SHAMELESS PLUG!

My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.

Harry Potter
and the Death Eater Menace

Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

Chapter 39: The Hunting of Sirius Black

26 March 1994
The Potions Classroom
7:50 a.m.

"Get a hold of yourself, Potter!" exclaimed Professor Snape. "You're a Slytherin and an Occlumens! Act like it!"

Harry closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Both Snape and Rufus Scrimgeour, who had also been summoned to this quick meeting, looked at him with concern.

"Yes, Potter," Scrimgeour added. "What has you so uncharacteristically frenzied?"

Harry started to speak but then froze. It was mere moments after Malachi Sturgeon (who was secretly Remus Lupin) had confiscated the Marauders' Map with the gleeful announcement that it could somehow be used to track down Sirius Black. Unfortunately, Sturgeon's true identity was protected by the Fidelius Charm. While Harry knew the Secret (or at least the part pertaining to who Sturgeon really was), the Charm prevented him from revealing that information to anyone else. He struggled to work around it.

"First of all, there's a Fidelius in play, so I can't say everything I need to. But what I can say is this: There is an enchanted Map that used to belong to the Marauders – that is, my father and his three closest friends – when they were at school. It shows the location of everyone in the castle and on the grounds. But apparently, it can do more than that. It can be modified to track down any of the Marauders wherever they are. And one of the former Marauders is Sirius Black!"

The two older men glanced at one another. "And where is this map now, Potter?" Snape asked grimly.

Harry grimaced. He knew from his experiments with the Fidelius that he could say that Malachi Sturgeon had the Map or that Remus Lupin had it, but he could not reveal that they were one and the same. But whose name would be the best to use?

"Mr. Sturgeon the caretaker has it," the boy finally said. "Apparently, Peeves told him I had it, and he confiscated it not ten minutes ago. He said he was going to take it to someone who could help him make the modifications needed. I assume he means the Headmaster."

"No," Scrimgeour said with a shake of his head. "Albus left early this morning for the Ministry. He's accompanying Crouch, Bagman, Malfoy, and some other dignitaries to Paris for a big ICW meeting."

"I will try to waylay Mr. Sturgeon and make some excuse to get the Map from him," he continued. "Snape, send word to our allies to let them know of this complication."

"You should both know that Mr. Sturgeon … is more than he appears to be. I wish I could say more than that."

Rufus nodded at that information and then left as fast as his disability would allow him. Alas, by the time he made his way to the Caretaker's Office, the man was already gone, and there was a note stuck to his door indicating he'd likely be gone for the day.

Meanwhile at 12 Grimmauld Place …

Regulus Black was still blissfully asleep in his bed when a sudden bright light roused him. He opened his eyes blearily and then let out a surprised squawk. Somehow, there was a delicate translucent silvery doe in his bedchambers. His surprise only increased when the doe spoke with the incongruously masculine voice of Severus Snape.

"Regulus, this is Snape. We have a security risk. Apparently, a man named Malachi Sturgeon has acquired what Harry identifies as the Marauders' Map. It's something your brother and his miscreant former friends devised when they were students, and Harry believes it can be used to track Sirius down even though the house you're in is Unplottable. I do not know if the boy's fears are well-grounded, but you know as well as I do that he is not given to exaggeration. Discuss it with Sirius and let us know what he says."

Regulus grimaced as the doe faded away. Then, he looked around the room as if to make certain this wasn't a particularly unusual dream. Satisfied that it was not, he threw on a robe and went to wake his brother.

"Huh," Sirius said with much less alarm than Snape's Patronus had shown. "The Marauders' Map, eh? I thought surely Filch would have burned that thing years ago. How the hell did Harry end up with it?"

"I've no idea and don't care," Regulus answered. "The important thing is – are Harry's concerns valid? Can this Map be used to track you down even hidden here in an Unplottable house?"

Sirius thought about the matter. "I don't see how. We keyed it into the Hogwarts wards. It shouldn't show me or anyone else beyond the grounds."

Reg sat down in a chair next to his brother's bed. "How did it work?"

Sirius snorted. "To be honest, we were never 100% sure. I found the earliest version in my pocket after … well, after a Marauders' excursion. At that point, it was only a blank scrap of parchment that would show our four names and where we were in relation to one another."

"You … found it?" the younger Black said incredulously. "You just happened to find something enchanted to spy on you and decided to goof around with it?"

"We were careful," Sirius said defensively. "We finally figured that it was based on a modified Homonculous Charm."

Reg blinked. "You figured that out?"

Sirius made a face. "Alright, alright. Remus figured it out. James and I always skated through on pure talent until we buckled down for our OWLS and NEWTS. Remus was the one who did all the research."

"Right, so did he explain how the Homonculous Charm worked? I'm not familiar with it."

"I wasn't either. It's a pretty obscure Charm. You use it to make imprints of people's souls on inanimate objects."

At that, Regulus sputtered angrily. "We are on a quest for the Dark Lord's horcruxes, and you and your friends were experimenting with soul magics as students?!"

Sirius shook his head. "Relax! It's nothing like a horcrux. We weren't chopping up our souls. Just … mirroring them. It's basically the same spell used for magical portraits except the way we used it there was no visual element, just written words from copies of the four of us. Anyway, once we learned the Homonculous Charm, we figured out the other Charms and Transfiguration spells needed to tie it into our collective memories of Hogwarts as expressed through our Map-selves. Then, we tied the Map into the castle's warding matrix. Poor Wormtail had to spend months crawling through walls and pipes with a tracking spell on him to sync everything up."

He laughed, but then, his face darkened as he remembered the fourth member of their group, the one who'd betrayed them all.

"Impressive," Regulus said. "Also disappointing that you'd put so much ingenuity into something I'm sure you only used for childish pranks. But answer me this: Is there anyway a Homonuculous Charm tied to your soul could be used to track you away from Hogwarts?"

Sirius grew pensive. "Maybe, in theory. But to do so, you'd have to unlock the Map's security spells. That was my main contribution. Well, that and the insults the Map would use if someone we didn't like tried to use it. Modifying the Map in any way requires biomagical signatures from all four Marauders. This mysterious caretaker might be able to get blood from James and Wormtail, but I doubt he could get any from Remus if he's still in Nepal or wherever, and I know he can't get anything from me!"

The Law Office of Peter Pettigrew, Esq.
9:10 a.m.

