Professor Flitwick took Harry aside the next day and explained in brief that the headmaster believed Sirius Black was coming for him, and so until he was captured Harry was not to leave the castle under any circumstances.

"Professor, if Sirius Black is after me, why did he go to Gryffindor Tower instead of Ravenclaw? I'm a third year; everyone should know by now what house I'm in."

"I don't know, Harry."

"All right. But I still can go home for the holidays, right?"

Flitwick was silent.

"...Right, Professor?"

The Head of Ravenclaw House sighed. "You're going to have to take that up with the headmaster, Mr. Potter, but for yours and your family's safety, I don't believe he'll allow it."

"But-!"

"Take it up with the headmaster," Flitwick repeated.

When Harry entered Professor Lupin's classroom the day after the next full moon, he was unsurprised to find Professor Snape at the front of the class. Given that Draco had said he'd been after the DADA job for years and resented everyone he'd been passed over for, Harry half-expected him to lecture on werewolves in hopes of catching someone's attention - but he didn't. Instead, he gave an amazing overview of the mind arts - Occlumency to shield, Legilimency to read - and walked them through a few meditation exercises with surprising patience. Though at the very beginning, he did say, "Aside from Mr. Potter, who has already demonstrated at least some proficiency with the basic concepts, I don't expect any of you to create and maintain successful Occlumency shields at any point this year - or indeed your entire lives. The mind arts are among the most difficult branches of magic to acquire any degree of skill in, and require a lifetime to truly master."

Things went downhill from there and six people ended up with detention, but even Neville (who was thoroughly terrified of the man) agreed that it had been an excellent lesson. "My gran's been teaching me the basics over the summer breaks," he said, "and a lot of that was actually really helpful, once I got through all of the condescension."

"Agreed," said Harry, "It's similar to what my father's taught me, but magic adds a whole new dimension to it. We use it more to organize our thoughts than shield from mind-reading, so that will take a bit of getting used to."

"Suit yourself, mate," said Ron, "Quidditch match, this Saturday! Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Are you gonna come watch us cream the slimy snakes?"

"If anyone's getting creamed, it will be you bumbling lions, Weasel," Draco retorted, more an automatic response than any real anger, "Seriously though, you are coming, right? It's the first match of the year!"

Harry sighed. With both of them pestering him, he'd never be able to get out of it, and with all - or at least most - of the teachers present, it was probably as good a chance as any to get some fresh air. Being stuck in the castle was stifling; normally if he wasn't doing his homework in the library, he was doing it on the grounds under one of the many shady trees, enjoying being out in nature while simultaneously missing his family something fierce. Before he started school, they had picnics every time the weather was nice.

So of course the day of the match it was pouring rain, complete with icy wind and flashes and cracks of lightning and thunder that were far more frequent than Harry was entirely comfortable with. Still, had made a promise, and, after making a note to research as many weather repellant charms as he could find, he joined his friends in making their soggy way to the Quidditch pitch.

Logically he knew that he enjoyed flying and was quite good at it, traits he apparently inherited from his father, but he had more important things to do and learn than how to outmaneuver ma fellow students on a broomstick.

Such as how to bridge the gap between those who came from the magical world and those who came from the Muggle one. He hadn't forgotten what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised in his first year, but unfortunately we had to do most of his research over the summer holidays when he had access to the Internet and also a number of at least halfway-illegal books on old magic and wizarding traditions.

Still, in the relative privacy of his own mind (both Snape and the Dark Lord had said Legilimency required eye contact to take effect), he could turn over some of the problems he was having - like where the hell Muggle-borns came from. If magic could just spontaneously appear in people, why wasn't it more widespread? Raw magic was an immensely powerful force, same as an earthquake or a typhoon, but one person could only channel so much magic at one time without tearing themselves apart. So instead of one massive Category 5 hurricane whirling its way across the Atlantic, there should have been hundreds, maybe even thousands of smaller "storms" rolling into magical Britain-

-unless it wasn't spontaneous. Unless they weren't actually Muggle-borns at all, and had a magic-user somewhere in their ancestry. But how-?

Wait. lf people of apparent Muggle ancestry could be born with magic, could people with wizarding ancestry be born without?

Since he was closest, Harry called over the storm, "Neville! Are there people without magic born into wizarding families?!"

"What?! Oh, yeah! They're called Squibs!"

Jackpot. "And what happens to them?!"

