The next day was the end of term, and by the time Harry woke up, most of the students in Gryffindor Tower had already left for the train. Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys had stayed around for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione made up excuses for why they stayed, but Harry knew better. He knew that they wanted to stick around for his sake. He didn't say anything, but he appreciated the sentiment immensely.

In spite of Harry's revelation not to try and hunt down Black, he was still feeling slightly depressed. He'd stayed up late the previous night, staring at the photo album given to him by Hagrid two years previous. Ron, in an effort to cheer him up, suggested that they go see Hagrid, as it was the first day of the holidays and they could leave the castle. Hermione had been initially reluctant, but gave in after a little needling from Harry and Ron.

They used the map to pick their way down to the castle grounds, and trudged their way through the thick snow to Hagrid's house. Raising his hand to the door, Harry knocked three times. From the inside, they could hear the familiar deep bark of Fang, as the door was thrown open. However, to their surprise, it was not Hagrid who answered, but Professor Jackson.

He looked slightly out of place, as he was no longer wearing his typical teaching attire, but was dressed comfortably in a nice-looking navy sweater. He looked down at the three of them, curious amusement on his face. But as his eyes met Harry's, a pang of remorse flashed through the professor's expression, but he masked it quickly.

"You know you three shouldn't be sneaking around like this," Professor Jackson chided, but didn't look like he really meant it.

"What are you doing here professor?" Harry asked. Professor Jackson gave him an amused look,

"Could ask you the same thing," He said, then a familiar voice called out from the inside of the hut,

"Oh just let them in already Perce, it's bloody freezing out there," Professor Jackson rolled his eyes but stepped aside and made room for Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped into the hut. Once inside, they saw Buckpeak munching away on a large pheasant in the corner. and that Hagrid was sat at his kitchen table. The table was overflowing with large files and parchment. Book after enormous book was stacked on top of one another. At the other side of the table, much to Harry and his friend's surprise was Professor Jackson's friend, Sarah. Harry was suddenly reminded that Professor Jackson had said something about contacting her for Hagrid's hearing with Buckbeak.

"Miss Rosthein," Hermione said excitedly, she and the witch had gotten on rather well during Sarah's brief time at Hogwarts.

"Hello you three," Sarah said with a smile,

"Yeh shouldn't be here." Hagrid said, but he was smiling, "But, might as well 'ave a seat,"

Professor Jackson summoned two additional chairs around the table, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down. But Professor Jackson was fastening his peacoat shut.

"Not sticking around, Perce?" Sarah asked as she poured over a series of documents,

Professor Jackson grimaced, "No," he said, sounding annoyed. "Fudge offered me to come to an event at his manor tonight. Camila is making me go," Sarah snorted,

"Pushover," She said, looking up from her work with a smirk on her face, Professor Jackson stuck his tongue out, and Hagrid chuckled, turning to the large man, Professor Jackson said,

"You're in good hands, Hagrid," then to Harry he said, "Come by my office tomorrow Harry, I have some things we need to talk about,"

Harry nodded, and tried to force his expression into a look of confusion, despite knowing full well what Professor Jackson wanted to talk to him about. With a final wave, the professor left the hut.

"So what's going on, Hagrid?" Ron asked, gesturing to all the papers,

"Buckbeak," Hagrid said, "Got an 'earing at the end 'o June. Ms. Rosthein 'ere is 'elping me out."

"So you haven't been sacked then, right Hagrid?" Hermione asked worriedly, and Hagrid waved a massive hand,

"Professor Dumbledore told the committee that I 'ad nuthin' ta do with what 'appened," Hagrid reassured them, "But them disposal devils at the committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Magical Creatures are in Lucious Malfoy's pocket. Talked 'em into 'avin a 'earing for Buckbeak's…Buckbeak's…" He trailed off, and his beady eyes grew a little watery,

"Don't stress yourself over it Hagrid," Sarah said, highlighting something on a page, "I've already filed a request for hearing by pensive - memory," She explained seeing Harry's confused expression, "There are ways of showing memories of something that happened so that others can see it." She then addressed all three of them,

"Professor Jackson 'ired Ms. Rosthein 'ere to 'elp me out," Hagrid explained, "Great man that Professor Jackson. Just like Dumbledore, always lookin' out fer otha's."

"Would have done it for free too, but that fool insisted on paying me for it," Sarah said,

"As 'e shoulda done too!" Hagrid insisted, "Yer working 'ard and not takin' otha work fer little 'ol me."

Sarah gave the large man a smile, and turned her attention back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "You three were there for the incident in question yes?" She asked, and they all nodded. Reaching into a pocket in the finely cut suit she was wearing, Sarah withdrew three bottles and stood up, pulling her wand out as she did so.