"Slow down, Remus. You're babbling." Peter had been surprised to find his oldest friend waiting at the door to his law office when he arrived. He swiftly bundled Remus into a conference room past his young French secretary (who sniffed disdainfully at the shabbily dressed wizard). "Explain it from the start."

To Peter's surprise, Remus reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the Marauders' Map which he held up almost triumphantly.

"Where did you find that?!" Peter spluttered. "I thought you said it wasn't in Filch's office."

"It wasn't, Peter. Harry had it this whole time!"

Pettigrew's face darkened slightly at that, as if he was offended by Harry Potter's possession of a Marauders heirloom. But then, he focused past that to what was important now.

"Okay, so you've got the Map. What of it, Remus, other than sentimentality?"

Remus shook his head. "It's more than sentimentality, Peter. We can use this to find Black!"

"How?! We could never use it to see anything beyond the Hogwarts grounds before!"

"True, but the magic at the base of the Map's architecture is a Homonculous Charm cast on each of the four Marauders. Each of the Marauder-copies inside this Map reflects the soul of the original, just like a magical portrait reflects the soul of the person depicted within and remains so even after that person's death. That spiritual connection cannot be fooled by Animagery, Metamorphmagery, Polyjuice or invisibility."

Remus leaned forward in excitement. "But most importantly, the Homonculous Charm cannot be defeated by distance! Just as a magical portrait can step between two connected frames that are on opposite sides of the globe, this Map, if primed to do so, can point towards any of the Marauders wherever we might be. Even an Unplottable location cannot conceal us; only a Fidelius or comparable magic can."

Peter's eyes widened in surprise. "That's … a powerful spell. I never realized it could do all that. Why don't more people know about it given how many of the nation's most prominent individuals have magical portraits of themselves?"

Remus laughed. "Peter, it is known among people who make such portraits. That's why most magical portraits are enchanted so that the figures inside do not awaken until after the person depicted is dead. The portrait has no direct connection to one being depicted until it is awoken except for when that person touches it to update its memories, and it has no connection afterwards because the one being depicted is no longer alive. It was just … highly unusual for a quartet of precocious schoolboys to muck about the Homonculous Charm without a care in the world and activate our own spiritual reflections prematurely in a format we all cheerfully used to facilitate childish pranks."

Peter chuckled. "Alright then. So how do we use this?"

Remus suddenly looked pensive. "Well, as much as it pains me to admit it, I suppose the first step is to call James. Resetting the Map in the manner we need will require biomagical signatures from all four of us. So, in addition to requiring a drop of blood or a strand of hair from James himself, we'll also need his assistance to get a sample from Sirius."

Pettigrew frowned. "What makes you think James can get a biomagical sample from Black?"

Remus looked smug. "You forget – research skill was always my contribution to the Marauders. And when I learned Sirius had escaped Azkaban, I made a study of Auror procedures among other things. Sirius was convicted via a secret Death Eater trial. And they do have some safeguards in place to prevent things like convicts being replaced before they get to Azkaban whether by Polyjuice or other means. Assuming they followed those procedures, just before an Auror fed Black his three drops of Veritaserum, both a hair sample and a blood sample would have been taken for the court file. As Chief Auror, James can get us those samples with no problem."

"… yes … quite convenient," muttered Peter, who knew perfectly well that Black never had a trial and so no court-ordered sample would have been taken. He studied Remus for a moment.

"Are you not still … reluctant to confront James?" he asked cautiously.

Remus rose from his seat and moved to the window suddenly on edge. "Honestly … yes. I'm worried about how he'll react to my having been at Hogwarts this whole year. About how he'll react to Lily having known and keeping it from him. And you doing the same! How he'll react to Jim learning both Wu Xi Do and Animagery behind his back."

As the werewolf spoke with his back to Peter, the rat Animagus quietly picked up a letter opener from his desk. He gritted his teeth and grimaced silently as he pricked the tip of his forefinger hard enough to draw blood. Then, he slowly began to rub the bloody finger against his thumb in a circular motion, spreading the blood over them as he stared intently at Remus's back. The other man did not notice any of his actions, but nevertheless, Remus began to breath more deeply, and his eyes fluttered slightly.

"And I suppose," Remus said with a slight thickness to his voice, "I'm worried how I'll react when I see him again. Whether the old arguments will start up again."

"Well then," Peter said in a soothing voice. "Let's do it this way. You can tell me what to do to prime the Map and then contribute your own blood sample. Then, just leave the Map with me. I'll take care of getting a sample from James and … Sirius's sample from the file. You shouldn't feel forced to confront James if you're not ready to do so. Just … let me handle it."

Pettigrew's words seemed to echo in Remus's head, and the werewolf turned back towards him. "Peter," he said slowly. "I can't ask you to …."

"Let me handle it."

Remus blinked a few times. Then, he smiled. "Alright. If you insist. Thank you, Peter. It's good to know you'll always have my back."

Peter smiled. "Of course! That's what friends are for!" Then, he cocked his head as a new thought sprang to mind.

"Still it might be necessary to let James know of your identity when I meet with him. By any chance, do you have that note with the Secret written out on it?"

Remus returned his best friend's smile as he reached into his jacket pocket.

Peter Pettigrew's apartment in Diagon Alley
Just past noon

Fenrir Greyback frowned as he examined the scrap of paper before handing it off to Stavros. The younger werewolf was quiet and somewhat nervous. It had been several months since he'd last been in Peter's presence, but the impact of the Animagus's "lesson on pack hierarchy" after the Hogsmeade debacle was still felt. On the bright side, at least Stavros's fingers had finally grown back. His caution did not prevent him from reading the note aloud, however.

"Malachi Sturgeon is actually the werewolf Remus Lupin."

He turned to his alpha. "So … what does this mean?"

But it was a voice from another room that answered (and, oddly, from a room that would not have existed except for magic).

"That paper contains a Fidelius Secret, my young friend," said Peter absentmindedly as he reentered the living room carrying a small locked chest. The secret door closed behind him and transformed back into a solid patch of wall between two windows that was blank save for a picture of the teenaged Marauders.

"The fact that my best friend and Fenrir's favorite cub has been working at Hogwarts as a Caretaker under a false name is magically occluded. Only someone who read that note or else heard the truth directly from the Secret Keeper Albus Dumbledore could even conceive of Malachi Sturgeon's true identity."

