadn't even told them about his encounter, yet. He felt icky and dirty for keeping such an important potentially dangerous secret, but he also knew that nobody would believe him.

As they walked from Herbology to Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, Harry tried to keep Kakashi in his sight. He was so distracted, he almost bumped into the end of the queue in front of the Transfiguration classroom. Somebody was crying, and Harry immediately glared at Kakashi, suspecting it was his doing, but the boy was slouching with his fellow Hufflepuffs, looking innocent.

It was Lavender crying, he found out a while later. When Hermione asked for the reason, it turned out, that her pet rabbit Binky had just died. Killed by a fox.

"I should've known!" Lavender cried. "You know what day it is?"

Hermione shook her head.

"It's the sixteenth of October. That thing you're dreading it will happen on the sixteenth of October! Remember? She was right, she was right!" Harry had no idea, what she Lavender was talking about, though Parvati Patil clearly knew, nodding gravely. And Seamus shook his head with that same severity.

"You've been dreading Binky being killed by a fox?" Hermione asked as confused as Harry.

Lavender sniffed loudly. "Well, not necessarily by a fox," she said through a veil of tears. "But of course, I was afraid that he would die."

"Oh." Hermione paused. "Was Binky an old rabbit?"

Lavender sobbed even harder then. "No! He was only a baby!"

"But then why would you dread him dying?" asked Hermione seriously. Harry almost physically cringed at that. "I mean, look at it logically…" Hermione turned towards the whole group then, who were all glaring at her.

It was only when Ron butted in to call Hermione out on not caring for other people's pets, that Harry had finally enough of this. Truthfully, he was also a little concerned. If there was some truth to what Trelawney had said to Lavender, would it be the same for Harry and the grim?

He didn't want to think about it. He already had a mass murderer on the run and Kakashi to deal with. He didn't need a mythical monster dog on top of that to hunt him down.

Class was boring. They were slowly moving on from Animagi to more practical lessons, but Transfiguration had never been one of his good subjects. After class, he walked up to McGonagall to ask her about his permission slip, but there was nothing she could do. That's how she worded it, though Harry suspected, she didn't really want to either. Wasn't it just convenient for the whole school, that with Sirius Black on the run, he couldn't leave the castle? Hermione was right after all. Maybe it was more so the mass murderer rather than his missing permission that would keep him away from Hogsmeade.

Harry was annoyed. Not only did Black want to kill him – which... by now he could almost get used to people wanting to kill him, there was no end to those – but he was also ruining his fun. Why couldn't they just catch him and lock him in again or give him that Dementor's Kiss the prophet was talking about? Be done with it…

"Professor?" he hesitated before leaving. "Can I ask something about Charlie? Charlie Major." McGonagall's eyes narrowed. She knew. He could see it in her face immediately. She knew what he was about to ask, and that also meant she knew who he really was. Harry felt betrayed.

"You know right?" He asked to make sure. "He's not who he says he is."

"Mr. Potter," she replied evenly, "I assure you there isn't much in this school we – your teachers – aren't aware of."

But wasn't that just the biggest lie? What about Quirrell trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone and with Voldemort in the back of his head? What about the basilisk? Sure, there might not be much that slipped their attention, but there were prior incidents and those could've ended in catastrophe. But of course, even then, the teachers had never believed him. He'd learned that already in his first year. McGonagall hadn't believed him then too, that the Philosopher's Stone was in danger.

There was no point, trying to convince her, he knew. She had he mind made up. "Okay," he relented immediately. McGonagall eyed him with suspicion, but then only nodded.

When Harry hurried out of the classroom, his mind was reeling. If the teachers knew and didn't see Kakashi as a threat, who else could he talk to? Hagrid? But though Hagrid was a friend, he always believed in Dumbledore's judgment. The twins maybe, he thought. The twins had already started their investigation into Kakashi on their own. They didn't seem as suspicious of him as Harry, seeing it more as a curious mystery, but they—

"I told you the teachers knew."

Harry froze. There, leaning opposite the door to the classroom, Kakashi was waiting for him. He was alone. Not even Ron and Hermione had waited for Harry to finish his conversation with McGonagall. Harry looked back into the classroom, but McGonagall had already vanished through the backdoor into her office.

"What do you want?" he hissed, finally acknowledging the Hufflepuff.

"You don't have permission to go to Hogsmeade," Kakashi shrugged. "Neither do I."

Wearily, Harry nodded. "Yeah?" He didn't like where this was going.

"You could help me with some supplementary reading I have to do, for the years I missed." The boy sounded cautious.

Harry huffed. He turned down the corridor to leave towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Ask one of your friends."

Behind him, Kakashi scrambled to follow him. "Well, I thought we were friends?"

"Then you've missed a few hints." He pulled his satchel up defensively as if he needed that flimsy shield between himself and the other boy.

"We could help each other," Kakashi suggested. "I know you're bad at Potions."

"As are you," from what Harry had heard.

Kakashi snorted. "I'm great in theory. I can help you understand some of it."

"Look," Harry stopped short on top of the great staircase. "If you need help, you ask one of your friends, and if I need help, I'll ask one of mine. Easy as that."

Kakashi looked taken aback, then he scoffed. "You're friends will go to Hogsmeade, though." He slouched a little, making himself seem almost vulnerable. "Come on, it'll be boring if I don't get something to do."

