Author's Notes: The Rotten Writer, here again ladies and gentlemen.

This took a little longer than intended but I got there in the end. A bit shorter than I wanted but here it is. This year is giving me trouble already since I realized I didn't actually outline as much for this year as Ihave the others so I've been trying to get my notes organized and get all my ideas lined up before I really dive into things. Add in some health issues and that meant a little less actual writing got done than I'd like.

No worries, I'm not dropping dead anytime soon and leaving this thing unifinished. I've just had a few days where shaking hands or vision problems made writing harder than it needs to be.

This year is gonna move along faster than the others also. I'm thinking another 7 to 8 chapters for the whole thing since, honestly, not as much happened this year as with the other years. So each chapter should advance through the year at a pretty steady clip so we can move things right along to fourth year.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. I'm just having fun playing in this world.

Now presenting chapter 31 of Soul Scars

Soul Scars Part Three

The Greengrass Problem

by,

Rtnwriter

Mister and Missus Danforth, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they led a perfectly normal life, thank you very much. Neither of them had much desire for any excitement, preferring a calm, peaceful existence. Now, they didn't see anything wrong with someone wanting a little adventure in their own life, it just wasn't for them.

Missus Danforth worked as a clerk in a barristers office. Her duties mostly included filing paperwork, helping to prepare briefs, and, occasionally, sitting in as stenographer during a deposition. Mister Danforth worked as a project manager for a communications company, and together they managed a comfortable living. Three months previously they had moved into their new home on Privet Drive and were just starting to get used to the new setting and layout of the home.

One night, early in August, Missus Danforth was puttering about in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner, when she heard her husband call for her from the living room.

"Oh, that man," she huffed in a fondly exasperated sort of way as she wiped her hands on her apron and made her way out of the kitchen. "Charles Danforth, I am not explaining how to use the VCR again. If you haven't figured it out by now then I don't think you'll ever…" Her voice trailed off as she entered the room to find her husband of twenty-seven years standing in the middle of the space, the remote for the telly held loosely in one hand as he stared at a news report on the screen.

"… the public is warned that Black is armed and should be considered extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up and any sightings of Black should be reported to the immediately to the authorities."

Missus Danforth shivered at the sight of the picture of the escaped convict that accompanied the report. Six feet tall, gaunt, with dark eyes that appeared sunken in his skull. He wore an expression on his face that she couldn't readily identify, but something about it set off alarm bells in some deep, primitive part of her brain. All of his lay beneath a tangled and matted mass of elbow length black hair that finished off the job of giving him a wild, almost feral appearance.

The reporters moved on to a different story, but she didn't really notice as the thought of the picture and the haunted look in the man's eyes. Something about him had seemed so… sad, to her, despite simultaneously appearing quite dangerous as well and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was much more that wasn't being said about Sirius Black.

Finally, she tuned back into reality to find her husband ranting at the telly and the distinct lack of information imparted, such as where Black had escaped from or where he'd last been seen.

"… could be coming up the sidewalk outside right now for all we know!" he practically bellowed before she took his arm and calmed him, directing him out of the room and toward the kitchen.

"Come, Dear," she said. "Dinner is ready and you know the doctor warned you about your blood pressure…"

She trailed off, again, as they entered the kitchen and she noticed that she and her husband were no longer the only people in their home. Sitting at the small dinette table, a plate of her turkey tetrazzini in front of him, was the very figure they'd just been discussing. His hair looked even more wild than in the photo they'd seen, bits of bark, twigs, and leaves stuck in it and he appeared even more skeletal as well. The strange grey robes he wore were torn, tattered, and blood stained in places and above the low neckline black marks, tattoos, could be seen against pale and waxy skin.

He held a spoon in one hand where he'd been shoveling food into his mouth and in his other hand a polished length of dark wood that was raised and pointed directly toward the two of them. He muttered something that she didn't hear and suddenly Missus Danforth found herself completely unable to move, unable to speak, frozen in place, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She found that she could breathe, and her eyes could move to look around, but that was it.

The figure at the table, Black, finished chewing the food that was in his mouth, set down both the spoon and the piece of wood, before he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and set it in his lap as he turned his dark eyes back to them.

"I promise, I have absolutely no desire to hurt you," he said, his voice raspy and hoarse, as if from disuse, or perhaps from damage to his vocal cords. "I swear it, I just wish to ask some questions." He waved the piece of wood in their direction and, suddenly, Missus Danforth could move her head and her mouth, which had been frzen open, snapped shut, nearly biting her tongue in her surprise. A moment later she opened her mouth to scream and he waved the stick again before she could. When she screamed out, silence followed, and she stopped, blinking in surprise.

"I have silenced you so you can't scream," he told them. "Please, I swear that you are perfectly safe. I have also silenced this room, much like I silenced you so screaming won't do you any good, no one will hear you."

He waited a moment before he waved the stick again and she tentatively opened her mouth when nothing seemed to happen.

"W-what do you want?" she whimpered in terror.

"I just have some questions. That's all. As soon as we talk I will leave and you will both be perfectly safe and healthy, I promise."

