Harry Potter and the Puppetmaster of Hogwarts, Chapter 3

Harry was on tenterhooks for the entire rest of the day. It was Friday, which meant that if the owl was fast enough, he would be meeting Sirius in the Shreaking Shack on Sunday at the latest, and there was a part of him that was actually dreading the meeting. He wasn't blind- far from it, actually- and he had seen how Sirius worshipped Dumbledore. And it hurt to think about. Either his godfather was being affected by compulsion charms...or he wasn't, and Harry wasn't sure which was worse.

He wasn't about to let it affect him, though. He played Exploding Snap with his friends for a bit, fending off Hermione's questions with a simple "I went to the kitchens to grab a snack, and Dobby wanted to say hi," which automatically got Hermione fired up about SPEW, so Harry could slip away. Not wanting to go up to the forms just yet, he again left the common room, this time leaving the castle entirely to wander the grounds, flipping pebbles at the Dark Lake to annoy the squid. After a bit, he noticed Angelina strolling to the Quiddich Pitch with his broom over her shoulder.

"What's up?" he asked, noticing the wobbling bag of bludgers she was also carrying. "I didn't think we had practice..."

"Oh, it's a pick-up game," Angelina told him. "You wanna come?"

"Hell yes," Harry replied, making her blink at his language. "Hang on, just let me get my broom."

Before long, two teams, mostly Gryffindors, but with several Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff, were careening through the air, bludgers flying with great force. Harry chased the snitch with enthusiasm, letting the whistling wind clear his head, and by the time the game was over, (Harry's team, the Intergalactic Owls having won- of course) he had nearly forgotten his secret. The key word being nearly.

Because as Harry was high-fiving one of his teammates, the brash Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith, Dumbledore walked up.

"Good game,"

Harry barely resisted the urge to run- every instinct screaming at him to leave before Dumbledore found out that he knew what he had done.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said calmly, not looking at him. Maybe that would make it harder for him to read his mind. "What's up?"

"Have any of you seen Professor Snape?"

Harry tensed imperceptibly. Keeping from acting suspicious around Dumbledore would be the ultimate test of his acting ability. "No, I haven't, thank Merlin- we're already low enough on the house hourglass."

Several other Gryffindors snickered, having heard him.

"I haven't either," chipped in the chaser Katie Bell. A chorus of denials came from the rest of the students, and at last Dumbledore walked away after spouting a few platitudes. Harry wondered if he was the only one who noticed the anger and frustration beneath his grandfather persona. Evidently he was not exactly happy that his puppet had turned up missing.

Harry simply escaped as soon as he could. He knew that if Sirius was uncooperative, he would have to deal with both Dumbledore and Voldemort on his own, while the Ministry of Magic did It's best to discredit him. So he had to come up with a plan B. An exceedingly good plan B, because something told him that there'd be no time to implement a plan C.

He mulled over his problem all the way through dinner, in between mouthfuls of duck and orange marmalade, and bland chit-chat with the Golden Trio. He needed a way to detect potions and poison in his food. He needed a way to find out whether or not his friends were truly loyal and trustworthy. He needed to figure out how to counter the spells on Snape and get the vicious Potions Master to believe him. And most of all, he needed information, all the information that should probably have been told him in the beginning. And also, although this did not have any impact on his more important plans, he needed to dispell any idea anyone might have that he knew or cared about what happened to Professor Snape.

"Snape's not here," Ron said, as if on cue. "You think he got Called?"

"He probably just wanted an evening to himself," Hermione huffed. "Teachers have lives, too."

"Who cares where the greasy git is?" Harry told him, carefully removing any trace of sympathy out of his voice. If his friends, or any Gryffindor for that matter was reporting back to Dumbledore like a good little lap-dog, Harry had to make sure he would never be suspected of having anything to do with the teacher's disappearance. The best way to do that would be to continue to maintain a facade of hatred for him. Not that it was all a facade. Just because he was trying to save the git didn't mean he had to like him, even a little.

"Harry!" Hermione burst out. "Treat Professor Snape with respect!"

"Like he ever did me?" Harry would have found the conversation almost amusing, except that he was sick of having to act and to lock away his real self behind layers of masks. Still, it was fun to be able to vent his anger- now if only he could vent it on the correct persons.

"I hate to say it, but I agree with Harry on this one, mate," Ron chipped in. "Snape's a git."

Hermione refused to talk to them on the way back to the common room, which pleased Harry very much, as he was lost in his own thoughts.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Harry walked down to the Great Hall early, following the ever-ravenous Ron Weasley, and found himself a seat with unreasoned haste, for all the world like a hungry teenage boy. By the time Hermione had come down yawning, with (guess, guess) a book nestled in the crook of her arm, he had finished his waffles, and was simply sitting, waiting for the mail, hoping against hope that Sirius had sent him a reply. And then, at last, a non-descript school owl fluttered down, sticking out its leg so that he could collect its burden with an impatient chuffing sound. Harry untied the note with trembling fingers...

Dear Prongslet, (the letter stated)

I will be there at the place we met in your third year at Hogwarts; I miss you too and am well. Remember to use your inheritance so Filch doesn't catch you! ;) And I fully concur with your assessment of dearest Dolores; she's as pretty as mummy. (Harry grinned unwillingly at that- he was still shaking from nerves.) See you tonight. (Harry started at that- it was much sooner than he had expected. Tonight. Tonight was when he would learn if Sirius Black would stand with him to the end. Of if he wouldn't. Harry swallowed and went on.) Love you much, pup.

- Snuffles

AN: Do you guys want Sirius Black to be good or bad? I can make him either way; I'm leaning towards a misguided and deluded Siri who can't even consider if Dumbledore is evil, but that's just me. I honestly want your input, although I certainly reserve the right to continue the story the way I was planning. So what do you think? The sooner you review and tell me, the sooner I'll have the next chapter out.