"Do I have your permission to pull out the memory of the lesson where Mr. Malfoy was injured?" She asked. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared a confused look, then they shrugged and nodded,

"How, um, how do we do that?" Hermione asked, "Are we going to have to go to court?"

"No, no," Sarah said with a shake of her head, "This should be sufficient. Here, just focus as carefully as you can on the lesson, try and remember everything that happened in its entirety, Harry, you first now." Harry nodded, and screwed his eyes shut as he concentrated on the memory. All his practice on focusing on memories for his patronus lessons were coming in handy, as the memory in question sprang forth vividly. He felt Sarah press her wand to his temple, and she muttered something under her breath. What happened next, was one of the strangest sensations Harry had ever experienced. It was like pulling a particularly sticky piece of taffy from the side of his head, There was a light popping noise, and it felt as though a pimple had popped off the side of his head. Opening his eyes, Harry watched in fascination at the thin wisp of silvery white strands flowed from the tip of Sarah's wand. They looked like several transparent, wet, noodles, and they flowed in a nonexistent breeze. With a little effort, Sarah stuffed the silver strands into one of the vials, before putting the stopper on top. She repeated the process with Ron and Hermione.

"I don't think we should have any issues with the Committee. Even if they're in Malfoy's pocket, they can't refuse a request for hearing by pensive. They do that and I'll raise so much hell it'll make Lucius Malfoy look like a puppy. But these will go a long way towards exonerating Buckpeak. There are plenty of instances of Hippogriff baiting as well. Besides, the families sign waivers when they are contacted about their child's name appearing on Hogwarts' list of acceptance. The waiver acknowledges that the school holds no responsibility for students who hurt themselves when they ignore the instruction of their professors." She began clearing off the table, magically packing away several documents into a briefcase on the floor,

"I'm going to head into the office and get going on some of this paperwork, Hagrid," Sarah said, as she threw a traveling cloak over her shoulders, "I'll be in touch within the next couple of weeks, probably after the holidays,"

"Thanks again Ms. Rosthein," Hagrid said, his eyes watering again, though not in sadness but in sheer gratitude, "Don' know 'ow ah can thank you enough…"

"It's Sarah, Hagrid," She said, patting the large man on the arm, "And don't mention it. Just doing my job Hagrid. Besides, any chance to stick it Lucius Malfoy is an opportunity I cannot afford to miss,"

With a wave to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and an affectionate pat on Buckbeak's beak, she left the hut as well.

"Brilliant woman," Hagrid said gruffly, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve, "And ruddy good man, tha' Professor Jackson. Only ever known one other man like 'im,"

They spent the rest of the day with Hagrid, talking about Buckbeak and their lessons. harry was thankful for the trip. Ron had been right, getting to see Hagrid and talk to him had been great. By the time Harry left Hagrid's hut later that evening, Harry was feeling far better than he had when he had woken up that morning.

BREAK

The next morning, after breakfast, Harry knocked on Professor Jackson's door. The door swung open and Harry stepped in. He felt the familiar wet snout of Mrs. O'Leary prod him in the side. Dropping to a knee, Harry gave her a few pats around the cheek, and received a slobbery tongue all over his face and cheeks in thanks.

"Morning, Harry," Professor Jackson said as he stepped out of a nearby door. He was dressed casually again, as he took his seat behind the desk. Harry joined him in his familiar chair on the other side of the desk. Professor Jackson looked agitated, and his hands were twisting on the desk.

"Harry, I have something very important I need to talk to you about," He said, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Dumbledore and Fudge don't want you knowing, they think you'll do something foolish, but I think you have a right to know,"

Harry felt a pang of guilt at the words. Harry didn't deserve the blind trust and faith Professor Jackson was showing him. Fudge and the headmaster had been right. Harry had wanted to do something foolish, had wanted to go after Black. It had only been his discussion with Daphne that had left Harry from doing something he'd regret.

"Harry, I found out something the other day," Professor Jackson continued, "About why Sirius Black is after you. There's-there's no easy way to do this Harry so I'll just tell you-"

"I already know, sir," Harry said, interrupting his professor. Professor Jackson gaped at him for a moment, confusion and incredulity on his features,

"You know?" He asked, "How on earth could you know that-"

"I was in the Three Broomsticks two days ago," Harry admitted. He was feeling slightly conflicted on admitting that he'd snuck out of the castle, but Professor Jackson had always been far more understanding about breaking the rules. Moreover, Professor Jackson had never held anything but respect for Harry, and had done so much for him, that Harry couldn't bring himself to lie,

"I snuck out of the castle and overheard the conversation with Fudge…I know everything. I know Black is my godfather…that he turned my parents over to Voldemort…everything."

