A/N: An early treat! I'd thought to post this at the week-end or Monday, but it seems this time my quill was ahead of my predictions, for once. However, though I'm itching to continue immediately as the story is almost writing itself right now… I must take a week off as I have a case going to trial starting Monday. So, this is (almost) certainly the last post until Saturday next.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 22! Comments to individual reviewers are at the end of the chapter. I hope you all like the next instalment, and please do read and review!

Without further ado, on with the story!

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DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and story lines are the property of the wonderful Joanne Rowling, in whose world I am honoured and privileged to have an opportunity to play for a while.

Chapter 23: Of Welcomes and Wars; Rats and Roars

Albus surveyed the students before him with twinkling eyes as they dove into the elaborate feast. The Welcoming was always his favourite day of term, when everything was new, fresh, and unblemished by the happenings of the year. No shadows over their heads.

Of course, this year was a bit different. For the first time in eleven years, term was opening under a banner of fear… a hint of uncertainty and disquiet rippling in a current beneath their merriment.

The trip to the Lake District had also unnerved Albus; more than he might care to admit. A part of him wished to confide in Minerva, or even Severus, about where he had gone and for what purpose today, and yet he couldn't bring himself to do so. The truth would horrify Minerva. She had been so upset already with the idea of the prophecy… to add this additional complication when it seemed they could barely keep Harry from harm as it was felt like too much. She was not ready.

And Severus… Severus would probably understand. He may not even be surprised by the information. But Severus would have to go back, one day. They both knew it was true. And he would be at Voldemort's mercy whenever that day arrived, with Albus unable to help him. The headmaster had no doubt that Severus would keep to his promise. And yet, for all Severus' skills in mind magic, Albus feared this secret could be one too many. If Voldemort got even the slightest hint that Albus knew the lengths to which he had gone to ensure his immortality, all would be lost. If he got even the slightest hint from Severus, the Potions master would surely perish.

Alone on his island of knowledge, Albus wanted to theorise with Gellert on the subject again… and that thought made him warier still.

And then, there was Harry.

Harry, who'd drunk the potion and the chocolate as Minerva had insisted he do, but still looked drawn and a bit listless at the Gryffindor table. Albus could not blame the chid for his desire to attend tonight, but watching him trudge through the feast was next to impossible. Albus was itching to go to him. To his right, Minerva's frequent sounds of disapproval and narrowed eyes told him she was suffering a similar concern.

For his part, Harry was mostly ignoring the high table. Probably, Albus thought, in hopes of avoiding their notice. Harry and his friends had clapped loudly for Remus when Dumbledore announced his appointment and joined the thunderous applause for Hagrid, but otherwise the child had not met his gaze since first they entered the Hall. Harry's eyes were focused instead on the Slytherin lot, where the young Malfoy boy was periodically collapsing into his fellows whenever the Gryffindors were watching.

'Severus,' Albus called in an undertone to his left, the fourth time he caught this re-enactment.

The Potions master looked sideways, catching the plea in Albus' eyes. He scowled, but set down his fork and swept from the table. Under the guise of refilling the flagons of pumpkin juice, the headmaster saw him lean low at Draco's ear. The blonde boy went a touch pink in the cheeks, but the fainting episodes did not recur.

'Did you speak with Cornelius?' Minerva asked softly from his side, as Severus reclaimed his seat at the high table with a disgruntled 'humpf.'

Albus' eyes grew colder at the question. 'Yes,' he said shortly. 'He was remarkably thick, even for him, though I dare say he will not forget my anger in the near future.'

'I should hope not,' Minerva seconded testily. 'Dementors on the train,' she sniffed. 'We'll be inundated with howlers by this time tomorrow.'

'As we should be,' said Albus fairly. 'I would send one myself, if I were not loath to trouble an additional owl.'

Minerva rolled her eyes as she turned back to her dinner. Albus tried to recapture the merriment that usually consumed him at these opening feasts… but he found the effort was difficult. It seemed a very long time before the last of the pudding had finally cleared, and the student chatter died down to the slower, lower rumble that heralded full bellies and sated minds. At last, Albus stood. Unusually, he had given the bulk of his remarks before the feast this night, as he had wanted to address the Dementors' presence immediately. So, he merely wished them all a good sleep and a prosperous term, and dismissed the school with a wave of his hand.

Harry looked sideways at Ron and Hermione as the students all got to their feet. Albus watch as, beaming, the trio approached the high table and made directly for Hagrid at the far end. He saw Filius chuckle and Severus scowl, glancing at the Gryffindor children before they hurried off after Pomona to see to the settlement of their own houses. Minerva leaned over to whisper something to Remus. He nodded with half a smile, and followed the exodus of students as well. Watching the natural ease with which he engaged in assisting the tumultuous exit, Albus felt a swell of contentment in his choice to appoint Professor Lupin this term.

'Congratulations, Hagrid!' Hermione squealed in excitement as the children reached the table. 'Such wonderful news!'

'I can't believe you didn't tell us,' said Ron in annoyance, though he was smiling too. 'I can't believe Harry didn't tell us!'

'Asked him ter keep it quiet,' Hagrid admitted, wiping at his eyes with a tablecloth-sized handkerchief. 'An' it's all down ter you three,' he added. 'Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… he came straight ter me once ole Professor Kettleburn said he'd had it. A teacher, me? It's wha' I've always wanted –'

He broke off as the tears started in earnest, burying his face in the rapidly dampening handkerchief. Septima Vector took pity on the new professor, laying a hand on his massive forearm and shooing the children on their way.

Harry's smile fixed into more of a grimace, as he spotted Albus, Minerva and Poppy all waiting expectantly.

'Ms Granger, Weasley, you may follow the others upstairs,' Minerva said with a nod toward the dwindling crowd of students. 'Potter – a word please.'

She jerked her head toward the door to a small antechamber adjacent to the Hall, and Harry followed with a sigh. Ron and Hermione hurried off after the remainder of their House, shooting commiserating looks at Harry as they left him. Albus closed the door to the little chamber as he entered behind Poppy.

'How are you feeling, my boy?' he asked, smiling softly at Harry.

Harry frowned. 'I'm fine, sir,' he said grumpily. 'There's no need for all this fuss.'

'There is every need for it, if you are not well,' Minerva disagreed, her hands on her hips and her eyes glinting dangerously. 'I told you I would allow you to sit through the feast, but I must insist that Poppy check you over. I do not think you are looking as improved as you claim to be.'

