It was not the first time Sirius had sat at the teachers' table, but it was the first time in several years, the first time without Remus beside him, and the first time he'd sat there that wasn't the result of being called in because something awful had happened.

This time, he was there in anticipation of something awful, which still wasn't ideal, but was better than the alternative.

Lightning flashed across the enchanted ceiling as Snape sat down in the empty set beside Sirius. It surprised him a little; Sirius had tried several times over the last few days to track Snape down to talk to him about Draco; Snape had eluded him on all but one occasion, and on that one occasion Snape had been in such a hideous mood that Sirius had realised very quickly there wasn't going to be any progress made and given it up as a bad job.

"Evening," Sirius said. Snape grunted in response and it wasn't a particularly friendly grunt. He had worried their rather delicate truce might have been affected by Sirius taking the Defence job - it was no secret Snape had wanted it for years now - but there were other empty seats at the staff table and Snape had still taken the one beside Sirius, so perhaps that wasn't it after all. Sirius sighed and reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. He filled his own goblet. "Want one?"

"No."

"No, thank you," Sirius said. Snape turned dark, cold, and utterly unamused eyes on him for a moment, then went back to watching the students. Sirius sighed again, giving up, and turned his own attention to the doors.

The students beginning to trickle in through the Great Hall's enormous doors were spotted with rain and looked rather windswept. There were quite a few faces he recognised by simple virtue of having been around the castle a lot over the last three years. He couldn't have put names to those faces, but that would come with time.

The first student whose name he did know was Ginny; she came into the Hall with a short, fair-haired boy holding a camera, and a pale girl with long blonde hair. Ginny grinned when she spotted Sirius, and then she and the boy with the camera went at sat down at Gryffindor, while the other girl drifted over to Ravenclaw.

Fred, George, the girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and the boy that usually commentated were the next lot Sirius recognised; the twins caught his eye, bowed in perfect unison, then sat down with the others. They'd caused quite a scene early on in Remus' time as a teacher - fireworks, and a banner, apparently, to welcome Mr Moony back to the school - and Sirius wasn't sure if he was hoping for the same, or dreading it.

Neville Longbottom came in with some of Harry's other yearmates, Hydrus Malfoy - who Sirius mistook for Draco until he noticed the robes and the distinctly pureblooded airs of the other kids he was with - settled at Slytherin with a great deal of fuss (shooing a group of younger Slytherins out of what was apparently his place at the table), and then, Sirius spotted the real Draco; he, Ron, and Hermione wandered in, all looking rather sombre, and Sirius' heart seized, because Harry wasn't with them.

They'd look more panicked if something had happened to him, Sirius told himself, but tried to catch their attention all the same. Draco's eyes slid right past him to Snape, and neither of the other two were looking at him; Hermione was waving at the Ravenclaw table, and Ron was looking back out the doors...

And then Sirius saw Harry, nodding at something Blaise had said before the two went their separate ways - Harry to join his friends, and Blaise to join Slytherin. Harry glanced up at Sirius as he sat down between Hermione and Ginny, and his mouth quirked up in greeting.

"Sorry, sorry…" Hagrid squeezed his bulk past Hooch's chair and sat in the large chair between Sirius and Sprout. He was lacking his normal coat, and was instead dressed in trousers, suspenders, and a shirt with a patched elbow and shoulder.

"Hello, Hagrid," Sirius said.

"Sirius!" Hagrid patted his shoulder and beamed, then shook his massive head to rid his beard and hair of water. Sprout tutted and dried Hagrid, then herself and Sirius with her wand. Snape shot Hagrid a poisonous look that went unnoticed by everyone except for Sirius and Dumbledore.

"Firsties make it across all right?" Sirius asked, as thunder rumbled overhead.

"Well enough," Hagrid said gruffly. "One lad fell in-"

"There's always one," Snape muttered, barely audible over Sprout's gasp and motherly, "The poor dear! Is he all right?"