Professor Jackson regarded him carefully for a few moments. Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest,

"And how are you feeling?" He asked, not even mentioning the fact that Harry shouldn't have been out of bounds,

"I-I don't know, sir." Harry admitted, "Honestly…when I first heard…when I first found out…I wanted to-to find him. Wanted to hunt down Black, to kill him. To avenge my parents." He averted his eyes, Harry didn't think he could bear to see any disappointment on Professor Jackson's face.

"But then-then I ran into Daphne. She-she told me some things. Confided in me. Told me," He gulped, "Told me that felt similarly because of her own reasons. Told me what you told her. I thought about it. Thought about what my parents would say if they knew what I'd wanted. His hands were shaking slightly, but he still didn't look up. He took a deep steadying breath,

"I won't go after him. Mom and dad wouldn't have wanted that. They wouldn't have wanted me to put my life in danger for revenge. They wouldn't have wanted me to hurt someone like that. That's not who they were, not what they would have wanted…but I'm still just so angry. I want him punished, I want him dead. But I don't think I could do it. I don't want to become like him, I don't want to be like the man who murdered my parents."

Professor Jackson didn't say anything, and Harry still didn't look up. There was a squeak, as Professor Jackson's chair moved up, and Harry heard him stand up. Harry screwed his eyes shut. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. Knew he should have just lied, because Professor Jackson was going to leave. He was going to be disappointed. He was going to-

Strong arms wrapped around Harry's shoulders, and Harry was struck with a scent that was remarkably like sea-water. Professor Jackson enveloped Harry in a strong hug, holding him tight. Harry shook slightly, unused to the sudden contact. He was deeply uncomfortable with physical intimacy in any respect, his only interactions of the type to that point being with Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. But it wasn't like one of their hugs. Mrs. Weasley's hugs threatened to split Harry in two. Professor Jackson made Harry feel safe, and secure. He felt comfortable, and protected. Professor Jackson leaned back, and gripped Harry tightly around the shoulders, as he knelt on the floor. He had a proud smile on his face, and his eyes seemed like they were glowing somewhat,

"I am so proud of you, Harry," He said gently, "It takes a strong man to recognize what you have. To realize that there are alternatives to petty vengeance. I was worried, Harry, so very worried." He closed his eyes, and his expression became incredibly sad, when he opened his eyes once more, they were swimming with a despair Harry had never seen on the man, "I lost a very close friend once, to a quest of vengeance. He was my own mentor, the one person I'd looked up to more than anyone before. His story was not dissimilar to yours, and in his quest to kill his tormentor, he nearly became the thing he despised. He saved himself, but at the cost of his own life."

He shook his head, "I couldn't allow you to follow his path. To fall into the dark like Luke did." Then he smiled, a proud, watery smile, that filled Harry with a sense of warmth, "But it looks like I worried for nothing. You chose the harder option; you chose to be the better man. You have learned arguably the most important lesson any one needs to learn. That the easiest path, is almost never the right one. I'm so proud of you," He repeated, before he pulled Harry into another hug. Harry didn't say anything. But he leaned into the embrace. Basking in the comfort and safety of the man he respected more than any other.

After a few moments, Professor Jackson released Harry. He regarded Harry for a moment, before standing up, and striding from the room. He returned a few moments later. Clutched in his hand, was an old worn necklace. Harry could make out a series of small charms and beads on the thin, worn-looking string. Professor Jackson regarded the necklace with a fond expression for a moment, before handing it to Harry. He took it, and glanced at some of the brightly colored beads, rolling them over in his fingers.

"Harry," Said Professor Jackson, drawing Harry's attention, "That is enchanted. If you hold onto it, and say 'Seaweed Brain.' I'll know and come to your side at once. I want you to promise me, that if you ever find yourself in a situation where you're confronting Black, or Gods forbid he finds you, that call for help."

Harry stared at the man, warmth spreading through his chest. With a firm nod, Harry smiled,

"I will, sir."

"Good man," Professor Jackson said happily, "And one more thing," He added, "I meant to talk to you about this months ago, but it might as well happen now. If you see anything strange, if you see anything odd at all. Come find me, and talk to me about it, please. All right?"

Harry smiled, "Of course, Professor,"

BREAK

Harry awoke on Christmas morning, when Ron threw a pillow at him,

"Oi, Merry Christmas," He called out, and Harry could blearily make out that Ron was ripping the packaging off a package, "Ugh Maroon, again. See if mum sent you one too."

Harry fumbled around in the dark for a few moments, before he finally found his glasses on the nightstand, and shoved them onto his face. Sitting up, he saw a substantial stash of wrapped packages on the foot of his bed. Smiling brightly, Harry began opening his own gifts. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle.