'Headmaster, please,' Harry said, turning from the lost battle in clear hope of an ally. 'It's the first night back!'

Dumbledore kept his smile, cupping Harry's cheek in his hand. Though the boy had grown so much in the past year, he was still small enough that his face was well-dwarfed by Albus' palm. The cheek was also warm.

'I'm afraid I agree with Minerva, my dear child,' Albus said apologetically.

Harry turned his face away angrily. 'I have to learn to make a proper patronus,' he spat bitterly, as Poppy took the headmaster's cue to move in and start fussing about. Albus wasn't sure if Harry was speaking to anyone in particular, or just expressing his own frustration. 'I never should have got complacent at the end of the summer. I should have realised –'

'Will you hush?' Poppy interrupted impatiently.

'Harry, it isn't your fault,' Albus soothed. 'The patronus is a difficult and very demanding piece of magic. You have done remarkably well, in a short period and at quite a young age.'

'But it doesn't matter!' Harry shouted, nearly stabbing Poppy accidentally in the eye with her own wand as his flailing arm crashed into hers. 'Oh – sorry Madam Pomfrey,' he said in chagrin as she tutted. 'But you didn't tell me that I was the only one who would pass out – or whatever it is that happens to me when they're near me, sir,' he accused. 'You, Professor McGonagall, Re- Professor Lupin,' he amended, with half a glance at the matron, 'None of you said! So I just laid there like an idiot while everyone else was fi –'

'Nobody was fine,' Albus interrupted, raising a hand to stop the flood of anger before Harry blew out Poppy's ears with his shouting, or made himself worse with the carrying on. 'Nobody is ever fine, Harry, when Dementors are involved. I have yet to meet a wizard who, without the protection of a patronus, is immune to the creatures' effects.'

'But nobody else collapses, or sicks up,' Harry pointed out. 'Even Ginny didn't go to pieces, and she's younger than me and got possessed by Lord –'

Madam Pomfrey shoved a thermometer at him with a squeal – more to stop his speech, Albus thought, than to check his temperature. Harry nearly gagged as she firmly prevented his rejection.

'True,' Albus said. 'But no other student – not even Ginevra Weasley – has gone through the things that you have experienced. Her memory of much of last year, if you recall, is rather spotty. As I know Remus has explained to you, nobody else has your set of memories. It is not weakness or failure to have these horrors in your past, Harry, nor can you help the emotional toll such memories bring. On the contrary, the fact that you can feel these emotions so deeply attests only to the strength of your opposing ability for love, compassion and kindness: forces which, unfortunately, Dementors seek to counter by their very nature. It is your power, Harry, not your fault.'

'My power?' Harry repeated disbelievingly, free for speech once more as Poppy took back the device. 'How can it be a good thing that I can't be near a Dementor without completely losing it?'

Albus shook his head. 'You misunderstand me,' he said softly. 'I encourage you to continue your studies with Remus. I shall never advocate for a position which would leave you defenceless or ill. But I will not have you equate your emotional strength with magical shortcoming.'

Minerva turned to Poppy. 'Well?' she demanded, still looking cross.

The matron was frowning. 'It would be best if he came with me for the night,' she said firmly. 'He needs rest, and quiet.'

'I can rest just as well in the Tower as anywhere!' Harry protested. 'Better, really, as I'll have my own bed.'

'With a House full of students fresh off summer holiday?' Minerva countered briskly. 'I do not think so, Harry.'

Albus was still studying the mediwitch. 'He is still running a temperature,' Poppy said in answer to his unspoken query. 'He needs potions and the peaceful rest concomitant with their use. I cannot countenance his returning to the bustle of Gryffindor Tower tonight.'

Albus sighed. 'I'm afraid I must defer to Poppy's recommendation, Harry,' he told the recalcitrant teen. 'I would offer to take you up with me in lieu of hospital, but I am afraid I will need to speak further with the Minster this evening in London. As Minerva will need to be on hand should anything go amiss with your classmates, I too would feel most at ease if you were watched over tonight.'

Harry grumbled his disagreement, but allowed the mediwitch to lead him away without further argument.

Albus sighed as the door shut again, feeling a headache brewing behind his temple.

'A rather eventful start to the term,' Minerva remarked sardonically, pulling at a stray strand of hair that had come down from her bun.

'Leave it,' Albus said as she made to tuck the strand back up again. He caught the lock in his own fingers and laid it gently over her shoulder. 'I, for one, prefer your hair loose.'

'It only gets in the way,' Minerva groused. 'And it looks ridiculous.'

'You are too focused, my love, on the need for perfection. It is our idiosyncrasies that make us unique and remarkable.'

Minerva gave him half a smile, standing on tiptoe to brush his cheek with her lips.

'That would explain a great deal,' she said coyly. She sighed, taking his hand. The fire in the grate behind them crackled as a log shifted, sending a puff of cedar-scented smoke over their scene.

'Must you go back to Cornelius tonight?' she said anxiously. 'Surely the day has been long enough.'

'I am afraid so,' he sighed regretfully. 'Our previous conversation was rather abbreviated, with the need to see to the logistics of the evening. I should like to make the boundaries clear as we head into the start of lessons.'

'Let's hope today's was the last of unfortunate events, for the time being,' Minerva said quietly, running the fingers of her hand over his. 'I do not know how much more of this madness Harry can take; nor I.'

Albus was silent a moment, as he thought back on the currents of unrest that had permeated their feast… the Dementors on the train… and Little Hangleton, where he suspected a chain of darkest events had set them all on a path that would lead them through the deepest circles of Hell before they had a prayer of reaching a Heaven.

'Indeed,' he said at last, trying to inject a lightness into his voice that he did not feel. 'Indeed.'

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'Severus.'

The voice from the floo jolted Severus abruptly from his contemplation of the article. It had taken him hours to finally calm his House from the excitement of their arrival… and he'd spent the hour or so since feeding his ire as he read the latest drabble on Sirius Black's escape. Surprised, he laid aside the copy of The Evening Prophet he'd been perusing and stood, setting the newsprint headline-down so that he would not have to glare into the moving picture of his enemy any longer.

'Poppy,' he greeted the mediwitch as he rose from the chair. 'Good evening.'

She smiled at him. 'Might I use the laboratory?' she asked briskly. 'With my nephew's birth so late this summer, I've still a few supplies that need stocking up for the term.'