She turned to look at her husband who still appeared to be completely frozen, his eyes moving frantically but nothing else even as his breath rushed harshly through his nose, in and out, panting like a bull.

"What d-d-did you w-want to know?" she stammered out a moment later after turning back to look at the man in their home.

He leaned forward in his seat at the table, his elbows resting on either side of his plate, an eager glint in his eyes as he stared at her.

"I want to know everything you know about Harry Potter."

#####

Glowing emerald green eyes opened slowly and Harry stared up at the canopy above his bed feeling feverish and almost gasping for breath for several moments before he groaned and tilted his head, looking down the length of his body at the mass of orange fur on his chest.

"Crookshanks," he groaned out. "Why do you keep doing this?" The huge half-kneazle with the squashed face didn't answer and simply slept on, purring contentedly in his spot on Harry's chest. He sighed and looked back up toward the canopy as he considered if it was worth the risk of getting scratched to attempt to move the beast.

It had happened during their trip to collect their school supplies at Diagon Alley the week before. Hermione had been more excited than he'd seen her in some time when she met them there with her parents and told them she was looking to get a familiar as an early birthday present. At the Magical Menagerie, where they ran into several of thr Weasley clan, she'd found her pet, right after the creature had attempted to eat Ron's rat, Scabbers. Of course, the twins had found the entire thing hilarious and even Daphne had smirked at the rodent's misfortune, but Ron had been incensed and Harry had come close to punching the git again when he'd mouthed off at Hermione after she'd come out of the shop, the massive bundle of fur clutched tightly in her arms.

Returning from his trip down memory lane, Harry fought his way out from under the small tiger that was Crookshanks, somehow managing to avoid getting scratched for his troubles and stood, stretching languidly as he made his way to the bathroom to get started on his day. It was September 1st, and they would be leaving at 10 o'clock that morning for the Floo to the Express Platform. Amelia decided that she didn't want to risk the possibility that Dobby or someone else might decide to interfere with the barrier from King's Cross again. They still had no idea how the little elf had even managed that either.

Harry let his mind wander as he went about his morning rivals, casting his mind back over the last few weeks. The month of August had seemed to fly by, and Harry still hadn't decided if that was a good thing, or not. On the one hand, he was looking forward to getting back to school and continuing to learn more about magic and spend time with his friends that he didn't get to see as often during the summer months. On the other hand, he didn't want the lazy summer days to end.

Of course, August had been less than lazy. He scowled as he thought over the tense atmosphere that had filled the house since he'd learned the girls big secret. Daphne and Hermione came over as often as ever and they still spent time together but the easy companionship they'd shared seemed a thing of the past. They all walked on egg shells around him, as if afraid to draw his attention. He was still more than a little annoyed with the three of them, not for hiding the scars, but for their insistence on his opening up to them while they appeared to be purposely keeping themselves closed off from him.

It hurt, this break in their friendship. It bothered him at a deep level, but he was determined not to be the one to break first. If they wanted to make amends, if they truly wanted to be friends then they were going to have to come to him. They would need to open up and let him in just as they'd been pushing him to do if they wanted him to trust them again.

He shut off the shower and stepped out, drying himself with a wave of his hand as he went about getting dressed and brushing his teeth. A glance in the mirror showed that his hair had gotten a lot longer during the summer, brushing past his ears and even against his shirt collar at the back of his neck. He'd considered getting it cut but decided to hold off for a bit since he found that the added length made it a bit easier to manage by running a brush through it. It still remained a hopeless mess but it appeared to be slightly more organized chaos to him than the complete anarchy it was before.

Shower done, teeth and hair brushed, and dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black button down shirt, he pulled on his dragon hide boots and considered himself ready to go. He had packed his school trunk the night before and had everything else ready to go including a small back pack with his school uniform packed into it that he could change into and a few books to read during the trip. Another wave of his hand to cast a tempus charm told him that it was barely eight o'clock in the morning and he sighed in resignation when he realized that he had nothing to do but wait.

Grabbing his bag and shrinking his trunk, he slipped the trunk into his pocket and made his way downstairs and into the kitchen were a plate filled with a steaming breakfast and a cup of coffee appeared in front of him the moment he sat down to Amelia's left.

"Morning," he said, smiling as he put his sugar and salt into his coffee. As she did every time, Amelia simply shook her head in continued bemusement over his habit and wished him a good morning, as well.

"Got everything ready?" she asked and he nodded.

"Even packed the broomstick servicing kit Hermione gave me for my birthday, I figure I'll need it for this years quidditch season."

"Good thinking."

"And thanks for teaching me that shrinking charm, too. That came in really handy. I was able to put my broom and Hedwig's cage in my trunk before shrinking the whole thing."

She gave him a small nod but said nothing else, instead turning her attention back to her breakfast and Harry couldn't help but give her a confused look. Amelia was usually more conversational than that, and something about it didn't sit right with him. A heavy feeling settled in his gut and he knew, he just knew, that there was some bad news on the horizon.

They ate quietly until both had finished and then they simply sat at the table in silence. Harry poured himself a second cup of coffee and pulled a book from his bag, reading quietly until, one at a time, the girls arrived at the table.

