In the last chapter: Harry and Anthony learn to apparate. Harry and Sirius decide to make things official and make Remus his legal and magical guardian along with Sirius. Dumbledore drops in unexpectedly and informs them that Bellatrix Lestrange had escaped from Azkaban, though Remus and Sirius make it very clear that they do not need the Order of the Phoenix's help in protecting Harry.


After Bellatrix escaped, Harry's guardians refused to allow him to leave the house. The wards had been practically doubled and Grimmauld Place disappeared under the Fidelius Charm. Only after a rather heated argument between Sirius and Harry (mostly heated on Sirius' end) Harry was able to convince his caretakers to allow Anthony to be included in the charm so that he could continue to visit. The already protective adults had become nearly hostile in their shielding of Harry. It drove the young Ravenclaw almost mad, were it not for the frequent visits from his friend.

Anthony's casting and dueling abilities improved immensely, due to Harry demanding he visit almost every day since Harry was beginning to experience what muggles referred to as 'cabin fever.' Harry was thoroughly impressed with his progress and began allowing Anthony to use some of the more difficult settings on the dummies. Such as: more advanced hexes and charms with a few very mild curses, and occasionally using more than one dummy on a lower setting. A few times, Harry and Anthony even paired up against the dummies, and they were certainly one hell of a team together.

When it came time to get school supplies, once again, Harry was placed on house arrest while Sirius went out to get all his things, resulting in robes just tiny bit too long and a little too tight. Sirius had promised to get them fixed on his next trip out, but he had a feeling that the man was forgetting even as he spoke.

By mid-August Harry was jumping out of his skin, itching to begin the hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes.

'I just want to begin already!' Harry silently projected in frustration as he pushed away the journal he'd been using to write down the language of the dead. Even that had grown redundant as he was still not allowed to apply the language and use soul magic, instead he was stuck with just learning the vernacular. So far, Harry had made significant progress in grasping the language, his affinity for soul magic making the language come easier—like parseltongue—but Harry didn't need to be able to write bloody poetry in the tongue, just speak it.

'My, it seems that someone's patience is wearing thin.' His companion was teasing him again, but nothing about that was new.

Harry grumbled inelegantly and Death chuckled.

'I suppose if you're truly that adamant about starting the search, we can start simple.' Death relented and Harry became eager, body alight with too-much energy. 'Do you know where Regulus Black's room is?' The question caught Harry off guard, but he answered none the less.

'Yes?'

'Good, go there.' The command was simple, short, and easily obeyed. Harry climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and entered the room placarded 'Regulus Arcturus Black' directly across from Sirius' old room with a similar identification on the door, though the man in question no longer slept there.

Regulus' room was exactly what one could expect of a pureblood Slytherin's room to be—charcoal grey and green striped walls, green, silver and black furnishings, stacks of books, and a multitude of objects and trinkets Harry suspected to be cursed or inlaid with dark magic in some form or another. The room was surprisingly pristine, having obviously received excessive care from Kreacher. It felt like, at any moment, Harry was going to be caught snooping in the bedroom by the teen himself. Probably why he sometimes spotted Sirius slipping in there on slow afternoons when it seemed that no one was paying attention. Harry ignored the slight pinch at the reminder of the young brother Sirius had lost and was quick to attention when Death spoke again.

'The dresser.' Was all his companion said, startling Harry slightly with its abrupt and blunt nature.

Harry approached the dark mahogany dresser with the vanity over it. At first he thought he was meant to dig through the drawers, but as soon as he was within reaching distance, his hand was flashing out and snatching something from the organized clutter on top. The buzz in his bones was immediate. Opening his fist, Harry blinked down at the golden locket with a 'S' on its face made of emeralds and encased in amber. With a closer look, the 'S' also seemed to depict a snake with its jaws open and ready to strike.