Severus furrowed his brow. 'You might have sent word,' he said. 'I would have been happy to assist.'

'Nonsense,' she said dismissively. 'You'd done your part already. But I would like to finish up, if you don't mind?'

'Of course,' Severus said smoothly. 'Come through.'

The matron nodded, and a few moments later was brushing the remnants of ash from her sleeves.

'I shall join you, I think,' Severus decided on impulse. His mind was far too preoccupied with the continuation of Ministry incompetence. He would be more difficult than usual in his first lessons of term, if he continued in this train. 'I've a few projects I need to return to as well.'

Madam Pomfrey nodded, and the pair of them stepped through the door to the lab.

As a rule, Severus preferred to brew alone – much as he would prefer to spend most of his time. In a school full of whinging, bickering students and chaotic explosions of adolescent magic, finding quiet time to oneself was too often a pipedream. A few stolen hours with a journal or textbook… an afternoon of peace spent over a cauldron… Severus relished each opportunity with the appreciation of a man who knew such moments were fleeting. They had been even more precious of late, as he'd given up so much of the summer to tutoring and minding the Potter brat.

But he had never much minded sharing the laboratory with Poppy.

Severus had always liked Poppy. She was not friendly – exactly – but she was never difficult either. Unless one was under her assiduous care, of course. Poppy was content to allow companionable silence. She was competent with a cauldron. And she never asked too many questions. In short, she was as amiable a companion in the laboratory as Severus was likely to get; and he found her presence rarely detracted from his own yearning for peace in the simmering cauldrons.

Tonight, the matron moved efficiently for the store cupboard, rummaging around for the ingredients she needed while Severus retrieved a stack of fresh cauldrons for them both. He took his turn with the supplies when she'd sorted her own, and tossed a reference text onto each work table in case it was needed. Poppy flipped hers to the appropriate page by memory, though he knew she was unlikely to use it… she was nearly as meticulous as himself.

'Are you in need of anything in particular?' Severus asked as he flipped through his own notes for something mindless.

'I thought you had projects to attend to?' Poppy said, looking up from her flames.

'I have several in progress,' he acknowledged. 'But nothing that cannot wait, if you have something urgent.'

She sighed. 'If you're sure, I do have a few potions I would like to get finished post-haste,' she admitted. 'I was intending to complete blood replenishing potion myself tonight… but perhaps you would consent to knock up a few basic antidotes?'

Severus inclined his head, reaching for the handwritten list she produced. He scrutinised the selection. 'I might add Tentacular Tonic,' he suggested mildly. 'I believe Pomona has several venomous specimens that will be teething this autumn.'

Madam Pomfrey huffed. 'Quite right,' she agreed with a nod. 'There's bound to be incidents.'

Severus gave a noise of agreement, and retrieved several additional ingredients from the stores. They worked in silence for a good two hours, exactly as he had hoped. Some of the tension of the past few weeks began to slip away in the routine of it all.

At last, Severus set the tonic to stew and started in on an antidote for accidental hair growth overdose. He broke the silence himself, somewhat to his own surprise.

'I should be able to complete the list by week-end, if you would prefer to leave it with me,' he offered.

'Oh, thank you, but that's quite alright,' Poppy replied with a small smile. 'After all, these first few days should be rather slow on over-night patients. It's usually just classroom accidents with the first form students in the beginning.'

'True,' Severus acknowledged, grimacing a little as his thoughts creeped back to the daunting task of inducting a new class of potential potions disasters. 'I suspect the quiet is refreshing.'

'Usually yes,' Poppy said, choosing a few springs of moondew for cutting. 'Of course, there's Harry to consider tonight, but I dare say he'll sleep through to morning.'

'Potter is in hospital?' the Potions master asked sharply. He paused in his measurement of essence of yew sap.

'Mm,' the matron agreed, without raising her eyes from the moondew.

'With what complaint?' asked Severus. His tone was a touch more aggressive than even he had expected, and Poppy finally looked up in surprise.

'Harry reacts rather badly to Dementors, it would seem,' she explained with raised eyebrows. 'I thought you would have known; I'm afraid it's been buzzing around the school since the students came off the train. He has been rather upset by the rumours. Poor lamb,' she finished with a shake of the head.

Severus rolled his eyes at the coddling. Of course he'd known about the Dementors and Potter's latest contretemps… and he'd watched the petty teasing at dinner just like the rest of the castle; but that was immaterial. The tension he felt was little decreased.

'You've left him there with whom?' he tried to clarify, setting the beaker of sap aside.

Poppy frowned at him. 'I assure you, he's quite alright,' she said. 'He isn't all that poorly: a mild fever and some lingering malaise that a bit of rest should clear up. He's quite capable of spending a few hours on his own.'

But Severus was on his feet, suddenly more than tense. 'You left him. Alone,' he clarified, glaring down at the mediwitch. 'Potter.'

Poppy flinched back a bit, considering Severus' towering figure in alarm. 'Severus, what are you on about?' she scolded. 'Really – Harry is thirteen and not in any medical –'

'Harry Potter,' Severus snarled. 'The boy for whom the security of this entire castle has been refashioned to keep safe from Sirius Black; the boy for whom Albus Dumbledore himself bends over backward to keep alive; the foolish, headstrong boy who always manages to dance on Death's doorstep despite all our efforts… you have left that child alone, in an unguarded and unlocked ward?'

Poppy's face seemed to pale a bit, though the set of her jaw was still firm. 'Severus, Sirius Black hasn't a prayer of entering this castle,' she said confidently. 'Dumbledore has seen to the wards himself. And I have monitoring charms set over the beds and at the door to the wing, as I always do when I leave for any stretch of time. I'll know if Harry awakens in any distress, or if another patient –'

But she was interrupted, as a high-pitched whistle begin emanating from the pocket of her robes. She sighed, digging out a small, opalescent disk glowing a light orange.

'Whisper near the goblin's lair,' the matron said with a grimace.

'What is it?' Severus asked in a clipped voice.

'He's likely out of bed,' she said with a sigh. 'Or a new student has arrived. I ought to go and have a look… would you mind finishing –'

'No, you stay,' Severus offered quickly. 'Finish your brewing. I shall check the ward.'

He wasn't sure why, exactly, he'd made the request. He did not particularly wish to deal with a convalescing Harry Potter again, and he certainly had no interest in nursing any other sneezing, sniffling dunderhead that might have wandered into the ward after curfew.