Susan showed up first, of course, with her bag slung over her shoulder and no sign of her trunk. Harry figured she'd either shrunk it or had left it up in her room for Binky to bring down later. She greeted them both cheerfully but their demeanor quickly brought her down and she gave Harry a concerned look, shooting a glance at her aunt to which he could only shrug.

Daphne was next to arrive with Hermione only a handful of minutes after her.

"I left my trunk in the Floo room," she said as she took one of the empty seats at the table and loaded up her plate. "Thank you, very much, Aunt Amy for letting me come with you guys. Mum and Dad had a full day booked today that they couldn't rearrange. They send their thanks also."

Amelia simply nodded, giving her a small smile and turned her attention back to her issue of the Daily Prophet which had arrived somewhere between Susan and Daphne showing up at the table. She also shot a confused look at the others and Harry had finally had enough.

"Oh, just spit it out already, please," he burst out, causing the girls to jump and Amelia to arch a brow in his direction over her paper. "I'm sorry but you're not acting like yourself. You've got something to tell us and we're not going to like it, let's just get it over with so we can move on. Please?" he tried, lowering his tone so it didn't seem like he was snapping at her.

She sighed and set down the paper, giving him a chagrined smile.

"You're more perceptive than I thought, Harry. I'm sorry, you're right, I do have something to say that I'm sure you won't like, and I am sorry but I have to consider your safety and well being." She took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh before straightening up even more in her seat. "Sirius Black was spotted on Privet Drive a week ago," she said.

Harry was struck dumb, his mouth falling open even as the girls started and shot him a look.

"What?"

"He broke into number 4 Privet Drive and interrogated the current residents. They bought the home about three months ago, a Mister and Missus Danforth."

"What did he want?"

"He was looking for you. He placed them in body binds and then freed the wife enough for her to answer questions while he sat at their kitchen table eating the dinner that Missus Danforth had cooked." She looked directly at him, her face set and impassive as she did her best to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation. "Harry, every question he asked was related to you. He wanted to know everything they knew about you. Where you were. When you stopped living there. Why you stopped living there.

"The Minister has decided to place Dementors at Hogwarts. This incident proves that Black is trying to find you, Harry, and Fudge has set them to guard the school in case Black tries to get into the school to get at you."

"But he's not-"

"We don't know that, Harry!" she snapped, cutting him off before he could get going. "I know you want to believe it, and I really hope you're right, but we just don't know right now. His behavior is suspect, at best, and you know that Fudge doesn't believe there's any doubt. He won't hear anything about it."

"So everyone in the school has to deal with Dementors being around because of me? Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place in all of Britain, why would the Dementors be needed?"

"Dumbledore and I have both argued the same thing but the Minister will not be moved and we don't have any authority to override him in this. The Dementors will be there and there's nothing that any of us can do about that."

Harry fumed, angrily glaring at her but it was like a river parting against a rock. She was unmoved, untouched by his ire.

"Look, I don't have any control over their placement. That's not my fault so you can stow this attitude until I do something you can honestly be upset with me about," she snapped and he sat back in his seat, feeling more than a little ashamed of himself, until she kept speaking, "which leads me to my next bit of bad news. I'm sorry, but I won't be signing your, or Susan's permission slips to visit Hogsmeade this year-"

She was cut off as Harry and Susan both blew up at that. They were silenced a moment later when she lifted her wand and a loud canon blast tore through the kitchen, stunning them both completely.

"I understand you're upset. In your place, at your age, I would be upset too. Unfortunately, as we've been discussing, Black is out there and we don't know what he wants other than he's interested in you," she said, stabbing a finger in Harry's direction. "Now, because of that I do not feel it could be safe for you to leave the protections of the castle in order to go to the village and I'm sorry if that upsets you but I am your guardian, I am responsible for you safety and that is my decision to make."

"What about Susan?" he asked after fuming for a few more moments. "There's no reason for Black to be looking for her."

"Except it was announced in the Prophet that the four of you are bonded," Amelia pointed out. "Honestly, if I had anything to say about it none of you would be going to the village until after Black is caught and we can be sure things are safe. But I don't have any control over Hermione's or Daphne's parents." She turned and glanced at the two named girls, questioningly.

"Mum and daddy wouldn't sign my slip either," Hermione muttered. "They explained it all to me this morning."

"My father signed my permission slip," Daphne admitted, pulling the folded piece of parchment from inside her robes. "Honestly, he seemed happy to do so."

"Probably hoping something horrible happens to you," Harry groused, his ire switching in an instant from Amelia to the ever problematic Cyril Greengrass. To his surprise, Daphne simply nodded in agreement and tucked the parchment away again.

"I'm very sorry, kids," Amelia said, drawing their attention back to them again. "I know you were looking forward to this, and honestly, if it wasn't for this situation with Black I wouldn't have any problems with it, but until we know for sure, it's simply too dangerous. You all seem to find yourselves in enough trouble as it is, we don't need to go inviting more."

"So you're just going to ignore the evidence I brought you?" Harry snapped, the cutlery on the table near him vibrating quietly.