Harry marveled at the jewelry, remembering the legend he'd heard about the different founder's heirlooms that belonged to each house. Slytherin's locket was in his hands. And so is Voldemort's Horcrux, Harry thought reverently as he noted the strong—though not as prominent as the diary's—pulse of magic that seemed to want to reach out and curl around him in its soothing and intoxicating embrace.

'It had been here?!This entire time, it had been in the same house as me and you didn't tell me?' Harry's tone was more tired than truly angry.

'It wouldn't have made a difference, young one. You still cannot do anything with it until you have collect the rest of the Horcruxes and learned the magic needed to manipulate them.' Death answered unapologetically.

Sighing deeply, Harry brought the locket back down to his room and placed it next to the diary. However, before Harry resealed the wood of the drawer bottom over the hidden compartment he'd made, Harry impulsively grabbed the diary, much like his unconscious snatching of the locket. Guilt hazed slightly at the edges of his brain at the immediate surge of the diary's magic to where his bare skin touched the cool leather. Harry had been careful to not actually touch the diary since the chamber, using a mix of summoning and levitation spells to get it there. Now, though, he couldn't help but selfishly graze his fingertips over the surface and allow the magic to slowly climb up his hand, his wrist, his arm, seeping into the skin and gently plucking at the magic in the very marrow of his bones.

Harry could not answer Tom's questions nor could he bring the soul fragment back into consciousness and sentience if he wasn't going to admit he still lived. Even if their interaction was short lived, Tom had formed at least some kind of fondness for Harry, that much had been confirmed in the chamber, and if reawakening him meant causing him pain, whether he'd remember it in the transition or not, wasn't something Harry could do.

So, instead, Harry didn't dare open the diary, but he did use his own raw magic to envelope it, sooth it, and feed a bit of energy back into it. Nothing too drastic, just enough to settle the drained and restless magic within. Harry gently placed the diary back into the compartment before his completely lost himself to the sensations of the magic that seemed to compliment his own so well. The diary was a sinful temptation he could not afford at that moment.


The day that Remus and Harry had to travel back to Hogwarts, the two adults were a mess of nerves and fear. The rabid prison photo that had been pasted on every newspaper front for weeks had all of Britain on edge, waiting anxiously for the snarling, dirty, crazed woman from the picture to be caught and hauled back to Azkaban. The fear only got worse as the weeks rolled on without a single sighting.

What did people fear more than the monster they could see? The monster they couldn't see.

Even Platform 9 ¾ held a different air from Harry's previous two years. Instead of the crowded, lively platform filled with families clinging to their embarrassed children for every spare moment until they had to board, parents seemed to be quickly shuffling their students onto the train with forced smiles so as not to worry the young ones.

The tense atmosphere had even gotten to Harry's barrage. Sirius barely took his eyes off the crowd, hand positioned rather close to his right pocket where Harry knew he always kept his wand instead of using a holster like most adult wizards. As for Remus, he did a far better job of pretending that everything was alright, though he stayed very close to Harry, a comforting and protective hand on his shoulder.

Following the example of the other parents, Sirius quickly said his goodbyes—his smile tight and hug extra constricting—and a brief kiss for Remus before giving them both a gentle nudge towards the train.

The compartments filled much faster than Harry was used to, but when he came across one with Anthony, Hermione, and Draco inside he felt relief at knowing he would not have to share with people he didn't associate with. As polite as Harry could be to his peers and strangers, he still preferred not to have to keep up such trivialities, especially for nearly eight hours.

Remus and Harry sat on the side with Hermione, while Draco and Anthony sat across. A short while later, Ginny popped into their compartment, a little shy in front of the whole group, but her tenacity was mightily improved from her first year. The red head didn't stay long, since it seemed she had left another group of girls to just say hello to Harry and the others.