And yet… he could not shake his sense of unease, leaving Potter, his puffed-up ego and his reckless abandon loose on his own in an unmonitored wing. Not when hundreds of pupils had poured into the castle, allegiances and influences unknown. Not when Potter was prone to escaping his confines. Not when Black had already gained access to the grounds once before.

Not while Black still breathed.

'Are you sure, Severus?' Poppy asked, drawing Severus from his internal musings with a frown. 'It might be that Harry needs –'

'Quite sure,' Severus interrupted. He was already spelling his work station clean. 'I shall use the floo, if the situation is emergent.'

Severus took the glowing disk from Poppy's outstretched hand, ignoring her bemused expression. And he swept from the laboratory.

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Harry was bored.

Very, very bored.

He didn't feel all that shaky anymore, whatever Madam Pomfrey's fussing and diagnostics seemed to indicate. He was fuming at the thought that all the other Gryffindors would be up in the Tower, exchanging summer news and discussing the upcoming term… while, perhaps, wondering why Harry Potter couldn't join them. He was even more annoyed when he thought about the non-Gryffindor students, and wondered whether Draco Malfoy was entertaining a dungeon-full of Slytherins with more fantastical impressions of Harry collapsing as the Dementors drew near.

Just perfect.

He'd feigned slumber as Madam Pomfrey doused the lanterns in the wing; it was always easier than the battle involved if she found him awake and decided he ought to take a sleeping potion. Or, worse, if she forced another morsel of chocolate down his throat. Eventually, the matron had laid a hand on his forehead one more time, tutted to herself about the folly of under-cautious teachers and the danger of dark creatures set around a school, and bustled off to her office for the night.

That had been hours ago. But tired as Harry had been in the aftermath of the Dementors' attack, he couldn't get to sleep now. Instead, he tossed and turned in the little bed, dozing infrequently and wishing he had some means to distract himself.

As if on cue, the door to the hospital wing burst open, banging so hard off the wall that Harry started upright against the iron bedframe.

To his surprise, Ron stood on the threshold to the wing.

Ron was holding a bloodied cloth to his face, his head tipped slightly back. Harry thought it rather a miracle he hadn't broken his neck on the stairs, if he'd walked all the way down to the hospital wing like that.

'What's up with you?' he asked in surprise, as Ron flumped down into the chair next to Harry's bed.

'Got imba figh,' Ron said, voice muffled by the plethora of bloody fabric.

Harry frowned. 'Malfoy?' he said darkly, pushing himself up in the bed a bit.

Ron shook his head. 'Nebvil,' he muttered.

'Neville?' Harry repeated, dumbstruck. Then he laughed loudly – he couldn't help it.

Ron took the cloth away, scowling as he gingerly felt his nose. 'Yeah, take the mickey,' he said angrily. 'See if I ever defend your honour again.'

'Defend my honour?' Harry quoted, still struggling to pull himself together. 'Ugh! Nasty, mate!' he complained, as Ron tossed the used and disgusting flannel at him in temper and he scuttled off the bed in effort to avoid it.

'Neville's the one who told Malfoy about you – on the train,' Ron explained, wincing as he continued to feel his face. 'And I think he broke my sodding nose.'

That sobered Harry up. He stopped laughing immediately.

'What do you mean?' he asked, frowning. 'Why would Neville say something to Malfoy?'

Ron shrugged. He was having a hard time stemming his still oozing nose, now that he'd thrown the cloth away.

'Dunno,' he said thickly. 'He just came up to me in the dorm tonight to apologise. We were all up in the common room for a while, you know how it is. He claims Malfoy heard him asking Ginny about it as they walked down the corridor. Hermione says it wasn't on purpose, but I just –'

'I'm sure it wasn't,' said Harry fairly, though he couldn't help the angry set of his jaw all the same. 'I should have expected it, I guess. But I was hoping nobody would talk too much about it outside the compartment.'

Ron grunted, still trying to stop the blood. Harry took pity on him and retrieved a fresh flannel from the side of the bowl on his nightstand. Ron took it gratefully.

'So, you socked him for it?' Harry asked, trying to get a head around the situation.

'Not exactly,' said Ron in chagrin. 'I sort of, shoved him a bit, I guess. Mostly I was just shouting. But when I shoved him, he cracked. Just swung round and thumped me, straight across the face. Never seen Neville do anything like that. I was too surprised to even get him back. Then Dean and Seamus sort of burst in, and they pulled us off each other, and they ripped into Neville and Hermione ripped into me, and eventually I came down here.'

'To get away from Hermione,' Harry clarified, amused.

Ron glowered. 'To get my sodding nose fixed!' he countered. 'And yeah, to get out of the row,' he added grudgingly.

'You shouldn't have gone for him,' Harry said. 'Hermione's right – he doesn't mean any harm by it. But I wonder where he learned to swing like that?'

'Dunno, but he must have done this summer,' said Ron darkly.

'Still,' said Harry, with a faint smile. 'I appreciate you, er, "defending my honour," all the same, even if it did cost you your face.'

Ron snorted, then moaned.

'Bit stupid to snort with a broken nose,' Harry pointed out, trying hard to not laugh again.

'Piss off,' Ron muttered.

'Thirty points for fighting, Weasley,' a silky voice called from the door to the wing. 'And another fifteen for language.'

Harry grimaced, as Snape's tall, black-clad figure came sweeping over toward them, his eyes glinting with the enormous satisfaction he always got docking points from Gryffindor. His sneer turned at once to a glower as he caught sight of the bloodstained cloth upon the empty bed, and Harry standing barefoot in the corner.

'Potter,' he said in his most dangerous voice. 'I do not believe you have out-of-bed permissions.'

'No, sir,' Harry agreed resignedly. He lifted the cloth off the sheets with the tip of his wand, and pulled himself onto the bed.

Snape was checking his watch with one eyebrow raised. 'Six hours,' he noted, looking up.

'What?' Harry asked in confusion.

'Do not say "what," say "pardon,"' Snape corrected waspishly. 'And it is six whole hours before you found yourself here – that must be a record for you, Potter.'

Harry felt his face colour. He wondered whether Snape had come to the Hospital Wing just to bask in the glory of humiliating him further.

'Why are you here, professor?' Ron challenged on Harry's behalf. 'Where's Madam Pomfrey?'