"I'm not ignoring anything, Harry!" she barked, glaring at him furiously. "I'm doing the best I can with the situation I've been given. I'm sorry if that's not instant gratification enough for you, but without solid, concrete proof, there's only so much I can do."

Harry shrank back in his seat, the cutlery falling still as he suddenly felt like kicking himself, repeatedly. Amelia had gone far out of her way to make him feel welcomed and safe and the first time things didn't really go his way this was how he decided to treat her?

"I'm sorry," he nearly whispered, staring down at the table in front of him.

"I understand you're frustrated, Harry, but that doesn't give you the right to take that out on the rest of us, okay?" she tried after a minute of silence stretched between them and he nodded his head in response.

There wasn't much discussion to be had after that and before long they gathered together their belongings, Harry running back up to his room to retrieve the Sword that he'd forgotten on the coffee table, and they all set off through the Floo for Kings Cross.

#####

"Is it true, Potter? You actually fainted?"

A part of Harry wanted to turn and tear into Malfoy as the Slytherin's delighted words reached them, but he was honestly still too shaken to truly care about someone as petty and childish as Draco Malfoy. In fact, even after the chocolate he'd eaten on the train, he still felt cold and clammy and it was taking everything he had simply to put one foot in front of the other.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Neville snarled from somewhere behind Harry and the growing cadre of girls that seemed to surround them. Harry's three girls flanked him, as usual, they looking a little worse for wear themselves. Luna had come into the compartment with them just after the Dementor was driven off and, the moment they'd stepped off the train, Tracey and Hannah had fallen into step with the group as they worked their way toward the carriages. Daphne's little sister, Astoria, had started over toward the boats after giving her sister a hug and casting a long, concerned look in Harry's direction.

"You really might want to watch what you attempt to mock others for, Draco," Blaise said as he walked up to them, interrupting the growing argument that had broken out between Neville and Malfoy, "or someone might just let slip you you reacted to the Dementor."

Malfoy spluttered and blustered for a moment but eventually stalked off, scowling angrily at anyone and everyone as he went.

"Thanks, guys," Harry muttered quietly when Blaise fell into step with the rest of them.

"No problem, Lord Potter. It might surprise you to learn that not many of us Slytherins actually like the arrogant little tosser either."

Harry let out a dry chuckle. "Draco Malfoy," he said. "Promoting House unity through a mutual hatred of him."

Weak laughter rose from the group for a moment but it wasn't quite enough to cut through the lingering effects of the horrific creature they'd so recently encountered.

"Blaise?" he asked a few moments later.

"Lord Potter?"

"If we're supposed to be trying to be friends you should probably call me Harry."

Blaise smiled, a small curving of his lips that one might have missed if they weren't looking for it. On the usually stoic boy's face it amounted to a beaming grin on anyone else.

"Sounds good to me, Harry."

They fell silent after that until they got into the carriages, Harry taking one with his girls while Neville, Hannah, Tracey, Luna, and Blaise took another. In their carriage, none of them really felt much like talking. Drenched from the pouring rain outside and still raw from their encounter, they simply sank themselves into the bond, attempting to share whatever soothing feelings they could during the ten or fifteen minute trip up to the castle.

While they waited, Harry found himself sinking into the memories of the day as the world around him fell away.

#####

Amelia and the girls each stepped lightly from the fireplace at Kings Cross and quickly moved to the side, smothering grins as the fire flared up again and Harry came sliding out on his back, tumbling a dozen or so feet before he finally came to a stop on the platform. He sprang quickly to his feet, wincing slightly at the new bruises he was likely to have, all the while cursing under his breath about every form of magical travel he'd yet to encounter that wasn't a broom.

Without a word, Amelia waved her wand, banishing the soot from their clothes and with a few quiet words wished them a good year and reminded Harry, again, not to go looking for Sirius Black. After promising to write, the four of them hefted their bags with Hermione lugging a cat carrier that contained a seething ball of orange fur and barely contained rage, and made their way onto the train, quickly taking to the same compartment they'd used for the previous two years, the very last compartment on the very last car.

When Harry pulled open the door he turned quickly and motioned the girls to be quiet before he stepped into the compartment and pointed to the older, scruffy looking man that was sleeping in the far corner.

"Wonder who he is," he muttered after they were all in and had made themselves comfortable.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione said, matter of factly.

"Think he's the new Defense Professor?"

"Only vacant post at the school, Susan," Hermione said with a shrug. "He must be."

Harry had started at the name and his head whipped around to look at the bushy haired witch beside him. "How do you know his name is Lupin?" he asked, almost demanded, actually, and she gave him a strange look but simply pointed to a battered and beaten leather case sitting in the overhead rack above the sleeping man. On one corner the words Professor R. J. Lupin could be seen in peeling letters.

Harry stared, rather intently, at the shabby figure in the corner for some time before he was finally drawn into conversation after Neville, Hannah, and Tracey arrived in their now very full compartment. The day proceeded in a quiet, lazy manner. Reading was the activity of choice for the majority of them, as it was something that could be done quietly so they didn't risk waking their new professor.