He'd gotten a book on quidditch from Ron, and a day planner from Hermione. From Hagrid, Harry got a collection of Rock cakes and a picture of the pair of them. From Professor Jackson, Harry found a package of new defensive books. While Ron and Hermione had finally made it to stunning spells, Harry had finished his defensive texts, and needed to start out on a new set. There was a large rectangular shape near the bottom of the pile, next to a long thin package. Grabbing the square package, he took the card from it. Written in fine handwriting, Harry read,

"Mr. Potter, apologies for the delay, but I thought this would be a nice way to start your Christmas holidays. I reached out to several friends of your parents, and they responded beautifully. I have taken the liberty of compiling their stories for you. Please enjoy, and know that you are never alone.

Yours,

Amelia Bones

Harry's breath caught in his throat, as he tore open the packaging. A large, leather-bound book fell onto his lap. On the front cover, was a family photo. it must have been taken around Christmas, because there was snow on the ground, and the house in the background was decorated festively. It was a picture of Harry's mother and father, Harry tucked into his mother's arms, gurgling happily and giggling up at Harry. His parents were taking turns looking between Harry lovingly, and staring up at the him. Harry reached out with trembling fingers, and gently touched them against the images of his mother and father. His father smiled proudly up at him, and reached out a hand. Gently rubbing against Harry's finger.

Opening the cover with trembling hands, he began to read.

"Whatcha go there?" Ron asked. Harry didn't look up, staring at the story written by a witch named Emmaline Vance,

"I met Amelia Bones over the summer, she told me she knew my parents, and offered to reach out to some of their friends to write some stories about them for me." Harry said, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in his voice. Ron seemed to understand how much the moment meant to Harry, because he fell silent. For several minutes, Harry read, he wanted to read everything at once, but refrained. He wanted to save the stories. To read them slowly, and enjoy them like a particularly fine dessert. Closing the cover, he dabbed at his eyes slightly. He had wanted for so long to know anything about his parents, and reading about them meant more than he had the vocabulary to express. He gingerly placed the book in his nightstand, and turned his attention to the thin package.

"What's that?" said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hand.

"Dunno…" Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread.

Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look. "I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it to you?" said Ron in a hushed voice.

"There wasn't a card," Harry said,

"Bloody hell," Ron swore, "Those aren't cheap, who do you think could have bought it?"

"Well," said Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."

"Could have been Dumbledore," Ron said excitedly, "He sent you the cloak anonymously didn't he?"

"That was different," Harry said, "The cloak was my dad's, Dumbledore was just giving it back to me. He wouldn't spend this kind of money on me, even he couldn't explain away that kind of favoritism."

"Professor Jackson?" Ron suggested, "You're his favorite, everyone knows it,"

"Wouldn't be him," Harry said resolutely, "He hates flying. Told me over the summer. He wouldn't buy me a broom."

"You two are being rather loud," Hermione said, as she came into the room, she was still in her dressing gown and she was carrying Crookshanks, who was looking very grumpy, with a string of tinsel tied around his neck.

"Don't bring him in here!" said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the covers of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket. But Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus' empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolt.

"Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?" She exclaimed,

"No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it." To his surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.

"What's the matter with you?" said Ron.

"I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "But it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he said and Hermione nodded, more to herself though,

"So it must've been really expensive…"

"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said Ron happily.

"Well… who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" said Hermione.

"Who cares?" said Ron impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?"

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione quickly, and Ron looked at her.

"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it, sweep the floor?" said Ron. But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest. "Get that monster out of here!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks' claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted an escape over his shoulder. He made to leap on Crookshanks, but he missed and slammed head first into Harry's truck. He howled in pain as Crookshanks hissed at him, spitting as his hair stood on end. Hermione gathered Crookshanks into her arms and tried to calm him down, but he was still hissing at Ron's pocket.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," said Ron furiously, sitting on Harry's bed as he held his head, grimacing in pain. Hermione seemed to be thinking similarly as she strode out of the room. Ron, still grimacing in pain, pulled Scabbers out of his pocket, and regarded him carefully in his hands. It had been a while since Harry had seen him out of Ron's pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out too.

"He's not looking too good," Harry observed,

"It's all the stress," Ron insisted, "He'd be doing fine if that orange monster weren't after him." Harry though that Ron might have a point. Crookshanks seemed to have a strange obsession with the rat, even for a cat. Harry couldn't help feeling that if things kept up, sooner or later Crookshanks would succeed in whatever he was trying to do.

In spite of Ron's constant winging about his pet rat, Harry knew that Ron would be miserable if Scabbers were to die. Ron didn't have much of anything he could truly call his own. With five older brothers, Ron only ever got hand-me-downs. Aside from his wand, Scabbers was the only thing he could claim as his own. It was part of the reason he and Ron identified so well with one another. They both treasured the few possessions they could call theirs.