'Madam Pomfrey is brewing in the dungeons,' Snape explained, pointing a wand at a cupboard so that several supplies flew their way across to his palm. 'She has a monitoring charm on the ward, of course, so that she might know if the doors are opened, or if one of her patients is in distress,' he shot another amused smirk at Harry as he said the last. 'The blood replenishing potion she is attempting is at a delicate state, so she asked if I would assist in ensuring Potter was not in mortal peril. It is, after all, at least three weeks since his last brush with death.'

Harry felt his embarrassment grow. Why hadn't the matron just left Snape to finish the brew instead? He was the Potions master, after all, and she had charge of the hospital wing. He wondered if Snape had volunteered for the task, just because Harry was the patient. Perhaps the prospect of goading him when he was flat on his back was just too much temptation to resist.

'I'm fine, sir,' he said through gritted teeth.

'So it would appear,' Snape agreed in a bored voice. 'Although, if you do not fall asleep on your own in the next ten minutes, I may decide you need another potion to get your rest,' he threatened with a pointed look. 'Weasley, stop cowering and move into the light, unless you would prefer to keep your nose off-centre.'

Ron groused a bit, but he slid forward on the chair so that Snape could examine his face. The Potions master cleared the blood with a lazy flick of his wand, and pointed the tip at Ron's nose.

'Episkey!' he said firmly. There was a nasty cracking sound and a roared oath from Ron, as his nose straightened out again.

'Another fifteen points,' Snape said. 'My, my, already into the negatives so early in the term. Two records in one day.'

Ron glowered, but wisely refrained from comment. Snape jerked his head toward the bed next to Harry's.

'You can stay the night too, Weasley,' he said silkily. 'As you worked so hard to get down here.'

He straightened up as Ron climbed into the bed, then passed him a phial of what Harry recognised as pain potion. 'For any lingering discomfort,' he said sardonically.

'You might have given it to me before you set my nose,' Ron grumbled in irritation, but he took the potion all the same. Snape, meanwhile, ignored Ron and pressed a long-fingered hand to Harry's brow.

'I'm fine,' Harry repeated, annoyed. Snape scowled, flicking his wand toward the cupboard again. Another phial shot into his grasp.

'And yet, despite your stellar record in making good judgments for yourself, it is my opinion that matters,' the Potions master said with another dangerous smirk, passing the phial to Harry. 'Fever Reducer, Potter, and if I see you out of bed again tonight, I shall be sure to insist Poppy keep you to the week-end for further observation.'

Harry snatched the potion with a scowl of his own, but he too refused to rise to the bait. He would not give Malfoy the satisfaction of learning Harry Potter was confined to bedrest for the whole first day of lessons.

'I shall be in the office,' Snape continued when it became clear neither would speak. 'If you need further assistance.'

And without another word to either of them, he swept for Madam Pomfrey's usual door.

'Git,' Ron muttered under his breath to Harry, as the office door closed sharply behind Snape.

Harry sighed, rolling over as sleep finally took him.

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Sirius was bouncing a leg against the bench, anxious and excited as he stared around the candlelit Great Hall. The sea of pointed hats, the star-strewn sky, the imposing headmaster resplendent in robes of sweeping violet… everything was as wonderful and as comforting as he had always hoped it would be. For the first time in months, perhaps in years, he felt a perfect contentment that sang of homecoming; no matter that this was his very first hour in the school.

And, best of all, he'd been Sorted to Gryffindor.

'Pettigrew, Peter,' the tall, beautiful, and very stern-looking witch – Professor McGonagall, Sirius thought she was called – cried out from her place at the stool.

A short and rather plump little boy with mousy hair started forward with an audible squeal. Sirius had been watching this boy, as he was next to James in the queue to be Sorted. He'd been turning whiter and whiter as the alphabet dwindled… and now he was positively green.

As Professor McGonagall made to set the Hat upon his head, the boy suddenly pitched forward with an odd sort of noise. The professor pulled the Hat away quickly, as the flagstones were spewed with sick.

Some of the watching students made sounds of disgust or sympathy; others laughed. Sirius himself was stunned into open-mouthed astonishment, as the fat little boy cupped a hand to his mouth in horror, popped off the stool, and ran toward the door to the Hall.

More students began to laugh at the awkward flight, until the headmaster cleared his throat and clapped his hands twice for silence. A pretty young woman in a matron's robe went bustling off after the fleeing boy. McGonagall watched her out of sight in bemusement and mild concern, before returning with a small shake of her head to her list.

'Potter, James,' she called out instead, and James Potter strode confidently up to the Hat.

Sirius stopped his bouncing, crossing his fingers as he shut his eyes in hope…

'Gryffindor!' the Hat cried out seconds later, and a roar of applause welcomed James to the table.

'Worried?' he quipped, dropping onto the bench at Sirius' right.

'I don't worry, Potter,' Sirius assured him loftily. But he clapped him on the back all the same.

They watched while the rest of their class was sorted, right through 'Zimmerman, Yolanda.' Then the matron led out the unfortunate boy again, and there was a muted echo of the previous reactions.

Sirius chuckled a bit himself, as McGonagall set the Hat on the boy's head. It flopped down well over his ears, until only a double-chin was visible beneath the rim. 'Poor bloke,' he said through his amusement to James. 'But honestly, what an entrance!'

The Hat was silent nearly five minutes. People across the hall began to whisper, then to mutter, then to debate the situation so loudly that the headmaster had to clap his hands once again before silence fell.

'Do you think he's broken it?' James asked in an undertone.

'Maybe it's angry it was almost a basin,' Sirius suggested in a whisper, biting his tongue to keep from laughing again.

'Pipe down,' a dark-haired girl suggested from the Ravenclaw table, turning an angry glare on them. And Sirius was silent.

'Gryffindor!' the Hat announced at last. Their table gave another resounding round of applause, as the little Peter Pettigrew shuffled as fast as he could out of the spotlight. McGonagall carted off the stool and Sorting Hat, and the plump boy sighed in relief as he took a seat directly to Sirius' left.

'You Welsh?' Sirius asked, his grey eyes dancing in amusement. Beside him, James Potter put a fist to his mouth to hide his laughter.

The boy looked confused. 'N-no,' he said, biting at his lip. 'I'm from Ulster.'

James burst into true laughter now, nearly falling off the bench as he struggled for composure. A red-haired girl Sirius recognised from the train – Lily – snapped her head around from gazing across the Hall to frown angrily at Sirius over the table.