He looked over to Fenrir with an amused expression. "I'm sure you'll agree, Greyback - suddenly it makes a lot more sense that the Hogwarts Caretaker could defeat poor Janos. An older werewolf, fully trained as a wizard, and the beneficiary of over a decade of training in Eastern mysticism and magical hand-to-hand combat? Now that we know the Secret, the outcome of that fight is suddenly and retroactively one-sided."

Stavros felt a stab of anger at Peter's reference to his late brother, but he bit down on it. Fenrir was his alpha, but he knew all too well who was truly dominant and had no wish to provoke Peter again. Meanwhile, Peter placed the chest on the coffee table, slashed his hand with his wand, and dripped blood onto the chest.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," the Death Eater said. In response, the chest popped open. But to the surprise of the two werewolves, the pass-phrase had a secondary effect, for a different and larger parchment that had been spread out on the coffee table that had been blank was suddenly covered with an intricate map of Hogwarts, complete with tiny named dots representing the feet of the people within. Peter leaned over to study the Marauders' Map.

"Hmm. Looks like everyone is at lunch. There's Jim … and Harry." Peter's nose wrinkled in disdain as he said the older twin's name. Then, he looked thoughtful for a moment. "In retrospect, I should have waited to reveal the Secret to you. I find myself mildly curious as to what name you would have seen floating next to our old friend – Remus Lupin or Malachi Sturgeon. Oh well, it's not that important, I suppose."

"So what do you want us to do with this, Peter?" Fenrir said gruffly.

"As it is? Nothing. It's not ready yet."

As Peter spoke, he fished a small vial out of his jacket pocket containing several drops of Remus Lupin's blood. After removing the cork, he added a few drops of his own blood, followed by two black hairs taken from small vials in the chest. One was labeled Sirius Black and the other James Potter. He swirled the vial in his hand before upending it over the Marauders' Map. Then, he touched his wand to the blood and hair spatter and muttered a few words. Instantly, the display of Hogwarts melted away. After a few seconds, there were only four dots remaining, each of which represented one of the Marauders. Peter frowned at the parchment. Then, he tapped it with his wand again and spoke a few more code words that had been incorporated into the Map when he was still a schoolboy.

"Son of a bitch!" Peter spat in a mixture of anger and astonishment.

"What is it?" Fenrir asked. Peter looked up at him with a cruel smile.

"All this time … Sirius Black has been hiding less than five miles from here!"

"What?!"

Peter tapped the dot that bore Black's name. "Here he is. Somewhere in Central London, I reckon…." He paused and then barked out a laugh. "Oh, now that's irony for you! After all these years, Sirius finally went home! He and his brother were raised in a secret wizarding house hidden somewhere in Islington. I don't know where exactly, but we can use the Map tonight to find it … and him!"

"Tonight?" Stavros asked. "Why not go now?"

Peter glared at the werewolf who instantly looked down submissively. "We'll wait until tonight because I'll wager the house is Unplottable and probably has other protections as well. And if it becomes necessary to burn down a whole city block just to be sure, I'd rather not do it by the light of day!"

The two werewolves nodded in understanding. The third werewolf in Peter's apartment was lying on Peter's bed under the effects of Draught of Living Death and so had nothing to add.

Hogwarts
12:50 p.m.

As the students were exiting the Great Hall for their afternoon classes, Luna Lovegood called out to a severely distracted Harry Potter. He'd not heard anything from anyone about the Map and Remus Lupin's plans for it. Presently, he was hoping to get to Potions early enough to talk with Snape about the topic, and so was a bit put out at being diverted, even by a friend.

"Could I speak to you for second, Harry?" she asked with her usual dreamy expression. "In private?"

Before he could respond, he was interrupted by Pansy Parkinson, who had just exited the Great Hall.

"Yes, Harry!" she sneered "Why don't you go off for a private meeting with your Gryffindork girlfriend!"

Several of the other Slytherins nearby laughed at her humor, but Harry just rolled his eyes. Luna, on the other hand, furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Why did you call me a Gryffindork?" she asked with seemingly genuine curiosity.

"Because she's obnoxious, rude, and poorly-raised," Harry said with a sneer of his own for Pansy. In response, the Slytherin girl got ready for an insulting comeback, but Luna continued before she could speak.

"Oh yes, of course I know that, Harry Potter." The young girl turned back to Pansy. "But why Gryffindork? Dork, after all, is a Muggle expression, a vulgar term for male genitalia. I was simply wondering where a Pureblood like you could have possibly heard it."

At that, Pansy's face went red with embarrassment, and she turned and fled. Once around the corner, she grabbed Cassius Warrington by the arm. "Tonight!" she hissed. "We're doing it tonight!"

A few seconds later, Harry and Luna were together in a hidden alcove.

"So, what's up, Luna?"

"A cardinal direction in 3-dimensional space," she replied in apparent seriousness. "But that's not important now. I have something for you." With that, she reached into her bag and pulled out a rather thick book.

"A gift, Luna? You shouldn't have."

"I didn't. It would hardly be proper to gift someone with a library book, now would it?"

Harry took the book, and his eyes widened in surprise as he read the cover: The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde.

"You got this from the Hogwarts Library?" he asked in surprise. The girl nodded.

"Given your … interest in Oscar Wilde quotations, I thought you might want to read the source material. Particularly in light of who owned this book before leaving it behind upon graduation, at which point it was donated to the Muggle Literature section of the Library."

She reached over and opened the front page to show an inscription.

"To my friend Tom. Think of this as a combined Christmas and Birthday present. My mum sent it when I asked her for a book you might enjoy and said you liked Dorian Gray. Happy reading. Love, Myrtle!"

Harry stared at the message in shock. "This … this book belonged to Tom Riddle?"

"Yes, I interviewed Moaning Myrtle about Tom hoping it might give me some insights into his connection with You-Know-Who. No luck there, but then I remembered your odd fascination for Wilde quotes and thought you might appreciate it. Or if not appreciate it, at least learn something useful from it."

Harry nodded silently, as he was strangely uncertain as to whether he should say "thanks" or not.

A Hogwarts Classroom
7:15 p.m.