Harry turned his attention back to the Firebolt. Harry couldn't help but feeling that maybe Hermione had a point. As excited as he was about the broom, the fact that it came without a note was more than a little worrying. Harry was struck with the sudden worry that maybe the gift wasn't a gift at all. If someone wanted to hurt him, wanted to kill him, using a cursed broom would be a great way to do it. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to curse his broomstick. If the circumstances were different, if there hadn't been someone that Harry knew was after him, Harry wouldn't have thought twice about it. He would have just accepted the gift with a smile, and moved on. But Sirius Black wanted to kill him, he had even managed to sneak into the castle once before, it wasn't outside the realm of reality that he had stolen the broom and sent it to Harry because he was too worried about trying to sneak back into the castle.

"Ron," Harry said slowly, coming to a decision. Ron looked up from his inspection of Scabbers,

"What?" He asked,

"I think-I think Hermione may have a point about this broom," Harry said, and Ron winced.

A look of concerted pain crossed his features, but he nodded with a grimace,

"I hadn't even thought about it until she said it," Ron said, as though admitting it were causing him considerable pain, "But with Black already sneaking in once before…" He trailed off and Harry nodded with a sigh, before grabbing the broom and making to head out of the dormitory,

"Where are you going?" Ron asked,

"Professor Jackson," Harry said immediately, "Hopefully we're wrong. Hopefully someone was just being kind and sent me the broom with no strings attached…but Professor Jackson told me to come to him if anything strange happened, I should talk to him about it," He gestured at the broom, "I definitely think this constitutes as strange, yeah?"

BREAK

The Christmas holidays came and went. Harry had dropped the Firebolt off with Professor Jackson who had not been expecting Harry to take up his offer so soon. In spite of knowing what he'd done was right, Harry was still disappointed; he had been the owner of the fastest racing broom in the world for all of an hour. But on the bright side, Ron and Hermione seemed to have calmed down from their fight, and were finally being cordial to one another.

With the return to lessons, came a return to Harry's patronus lessons. Ever since his first lesson, Harry's progress with the spell had slowed to little more than a crawl. The only thing he could say he was getting better at, was fighting against the effects of the blasted things. He was nowhere near as affected as he had been at the start of the semester, and he'd gotten better at tuning out the sound of his mother's screaming.

As the weeks bled away and the snow began to melt, Harry had begun noticing something strange with Professor Lupin. The poor man seemed to be getting sick at least once a month, and each time Professor Jackson took up the slack. Harry couldn't help being aware of the fact that every time Professor Lupin was sick, it coincided with when Harry was forced to roll his die for History of Magic. Harry was beginning to be suspicious; with all his research into the history of werewolves and werewolf legislation and protections, he was intimately familiar with the symptoms of lycanthropy. But Harry refused to acknowledge the coincidences. There was simply no way that Professor Lupin could be a werewolf, there was simply no way. The man was simply too kind to be a vicious, blood-thirsty monster. More to the point, Dumbledore would never hire someone as dangerous as a werewolf, and stick them around a bunch of schoolchildren. But the thought nagged at the back of Harry's mind.

Helping to keep his mind off of Professor Lupin, was the return to quidditch. Wood had tracked Harry down at the start of term to inquire about Harry's practice in defending himself against dementors, and to see whether Harry had gotten himself a new broom. Upon finding out that Harry had received a Firebolt, Wood had, to no success, attempted to convince Professor McGonagall to return the broom. But Wood needn't have worried or tried. The day before the final practice before their match against Ravenclaw, McGonagall returned the Firebolt to Harry, telling him that there was, indeed, nothing wrong with the broom.

Grinning widely, Harry took the Firebolt back to the Common Room. He was slowed slightly, when he ran into a teary-eyed Neville, who couldn't get into the Tower. He'd written down all of the absurd passwords their temporary portrait had been using but had lost it. After helping Neville through the portrait, the Common Room exploded into applause at the sight of the Firebolt. Harry was overcome with onlookers asking to get a peek, or a chance to hold the world-class broom. After a while, Harry managed to push his way through the gaggle of students and made his way over to where Ron and Hermione were working in a corner.

"She gave it back!" Ron said with a cheer, "See, Hermione, knew there would be nothing wrong with it,"

"Yes," Said Hermione distractedly, "Still, I'm glad Harry turned it over, better to be safe than sorry," Hermione looked more stressed than Harry had ever remembered seeing her. It looked like the strain of her impossible schedule, was finally starting to get the better of her. Her bushy hair was even more wild and uncontrollable, and she had bags under her eyes that put Professor Lupin's to shame. Harry and Ron had given up asking her how she had been getting to all of her classes. Ron had told him that Hermione, in spite of her clear distaste for the subject, had never missed a Divination lesson. Which was quite literally impossible because Hermione had never missed Ancient Runes, and the classes were at the same time. Harry was worried for his friend's sanity, but she snapped aggressively whenever they mentioned it to her.