'You shouldn't be so cruel,' she told him scathingly. 'He can't help that he's nervous. Is it nice to tease him so on our very first night?'

James managed to collect himself at last, cocking his head as he considered the girl.

'It's only a bit of fun,' he said with a shrug.

The mousy-haired boy was looking between them as though he still didn't get the joke. But his cheeks pinked up a bit as it began obvious it was at his expense.

'It happens a lot,' he mumbled, as the headmaster got to his feet in welcome. 'When I'm getting scared. And I was terrified I'd be –'

'Ssh!' a wan-looking boy with sandy hair hushed them from a few seats down across the table.

'Who are you?' Sirius grumbled back in annoyance.

The boy smiled. 'Remus Lupin,' he said softly. 'And sorry, but the headmaster's waiting on us.'

Sirius looked up. Sure enough, Albus Dumbledore was glancing their way, a twinkle in his ice-blue eyes that was not matched in the stern green gaze of their new Head of House. Sirius swallowed self-consciously.

'A wonderful thing,' the headmaster began with a smile, widening his arms and his gaze to embrace the room, 'To see so many new and eager faces among us. I shall not keep you over-long from our excellent Start of Term feast or your stimulating conversations. But I should like, first, to welcome you to another year at Hogwarts!'

There was a smattering of applause and several cheers, and the headmaster allowed a few moments of the chaos before raising a hand again.

'Though I know many have been through difficult times of late, I wish to remind all of you that you shall always have a home and a place at this castle. I toast to a successful academic year, and the prospect of peace between all kinds.'

He raised a goblet in recognition as he finished the words, and most of the assembled staff and students followed suit, drinking deeply. With another smile, the headmaster clapped his hands once, and a plethora of delicious food popped into existence along the table. Sirius dove for the nearest plate of sausages, ravenous from the long train journey.

'Won't miss Kreacher's cooking,' he said in an undertone to James as he began stuffing his face.

'Kreacher?' James repeated curiously as he selected his own sausage with slightly more reserve.

'This mad elf of my parents',' Sirius explained, passing the plate along to an older boy he hadn't yet met. 'He's in love with my brother, Reg, but he's never liked me much. I think he charms my food out of spite.'

James chucked again, passing the potatoes. 'Never had that problem at mine,' he admitted. 'Our elves are the best.'

'What was the headmaster talking about?' Peter put in, accepting the potatoes timidly from James.

Sirius and James both turned in surprise. 'You hadn't heard?' Sirius asked disbelievingly. 'It's been all over the Prophet, and they still haven't caught them.'

'Caught who?' Lily put in, leaning over toward them. Beside her, a petite girl with long blonde curls frowned.

'You shouldn't,' the new girl said in an undertone. 'It's not decent chat for supper.'

'Who are you?' James asked.

'Marlene,' she said confidently. 'But most everyone calls me Marley. That's my brother there,' she added, jerking her head toward the unknown boy that Sirius had given the bangers.

'Well, they've got to hear sometime, Marley,' said James reasonably.

'Yes, but –'

'There was an attack last month,' Sirius said in a conspiratorial whisper. 'In Tinworth, down by Cornwall.'

'An attack?' Peter squeaked, looking horrified.

'Isn't that where the gas leak was?' asked Lily in confusion.

'Gas leak?' James repeated curiously. 'How does gas "leak"? Like a botched potion some nutter left out?'

Lily scoffed. 'No,' she said in a patronising voice. 'Gas like from the pipes – in houses. I heard on the wireless that there was a massive leak out by Cornwall over the summer; carbon monoxide, I think they thought it was. A lot of people lost their lives.'

Sirius and James exchanged dumbfounded looks. 'Er – ' Sirius said doubtfully, 'I dunno. Might be the story the Ministry gave out to cover it up, but it's not what the Prophet said.'

'What's the Prophet say?' Peter asked, infatuated.

'That it was wizards,' James put in. 'A gang of them, apparently. They say the men came in the night, and went house to house… they tortured the people living there for hours, and then they killed them. Put some sort of brand up over the houses of the dead, to mark where they'd murdered.'

Peter's eyes had gone so wide, Sirius feared he might vomit again. 'But… but why?' he asked in a shrill voice.

Sirius shrugged. 'That's just it,' he said. 'Nobody really knows. They were Muggles, mostly, the ones that died. But Tinworth's a mixed settlement. A few wizards copped it too –'

'Like my grandparents,' Marley interrupted in an angry hiss. Sirius broke off, torn between surprise and chagrin.

'I, I'm sorry,' he said quietly. And he meant it. She crossed her arms and glared at him. Lily placed a sympathetic hand on her arm.

'There were sixteen that died,' Marley told Peter shortly. She didn't look tearful – only angry. Sirius felt his face grow hot in discomfort. 'Twelve Muggles, and four wizards. The Ministry told my mum they think it was supposed to be an anti-Muggle crime, but the wizards got in the way.'

'That's… that's awful,' said Lily. 'Why would someone do something like that? I mean, lots of wizards are Muggle-born, aren't they?'

'Yes,' said Sirius. 'But there are some wizards that think we ought to be a pure-blood society; not integrate with Muggles at all,' he clarified. 'It's sick, really, but every once in a while some nutter goes off the deep end with this pure-blood mania, and sometimes they go further than just mad speech.'

'This is the first mass killing in decades though,' James added. 'That's what has the Ministry in such an uproar. There's a lot of pressure to find whoever did it. My dad does some business with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and they've been working round the clock for weeks now.'

'They don't know who did it?' Lily asked in horror.

'No,' Sirius said, shaking his head. 'The wizards that broke into the houses were all in masks, apparently, and hooded cloaks. Witnesses weren't even sure whether they were all men – there might have been some witches mixed in too. But they say there was a leader… the only one without a mask to hide his face. A wizard tall as Dumbledore, pale as death, with eyes that gleam in the darkness. They say the others called him the Dark Lord.'

'Lord Voldemort,' James clarified, his face more serious than Sirius had yet seen it. 'That's what my dad says he's called.'

Marley shivered. 'Don't say his name,' she begged. 'It feels… it's wrong, somehow.'

'We should talk of something else,' a new voice put in.