With the train cutting a fast-red stripe through the lush green Scottish countryside, the group settled in and began interrogating Remus on his plans for the upcoming year as their new DADA professor. Remus seemed amused by the excited children all around him, listening intently as he went through a rough list of the different dark creatures and spells they'd learn about. Mostly, it was Hermione and Draco asking the questions, Anthony seemed rather content with just listening. When he and Harry made eye contact, they shared a secret smile, knowing that their own summer-time lessons had been far more exciting.

A few hours after departing from the station Harry left the compartment in search of the bathroom. He smiled to himself as he walked, noting how everyone had been so engrossed in their conversation, they didn't even notice him leave. Harry was glad to see that his newest guardian flourished in the presence of children, his soft and nurturing nature truly shining through. Though, Harry was a little worried about Sirius, being left alone in that place for such long stretches of time. He didn't doubt that Remus would floo-call Sirius daily and visit him when he could, but it was the first-time Sirius would be completely alone there, with only the cruel-mannered Kreacher to keep him company.

These thoughts plagued Harry as he relieved himself and began washing his hands. But before he had even pulled them out of the hot spray, his body jolted to the side and he almost fell when the train slammed on the breaks, the high-pitched screech grating his ears. Frowning, Harry turned off the water as they came to a complete stop and shook off his suddenly cold hands.

Peeking his head out of the bathroom Harry didn't see anything. Surprisingly, though, nobody else stuck their heads out the compartment doors to find out what was happening. Harry shrugged and began walking down the hall to the next train car, which held his compartment, though there was an edge of caution in his steps.

Harry was only halfway to the next car when he was confronted with the reason for the train's abrupt halt. Two Dementors flung open the door with their magic and began drifting down the hallway, bringing the chill of despair as they craned their thin necks close to the windows. Frost splintered up over the surface of the glass and Harry heard the faint sound of children whimpering in fear. They seemed to be looking for something. Bellatrix perhaps? Harry had heard from his guardians that the Ministry was using the dark creatures to hunt the witch down, he just never expected that they'd let them on a train full of children. Dementors were not exactly gentle nor partial towards the weak or innocent.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts when one suddenly lifted its head high and seemed to scent the air. Just like that, he had the full attention of both creatures. Harry was glad that the car he stood in was nearly empty, being the closest to the obnoxious whistle. Otherwise, it would be rather difficult to explain to anyone why he appeared completely calm as two Dementors drifted closer to him. Gauzy charcoal wisps of fabric floating unnaturally around them as if the air was too dense with magic for them to follow the rules of gravity.

When they were close enough for their icy presence to wash over Harry, he was shocked to discover that the sensation was incredibly familiar to him, and even comforting. His last encounter with one of their kind had been in Azkaban when Harry was still a first year, so at the time he had not connected how similar the Dementors' aura was to Death's. Perhaps that was why people found their presence so . . . uncomfortable. Now, though, Harry found himself almost relaxing in the gauzy faces of the dark creatures, especially since neither seemed antagonistic, merely confused and perhaps curious.

Wanting to test one of his theories he'd gained over the summer during his studies, Harry took a chance in the nearly empty car.

{I wonder . . . can you understand me?} The language of the dead rolled off his tongue fluently in chilling syllables and haunting cadences. The creatures perked at the sound and Harry found himself succumbing to his own dangerous fascination.

{How does a mere babe learn our language? How can one of warm flesh and a beating heart be so shrouded by death?} The creature closest to Harry replied, voice no more than a rumbling hiss, like that of thunder and cold rain.

Before Harry could reply, a bright light exploded from the next car over, capturing the attention of the two before him. They turned and backed up towards Harry in almost a protective stance as the door they had come through flew open and Remus charged in, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. The man looked wild and truly dangerous when he saw the Dementors so close to his cub. Apparently, he failed to notice that, when he lifted his wand at them, the Dementors screeched and back up closer to Harry, closing the gap that he could see through and effectively making a barrier between him and Remus.