"I should go put this upstairs," Harry said, still holding his broom,

"I'll do it," Ron said, checking his watch, "It's about time for me to give Scabbers his tonic anyway." Harry handed the broom over to Ron, who held it with the reverence of a man holding a particularly valuable, ancient artifact. Harry took a seat at the table as Ron ran upstairs to put the broom away. Giving Harry the opportunity to once more try and talk to Hermione about all of her classes,

"Hermione," He said, keeping his voice soft, "I'm worried about you,"

"What?" Hermione snapped, as she scribbled out something for her Muggle Studies class. "Don't be ridiculous Harry, I'm fine."

"I don't think you are," Harry pressed, picking up a large, complicated looking chart for Arithmancy. It was filled with a bunch of strange symbols and difficult looking equations that made Harry's head spin. "Hermione, I don't know how you're doing all of this, but this much stress can't be healthy for you. If you were just to drop a class or two-"

"I can't, Harry!" Hermione said, wringing her hands, and looking scandalized by the very suggestion, "Everything is just too interesting, and-" But she was cut off as a scream of guttural rage ripped through the Common Room. All head turned to the staircase leading to the dorms as the sound of someone running grew louder and louder. Ron burst around the corner, dragging with him a large bedsheet.

"Scabbers!" He roared at Hermione, waving the bedsheet in her face. Hermione was too stunned to speak, "He finally did it! He finally did it because you couldn't control that bloody monster!" Ron continued to bellow, he looked like he was on the verge of tears,

"Ron," Hermione said in bewilderment, "What're you-"

"Look!" Ron said, throwing the sheet on the table over Hermione's stack of books. There, on the sheets, was a large, red stain. It was unmistakably blood. And clinging to the sheets, around the blood stain, were several long, orange cat hairs. Hermione's eyes went wide in horror,

"R-Ron," She stammered out, but Ron wasn't going to give her an inch,

"You never took me seriously!" Ron roared, "You just couldn't be wrong about something, could you, you just always have to be right!" Ron changed his voice and mimicked Hermione's voice in a very exaggerated way, "'He's just a cat Ron. He doesn't mean anything by it Ron. He's just playing around Ron,' Well we aren't playing around anymore are we!"

"M-maybe Scabbers is just hiding under the beds," Hermione suggested, but even she didn't look like she was believing what she was saying. That had clearly been the wrong thing to say.

"You can't even apologize? Your cat kills my rat and you can't even admit that you're wrong? You are unbelievable! I thought I was your friend! But apparently you care more about that stupid cat than you do about me!" Ron ripped the sheet off the table, sending Hermione's things clattering to the floor, and he stormed out of the room.

Hermione's eyes sparkled with tears. Harry helped her collect her things, putting them away in her bulging book bag.

"Hermione," Harry started to say, but she just turned and fled from the room. Leaving Harry alone in the Common Room.

The next several days were among the worst Harry had ever experienced at Hogwarts. He felt as though he were being pulled in two different directions all at once. He wanted to be there for Ron, but every time he did and Hermione saw them, she looked like she were close to bursting into tears. And Harry couldn't bring himself to try and talk to Hermione, for risk of making Ron think he were siding with her. Ron was Harry's first ever friend. They had been through everything together, and Harry didn't think he could bear it if Ron got mad at him too. Furthermore, Harry couldn't help but agree that Hermione hadn't really taken Ron's complaints about Crookshanks seriously. Especially since the thing had attacked Ron on more than one occasion. Harry was sure that if Hermione just apologized for not taking Ron seriously, and if Ron apologized for being so mean to Hermione, everything would go back to normal. But every time he mentioned it to Ron, he just snapped at Harry that Hermione was too arrogant and proud to ever admit she was wrong about anything. And in the few instances Harry had been able to get to Hermione alone, she refused to apologize, because she still swore up and down that there was no way Crookshanks could have done anything. Their lessons together fell apart, and Harry found himself studying alone instead of with his friends.

To make matters worse, the full moon was in a couple days, and Harry had once again rolled under ten. He couldn't even have fun with it, because he had so much he was worried about. Between his lessons with Professor Jackson, Ron and Hermione, and the threat of Sirius Black still looming over his head, Harry was feeling close to cracking. Thankfully a distraction came in the form of the match against Ravenclaw that weekend.

BREAK

Harry rolled in mid-air, barely avoiding an oncoming bludger hit by one of the Ravenclaw beaters. Looking down, he saw that the Ravenclaw seeker was still trailing him closely. Cho Chang, the opposing seeker, was a very talented flier, and to Harry's increasing annoyance, distractingly pretty.