"Seemed right pleased about it, ter tell the truth," Hagrid said, a bit bemusedly. "He-" But a hush fell over the chattering students as McGonagall strode in with the first years on her heels, and Hagrid fell silent.

They were all significantly soggier than the older students, and dampest of all was the boy who'd fallen into the lake; he was a tiny thing, made even tinier by the fact that he was bundled up in Hagrid's enormous overcoat.

Creevey, his name turned out to be, and he was Sorted into Gryffindor... that he'd fallen into the lake in this weather and been pleased really ought to have been a giveaway, in Sirius' opinion. He went to sit beside Ginny's friend with the camera - his brother, Sirius assumed, because they looked rather alike when they sat side by side. They proceeded to whisper and stare at Harry - who was resolutely watching the Sorting - until Draco and Ron turned and offered their hands to the boy - politely, but forcefully. He shook them, then Ginny's, and then fell silent with a squeak Sirius could hear from the teacher's table due to a particularly long silence from the Sorting Hat. Then, Connor Hibbard was put in Ravenclaw, and the Sorting continued.

When it was over, Dumbledore stood and became the target of several hundred hopeful looks.

"I have only two words to say to you," he said. "Tuck in."

Harry and Ron dove for the bowl of potatoes that had just appeared on Gryffindor table. Hermione reached for the peas with far more dignity, and Draco was too busy staring at Snape to notice the food for several seconds.

Then, plates were appearing in front of Sirius and he stopped worrying about what Harry and his friends were doing because there was steak and sweet corn, and fluffy bread rolls…

Some time later, when the last of the pudding was gone, Dumbledore stood again.

"Now that we're all fed and watered, I must ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. First and foremost, I would like to welcome Professor Sirius Black to our staff." Sirius lifted a hand and waved, catching a few snippets of students' reactions - his name, Harry's, Auror - before applause drowned them out. "Most of you will have seen him around in previous years," Dumbledore continued, "so this year, we decided to make his presence here at Hogwarts official." His eyes twinkled and Sirius smiled wryly. "He will be taking over from Professor Moody as your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Dumbledore then moved on to the other usual announcements; Filch's list of forbidden objects had expanded, the forest was out of bounds, and then:

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

The news was not taken well; Harry and Ron looked appalled, Fred, George, and Ginny looked shocked, and even if Sirius hadn't known vaguely what the other Houses' players looked like, he thought he'd have been able to pick them from their variously horrified and angry expressions. "This," Dumbledore continued, "is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but, I am sure you will enjoy it immensely."

Dumbledore smiled. "It is my great pleasure to announce that this year, the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts."

This announcement was far better received; there were gasps and smiles and excited murmurs from almost everyone - staff and students alike.

Sirius grinned, his enthusiasm genuine but not without reservations; with the Tournament would come Karkaroff, and with Karkaroff would come… well, Merlin only knew what, but Sirius doubted it would be anything good.

And so, here he was.


Padfoot's quarters were the same ones Moony had occupied in Harry's first year, and it was rather surreal being back in them. If Lockhart and Moody had used the room in the years since, they hadn't changed the set-up, nor could Harry smell them; the couch was the same one they'd all sat on after Harry's first Animagus transformation, the door on the right wall led through to the office Moony had scolded them in the first time they came across the three-headed dog, and the fireplace… the fireplace was the same one Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco had camped out in front of, while Harry's scar burned and they waited to hear from Moony whether Padfoot was dead or not.

Padfoot - who was very much alive - walked into the back of him, and Harry stumbled forward, snapping out of his grim nostalgia.

"Kiddo…?"

"Sorry," Harry said, shaking himself and moving out of the doorway. Padfoot's eyes flicked up to Harry's scar in an unspoken question, but Harry shook his his head. "Just been a while since I was here." He could tell Padfoot didn't really understand, and Harry didn't particularly feel like explaining himself, so he was grateful when Padfoot didn't press; he pulled off his outer robes and tossed them over the back of the desk's chair, rolled up his sleeves and changed the topic.