This evening's SPAM meeting was well-attended with almost forty students present. Most were Muggleborns and Halfbloods, but there was also a smattering of egalitarian Purebloods, and every House and Year was represented. The only significant absence was the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as Oliver Wood had called an unexpected night-time practice session to "go over some new plays." Of the seven team members, four were in SPAM and three were not. The latter group included Oliver and Angelina (who were both in the Cultural Preservation Society, SPAM's ideological opposite) and George Weasley. Fred did attend SPAM meetings religiously after Hermione helped him out in Potions, but the Twins avoided each other socially as much as possible, and anyway, George had become rather obsessive lately about doing better than Fred in Snape's class.

To Hermione's surprise, in addition to the usual food and drink, the house elves had apparently provided dessert in the form of a large sheet cake decorated with "SPAM" in bright green letters. Hermione did not have any herself, as she'd sworn off sweets of all kinds, but most those in attendance did. Harry even had a second slice. This proved to be an unfortunate life decision.

After a few minutes of casual chit-chat, Harry raised his hand to attract Hermione's attention.

"You haven't said yet," he began, "but what's on the agenda for tonight, Mudblood?"

Instantly, the entire room went deathly silent. Harry looked around in surprise.

"What?"

"Did … did you just call Hermione a Mudblood, Harry?" asked a scandalized Su Li. In response, Harry grew visibly angry.

"I certainly did not!" he answered hotly.

"Oh yes you did," Ron spoke up, his face going red. "We all heard you call the Mudblood as a Mudblood!" He turned towards Anthony. "Didn't we, Halfblood?!"

The other boy's eyes widened in shock. "Did you just call me Halfblood, Blood Traitor?!" he said while rising out of his chair.

"No, I didn't," said as he rose in self-defense. "I called you Halfblood. That's your name, right? And how dare you call me Blood Traitor."

By this point, there was a cacophony of bigotry spreading across the room, as everyone who'd partaken of the SPAM cake (which had not been provided by house elves after all) was suddenly unable to use the proper name of anyone else in the room, replacing given names with various slurs. Then …

POW-POW-POW!

Just before a fight could break out, Hermione shot off a round of fireworks from her wand.

"Alright, settle down!" she shouted. Then, she thought for a second and looked to Harry.

"Harry, say Ron's name out loud."

"Blood Traitor," he said casually.

"And mine?"

"Mudblood."

She sighed. "And your own?"

The boy looked at her as if baffled by her silly question. "Halfblood!"

Then, her eyes narrowed. "Say … Pansy Parkinson, Cedric Diggory, and Cormac McLaggen."

"Pureblood, Pureblood, and Pureblood."

Hermione squeezed her brow with her fingertips in frustration. "Okay then, everybody, say my name!"

There was a chorus of "Mudblood" broken up by just six people who correctly said "Hermione." Further inquiry showed that those six were, like Hermione, not affected by the spell and, as it so happened, had also not eaten any cake.

"Right then," she said angrily. "We've been pranked. So, we're all going to march straight to the Infirmary and see Madam Pomfrey. Any questions? Good!"

Gryffindor Tower
9:30 p.m.

As Hermione Granger entered her dorm, it would not have been immediately obvious to her fellow Lions that she was incandescent with rage. After all, most of the people who really knew her moods were in the Infirmary, and at least two of them would be for the rest of the night. After a quick glance around the room, she spotted her quarry huddled in a corner with the rest of the Quidditch squad and a blackboard upon which Quidditch plays had been drawn. She marched over with her chin high.

"Hello, Oliver. How was your last-minute practice session?"

"Oh, um, fine," the Pureblood stammered. "Quite fine. Why do you ask?"

"I'm a Gryffindor. Can't I just be supportive of my House team the way you've all been so supportive of me despite my unfortunate Muggle upbringing?"

She turned to Jim and the Twins. "On a completely unrelated note, you three should probably know that Ron and Harry are in the Infirmary and will be spending the night there."

"What?!" Jim said, jumping out of his chair. "What happened?"

"Well, it was the funniest thing … depending on your sense of humor, I suppose. You see, someone gifted our SPAM meeting with a cake that had been tainted with a potion that hexed everyone who ate any of it. A silly prank – you know how that goes. Anyway, it forced everyone who ate a slice to replace any proper names they would normally have used with vulgar blood-based terms. Mudblood, Blood Traitor, etc. I must say that I had quite a few laughs as a result of all my friends calling me Mudblood to my face. Very amusing. Although it wasn't strictly limited to blood-based slurs, it seems, as we learned when Ron started referring to Anthony and Su Li as 'kike' and 'gook' despite not even knowing what those Muggle racial slurs even meant."

"That's … awful!" Oliver said lamely. George and Jim looked at Hermione in shock, but Fred had eyes only for Oliver, and he looked thunderous.

"Mmm, yes, quite awful. Of course, that wasn't the worst bit. You see, on the way to the Infirmary, several of the SPAM members became quite ill, a few of them violently so. It seems that whoever poisoned the cake got carried away and used quite a bit more of the potion than needed. Enough to cause allergic reactions in the people who'd had more than one slice. And, well, you know how Ron is with desserts."

She gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm just glad that none of you lot were affected. Luckily, you were all at that surprise Quidditch practice that Oliver called at the last-minute before our SPAM meeting was supposed to begin. Otherwise, some of you might have eaten some of that cake and been hospitalized too!"

"… yeah … that was … good luck, I guess," Oliver said nervously while blushing furiously.

"You. Utter. Wanker!" Fred spat.

"Oliver," Katie asked in horror, "did you know about this in advance?!"

"Oh, he more than knew about it!" said Fred. George turned from Oliver to his twin in shock.

"Of for the love of …! Please tell me, brother of mine, that you did not go behind my back and sell him a potion that would force innocent kids, including a lot of our friends and our little brother, to call each other bigoted slurs?!"

Fred drew himself up with as much dignity as he could. "No, I didn't. What I sold this git was a potion that would have forced the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team to refer to one another as 'Doo-Doo Head.' And I gave him clear instructions on dosages! He was the idiot who altered the formula without knowing what he was doing!"

"No I didn't!" Oliver exclaimed. "It was Diggory and Chang who did the alterations!" Then, he swallowed deeply as he realized his own confession. "I'm … sorry anyone got put into the Infirmary. Truly. It was just a joke. Seriously. Just … a joke."

"I don't want to hear any more from you, Wood," George said coldly. "You can explain yourself to McGonagall after I've made my report."