Doing his best to disrupt the Ravenclaw chaser's attack on the Gryffindor zone, Harry just had enough time to swerve out of the way as Cho appeared out of nowhere in an attempt to block him. Growling in frustration, Harry took off again. Cho was still marking him as closely as possible. Then he saw it, the shine of gold and fluttering of wings at the other end of the pitch. Knowing that Cho would try and block him again if he took off after it, Harry was struck with inspiration. Turning suddenly, Harry hurtled into a dive. Predictably, Cho followed him. Without warning, Harry pulled out of the dive, and Cho shot past him, barely able to pull up to avoid smashing into the ground. The second Cho shot past, Harry was already turning, and taking off toward the snitch.

He was gaining on it, getting closer and closer. He was within arms reach of the tiny golden ball, and Harry outstretched a hand, but stopped when there was a loud, collective gasp of shock and fear from the crowd. Glancing around, Harry looked down, and his heart stopped. Looking up at him, were three tall, black-hooded dementors. Somehow, though, and in spite of the fact that they were clearly looking at Harry, the dementors weren't affecting him. He plunged a hand into the pocket of his scarlet robes and withdrew his wand. Screwing up his concentration, he pointed his wand at the mass of dementors and bellowed,

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Something enormous shot from the tip of his wand, and slammed into the mass of dementors. Someone shrieked in surprise and pain, but Harry part it no mind. Reaching out, his hand still clutching his wand, he closed his fingers around the snitch.

He whipped arounds, holding the ball in his hands, as the crowd exploded into applause. Before he knew what was happening, six scarlet blurs had slammed into him. Wood had Harry's head in a grip so tight that Harry was sure he was choking, Fred and George were screaming, and Harry thought he could see Katie crying in happiness. As one, the team fell to the ground, just in time for a gang of Gryffindor supporters to flood the field, Ron leading the way.

Harry was mobbed by the Gryffindor supporters. Hands clapped him on the back and it seemed like he got hugged by nearly the entire house.

"That was a heck of a patronus," He heard over his shoulder. Whirling around, he saw Professors Jackson and Lupin beaming at him.

"The dementors didn't affect me at all!" Harry said, the rush of the game was leaving him feeling slightly flushed, "I didn't feel anything,"

Professor Jackson gave him a sly smirk, "Well, to be fair, they weren't exactly dementors," He gestured with his head for Harry to follow. Disentangling himself from the mob, Harry followed his professors. When they were a few yards away, Professor Lupin leaned over to Harry,

"You gave Mr. Malfoy a bit of a scare there," And as they got closer, Harry burst out laughing. There, on the ground, still desperately trying to untangle himself from his robes, was Draco Malfoy. He had apparently been standing on Goyle's shoulders, because the large boy was trapped underneath Malfoy. The Slytherin quidditch captain Marcus Flint was fighting to extricate himself from Crabbe and his own set of robes. Professor McGonagall was standing over them, shouting herself hoarse.

"Proud of you, kid," Professor Jackson said, clapping Harry on the shoulder, "Dementor or not, that was impressive. You've come a long way,"

Harry beamed at him. He didn't even care that Malfoy had tried to scare him off his broom, he felt too good. Ron, who had fought his way out of the crowd, doubled over in laughter as he watched Malfoy struggle to pull himself free from Goyle.

The party was in full swing in the Gryffindor Common Room when Harry finally made it back. Fred and George had snuck away and after a few hours returned with arms full of sweets and butterbeer. It was an incredible night, and the party only ended a little after one in the morning, when Professor McGonagall came in and demanded that they all go to bed. As Harry tucked himself into bed, his body exhausted, he felt completely at peace for the first time in what felt like months. When he finally fell asleep, it was with a bright smile, still on his face.

Harry had a very strange dream. He was walking through a forest, his feet brushing against leaves and grass. There was something silvery-white in front of him, only barely visible through the thick grove of trees. Harry saw a flick of what he thought was a stumpy tail. Harry pushed through the growth, and he hear the sound of hooves clomping against the forest floor. Harry was too far away to make out the what he was following, but as Harry turned the corner, he caught sight of what he thought were antlers, before they disappeared through another bush. Harry pushed his way into the bush. He was about to break through into the clearing, he could almost make out what he was seeing, just a few more feet and-

"AHHHHHH HELP!"

Harry jolted awake, stumbling in the dark to find his glasses. Harry could hear his dorm-mates jump awake as well, and Dean Thomas, who had grabbed his wand, cast lumos, showering the room in light. Ron was sitting up in his bed, his face was pale, and he was sweating. The curtains of his bed were ripped and torn as though someone had stabbed them.