"So did you have a chance to talk to Draco?"

"Yeah," Harry said, settling himself onto the couch. "Yeah, we talked on the train." And then, because he wasn't sure what else to say, he said nothing. Padfoot rolled his eyes and sat himself down on the other couch.

"And…?" he said, impatiently.

"And everything's all right," Harry said. "I- we trust him." It was a strange situation he was in; Draco had been careful with his words in the lead up to the conversation so as not to leave them with anything they could draw conclusions from; Harry had gone over what he did remember several times already, and had more questions than answers. And that was assuming Draco had been honest; it was entirely possible he'd said what he'd said to give them false leads to wonder about, so that they wouldn't accidentally reach the right conclusion, be it for Draco's safety, or theirs, or someone else's; it had occurred to Harry during dinner that the secrecy could also be to protect Snape or one of the other Malfoys, though he thought that was less likely.

Regardless, he'd taken the red dragon, so whatever Draco had said must have reassured the niggling doubts he'd had since the World Cup. He trusted himself, and he trusted Draco. He would just have to learn to deal with not knowing… or try to; Harry knew he was too curious to be much good at it, but he was prepared to try for Draco's sake.

Padfoot glanced over at him, and Harry wondered what he smelled like.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"I… er... can't tell you." Padfoot frowned and Harry grimaced. "Sorry. I'd tell you if I could, but I really can't." He almost explained more - the pensieve, and the dragons - and then thought better of it. It wasn't something Padfoot needed to know, any more than he'd needed to know that it was Mr Malfoy who'd given Ginny the diary, or that Hermione had had a timeturner, or that Dumbledore's wand was one of the Hallows. All he needed to know was that Harry trusted him:

"But I trust him." Padfoot rubbed a hand over his face and blew out a long breath. Harry waited, expecting questions, or a protest, but they never came:

"Okay," Padfoot said, and Harry smiled. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."


"Balderdash," Hermione said.

"Welcome home, dears," the Fat Lady replied, and swung open. Ron followed Hermione through the portrait hole, with the rest of the fourth years - except for Harry, who'd gone to talk to Sirius after the feast - on his heels.

"Explodin' Snap, anyone?" Seamus asked. Dean and Lavender made eager noises. "Ron?" He didn't ask Hermione or Malfoy; they were both usually happy to watch - or in Malfoy's case, critique everyone playing - but rarely played themselves.

"Nah," Ron said, "I think I'm going to unpack a bit and go to bed." He caught Malfoy's eye, pointedly, but Malfoy didn't seem to catch on. Ron stared a little harder, trying not to be too obvious; Harry was with Sirius and the rest of their dorm mates were distracted - which meant there was a perfect opportunity for the two of them to talk, alone.

"Already?" Hermione asked, looking surprised.

"Yeah," Ron sighed, giving up on Malfoy. "Just been a long day." Hermione looked a little suspicious but didn't press the point; she perched beside Parvati while the others shuffled Seamus' cards. "Meet you down here in the morning?"

"The usual time," Hermione said, nodding. "Good night."

"Night." Ron made his way upstairs, and was just pulling off his shoes when the door opened again.

"I told Granger I'd make sure you were all right," Malfoy said, a little awkwardly. So he had realised what Ron wanted. "I imagine you've got some questions." He shut the door and went to sit on the side of his bed, facing Ron.

"A few, yeah," Ron said. But, though those questions had rattled around in his head for most of the train ride and then most of dinner, he found himself not knowing what to say.

"Well?" Malfoy asked, but he sounded too nervous to be properly impatient.

"Why didn't you take my memory?" Ron asked. "You said it was too dangerous for us to know."

"Straight to it," Malfoy muttered. Ron waited. "It is dangerous, but- I've thought a lot about it and I think I need someone to know."