Sirius glanced across the table to see the sandy-haired boy, Remus, had been watching them. He was frowning slightly. 'Marley is right,' he opined. 'It probably isn't good chat for supper on our first night at school. Are you – are you looking forward to lessons?' he asked the group at large.

Sirius straightened up from his huddle, as the conversation became lighter again for some time. James and Remus were engaged in a debate about the merits of Transfiguration versus charms, while Lily was now talking quietly with a still shaken-looking Marlene and a couple other new Gryffindor girls. Sirius helped himself to some of the chocolate-drenched profiteroles that had popped in to replace the plate of meats, and turned to Peter again.

'So,' he said conversationally, tucking his legs underneath him, 'Why is it you were afraid to be Sorted?'

The round-faced boy went pink again. 'Oh... it's nothing really,' he mumbled.

'Do tell,' said Sirius around a mouthful of pastry. 'Isn't like it matters now – you're in Gryffindor, after all. Unless you were hankering to be somewhere else.'

'Not… not that,' Peter said, twisting his hands in his lap. 'I was worried I'd not be Sorted at all, you see. I… I didn't show magic until quite late. Not until last summer, actually.'

Sirius shrugged, washing down the treat with a swig of iced pumpkin juice. 'That happens, sometimes. Doesn't usually mean anything about what you'll become. And they don't let non-magical students in,' he reminded the boy. 'You have to go somewhere, if you've been accepted.'

'Yes,' Peter agreed, a bit more happily. 'And at least I wasn't in Slytherin, in the end. It took the Hat ages to decide… Mum won't be too pleased, I don't think, but –'

'Your mum wanted you in Slytherin?' Sirius asked in surprise.

Peter nodded. 'Well, I don't think she'll really mind, I guess. But she's Slytherin, and so were her parents. Guess it's sort of family tradition for them.'

'What about your father?' Sirius asked curiously.

Peter shook his head. 'I dunno,' he admitted. 'He left when I was three. Mum never talks about him. It was just us. She's a bit… well, she likes things just so,' he admitted. 'I've never been all that great at anything. I'm not ambitious enough for Slytherin… but I don't think I'm quite brave enough for Gryffindor, either. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I think I'll be better able to get on with you lot.'

Sirius considered the boy more closely. There was something sort of sad about him, like a puppy that'd been left in the rain.

'My parents will be livid,' he admitted with a grin, offering up the plate of profiteroles. 'At least, I hope so.'

Peter took one of the pastries with a curious raised eyebrow.

'They're all Slytherins,' Sirius explained. 'The lot of them – to the core. My entire family has been for generations; at least, as far as I know. Father's liable to write a howler first thing once he hears I'm here.'

'Don't…' Peter looked nervous again. 'Don't you care, if it'll make your father so angry?'

Sirius laughed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 'Making my father angry is basically a daily duty,' he admitted. 'It'll be the best laugh I've had in years.'

Peter looked doubtful as he took another pastry.

'They can't be that bad,' he said.

'Oh, they can,' Sirius contradicted bitterly. 'That pure-blood tosh we were on about? They love it.' Peter's eyes widened in fear. 'Not like what happened in Tinworth,' Sirius clarified quickly. 'No, my father's much too prim to bloody his hands like that. But they think the nutters are gripping the right end of the broomstick, mark my words. And they'll not interfere if things get nasty.'

'I can't imagine that,' said Peter with a shudder. 'You don't – you don't really think it'll get that bad, do you? Like it did on the Continent with Grindelwol?'

'Grindelwald,' Sirius corrected. 'And I don't know,' he admitted with a shrug. 'Might be this was just a one-time thing… might be it's just the beginning.'

Peter shuddered again, and Sirius grinned.

'Buck up,' he told him with a clap on the back. 'This is the House of the Lion; you're going to have to learn to be brave.'

'More roaring, less squealing,' James put in with a laugh, apparently having caught the tail end of the conversation. He tossed one of the profiteroles at Remus, who'd come round to join their side of the bench as well. The sandy-haired boy caught it with a grin.

'I don't know if I know how,' Peter admitted, twisting his hands again.

'Stick with us,' Sirius said confidently, grabbing for a fourth helping of pudding. 'And you will, mate.'

'Mate…' Peter repeated quietly, reaching for another pastry himself. 'Yeah, alright then.'

Sirius considered the round face, so alight with a curious happiness…

And it twisted, and morphed…

And it wasn't innocent any longer… the boy who'd longed for inclusion and companionship was gone; had altered. Altered so completely that this man was a stranger.

No longer a puppy in the rain, but a Rat – cornered and rabid in the gutter…

'Peter!' Sirius snarled as soon as he materialised.

He slammed the anti-apparition warded stone into the middle of the Ulster street. A golden field shot out like a ripple from its centre, rumbling the very cobblestones as the ward took hold, fifty yards in each direction. The rat stopped in his tracks, panting, as he turned to face his nemesis.

Tear-streaked cheeks and pleading eyes did nothing for Sirius now. All he could see were the signs of life: lips trembling and wet, eyes darting about for an escape that was impossible, pulse beating against a sweaty neck, breaths heaving in a chest where a heart thumped so loud that he could almost taste the traitor's blood… The paltry signs of an existence undeserved; a life bargained for in blood; a despicable foil to the cold, unmoving bodies of Lily and James he'd left last night in a ruined cottage.

No more.

'Sirius,' Peter greeted him, his eyes wide with panic and his voice a high rasp. 'Sirius, no –'

Sirius snapped, slicing his wand through the air. 'Don't you speak, you snivelling excuse for a wizard!'

A thin line of scarlet appeared across the rat's cheek, and he gave a yelp of pain as his hand flew to it.

'Sirius, please… please! Don't kill me, don't –'

'You deserve it,' Sirius growled, inching closer with his wand outstretched.

People were flooding the street now, Muggles coming out of their houses and shops as the city was bathed in the burning scarlet of setting sun, pointing and shouting as they took in the scene – afraid to approach the brawl.

'You deserve to die squealing and begging at my feet, like you've cowered at the skirts of your betters your entire existence!' Sirius went on, continuing his slow march forward.

Pettigrew backed up a step, breathing loudly through his mouth as his eyes scanned the growing crowd. 'Help!' he shouted desperately. 'Please, help!'

Two burly men stepped forward. Sirius swung his wand around, creating a magical barrier that the Muggles could not pass. It would not do to spill more innocent blood.

'There is no one,' he spat in a sinister growl, 'Who could save you from me, Peter. Nobody left to cower behind.'