But any response Neville might have made was drowned by a wave of sudden, bitter cold, too strong and deep to have come even from the storm raging overhead.

Deep... and familiar.

There were dementors appearing on the Quidditch pitch, but Harry barely saw them. As before on the train, his vision blurred, and it became harder and harder to breathe as what felt like an entire glacier grew in his lungs.

There were screams in his ears again, but this time he could actually make out words.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl... Stand aside now…"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-"

That was his mother's voice, Harry realized. Something about the dementors' presence was making him relive, at least audibly, the night Voldemort came for him.

"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy…"

It was one hang to know that his mother had given her life to save his, the final sacrifice of whatever magic that had saved his life. It was another thing entirely to hear her offering herself up to Voldemort's wand - and also hearing him tell her to stand aside. Given the stories he'd heard about the Dark Lord during the war… that wasn't at all what he had expected.

But he didn't have time to think of anything more than that, because the ground came up to meet him. Everything went.

He woke up in the hospital wing later that same day, but he kept his eyes closed until he was reasonably sure it was just his friends and Madam Pomfrey with him. Then he cracked his eyes open and peered around.

It was just him and his friends, but not just his year mates; Fred, George, Alicia, and Angelina were there as well, still on their mud-splattered Quidditch robes and carrying their brooms, along with Ginny and Luna, everyone looking like they'd been pushed into a swimming pool. There were cries of delight when they realized he was awake.

"Welcome back, mate," said Ron.

"You had us all worried sick," Hermione added.

Draco was mostly angry, though he was also paler than usual under the mud. "My father will be hearing about this," he said, his voice tight, "The dementors were never supposed to come onto the grounds - they aren't even supposed to leave their posts."

"Dumbledore'll be giving the Ministry an earful, too," Ginny said, "He looked furious, even before he noticed you. He shot something silver at them, looked like a bird-"

"The Patronus Charm."

Everyone turned to see Remus, pale and weary, entering the hospital wing and coming slowly over to join them. "What the headmaster used to drive off the dementors - it's called the Patronus Charm. It's also a wizard's only known defense against lethifolds."

"Can you teach us how to do it?" Harry asked.

The man looked out over the half-frightened, half-hopeful faces and sighed. "I suppose, given our circumstances this year, that it couldn't hurt to offer a supplemental class. But I warn you now, it's a very complex bit of magic; there's a very good chance you won't succeed the first or even the fiftieth time you try. Even I haven't mastered it fully, and I've been practicing for years."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Even though Harry felt fine now that he was away from the dementors, Madam Pomprey insisted on keeping him in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He knew better than to argue, instead accepting visits from the rest of his friends as well. Yet on Sunday night, the day before he was allowed to return to the Ravenclaw dormitories, the door to the hospital wing creaked open.

Harry was immediately awake, and he slowly moved his hand under his pillow to curl around his wand.

But no person entered. Instead a shaggy black dog pushed his way through the doors and looked around. When he spotted Harry, his ears pricked and his tail wagged.

Harry pushed himself up on his elbow. "Hey, boy," he said softly, careful not to wake Madam Pomfrey in her quarters, "Where'd you come from? I know they don't let us bring dogs as pets."

The dog padded over to his bed and reared up to rest his head and forepaws on the edge of the mattress. Harry carefully held out a hand, and the dog sniffed him for a moment before his tail started wagging harder. When Harry petted him, he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a pleased rumble, and he tilted his head into ear scratches as well.

No collar around the dog's neck. A stray? But what was he doing in Hogwarts? And how had the ended up in the middle of the Scottish highlands, especially with all the dementors around?

There's more to this than meets the eye.

Page of Swords upright.

"You're not actually a dog, are you?" Harry hazarded, carefully reaching out with magic.

The dog had magic of his own, older, stronger, and oddly familiar. An Animagus. And there was only one person he knew of who would be wandering the grounds in disguise.

"Sirius Black?"

The dog's ears drooped, and he pulled his tail between his legs.

"Are you here to kill me?"

Black gave an immediate, vigorous head shake, so strong that he almost slipped off the side of the bed.

"Then why-?" Harry shut his mouth with a snap.

There was a rustle of blankets from Madam Pomfrey's quarters, and the soft glow of wand light.