It wasn't until after the snack lady trundled by with her cart that anything really unusual happened to break up the course of their day.

The door slid open, noisily, and they all glanced toward the door as Draco Malfoy stood framed in the doorway. With his customary sneer in place, Malfoy glanced at each of them for a moment before dismissing them, one by one, until his eyes landed on Daphne.

"Greengrass," he said. "I have a compartment further up the train, one less… crowded, than this."

Daphne groaned, mentally, even as she felt all three of her bond mates tense and glare at the Slytherin and his bodyguards.

"Good for you to have such emptiness available to you. It leads one to question what possible reason you might have had to leave such comfort to come here, where your presence is neither needed or wanted," she said in as icy a tone of voice as anyone had ever heard her use before.

"I wouldn't be here voluntarily. My only purpose is to collect you so you can come sit with me in our compartment. I'm sure your father instructed you to do so, just as mine did," he said, evenly. Harry had to admit, somewhere deep down, that he was almost impressed that Malfoy had managed to keep his composure so well in the face of the cold indifference from Daphne.

"My father does not dictate where I go or who I speak to. Especially since he and I already have an arrangement, the deadline of which has not been reached," she tried, well aware that it wouldn't likely work.

"You seem to be belaboring under the mistaken impression that you have a choice in this matter, Greengrass," he said, sneer firmly back in place. "You know better than to disobey your head of house. He has ordered that you spend time with me while our fathers negotiate, so you'll obey your future husband and come with me. Now."

"Malfoy?" Harry cut in, carefully hiding his anger behind his growing Occlumency shields. "Get out, before you get hurt."

"This has nothing to do with House Potter," Malfoy shot back. "This situation is between House Greengrass and House Malfoy and you cannot interfere, Lord Potter. I would have thought that your friends would have taught you that much about your place in our society." He spoke the word 'Lord' with as much derision as he could, almost making it sound like an insult.

Harry scowled at the irritating boy, but couldn't think of anything to refute him. Harry might have been higher on the social ladder than Malfoy, but the rules were clear. Negotiations of any kind between two Houses could not be interfered with by a third House. Harry thought to mention that Daphne already had orders from her father to get him to offer a betrothal contract for her, but they weren't in any formal negotiations so that wouldn't work either.

His hands were starting to shake as he got angrier and angrier with the smug git but a hand on his shoulder calmed him immediately.

"It's okay, Harry," Daphne told him, leaning down until she could whisper in his ear.

"You don't have to go anywhere with him," he practically snarled back in a low angry tone. "This isn't right."

"No," Neville spoke up, glaring at Malfoy but speaking to Harry. "No, it isn't right, Harry, but it is how our society works, for now." He finally turned away from the blond Slytherin and looked at Daphne. "Heiress Greengrass, if you don't mind us knowing, what exactly was the wording of Lord Greengrass' orders to you?"

"I am to take opportunities to get to know the Malfoy Heir better, until such time as either my father and Mister Malfoy complete contract negations, or until a better offer is put forward," she added the last with a glance at Harry out of the corner of her eye who continued to sit there on the bench seat with his hands balled into white knuckled fists on his thighs.

"Come along, Greengrass," Malfoy cut in again with a triumphant grin on his face. "The School Charter states that you have to sit at your own table at tonight's feast, but expect to sit with me at the Slytherin table for every meal starting tomorrow morning."

"Nothing, in her father's orders implies a specific amount of time, or number of meetings she is required to spend with you, Malfoy," Neville shot back. "She'll follow her father's orders, but at her own discretion."

Before anyone else could move or say anything Daphne was moving across the compartment. "Someone please make sure that my trunk is kept safe until the elves can take it up to our dorm," she said, flatly as she stopped a foot away from the Slytherin. Malfoy smirked again and moved to the side, letting Daphne move ahead of him out of the compartment. When she stepped past he set his hand against the small of her back, half his hand slipping over her bum, as if to steer her from the compartment and Harry shot to his feet, the windows rattling furiously behind him as anger fueled power welled out of him.

Before he did anything more than that, Daphne spun, her left hand flashing out to catch the Malfoy Heir across the face with a slap so hard that his head whipped to his left on his neck, his pale cheek blooming with an angry red hand print in a matter of moments.

"My father's orders also did not include letting you put your disgusting hands on me," she snarled, furiously. "If you want to keep your hands attached to your body, then I suggest you keep them to yourself from now on."

Half the compartment sniggered at that, almost wishing Malfoy would try something, just to see what happened to him and the blonds storm grey eyes hardened as he glared at Daphne, one hand coming up to gently rub his abused cheek.

"Trust me, Heiress Greengrass," he hissed. "I will be writing to my father, and soon enough Lord Greengrass will be changing that part of your orders. When he does, you will be exceedingly sorry that you just did that."