Harry was bewildered to see them trying to defend him, but that feeling was short lived when his guardian shouted a spell and a bright light filled the car. A great white wolf made of white light broke free from the blue-white mist and charged the Dementors. The unholy shriek that came from the creatures upon contact with the light made Harry flinch. The Dementors escaped through an open window to flee the damaging light.

The wolf and the light disappeared and Harry found himself in a crushing hug from his 'savior.' Harry returned the embrace and was guided back to their compartment for some chocolate to recuperate, even though he didn't need it.

When he returned, everyone in the car looked positively pale and shaken, while Remus looked furious. Harry could sympathize, it was reckless and idiotic to allow such dark creatures on a train full of children. There would certainly be a backlash from the parents as soon as they caught wind of it.

Remus had been reluctant to leave Harry and the others, but eventually he had to give into his duty as a staff member and check on the other students and meet with the prefects to have them doing further check-ups and comforting those who would undoubtedly need some calming down. Harry, however, knew that he could handle his friends just fine and shooed the adult off as soon as the train began moving again.

In Remus' absence, Harry gave his own chunk of chocolate to a still-trembling Draco with a soft squeeze on the shoulder, and pulled Hermione over to the other seat so that they could all sit close. Harry knew his friends, sometimes they could be rather prideful and disliked asking for help, so he had to initiate it sometimes. He could tell in the way Hermione quickly rested her head on his shoulder, how Anthony intertwined their fingers, and how Draco subtly scooted closer that they all needed it.

Even though he'd found the experience rather enlightening, Harry felt a protective flair of anger in his gut at what the Dementors presence had done to his friends. All he wanted to do then was pull them all closer and wrap his magic around them like a blanket. So, with no small amount of deliberation and trust, he did just that. He heard the small gasps and felt the slight tensing of his group, before they all curled into the invisible bubble he created like one might curl into a mother's bosom. Harry sighed in relief, the tumulus emotions had shaken his tight hold on his magic and it had made it quite difficult to restrain it from encasing them protectively.

They were all silent as Harry's raw magic filled them with ease and chased the chill from their bones. Harry knew that his magic would affect Anthony the most, with his sensitivity, so he was not at all surprised when the blonde dropped off to sleep, his hand still tightly clutching Harry's.


By the time Remus returned, he felt worn and troubled that so much had happened before he'd even arrived at Hogwarts. His fatigue took a back seat, though, when he entered the compartment to find all of them fast asleep, the setting sun casting a dim golden light into the small space that nearly begged for an afternoon nap.

Remus struggled to withhold his laughter when he spotted the little Malfoy heir with his face squashed inelegantly against the glass of the window, a trail of drool cutting through the fog from his breath. Grinning, Remus quickly transfigured a large but thin blanket to drape over them. However, when he reached forward to place the blanket, his hands permeated magic so thick that all the airs on his body stood up on end and static began to spread up from his fingers, to his hands, and up his arms.

Placing the blanket quickly and pulling back, Remus gaped at his cub, knowing but hardly believing that such . . . incredible magic came from the thirteen-year-old. Remus had witnessed the spells and wandless magic and occasional magical aura from Harry before, but . . . this was inconceivably more than that!

At once, Remus was both proud and terrified. Harry was like a walking miracle in everything he did, constantly finding new ways to amaze and baffle them all, but his gifts would also put him at risk, catch the attention of those who wished to control and use those gifts. Sadly, Remus couldn't really specify which 'side' that would come from either. Sometimes the most malicious cruelty was dealt at the hand of a friend and, in their eyes, helping.

Remus sighed and sat back down on the opposite seat, eyes trained on the violent hues of the setting sun across the sky. The deep purple slowly encroaching on the brilliant crimson and burnt ochre. Nothing but the thin twilight grey standing between them, the last defense against the dying war. Though the sight was frighteningly beautiful and usually inspired awe in the hapless poet within the tired wizard, Remus couldn't help but track the morbid red banners across the horizon and mark the sight as an omen for the year to come.