"Under the bed! Quick!" Harry hissed, even as he nearly threw himself back on to the mattress and yanked the blankets up to his chin. Black was gone a second later, and Harry closed his eyes right before the light from Pomfrey's wand filled the hospital wing. She stood and looked through the room for several long minutes before apparently turning and going back to bed.

After a few more minutes, Harry cracked his eyes open just in time to see Black's pointed ears appear over the edge of the bed. He shuffled closer and whispered, "You should leave before anyone else comes. I've read about the Dementor's Kiss - no one deserves that."

Black leaned up over the edge of the bed to lick his fingers. Then he padded back to the door and slipped out, closing it behind him with a soft click.

Everything returned to normal on Monday. By then the entire school had heard about Remus's supplemental lessons in the Patronus Charm, and there was a veritable flood of interest; by the end of the day, every book on the spell was checked out of the library with a waiting list as long as Harry's wand arm.

A number of the other professors and even a few seventh years volunteered to help Remus teach the Patronus Charm, so their first lesson was scheduled for early December.

The Great Hall was absolutely packed when the day came, even more than it had been for the Dueling Club the previous year. This time Remus had Professor Flitwick assisting him; after all, it was called the Patronus Charm. Between the two of them and their assistants, they walked everyone through the pronunciation of the spell's incantation and choosing a happy memory to fuel the spell. By the end of the first lesson, a scattered handful of students had produced clouds of silver mist - including Harry himself, much to his own surprise.

Remus encouraged them to practice when they could outside of class and also announced the next Hogsmeade weekend right before winter break. His friends immediately began making plans to buy everyone's Christmas gifts there, among other things; Harry had already bought everyone's gifts, but that reminded him that he still needed to talk to the headmaster about going home for the break. Draco had already invited him to the Malfoys' annual Yule Ball, and as much as he loved Hogwarts, he needed to get out and away for a while.

"Enter."

Harry stepped into the headmaster's office. As always, it was full of shelves of books and mysterious devices that hummed and released occasional puffs of silver smoke.

"An, Harry. Come in, come in. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Headmaster; I just ate." That, and in truth Harry had been wary of accepting anything from the man since the end of his first year, when it had occurred to him that both he and Voldemort had been set up with regards to the Sorcerer's Stone.

"Very well then. What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Professor Flitwick said I should talk to you about arrangements for going home over winter break." Not technically a lie, but he kept his eyes from meeting the older man's anyway.

Dumbledore looked infinitely sad. "An, Harry. If only it was that simple, but with Sirius Black still at large, Hogwarts is the safest place for you."

"Sir, he's already broken in once-" Twice, potentially more times. "-in and out with no one noticing, not even the dementors."

"And here we have more than a dozen fully-trained wizards, masters of their craft, to defend you. I mean no disrespect to your parents -I understand they are formidable in their own right-"

You don't know the half of it.

"-but Sirius Black deceived us all for many years, and is also the first person ever to escape from Azkaban. I do not think they are quite up to defending you from such a threat. In addition, you no longer have the blood wards to protect you from Voldemort, but I am exploring alternative arrangements on that front."

A little heavy-handed with the bait, but Harry decided to go with it for now. "Blood wards, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked old and tired. "Yes indeed. Your mother's sacrifice was very powerful, as all willing sacrifices are, and because of it, while you lived with your aunt, who shared her blood, Voldemort couldn't touch you, couldn't hurt you within the walls of her home - and yours. You might not necessarily have been happy there... but you were safe from the greatest threat to your life that exists today."

The man seemed sincere, but Harry couldn't Read people nearly as well as Will. But however unknowingly, he had given the Ravenclaw a different opening. "All right, so I can't go home. Can I at least attend the Malfoys' Yule Ball? There will be lots of wizards there, too, and it's only for a few hours."

The headmaster considered carefully, then nodded. "I will arrange for one of the professors to escort you to and from the ball."

Harry beamed. He would get to see his family over break after all! "Thank you, Headmaster!"

Harry wrote a letter to Will, Hannibal, and Abby the very next day, explaining the situation, and saw his friends off on their Hogsmeade trip before beginning the long trek up to the Owlery.

Over the summer, Hannibal had finally been persuaded to let Harry get an owl so they didn't have to keep waiting for one of the school owls to be freed up. The Ravenclaw was now the proud owner of a lovely snowy owl named Hedwig, who was also coincidentally one of the very few owls who could stand to be around the High Wendigoes for any significant length of time. In fact, when they had found her in the Magical Menagerie, Will had been the one to open her cage, and she had stepped right out onto his arm and given them all a look that said, "What took you so long?"