Harry had enough of this. He was sure, that Kakashi was lying. Whatever he wanted with Harry alone during the Hogsmeade weekend, I couldn't be good. Actually, standing on the stairs alone with Kakashi, he already felt vulnerable again. Fear was biting in his neck. It would be so easy for Kakashi to just push him.

Quickly he turned toward the Great Hall and marched on, Kakashi hot on his heels. He was hit by a sudden wave of relief, when he passed the Gryffindor seventh years, including Oliver Wood. "Oliver!" Harry exclaimed, running up to him, already feeling a lot better. Surely, Kakashi wouldn't dare do anything in the presence of the entire seventh-year Gryffindor class.

"Harry?" Oliver turned, grey eyes finding Harry first and Kakashi second. "I hope you slept well. Don't forget training tomorrow."

Harry almost groaned. He glanced back at Kakashi, miffed, that the boy was still there. "Do you know, if we'll play the Slytherins in November?" he asked more as an excuse to have something to say, than out of genuine curiosity. After all, Wood had just told them the day before that he didn't know yet.

"Sadly, no," the captain replied. "I'll tell you as soon as I know." He sounded impatient himself.

"But it's only three weeks now."

Oliver shrugged. Then he glanced at the Great Hall. "I'm getting hungry," he announced. He turned to Kakashi next. "You're Charlie, right? We met yesterday. I feel I haven't been my best self." He put his hand out for Kakashi to shake. "I'm Oliver Wood, Gryffindor team captain. Could I borrow your friend for a moment?"

Harry was highly irritated by the way, Oliver said friend, though he couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't have time to complain about it, though, because as soon as Kakashi nodded, Oliver put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into the Great Hall. Harry felt a curious mix of relief and irritation then. Relief at finally being rid of the dangerous boy, and irritation with why Oliver had asked Kakashi for permission in the first place.

"Look, Harry," Oliver whispered secretively as they were far enough away from the door, almost at the Gryffindor table. "I don't want you to think, I'm judging. I'm not. But we might play Hufflepuff soon, so please try not to share our secret moves, alright?" He winked at Harry, though he sounded dead serious.

Harry had no idea what he was talking about.

"I'm not a traitor!" he felt indignant about the mere suggestion.

The castle was beautifully silhouetted against the dark evening sky above the roofs of Hogsmeade. It was a clear night today, stars sparkling, the moon, a silver sickle, half hiding behind the tallest tower of Hogwarts. It was the sight of his dreams. The few good dreams he still had.

He'd lived his few happy years here. Truly, the only years, he'd really lived at all. For a moment, it seemed like yesterday. As if no time at all had passed between those nights when they were roaming the corridors of the castle, all together, Moony, Prongs, him… and yes, Wormtail, too. He could feel the rough rock of the castle under his paws, the muddy soil around the lake, the wood of the Shrieking Shack. He could hear the wolf howl.

For that moment, it all seemed so close. As if everything between then and now had never happened: The war, James and Lily, Peter, Azkaban… As if that was all just a bad dream, a vague and unclear memory, now.

But it wasn't just that. The moment passed quickly. And it passed with the horrific sight of a ragged, fluttery cloak blocking the view of the moon.

It had just been the new moon a few nights ago. It still was small and dark on the firmament. And maybe that darkness was the reason, Sirius only saw the Dementors so late.

He shuddered, ducked his head, slunk back a few steps, all of his memories returning at once. Those nights in Hogwarts, they were an eternity ago. He was back here… Very much, at the end of his road.

He must be mad, Sirius thought, coming here, despite the Dementors. But he had no choice in the matter. This was, where he had to be, where maybe his life would finally make sense again. If he could free the world of Pettigrew, and Harry of the danger in his vicinity, maybe that would make it all worth it. The years in Azkaban, the journey…losing Kakashi.

He wondered about that.

Sirius found himself incredibly tired now. Seeing the castle wasn't motivating him to take the last part of the journey in stride, instead, he felt the full weight of the miles and miles and miles, he'd walked. How far was it? He'd never actually made the math, too intimidated by the journey ahead. Now, that it laid behind him, he could allow himself to at least guess it. From Norfolk to London all the way to Hogsmeade… Six hundred miles… Seven hundred maybe?

It weighed heavy on his body, on every limb, his shoulders, the sheer weight of it pulling him down. He knew he was in bad shape. Hungry, cold, blood crusted between his claws. But he made it. Hogwarts was in sight, and that realization made him believe, almost convinced, that it could be done.

That he could, one last time, find his way home, where he'd always felt at home. What irony, that that place too, was now infested with Dementors. And for a moment, he did not know if home meant Hogwarts or Azkaban.

Then exhaustion got the better of him. He dragged his dog body into a nearby cave, couldn't even find the strength to search it for potential human presence, and fell asleep right then and there. Tomorrow, he'd reach Hogwarts, he knew. It was still a march away, the castle big enough, that he could see it from far far away. There was still a distance to go, but he'd get there soon. Maybe not tomorrow, after all. Maybe he could take a break here, catch his breath, find his strength.

He knew, once he arrived at Hogwarts, he couldn't stay there long. With the Dementors and all those wizards there searching for him, it wouldn't just be dangerous, it would be near unbearable. He'd make it quick. Go to Hogwarts, break in, find the rat, kill it…

And then… and then…

He would die then. He was decided on that. There was no future for him, after all. But he didn't know how, yet. Maybe the Dementors would take the decision from him. All he really had to do, was kill the rat first.