Nothing else was said and within moments, Malfoy, his ever present bookends, and Daphne had disappeared down the train. Neville stood and closed the compartment door, ignoring how it and the windows continued to rattle in their frames until Hermione reached out and gently placed a hand on Harry's forearm, pushing soothing emotions toward him through their bond until the light in his eyes dimmed, the loose items stopped shaking, and the eddies of power slowly receded back into his tightly wound frame as Hermione coaxed him back into his seat, barely holding back her own fury at the entire situation. She, Susan, and Harry had spent nearly a month thinking over Daphne's situation since she'd finally told Harry about it, reading everything they could find on the matter, the laws in question and how they worked, and so far, short of Harry actually offering a contract of his own, they hadn't yet found anything that they felt could really help their bond mate.

"Just great," Neville muttered. "Malfoy has finally figured out that his tackle has more uses than just taking a piss."

"Neville!" Hermione blurted out, somehow managing to look both embarrassed and disgusted at the same time.

"It's true, Hermione," he shot back, completely unrepentant for his crass language. "Lord Greengrass could conceivably give Malfoy all kinds of authority over Daphne and she'd have no choice but to obey or risk being cast out of her family."

"Well it sounds like that'd be the better alternative, under the circumstances."

"To you, it would," Susan offered. "To someone not raised in our society that would make sense. But to a pureblood, losing your family is just about one of the worst things that can happen to you. Being cast out she'd be dropped to the bottom rung, below the bottom rung, even. When she's out of school it'd be almost impossible for her to find work. She'd have problems finding any man to be her husband, at least not a good one."

"But she doesn't-"

"That's how things would normally operate. Our situation is different, but not a guarantee," Susan cut her off, her eyes shooting toward Harry, who was staring distractedly at the floor in front of his feet as he took long, deep breaths to calm himself. Susan shot Hermione a look and mouthed 'later' to the bushy haired witch, to which, Hermione frowned but grudgingly nodded.

"Well… I'm fairly certain that things like that didn't happen when I was still in school."

As one, the group of six students turned to look at the no longer sleeping figure in the corner of their compartment. He was now sitting up, amber colored eyes open and staring intently at the lot of them.

"First time I've heard of it happening either, Professor Lupin," Harry muttered, looking up finally at the sound of the man's rough voice. "But, I'm still new to the wizarding world, really, so I can't say how common it might actually be."

The man blinked, his sharp eyes settling firmly on Harry.

"How did you know my name?" he asked and Harry shrugged, pointing up at the case in the luggage rack above him.

"You're Remus Lupin, right?" he asked and the man nodded. "I have my mother's journals from her time at school and some letters written by her and my dad. You were mentioned a lot but she sometimes called you Moony?"

The professor's lips curved into a small, sad smile and he nodded. "Yeah, that was a nickname that your dad gave me, actually. He, Peter, Sirius, and I were all best friends throughout our school years and after."

Harry opened his mouth to ask about Sirius Black when the train suddenly shuddered and started to slow, causing many to grab onto whatever solid object they could reach to keep from being thrown from their seats as confused voices started to echo up and down the length of the train.

"What's going on?" Neville asked, standing to peer out of the frosted over window into the dark outside the train.

"We can't be there already."

Harry sat there in between Susan and Hermione. He was vaguely aware that he could see his breath in the suddenly frigid air in front of him and a shudder ran through his body that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold.

A moment later the lights went out and seconds after that he descended into his own, personal darkness, screams echoing loudly in his ears.

#####

He shuddered, opening his eyes in the carriage as he felt it slow upon approaching the castle. Before any of his girls could question the sudden tremor that ran through his body he pushed himself to his feet, hunched over to avoid hitting his head on the roof of the carriage, and shoved the door open, jumping out to land with a thud in the dirt even before the carriage had come to a stop.

He straightened up, looking around absently as his breath fogged in the chill air and he was nearly instantly soaked to the skin by the rain that had begun pouring down in icy sheets just after they'd left the station.

"Harry!" Hermione blurted out, clattering down the steps leading into the carriage after him, her wand already in hand and moving as she cast water repelling charms and a warming charm at him. "It's pouring and freezing out here," she admonished and he gave her a blank look for a moment before looking up at the rain.

"I didn't notice," he said, ignoring the looks the other girls cast in his direction as they joined him and Hermione in the rain. Together, the five of them made their way into the castle, only to stop when Professor McGonagall approached..

"You four," she said in her usual brusque manner as she gestured to Harry and the girls. "I need you to come with me. Lord Longbottom, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" she asked. "I understand you were in the compartment as well with that foul creature?" The disapproval in her expression and tone had never been more obvious, showing just what she felt about the idea of the Dementors.

"No, I'm fine, Professor, thanks," Neville offered, even if his smile looked a bit shaky.

"There will be hot chocolate available at tonights feast," she told him. "I suggest you partake of a glass. If you could be on your way in, I need to borrow your friends for a moment but they will be with you in plenty of time for the start of the feast."

"See you inside, guys," Neville told them as he moved around the professor, giving a little wave before he disappeared into the Great Hall.

"If you'll please follow me?" Professor McGonagall said and led the way to her office, the four teens trailing along behind her, Harry still so lost in thought that they'd already reached and stepped inside of an empty classroom before he'd even noticed. Standing by the teachers desk was a figure wearing a grey colored cloak with the hood up, their face cast in deep shadows so complete that nothing could be seen within the hood.