George was halfway to the door when Fred called out after him. "Hang on. I'll come with you. Pomfrey may want to know about the formula for that potion." He turned to Oliver for a second with a menacing glare. "Assuming the Jr. Death Eaters didn't modify it too much."

Oliver sputtered furiously at that, but the twins ignored him. George did give Fred a curt nod, which the other twin returned, and they left together. The rest of the Quidditch team left the humiliated Oliver Wood alone, with the Pureblood Angelina Johnson desperately trying to persuade her two fellow Chasers (both Halfbloods) that she'd known nothing about the prank.

By ten o'clock, most of the victims of the prank had been cured and released, but only four victims were so seriously affected by allergic reactions that they were kept overnight. One of them was Harry Potter, who spent the whole night in the Infirmary with no idea that a certain mirror in his bedside drawer was vibrating constantly and urgently.

26 March 1994
Grimmauld Place
Just before Midnight

Hidden in a dark alley, Peter studied the Marauders' Map and then looked up to the row of buildings across the street. Behind him were Fenrir, Stavros and the remainder of their pack – seven werewolves in all. In front of him stood Grimmauld Place, a once-stately row of townhouses that had fallen on hard times. It was soon about to fall even farther.

"Hmm," Peter said speculatively. "Number 11 on the left. Number 13 on the right. But no Number 12. Oh well, I'm sure that was just an innocent mix-up. Take your positions, people. When I give the signal, target the houses numbered 11 and 13 and everything in between. Those of you who are not wizards, stay close to me. When Number 12 becomes visible, attack and kill every living thing you encounter."

Inside Number 12, the inhabitants were roused from sleep by the sound of strange deafening clanging that echoed through the house. Regulus and Sirius were the first to make it out of their bedrooms.

"What the hell is that racket?!" Regulus yelled while covering his ears with his hands.

"I don't know!" Sirius answered. "DOBBY!"

Instantly, Harry's house elf appeared with his usual aplomb. After noting Sirius's distress over the loud alarm, Dobby snapped his fingers and the clanging was suddenly barely audible.

"Thank you, Dobby," Reg said. "But what the hell was that?" By this time, Bellatrix and the Tonks family had joined the two brothers on the landing.

The house elf grimaced. "Regretfully, sirs, the defenses of the House of Black include a number of highly specialized warding techniques. Dobby knew that this particular clangity-clang would sound in some circumstance but could not tell what would trigger it."

Reg looked over to Sirius who sneered angrily. "KREACHER! YOUR LORD SUMMONS YOU!" he bellowed in a fury.

After a second, Kreacher appeared and glared sullenly at those present. "Nasty filthy Mudblood-loving traitors is wanting Kreacher for something?"

"Shut up and listen, you filthy beast," Sirius snarled. "You will tell me accurately and succinctly what the hell that alarm was for!"

Kreacher cackled. "Kreacher's beloved Mistress had it installed when she heard rumors you had become friends with a disgusting rabid halfbreed! Wanted warning if you ever brought it about … so she could prepare a suitable welcome! That alarm is being the werewolf detector!"

Sirius blinked in confusion. "Does that mean … Remus?"

"If so, oh Great and Noble Lord Black," Kreacher added contemptuously. "Your pet werewolf is not alone. The alarm rings louder the more disgusting werewolves are around."

Suddenly, the discussion was interrupted by a loud crack like thunder from above the building.

"What the hell was that?" Ted Tonks exclaimed.

Beside him, Bellatrix closed her eyes and swallowed fearfully. "That, dear brother-in-law, was the sound of the Dark Mark!"

Outside, high above Grimmauld Place, floated the confirmation of Bellatrix's fears: a massive luminescent skull with a gigantic snake crawling forth from its mouth. Peter smiled. While he wasn't really a part of Voldemort's cult of personality, he'd always held great admiration for the Dark Mark. It was a remarkably efficient tool of terror, capable of blocking both Apparation and Portkeys with a single spell. And besides, Peter came from a long line of dark wizards who appreciated the value of pageantry.

"I do hope those idiot werewolves realize that this is The Signal," he thought to himself with a sudden frown. "In retrospect, maybe I should have specified."

His fears were alleviated a few seconds later, when the first Blasting Curse slammed into 11 Grimmauld Place, blowing its roof clean off. Immediately, more spells of mass destruction targeted both Number 11 and Number 13, and slowly, the idea of Number 12 began to form in Peter's mind. With a toothy grin, he raised his wand and added his own Bombarda to the chorus of destruction.

BOOM!

The people inside the house looked around wildly as explosion shook the building and a smattering of dust fell from the ceiling.

"We can't Apparate, can we?" Sirius asked Bella resignedly. She shook her head no.

"Nor can we use Portkeys, even assuming any of us knows how to make one," she added.

"No," Regulus interrupted, "but the Dark Mark does not affect Floo travel. We were taught to target locations known to have active Floos first on Death Eater raids. But they couldn't possibly know we even have a working Floo, so it should still be functional."

"Just how many raids did you go on, Cousin Regulus?" the younger Tonks asked archly.

"Just the one, Cousin Nymphadora," he replied blandly as he strode past her for the stairs. "And now is not the time to discuss it. Every second we delay brings us closer to our attackers punching through the wards and possibly damaging the fireplace. And then, we will be trapped!"

"But we can't just run!" Ted exclaimed. "There are Muggles in the houses around us! Muggles being killed as we speak! We can't just abandon them!"

"Ted," said Andromeda as she dragged her husband and daughter down the stairs. "Most of those Muggles are already as good as dead. The best thing we can do for the survivors now is to lure the Death Eaters away! They could only find this place due to some cursed map that apparently shows where Sirius is at all even when magically hidden! If Sirius leaves, they will follow!"

BOOM!

The whole building shook in response to the explosions. From somewhere in the distance, they could already hear screams, the sound of roaring flames, and the ringing of Muggle fire alarms. Sirius was first at the Floo, but then he hesitated and turned to Regulus.

"Where to, if they can follow me anywhere?" he asked almost despairingly. "We can't lead them to Longbottom Manor! That's where the Death Eaters are!"

Regulus closed his eyes tightly in thought. "It's the only option, Sirius. Lucius is in Paris with the ICW, so Longbottom Manor is the only other place we're connected to. But we won't be there for long, I promise."

Sirius nodded reluctantly and threw the powder into the fire. "Longbottom Manor!" he yelled, and the fire turned green. The Tonkses were the first through, but Bellatrix hesitated.