"Sirius Black…" Ron panted, looking over to Harry, his eyes wide in abject terror, "Sirius Black, with a knife…"

Harry acted without thinking. Reaching up to the bead necklace around his neck, he said, "Seaweed Brain!" The boys in the dorm all looked at him like he were insane for a moment. But before anyone could say anything, there was a rushing sound. A strange mist materialized in the room, swirling around in front of the four-poster beds. The mist congealed and pulsated. It seemed as though it were forming something. Then, with a pulse of magic and mist, Professor Jackson appeared in the middle of the dormitory. He had clearly been asleep. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of faded pajama bottoms. Harry could just make out a shield on the right leg, with the letters I.C.W. on the side. He had his wand in his hand, and was looking around wildly, when his eyes met Harry's, he pointed at Ron's bed. Professor Jackson turned, saw the shredded ruins of the bed, and took off at a run out of the dormitory.

Harry and Ron shared a look, before they tore after him. They heard the professor hurtle down the stairs, shouts of fright and surprise following him as he ran. Harry was only a few steps behind him, as the professor raced out of the portrait hole.

"What's going on?" Harry heard George say from somewhere behind him,

"Excellent, are we carrying on then?" Fred said, and Harry saw as students began flooding the Common Room. People were talking, yawning and rubbing at their faces, but looking curious,

"What's going on?"

"Was that Professor Jackson?

"What was he doing here?"

"Who cares, did you get a look at that chest?"

"Is no one else wondering why he was in the boy's dorm?"

"What is going on here?" Came the voice of Percy Weasley, as he came bustling indignantly into the Common Room, hurriedly pinning his Head Boy badge onto his nightshirt. "Everyone, head back to bed!"

"Percy!" Ron said, his voice still slightly hoarse, "Sirius Black. In our dormitory. With a knife." The room fell silent, and Harry could see Hermione, who was standing on the stairs go white.

Percy Weasley looked to stunned to speak for a moment,

"Nonsense," He said, when he finally found his voice, "There's no way-a nightmare-had too much to eat,"

"No!" Ron insisted, "I'm telling you-"

"Really now, Ron, that is-"

"Enough is enough!" Roared a voice from the portrait hole. They all turned as Professor McGonagall, still clad in a nightgown and her hair curling around her shoulders stomped into the Common Room,

"I am delighted that we won the match," She said, "But this is getting ludicrous. Honestly, Percy, I expected better. And why did I see Professor Jackson hurrying from here without any clothing!" Professor McGonagall said,

"That was me, professor," Harry said and Professor McGonagall rounded on him, looking more than a little alarmed,

"What? Potter, why on earth-"

"This necklace," Harry said, "It's enchanted, and Professor Jackson gave it to me, and told me to use it if anything strange happened. Ron said he saw Sirius Black in our dormitory so I used it. Professor Jackson just appeared in our dormitory and took off when he saw that Ron's curtains on his bed had been slashed."

Professor McGonagall's face went chalk white, as she rounded on Ron.

"What!" She breathed out, "You saw-no, don't be ridiculous Weasley, there's no way Sirius Black could have gotten in-" But a voice from outside the hall cut her off,

"Cadogan!" Professor Jackson's voice snapped, "Did you let a man enter Gryffindor Tower!"

"Certainly sir," Cadogan said, "He had the password, had the whole weeks in fact. Read them off a little piece of paper."

There was beat of muted horror, as Professor McGonagall's face contorted, they heard Professor Jackson say the password, and the portrait swung open and the History teacher pulled himself into the Common Room. He was still shirtless, and was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. Harry's eyes went wide at the sight of the man's bare chest. Aside from the fact that the man looked like he were chiseled from marble, it looked as though someone had carved chunks of flesh from him. A series of ugly looking, but fading scars crisscrossed over his chest. Over his right breast, wrapping over his shoulder, and encompassing most of his upper arm was a large and intricate tattoo. Harry could see what looked like seven figures, all in various poses as they fought off what looked like monsters. The tattoo was set against a backdrop, but in the dim light Harry couldn't make it out.

"You catch that, Minerva?" Professor Jackson asked, and she nodded shakily, "I sent a message to the headmaster, he's organizing a search as we speak. I thought I saw him as I came around the first floor, but I lost him. He's probably long gone now, but if he's anywhere in the castle, we'll find him." He said, but Professor McGonagall looked like she was barely listening. She was quite literally shaking in outright fury, as she turned to address the crowd of terrified Gryffindors.

"Which person," She hissed, "Which, abysmally foolish person, wrote down the passwords for the whole week and just left them lying around?"

Nobody in the room made a sound, before Harry heard a small, terrified, squeak, as Neville Longbottom, trembling in his fluffy slippers, slowly raised his hand into the air.

AN: First of all, thanks to everyone for their concern about my health and well-being. Lol, in case you're unaware, I pre-write all of my stories, so I can release them in daily bursts, so I'm not writing all of these at once, but I am honestly touched with the concern. I'm very happy everyone enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed this one. Thinks are ramping up quickly now, and the next two chapters are where we hit our climax! Hope you're all ready, because I have some cool shit in store for you! As always, thanks for all your love and support, stay safe, stay positive, and test negative.

Love,

LilDB