When they had brought her home, she had borne the dogs' curious sniffing without complaint or attack, which was enough to endear her to Will, and aside from the odd feather or two the house was still clean, which satisfied Hannibal. She also liked both Abby and Harry, each of which endeared her to the other, so she was happily welcomed into their home.

Yet as he was passing the statue of a hump-backed one-eyed witch on the third floor, he was stopped by a hiss of his name. He turned, hand flying to his wand - but it was only Fred and George waving him over.

"What are you two still doing here?" he said as he joined them, "I thought for sure you'd be halfway to Zonko's by now."

"We've got a bit of festive cheer for you before we go," Fred said with a wink.

"Call it an early Christmas present," George added, and gestured for him to enter the classroom next to the statue.

Once inside, Fred pulled something from under his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It looked to be an old blank parchment, but things in the wizarding world were very rarely ever exactly what they appeared to be.

This seeming parchment was no exception. When he touched it and extended his awareness, the parchment nearly hummed with power. There were four distinct - signatures? Wavelengths? Impressions? - that had gone into its making, and though all four were familiar, he could only place two of them.

One belonged to Remus Lupin. The other belonged to Sirius Black.

"What is this?" he asked the twins.

"The secret to our success," George answered.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you, but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours," Fred said with a nod.

"Anyway, we know it by heart - don't really need it anymore- and so we bequeath it to you."

"That still doesn't tell me what it is." Remus, Black, and their companions had done fine work though; if Remus still remembered how they had done it, he wanted to pick the man's brain.

"Well... when we were in our first year," said George," young, carefree, innocent-"

Harry was unable to smother a short of disbelief. Given their reputation as unmitigated pranksters, he was willing to bet that the twins had arrived at Hogwarts with pockets full of "contraband".

"Well, more innocent than we are now," Fred took over, "we got into a spot of trouble with Filch. Well, I say spot-"

"-We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason-"

"-So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual-"

"-detention-"

"-disembowelment-"

Harry raised an eyebrow at that one, but the twins carried right on.

"-and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous'."

"So of course you had to see what was inside right away," Harry said with a roll of his eyes, though he was grinning the entire time.

"Well, what would you have done?" Fred said.

"Taken the detention or disembowelment and sneaked back in at a later time to sift through the drawer's contents at my leisure."

"...no wonder you're in Ravenclaw," said George, "Anyway, I caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb-"

"-and I whipped the drawer open and grabbed - this."

"It's really not as bad as it sounds, you know."

"Yeah, we don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it."

"He probably suspected, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"How does it work, then?" Harry asked.

"Like so!" George pulled out his wand, touched the top to the parchment, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Ink fanned out across the page from the wand's point of contact, spreading to every corner in a wave of dark green. Words bloomed across the top in great curling letters:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to magical Mischief-Makers

are proud to present

THE MARAUDERS' MAP

It was a map that showed the Hogwarts castle and grounds in exacting detail. More than that, it also showed the names and locations of everyone and everything in its range. There was Professor Dumbledore pacing in his study, and there was Mrs. Norris stalking something on the second floor, and there was Peeves - damned poltergeist; someone needed to call an exorcist - bouncing around the trophy room and no doubt creating a horrible mess for Filch.

There were other things, too.

"These passages lead right into Hogsmeade," Fred said, tracing one of them, "seven in all. Filch knows about these four, and this one caved in last winter. This one goes right under the Whomping Willow - but this one goes straight into the Honeydukes' cellar, and the entrance is right outside this room, through that old crones' hump."

"Moony, Wormtal, Padpoot, and Prongs - we owe them so much," George sighed, patting the map fondly.

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," Fred added solemnly.

"Right, don't forget to wipe it after you've used it-"

"- or anyone can read it."

"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."

"So, young Harry," said Fred, taking on an air so very like his elder brother Percy's, "behave yourself."

"See you in Honeydukes," George said with a wink, before leading the way out of the classroom.

Harry didn't leave right away, instead continuing to examine the map for several long minutes. Then he pulled out his wand, tapped the parchment, and said, "Mischief managed."

The ink vanished in an instant, leaving behind just a bit of old parchment - but one that could never be mistaken for anything so ordinary to those who knew how to look.