"Aside from us, there's a lot of Dark books and artifacts the Death Eaters would probably want. Walburga would have given it all to them years ago if Arcturus hadn't forbidden it."

"They won't get any of it," Sirius said darkly. She noted his stony expression and nodded.

"Don't do anything too stupid, Gryffindor," she said as she passed into the fireplace. "I've only just gotten my family back."

"Plan?" Regulus asked once the others were gone.

"Yeah, a Gryffindor one." He turned to the two house elves standing nearby, one ready for action, the other still sullen and crazed.

"Dobby," he continued. "Collect everything in the house pertaining to the Horcrux Hunt and everything that belongs to Harry and transport it all to Longbottom Manor. Then, wait there until I arrive."

"Also," added Regulus, "there's a magic mirror next to my bedside table that's connected to Harry's. Bring it too."

Dobby nodded respectfully and then popped away to fulfill his orders. Then, Sirius turned to Kreacher.

"Kreacher, as Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, I give you these orders that you will obey. Go to my mother's portrait and wait until I give the command. Then, transport my mother's portrait to the Black Family vault at Gringotts."

Kreacher growled. "Kreacher cannot obey filthy disobedient whelp's orders even if he is Lord of House Black! Mistress's painting is fixed and bound with a Permanent Sticking Charm that cannot be broken."

"I know it can be broken, Kreacher. And I know what the effects will be. I am ordering you to do it anyway. And you will obey!"

The mad house elf hissed angrily but then nodded. "Kreacher understands. And will obey." And then, with a snap of his fingers, he disappeared.

Sirius turned to Reg. "After you, brother."

Regulus stared at Sirius as if seeing him anew. Nearby, a window exploded into the room, but they both ignored it.

"As you command, my Lord. Don't dawdle." He stepped into the Floo and disappeared. Sirius looked around the parlor for the last time and felt a curious wave of nostalgia wash over him. For better or worse, this had been his home for most of his life. And while the bad memories far outweighed the good, that didn't mean there were no good memories.

From down the hall, there was a sudden loud crash as the front door was blasted off its hinges. Seconds later, the sound of several rasping snarls and growls could be heard as the partially-transformed werewolves entered looking for prey. For a second, Sirius thought about stepping out of the parlor to greet them, as a proper host should. And then, he laughed at his own Gryffindor foolishness before stepping into the fire.

"Do it, Kreacher," he said aloud. "Bring it down."

Upstairs in the attic, the mad house elf reverently put his hand on the frame of his beloved Mistress's portrait. Then, he raised his other hand and prepared to snap his fingers.

While wizards often speak of spells such as the "Permanent Sticking Charm," the truth is that nothing magical is truly permanent. Any curse can eventually be broken, and any Charm can eventually be undone if one is knowledgeable enough and persistent enough. The real secret to permanent magical effects, rather, is to make it so that the cost of ending the effect is higher than anyone is willing to pay.

It had only taken Sirius and Regulus a few weeks of research to finally discover the secret behind Walburga Black's seemingly immovable portrait, When the insane old witch was nearing the end of her mortal coil, she commissioned the portrait that would bring her image to a semblance of life through the Homonculous Charm after her passing. Then, she placed it in the entryway of her home with a Permanent Sticking Charm … one that was irrevocably interwoven with the Spatial Expansion Charms that made 12 Grimmauld Place so much bigger than a house in its location could possibly have been. It was possible to end the former, but not without also ending the latter.

Kreacher snapped his fingers, and both he and his Mistress's portrait disappeared.

Downstairs, the werewolves led by Stavros had entered the main level of the house while Peter and Fenrir (who Peter had ordered to remain by his side) waited and watched from across the street. Once inside, Stavros's acute werewolf senses swiftly alerted him to the nearby scent of Floo powder, and he rushed into the parlor in time to see the flames gutter and die. Then, he was startled by a deafening CRACK that somehow emanated from all around him … followed by a terrible unearthly groan as beams, plaster, and floorboards all through the house warped and snapped. Being more knowledgeable about magic than the other werewolves in his company, Stavros had one terrible second to realize that something had just gone horribly (and fatally) wrong.

And then, the remaining exterior walls of 11 Grimmauld and 13 Grimmauld (which were still standing on either side of Number 12 even after those houses had been mostly destroyed) slammed together like the hands of a cruel child squashing a bug between them. To the horror of Peter and Fenrir, all the material that had once been part of Number 12's interior was squeezed into a fraction of its normal size before exploding outward in all directions. Peter didn't need magic to know that all the werewolves were dead – crushed and pulverized by the house's destruction.

Fenrir howled in impotent rage and moved towards the ruins of the house, but Peter grabbed him by the arm.

"NO, FENRIR!" the Animagus shouted. "They're gone!" Then, with a sudden pop, he Apparated the two of them to the roof of a nearby building.

"Nooo! My pack! My cubs!"

Despite the werewolf's larger size and obvious fury, Peter reached around and put his hand on Fenrir's face.

"I know, Fenrir, I know. Your cubs. Murdered by Sirius Black's treachery. But there's nothing to be done about that now. Nothing except claiming your revenge."

Fenrir snarled angrily before throwing his head back and howling loud enough to be heard from miles away. Already people were coming out of their homes to see what had happened, and those few who heard the werewolf's fury immediately ran back inside.

Peter stepped away from the grieving werewolf and pulled the Map out once more. Then, he cursed loudly.

"What, Peter?" Fenrir said morosely. "Don't tell me that after all that, we didn't even get him!"

"We did not, I'm afraid," Peter said grimly as he studied the map. "He's far to the north now. Lancashire, it looks like, though I can't tell where exactly."

"SO LET'S GET AFTER THEM!"

Peter shook his head sadly.

"I can't. You know what's happening tomorrow night. I'm sorry for the loss of your pack, but if our plan succeeds, you'll soon have a new pack. No, not a new pack - a new army."

Fenrir snarled with a murderous expression as he snatched the Marauders' Map out of Peter's hands. "Fine, Peter. Do what you need to do - while I hunt Sirius Black to ground and feast on his beating heart!"

Longbottom Manor, Lancashire

Augusta Longbottom was on the scene almost instantly when the refugees from Grimmauld Place came through. And to everyone's surprise, she had a wand in one hand and a crossbow in the other. Hoskins stood behind her with what appeared to be a loaded blunderbuss.