Immediately the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled and he felt his body tense in apprehension and, without thinking, he raised his hand toward the figure, ready to cast any number of spells at a moments notice.

"No need for that, Lord Potter," the figure said. The voice was strange, neither masculine or feminine in a way that he couldn't define and a memory ripped across the front of his mind after a moment's hesitation.

"You're an Unspeakable.' It wasn't a question and the figure didn't answer.

"Please, take a seat for a moment," their Head of House said, waving to four chairs that had been moved in front of the desk while she moved around and sat behind it. As they took their seats, she pulled several pieces of parchment from within her robes and laid them out on the desk.

"Before we begin, Madam Pomfrey would have my hide if I did not ask if any of you needed some chocolate after your ordeal on the train?"

The four of them shook their heads.

"Professor Lupin already gave us some," Susan told her and Professor McGonagall quirked a small smile.

"Well, it is good to see that our Defense Professor this year appears to have already proven himself worthy of the title." She shuffled the parchment, her expression smoothing out into her usual stern countenance and fixed the four of them with a sharp look. "This is Director Croaker," she said, indicating the figure standing next to her. "Head of the Department of Mysteries. They are here due to a… request that the school made of the department."

"Miss Granger. Are you aware that, by signing up for every elective, there is no way that you could actually attend every class during the year?"

Hermione blinked, startled to be addressed directly and slowly shook her head. "No… um, Director," she said, hesitating for a moment over how to address the cloaked figure. "I wasn't aware of that. I assumed that the classes wouldn't interfere with each other. I mean, I can't be the only student that has ever signed up for all of them before."

"It happens far less frequently than you might imagine, Miss Granger," the professor said in a deadpan tone of voice. "In fact, I believe it has only happen three times in the past century, and the answer is usually a fairly simple request of the Department of Mysteries."

"Normally," Croaker took up the explanation, "under these circumstances, we would assess the student and if they appear capable of handling the load and the stress, we would assign them a time turner to use, under very strict guidelines."

Daphne and Susan started but Harry and Hermione both had blank expressions on their faces.

"As I see that at least half of you have no idea what I'm talking about, I shall explain." Croaker reached into their robes and pulled out a necklace. Dangling on the end of the very long chain was a ring of gold and within that ring hung a tiny hourglass. "This is a time turner. When the chain is worn around your neck and you turn the hourglass, for each turn you will travel backwards in time one hour. With this, you would be able to attend all of your classes during the year however you would have to agree to some restrictions. Namely, you cannot use it for personal reasons, only to attend class. You cannot allow anyone else to know that you have this item in your possession. Finally, you cannot allow your past self to see your future self under any circumstances."

The four teens shared a look. Hermione seemed almost giddy, practically quivering in her seat with the effort of restraining the torrent of questions that wanted to spill forth from her mouth while her bond mates all appeared concerned.

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming," Harry said, turning back to the Director.

"Very astute, Lord Potter. The 'but' in question is, that we do not know how this would affect your bond."

"How do you mean?"

The Director shrugged. "The situation is unprecedented. If Miss Granger were to travel back in time an hour, would she still feel the connection to the four of you, after being temporally displaced? Would your past selves feel the connection to the presence of her future self? Would it possibly damage the bond in some way by stressing the connection over the course of an entire school year?" They shrugged again. "We have no way of knowing. On the one hand, I'd be fascinated to find out. But on the other hand, I would not want to put any of you at risk just for the sake of an experiment."

"You're too kind," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"I'm sure you wouldn't be telling us all this unless you had some options for us to consider?" Daphne said, joining in on the conversation for the first time.

"You have three choices. One, Miss Granger takes the risk, and the time turner, and uses it to attend her classes. Two, all four of you sign up for every elective and use it together, as that would possibly present the least risk amongst the options that include the use of the time turner."

"The third option," Professor McGonagall interjected. "Is that you decline the option of using the time turner and we will have to see about making arrangements with your professors. You could alternate days where you attend the classes with conflicting schedules and collect your assignments after class from those that you must skip for that day. If you have any friends in the classes they could help you by taking notes or studying with you on the lessons skipped as well. Personally, I feel this to be the best option, but the choice is, ultimately, yours."

#####

Quiet footsteps echoed softly along the dimly lit corridor located deep beneath the Ministry of Magic. Cloth whispered against cloth as a long, grey cloak swayed with the motions of the body beneath it. One gloved hand reached out and grasped the knob of a thick mahogany door, twisting and pulling the door open in one smooth motion.

"Director. How did things go at Hogwarts?" Mink asked as Croaker stepped into his office and let the door swing shut behind him.

"It went well enough, I suppose." Croaker dropped into the chair behind his desk and leaned back, reaching beneath his hood to rub at his tired, aching eyes. Maybe he was getting too old for this job? He was definitely feeling too damn tired for it, at the least.

When he lowered his hand, he noted that Sable and Mink were both standing on the other side of his desk, hoods of their own cloaks turned in his direction. He could only imagine that they were eyeing him, curiously as their faces were still properly obscured.

"Were you able to glean anything from the subjects?"