The rat began to sob, his knees quaking beneath him. His eyes still roved desperately around the gathered crowd.

'Lily and James, Sirius,' he moaned. 'Lily and James...'

'Yes,' Sirius snarled hatefully, raising his wand. 'Lily is dead, Peter. James is dead. And so now, it is your turn to die! You must have known it would come to –'

'Lily and James!' Peter repeated, his voice even louder as he shouted over Sirius'. 'Sirius, how could you? Murderer!'

Sirius froze, the very curse on his lips, his eyes widening just a fraction as realisation and horror stayed his hand. Vaguely, he registered a sound like fireworks, as dozens of wizards in Ministry robes apparated just beyond his ward.

And then the world exploded.

In the fraction of a heartbeat that he'd hesitated, Peter Pettigrew – who never did anything without someone pushing him out the door, who never learned any spell on his first attempt, who had once, so long ago, vomited in the face of that which he feared – found a surge of magic that Sirius would not have thought possible.

In a blast like cannon fire, half the street was incinerated. Bodies and blood littered the stones and the sides of the half-ruined buildings. Screams rent the night. Sirius himself was blown backward off his feet, unable in his shock to even cushion his fall. He tasted blood as he smashed to the kerb – shockingly intact, despite the devastation around him. He pulled himself to his feet again in moments.

He could not let the rat escape.

Darting forward, he saw that the place that Peter had stood had sunk – six feet down to the sewer below, where a pipe was cracked and oozing. He searched the earth desperately, but Peter's voice was lost in the squeaks of the dozens of nasty creatures disappearing into the tubes.

Just visible, at the edge of the crater, was one lone, severed finger.

And Sirius threw back his head and roared. Roared with a manic, humourless laughter… as the Ministry wizards surrounded him.

The lion, bested by the rat.

Sirius came to in sweat and screams again, twisted and contorted by the nightmare in his forest cave.

The Welcoming Feast…

The Rat.

He was here.

At Hogwarts.

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Review Responses, Chapter 22:

AlsoKnownAsMatt: Thank you for your review and comments! I appreciate your mixed reactions, and some of this (I think) will be resolved in this chapter, as I truncated Chapter 22 for length reasons. The Time-Turner situation… yes, it's one of my own personal gripes with JKR's universe, but I did not wish to eliminate its use entirely. It's interesting that you see it as a mystery device… I always saw it more as a means to resolve the Sirius debacle, but your theory makes sense too. My view on this was not that the Ministry gave the timepiece to a Muggle-born, but rather that they reached an agreement with Professor McGonagall. If JKR's logic holds true, then both Percy and Bill Weasley must have used Time-Turners as well, in order to achieve 12 O.W.L.s. I'll put a pin in that line of discussion for a moment, as I think we'll see aspects of that connection play out later.

The news on Harry's collapse: actually, in canon POA, Draco's remark is 'You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth?!' – which would seem to imply that it was Neville who leaked the story. I assumed that Harry figured out in canon that it was Neville, given this taunt, but it's never addressed again. I eliminated Neville's name from Malfoy's taunting in Chapter 22, but you'll see the resolution of that aspect of the event in this chapter.

The issue over Harry's reaction to the dementors is definitely not over… though, I think, Minerva wanted to spare him further embarrassment. I struggled a bit with this one, because I was in half a mind that Minerva would insist he go to hospital… but I think you'll see it is more of a delay than an actual 'Alright, you're free to go.' Mostly, I just felt poor Harry had spent an awful lot of time dealing with injuries and illness this summer already; and I had an idea I wanted to play out with regards to this particular incident.

Glad you enjoyed the Little Hangleton scenes… it is a bit that I'd been looking forward to ever since Albus and Gellert's exchange on the murder of the Riddles in Part One. It won't be the last we'll see of the village, although I'm not sure if we'll see the patrons of The Hanged Man again… we'll have to see.

Enjoy Chapter 23!

Anyeshabaner: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you liked the chapter. Yes, Harry will be using the Time-Turner… at least a bit. Will everything go according to plan? Are you reading the same story I am? ;) Surely, there will be some drama. As to why Dumbledore was in Little Hangleton… he is following up on his discussion with Grindelwald in Chapter 29 of Part One, where they discussed Voldemort's creation of the diary-Horcrux with his father and grandparents' murders. He is investigating Voldemort's history… but no, I don't think there's any thought yet that Voldemort might be using the house, as he's still in Albania.

The life Harry might have had if Lily and James had survived is a central theme for a lot of this book… particularly evident in the flashback sequences. I won't give anything away as to the resolution of Sirius's story; but I promise that Albus is not going anywhere.

Enjoy Chapter 23!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thank you for reviewing! I'm very glad to hear you are liking the story so much, and happy that you're enjoying each chapter! I hope this continues to hold true as our tale moves forward.

AECM: Thank you for your review and your kind thoughts! Well, I think you'll see how your queries play out in this next chapter… but I hope you enjoy it! Very glad you're liking the story so far.

MoonshineMadame: Thank you for reviewing and for your well wishes! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Originally, Chapter 22 included a bit at the beginning where Albus was contemplating the trip to Little Hangleton… I eliminated it as I thought it dragged the chapter on a bit long, but perhaps in retrospect it encouraged too much of a leap for readers. The reason Albus went, as I think you might glean a bit from Chapter 23, is because of the conversation he has with Grindelwald in Part One, Chapter 29 ('The House-elf and The Horcrux') concerning Voldemort's creation of the diary with the Riddles' deaths. He is attempting to follow Gellert's advice about learning more about Voldemort himself – his past, his desires, etc., and that path takes him to Little Hangleton. It's something I think we might have seen him do earlier, if the summer hadn't been filled with so many other concerns for the headmaster and for Harry. I'm also glad you liked the townsfolk characters… it is, at least in my experience as a Londoner, very typical of country villages for locals to act in such a way.

Also glad you liked the bit with Remus: I think his presence is certainly the only way Albus and Minnie would have agreed to the journey after the events of July and August, but also comes in very handy given the dementors' presence on the train. You are correct in your analysis – this story is a lot about keeping many of the canon elements, but evolving the story based on the changing relationships between the characters and their development.

Enjoy Chapter 23!

Estel Ashlee Snape: Thank you for the review and kind thoughts! We're quite excited to begin the shopping and 'nesting'! Hope you like how the story continues!