"What has happened?" she demanded.

"12 Grimmauld Place is gone," Sirius said. "It was attacked by a pack of werewolves who knew exactly where I was. I should have listened better to Harry's warning about the Map."

"But if you can be tracked so easily…?"

"We're not staying, Lady Augusta," Regulus said. "But if I might ask, could we trouble you for a pair of brooms?"

She grimaced. "Hoskins, bring the two best brooms we have."

"At once, M'lady," the elf said. "Though Hoskins must warn that the pickings are quite slim." He turned to Regulus. "Neither her ladyship nor the young master cared much for broom-flying. No new brooms have been purchased for Longbottom Manor since Master Frank was a boy."

"We'll take what we can get," Sirius said grimly. "Everyone else stay here and hunker down. I'll lead our enemies on a wild goose chase for as long as I can."

"We will lead them on a goose chase, brother," said Regulus. "You're still ill, and apparition would cripple you. You need back-up." Sirius started to speak, but his brother cut him off. "It's not negotiable, Sirius."

"So where are you two headed?" Bellatrix asked.

"I don't know," Sirius said quietly. "Just stay ahead of them as long as I can."

"No," Regulus replied. "We're going to Hogwarts."

"Why?" his brother asked.

"Because I think there's a place there you can hide even from your damnable Map!"

With that, Regulus stepped out of the room and found a private spot to pull out his magic mirror. But even after several minutes of calling out to Harry Potter, the one person who might possibly be able to get Sirius into the Prince's Lair without killing him in the process did not answer.

Moments later, the Black brothers mounted their borrowed brooms and left the grounds of Longbottom Manor heading in a northeastern direction. Such was their speed that as they passed over the nearby village of Chorley some fifteen miles from the Manor, Fenrir Greyback didn't even notice their passage until he checked the Map again and saw that Sirius was on the move.

He growled impatiently. It was a good thing that this close to the full moon, werewolves didn't need sleep.

The Great Hall
27 March 1994

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey released Harry and the others from the Infirmary, but he found himself ravenously hungry and so went straight to breakfast before heading up to shower and change into fresh clothes. He'd only just fixed a plate for himself when the morning's owl post delivery showed up, including his Daily Prophet. He took a bite of toast as he opened his paper and then immediately nearly choked on it.

DEATH EATERS ATTACK ISLINGTON!
THE DARK MARK SEEN ONCE MORE!
12 MUGGLES DEAD! REMAINS OF
WEREWOLVES FOUND AT THE SCENE!

The headline was shocking on its face even without Harry's knowledge that Grimmauld Place was hidden in Islington in the very neighborhood mentioned in the article. He skimmed it quickly but it was sparse on useful details. Then, he glanced up at the sound of angry shouts coming from all over the Great Hall.

"The Outcast had something to do with this! I know it!"

"Why are you blaming everything on Theo when he's been here the whole time?
This was Death Eaters!"

"And now, the werewolves have joined them!"

"Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange did this!"

"The same Sirius Black who attacked Hogsmeade on the same day that
the Outcast unleashed Fiendfyre on the town!"

"That wasn't Theo! Don't be stupid!"

"You're awfully protective of No-Name? Are you on his side?"

"Why do you even care about this, anyway? It was just Muggles!
I'm sure a noble Pureblood like you wouldn't care about them at all!"

"You take that back! I had family that died fighting in the last war!"

"Oh really? On which side?"

"You filthy little …!"

"Finish that sentence. I dare you!"

Suddenly, the cacophony which seemed poised to lead to violence was interrupted a single word "ENOUGH!" backed by the Sonorous Charm.

"Disgraceful!" Minerva McGonagall continued in a normal volume. "Disgraceful to think that our students should descend into such discord! Control yourselves at once or I shall cancel the morning classes and have everyone confined to your dormitories until you can act with some decorum!"

Then, Bobby Lattimer, the Head Boy, rose and got McGonagall's attention.

"Please forgive any impertinence on my part, Deputy Headmistress," the Hufflepuff said grimly, "but if classes are to be cancelled, would it be possible to arrange for the Muggleborns and those allied with us to stay somewhere other than our dorms? In light of recent events, some of us may no longer feel safe there."

As he said that last bit, Bobby glanced over at Cedric Diggory who had actually had the temerity to look offended at the comment.

"Are you suggesting, Mr. Lattimer, that the Heads of House are not capable of protecting all of their charges from harm?" Pomona Sprout said with surprising coldness towards one of her favorite students.

Lattimer didn't back down. "I am suggesting, Professor, that some of your charges might feel safer than others, particularly since no one has as yet been punished for the events of last night that saw thirty students hexed and four put in the Infirmary."

"Mr. Lattimer," Minerva said firmly. "Investigation into that cruel prank is ongoing. However, if it will assuage concerns, then no one will be going back to their dormitories. You will all remain here in the Great Hall under observation by the Staff until tensions cool. And we shall take this morning to conduct interviews about that very incident to which you refer."

With that, she waved her wand, and the four long tables separated themselves into smaller round tables evenly spaced across the room. Then, rope barriers appeared that separated the room into three sections.

"Right then! Those of you who are members or supporters of the Society for the Prevention of Abusive Magic, please move to that side of the room! Those of you who are members or supporters of the Cultural Preservation Society move to the opposite side. Those of you who wish to maintain neutrality or simply don't care about this childish dispute please take a table in the middle!"

At that point, Harry stood and raised his own hand before being recognized by Snape.

"Two quick questions: First, if we'll be staying in here for a while, will we have an opportunity to go back to our dorms to get books? I, for one, came straight here from the Infirmary."

"We'll make arrangements to chaperone students who need to leave for any reason. What is your other question?"

"Well, it's not really a question. More of an observation. Pansy Parkinson got a Howler she's refusing to open. I think it'll explode soon."

At that, everyone on the Slytherin table who'd been distracted by the Daily Prophet and then by the SPAM/CPS dispute suddenly noticed that the Pureblood girl was staring wide-eyed and petrified at the sight of the red envelope that had been dropped in front of her by Hekate, her father's great horned owl. It was beginning to smoke.

"Miss Parkinson," Snape said authoritatively. "Open that Howler at once! Nothing is to be gained by dawdling!"

With trembling hands, she opened the letter, and the Howler sprang forth.