Croaker shook his head.

"No, whatever is going on with this bond of theirs, however it operates, passive charms and scans aren't going to be enough to give us any information. We'll definitely need to secure their cooperation in order to take active scans." He sat up and leaned forward, setting his elbows on the surface of his desk. "We're still getting copies of the scans done by Pomfrey, right?"

"Well…" Sable and Mink turned toward each other for a moment before turning back toward him. "We have copies of all the scans they did during the last school year, but there haven't been any new scans yet, this year. Dirk assures us that they'll get the copies sent, however."

Croaker let out a grunt. "Good enough, I suppose," he said. "Has there been any progress on your research projects?" he asked and Mink nodded.

"Some," they said. "Though not nearly enough." Mink reached within their cloak and pulled out a sheet of parchment that they handed over. "I finally found an undamaged copy of the Hydra information that I already showed you. However, this one is still missing the bottom half of the parchment, just like the last was, so whatever else is supposed to be there, we have no clue."

Croaker nodded and set the parchment down on his desk without looking at it.

"Wee need to know what the whole thing says, as soon as possible," Croaker pressed. "Still no sign of the Soul Bond records?"

Mink shook their head. "It is quite clear, now, that those records were intentionally removed. All that is left is the usual uncorroborated kind of information that the general public has access to. Unfortunately, I still can't say when that happened. It could have been any time in the last six-hundred years and there is just now way to determine when or how."

"Keep your people on it, but it's not our main priority, at the moment. Step up your search on The Hydra, though," he ordered and Mink nodded once before turning and leaving the office.

Sable hummed quietly for a moment after the door closed again.

"You think this Hydra has something to do with the Potter boy and his girls, don't you, Director?"

Croaker arched a brow beneath his hood.

"Listen to this," he said as he picked up the parchment that Mink had handed over and started to read:

"The Hydra will rise

Four strong and immortal

The beast of one and many must stand united

Scarred and broken, the sword will fight

Scarred and determined, knowledge will save

Scarred and damaged, the shield will protect

Scarred and loyal, the faithful will heal

The sword will break

Knowledge will fall

The shield will shatter

The faithful will suffer

Death will come for The"

Croaker trailed off and set the parchment down, turning his full attention back to his oldest friend.

"I don't think this Hydra has something to do with Lord Potter and his young ladies. I think the four of them are The Hydra."

"How could that be?" Sable asked. "A hydra is a creature with multiple heads. If you cut one head, off two more will grow back. That's fairly well known. Hell, it's even a well known story in the muggle world."

"And what is well known is always true and accurate?" Croaker shot back. "I've seen the old records. A hydra is simply a reference to a being that is both singular and multiple. Yes, some of them were the big lizard that people are familiar with. But in a way, Potter and those girls are also a Hydra. When their bond is complete, they will almost technically be one being, but they are still separate individuals at the same time."

"'Four strong and immortal, the beast of one and many must stand united'," Sable suddenly quoted. "Not united as in working together or of a single purpose, you mean united as in the bond uniting their souls into one?"

"The early reports from Hogwarts had their souls separate from each other, even though pieces resided within each body. The last report showed the souls starting to grow and mix together. I think that when they finally complete the bond they'll have one soul spread out between four bodies."

"What is this?" Sable asked. "Why the sudden interest in it?"

"This is important. I don't know exactly how, yet, but I don't want to be blindsided by something in the future," Croaker explained, tapping the piece of parchment with one finger. "You know how little stock I take in the interpretation of prophecy, even if we do house all those that are made here in the Department. This is no prophecy. This is a warning. A warning given before the founders of Hogwarts lived by an Oracle."

"Isn't that just another kind prophecy?"

"Not exactly," Croaker disagreed, smiling at his old friends question, even if he knew the expression wouldn't be seen from within his hood. "The difference might seem like a small one, but it is vitally important. Prophecies, as given by a Seer is only a glimpse of a possible future and states events that may or may not happen, wrapped in verse that is largely open to interpretation. There are any dozens of ways prophecies could be fulfilled and each interpretation is just as likely as the next, until it actually happens and can be looked at in hindsight."

"And Oracles?"

"Are not much open to interpretation. They state things far more clearly, for the most part, excepting a bit of flowery prose now and then. And there is no escaping them. A prophecy can be avoided or circumvented. An Oracles warning is true telling of events, because an Oracle doesn't see possible futures as a Seer does, an Oracle tells of what has already happened."

Croaker couldn't see it, but he knew that Sable was giving him a confused look.

"But… how does an Oracle tell of something that has already happened when it's in the future? By definition it hasn't happened yet."

Croaker shrugged. "Search me. That's just how it was explained to me by someone far smarter than either of us and I'm not going to delve down that rabbit hole trying to figure it out. Suffice it to say, Prophecies are dodgy business, Oracles are not."

Sable wasn't exactly satisfied with that answer but chose not to question the Director any further.

"Get back to your duties," Croaker said, suddenly dismissing the other Unspeakable. "I want the surveillance teams reporting in regularly. With those damn Dementors at the school, I don't doubt that things are going to get interesting this year."