"But the dragons… The whole point was-"

"For Potter and Granger, yes, and for She-Weasley, if she'd stayed. Potter couldn't keep the memory. We know he has a connection to the Dark Lord, and if Potter dreams of him sometimes, then he probably dreams of Potter. And it's inevitable that they'll end up face to face again, and I can't risk the Dark Lord seeing that particular truth in Potter's mind."

"Fair," Ron conceded.

"Granger's not good with secrets," Malfoy continued. "She'd be nervous about keeping something from you and Potter and Potter'd smell it. Or - if what I think's going to happen does happen - we'll fight about whose side I'm really on and she'd tell on purpose to try to fix things. And she'd fuss," he added, seeming equal parts fond and exasperated.

"Why would we fight about whose side you're on?" Ron asked. "The dragons-"

"I don't know what I'm going to have to say or do to convince the Dark Lord that I'm his," Malfoy said quietly. "But it's… likely… the others will have reason to doubt me at some point, even with the dragons. Potter might see me with the Dark Lord, or I might have to pass on information that couldn't have come from anyone else, or I might be called away to do something or go somewhere… I'm hoping not, because they ought to want me here in Gryffindor and not being suspicious, but, well… And that's where you - hopefully - come in."

"What do you mean?"

"You can cover for me if I have to go somewhere, or do something. Make excuses and whatnot."

"I guess, yeah," Ron said, frowning. "Seems like a big risk to take, though, having me know just so I can tell Harry you've gone for a walk or something. Snape'd cover for you just as well."

"Maybe," Malfoy muttered. "That's not the only reason, though." Ron waited. "When they doubt me, it'd be nice if you could get them... not to. Remind them of the dragons, or… just lead by example." Malfoy cleared his throat. "I- you're my reasons for doing this - you, and Potter, and Granger - and I don't want to lose you all in the process." Malfoy looked nervous, and a little lost. It was the first time he'd seemed anything less than confident about this mad plan of his, and Ron was rather touched that he was more concerned about their opinion of him than he was about anything Voldemort might do. "When this is all over, and Potter's won, I want something to come back to."

"We'll be here, mate," Ron said. Or he would be, and he'd do his best to make sure Harry and Hermione were too. Harry'd forgive anyone anything, so he wasn't really worried about him, but when something upset Hermione, she held grudges. "I'll make sure of it."

After the ordeal with Wormtail last year, Ron had decided he didn't want to be useless anymore, and he was working on that, but not being useless wasn't really a position, didn't really help him work out where he was going to fit in whatever was to come; Harry was always going to be the leader, the hero, and Hermione had always been the brilliant one, the sensible one. Malfoy hadn't had a place either, but now, he was the spy. And Ron, Ron knew now that he was going to be the friend, the supportive one. A few months back, he might have been disappointed, might have throught friend wasn't as cool as the others' titles… And maybe it wasn't, but he thought of Hermione's hand like a vice around his while Wormtail used them as bait, thought of Harry's face when they'd told him they were sticking with him, prophecies and horcruxes and all, and he watched Malfoy's face now, and decided it was pretty bloody important.

"Much appreciated," Malfoy said hoarsely.

"So," Ron said, after a few moments of silence. "I'm meant to make your excuses and sing your praises… anything else I should know about?"

"Yes," Malfoy said, mouth twitching, "you're also going to have to be my confidant. I won't very well be able to walk up to Potter and tell him the Dark Lord's plans."

"How am I meant to explain that?" Ron asked, weakly. "I don't have a scar that gives me visions, or parents that are Death Eaters- er, I mean-"

"As confidant, that's your problem to solve," Malfoy said, thankfully not taking offence. "But Potter can't know it's coming from me, or he'll unravel all of this in an instant… you know what he's like."

"Yeah," Ron said, then shook his head. "Bloody hell." Malfoy smirked, looking more like his normal self than he had all day. It was short lived, however; Malfoy's expression turned vulnerable after only a few moments.

"So," he said in a small voice, "you'll do it, then?"

"'Course I will."