PANSY PARKINSON!

I DO NOT KNOW WHAT ON EARTH YOU HAVE BEEN DOING AT THAT SCHOOL, BUT YOU WILL RETURN HOME THIS WEEKEND ON THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS! AND THEN WE WILL DISCUSS WHAT YOU WERE INVOLVED IN LAST NIGHT THAT HAS COST THIS FAMILY 20,000 GALLEONS IN UNDER AN HOUR! WHATEVER IT WAS, DON'T DO IT AGAIN!"

YOUR LOVING BUT ANGRY FATHER

ANDREW LORD PARKINSON
LORD OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF PARKINSON

Hermione tried hard not to laugh when the Slytherin girl burst into ugly tears. She failed.

Ten minutes later, Professor Snape personally escorted Harry Potter to the Slytherin dungeons. It was just the two of them, so Harry finally had a chance to get some information.

"So what's really going on?" he asked after looking around to be sure they were alone. "Are Sirius, Regulus, and the others okay?"

"Everyone is safe at Longbottom Manor except for Sirius and Regulus whose situation grows dire. They were attacked by a mixture of Death Eaters and werewolves last night. Twelve Grimmauld Place was utterly destroyed. Luckily, none of our people were injured, and several werewolves were slain. Presently, Sirius and his brother are on brooms and heading towards Hogwarts."

"Why here?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I do not know, Potter. Regulus contacted me early this morning via Patronus and asked me to have you contact him by mirror-call. He said he was unable to give details to me because of some oath, but that he could talk to you. I was unable to speak with you until now due to your injuries from that insipid prank."

By that point, the two had made it into the empty Slytherin dormitory and up to Harry's room.

"Um, sir? I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to wait out here. You see, I'm under the same oath Regulus is."

"The Hydra's Oath, to be specific," he thought to himself. "Man, I really wish Regulus had invited you into his circle when you were both at school. That would make things so much easier."

Snape sneered at the thought of being left to wait in a corridor like a common servant, but he said nothing as Harry ducked into his bedroom. The mirror was on the nightstand where he'd left it.

"Regulus? Are you there? It's Harry!"

"Where the hell have you been?" Reg hissed angrily.

He and Sirius were presently on the ground and hiding in an abandoned barn at the moment. Sirius was getting a few minutes of sleep. Since they'd left Longbottom Manor, they'd only been able to stay on the old brooms for a few hours at a time. But each time they landed, they only had about ten to twenty minutes before their pursuer – Fenrir Greyback, it seemed – tracked them down by apparation.

The deadly werewolf was incredibly fast and tough. Regulus was sure that nothing less than a Killing Curse would finish him, but Sirius had never successfully cast the spell, and Regulus was reluctant to do so. It still held bad memories, and as much as he hated werewolves in general, he worried his nerve might fail right as the beast was bearing down on him. In any case, Greyback was much faster and more intelligent than Eustace Tulley, and Regulus had doubts as to whether he could even hit Greyback before being eviscerated.

"I was in the Infirmary all night," Harry said. "Long unimportant story. So, are you heading to Hogwarts for the reason I think?"

Regulus hesitated. "Yes," he finally whispered. "Obviously, I haven't told Sirius yet, but if there's any place in Magical Britain that can hide itself from the Marauders' Map, it's got to be the Prince's Lair."

"I was under the impression that the room itself would kill any non-Slytherin who got in."

"That was my impression, too. But I think if we stun Sirius and keep him unconscious, the Lair might let us get away with it. Well, I hope anyway."

"That's still an awful risk," Harry said cautiously.

"I know that," Regulus snapped. "But have you any better suggestions?"

Harry paused and then smiled as another option popped into his head. "Yeah, actually, I think I do. Why don't we just put him in the Chamber of Secrets? That's not limited to Slytherins only. And it never showed up on the Marauders' Map either. It was built by Salazar Slytherin around the same time as the Prince's Lair, so it probably has the same magical protections!"

Regulus absorbed all that. Then, he stiffened as he heard a soft "pop" from somewhere out in the nearby woods. "Okay, we've got to move again. We'll be at Hogwarts as soon as possible."

Harry nodded and signed off. He'd have to figure out how to smuggle them into the castle as soon as possible. Only then would his godfather be safe.

Meanwhile, back in the Great Hall, Jim Potter had taken up a position in the heart of the "Pro-Muggleborn" side of the Great Hall, along with Ron, Hermione, the Twins, and even Theo No-Name (with whom he started bonding over Wu Xi-Do discussions). It was not until half an hour later that he suddenly remembered he'd received an owl letter that morning, one he'd been excited about at the time only to forget with all the drama that accompanied breakfast.

Stepping off to one side, Jim pulled the envelope from his pocket and retrieved the letter inside, taking a moment to smile over the familiar handwriting.

Jim –

It's your Uncle Pete here. I've got some business at Hogwarts so I'll see you later today, but it's sort of a secret mission. Something for your dad. So please don't tell anyone I'm coming. Oh, and I need a small favor. I wouldn't impose, but it's for the Greater Good.

I need to borrow your dad's cloak.

NEXT: It gets worse.

AN1: Check out the Sinister Man's web presence on the POS wiki, the POS TV Tropes page, and my Discord server (through which you can see advance previews of this story as it is begin written). Also, the Sinister Man would be profoundly grateful if you checked out my P*****n page and supported my original fiction. Patronage is not necessary to get the free POS previews via Discord.

AN2 (What the Sinister Man is reading):

(1) "Crime and Punishment" by mlocatis. A slow burn Severitus (mentor, no slash) in which Snape has a change of heart after finally noticing Harry's mistreatment by the Dursleys. I know some people find OOC Snape off-putting, but it's a well-done specimen of the genre and does a great job dealing with Harry's psychological issues.

AN3: Special thanks to my Discord editors: Adam Sitrich, Blackburne, darkphoenix31. FeatheryMinx, HeidiWolf, jelle814, jobberLast , Luc, Mr. Cato, NobodySpecial, ph0en1x, Pokeflute, ProfessionalDragonslayer, rdgbraz

AN4: Updated on 1/22 to fix an issue about Remus Lupin that didn't get saved before I uploaded. He did not return to Hogwarts after meeting with Peter.

AN5: Updated again on 2/13 to correct a date stamp issue. The events of this chapter took place from 3/26 to 3/27.