Harry folded it up and tucked it into his robes, then resumed his journey up to the Owlery, where he found Hedwig already waiting for him. "Hello, beautiful," he said with a smile, offering some owl treats, "I hope the others are treating you well. I know the weather's terrible, but would you mind taking this to my dads?"

She stuck her leg out for the letter, then ran her beak affectionately through his hair as he carried her to one of the wide windows. "Have a safe flight," he said, and she gave him one last gentle nibble before leaping off his arm and into the open sky.

Harry waited until she was out of sight, then turned and descended back to the castle proper. But he didn't do what Fred and George clearly wanted and sneak into Hogsmeade; instead, he went looking for Remus. A brief check of the map showed he was in his office.

The man looked up when Harry knocked on the open door. "Ah, Harry, come in, come in."

The Ravenclaw laid the map - still open, still displaying - on his desk.

Remus's eyes went wide with recognition. "Where did you find this?" he asked with a kind of reverent disbelief, touching a corner of the parchment almost tenderly.

"Fred and George gave it to me less than an hour ago. They said they nicked it from Filch's stash of confiscated items in their first year." He jerked his chin toward it. "You helped make it, didn't you? I can feel your energy in it, along with Black's and two others."

"Do you recognize them, too?"

Harry shook his head. "They're familiar, but I can't match them to a name like I can him and you."

Remus gave him a sad smile. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," he said softly, "Myself, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black - and James Potter."

Objectively Harry had known that at least one of his parents had been close enough friends with Remus and Black to name them as his guardians, but it was another thing entirely to actually hear about it from one of the parties involved. He sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk and looked up at the man, waiting for him to continue.

"We were all in the same year at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor," Remus went on, "Merlin only knows how Peter actually made it in, but I suppose one time counts for all. But James and Sirius were our ringleaders, so to speak, very bright, but more interested in causing trouble than doing their school work, much like Fred and George." Long-suffering exasperation flashed across his face. "Sirius and I were close, but he and James were closer, almost like brothers. After Sirius had the falling out with his family, he even lived at Potter Manor until he came of age. He was best man at your parents' wedding, and, as you now know, they also named him one of your godfathers."

"...So what happened?" Harry asked.

Remus sighed. "I don't actually know. No one does, so far as I am aware except for maybe Sirius and he's never said. But You-Know-Who was after them, and one of Dumbledore's spies tipped him off. He convinced them to go into hiding, but of course You-Know-Who wasn't easy to hide from. They decided to use the Fidelius Charm."

"Which is?"

"I'm not sure of the specifics; you should talk to Professor Flitwick if you want to know more. But it involves the concealment of a secret - in this case, you and your parents and your location - inside a single person, called a Secret-Keeper. This makes the secret impossible to find - unless the Secret-Keeper chooses to reveal it.

"So - Sirius was our Secret-Keeper?"

Remus nodded. "I understand Dumbledore himself offered, but James insisted. And then... barely a week later…" He shook his head, and sighed. "Everyone was looking for him, but Peter found him first - and Sirius blew him and a street full of Muggles to bits, before he was taken away and thrown in Azkaban."

"And he never said why he did it? I asked some of my friends when we talked about it a little on the night he broke in, but they didn't know, and Susan hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"Not to my knowledge, although Merlin knows there's been enough speculation over the years." He hesitated. "Susan?"

"Bones. Her aunt's in the DMLE; I was hoping for trial transcripts." But then he perked up. "Were you there? Did they call you to testify?"

Remus frowned and shook his head.

"Really? Not even the defense as a character witness or something?"

"I've never received a summons from the Wizengamot for anything," Remus answered with a frown.

That made Harry frown, too. "But you were their friend, probably the only one left who was close to all of them. If there was a trial, they should have called you, regardless of..." He gestured vaguely, and Remus understood, grimacing.

But then the Ravenclaw stopped. "If there was a trial," he repeated, "If. What if there wasn't?"

"That could mean a lot of trouble for the Ministry," Remus said, "Sirius was kicked out, yes, but to my knowledge he was never actually disowned. That makes him at least Heir Black, if not Lord Black now that his father's dead. If the Ministry imprisoned even just the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black without a trial…"

"I'm going to the Malfoys' Yule Ball over break," said Harry, "I'll talk to them then, see if Draco's father can look into things, grease some wheels. I didn't want to ask earlier, for a couple of reasons, but regardless of any ideological differences, if there was no trial, this sets a precedent I know he won't like."