Child of Hogwarts, Part II: The Marauder Legacy

by AimeretVivre

Sequel to COH, Part I. Follows Harry through Year Three at Hogwarts. See Part I for the premise... With Remus Lupin returned to Britain and Sirius Black on the move, Harry, Albus, Minerva and Severus continue to adjust to their changing realities and prepare for an uncertain future... while the ghosts of their pasts refuse to lie dormant. Mentorship; Training; Adventure.

31. The Cat Among the Pixies

A/N: First off, thank you to everyone who reviewed for Chapter 30! My responses follow the new chapter.

I know this particular instalment has been a bit long in coming and I do apologise. Quite truthfully, it has been largely completed for over a week now… but I was held up on two major dilemmas. 1) I could not find a title that suited, which was related to issue 2) I had originally envisioned this chapter would take us through the holidays… but I found upon editing that it served its purpose better if I ended after the Sirius perspective that now closes. Fair warning that it does make for a rather depressing end to this particular instalment… but I thought altering the tone into the Christmas/New Year portion just didn't feel quite right. Ergo, you will get the holidays next time, and the slightly depressing bits this time. Apologies.

Enjoy 'The Cat Among the Pixies,' and please read and review!

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DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and/or story lines are the property of Joanne Rowling.

Chapter 31: The Cat Among the Pixies

'Harry!'

Hermione's arms were about his neck the moment Harry sank down between her and Ron at the Gryffindor table. She was quite white in the face – Ron just as pale beside her. He patted her on the back, but the embrace was perfunctory. He was too busy eying the high table to pay much mind.

'We looked for you in the Tower,' she told him, releasing her chokehold, 'But nobody'd seen you. I was about to go to Professor McGonagall if you hadn't turned up for supper.'

Minerva…

Harry shook himself from his scan of the professors for a moment, remembering that he hadn't yet spoken to her. And, of course, he had to tell them…

'Listen,' he said in a low voice, breaking Hermione's continued chatter. 'You two didn't tell anyone you about this afternoon, did you?'

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks. 'No, mate,' Ron said back in a whisper. 'We wouldn't have –'

'Good,' Harry interrupted curtly. 'I told Remus and Snape you'd overheard Minerva and the others… and that you told me about it when you got back. Just… just stick with that, all right? In case they ask you…'

'You talked to Lupin?' Ron asked, surprised. 'And Snape?'

'Yes,' Harry said shortly.

'Why?' Ron asked in shock. At Harry's glare he edited: 'Lupin, yeah, alright. But Snape?'

'I went to ask Remus about everything. Snape came in the middle. I didn't plan on that bit,' Harry explained.

Hermione was frowning as she scrutinised him. 'What did Professor Lupin say, Harry?' she asked tentatively.

Harry felt a bit queasy again thinking about it. 'Later,' he evaded quickly.

'Why do you keep looking up there?' Hermione enquired, watching Harry's eyes scan the high table again. 'Did you and Professor Lupin get in an argument or –'

'I'm looking for Albus,' Harry explained impatiently. He's still not here…

'Dumbledore?' Ron repeated in bewilderment.

'I think he's ill or something,' Harry answered distractedly. 'He'd gone a bit –'

But he cut himself off as the headmaster himself entered the Hall, closely followed by Snape. Albus was still looking a touch paler than usual… but only, Harry thought, because he was expecting it. Dumbledore took his usual gilded chair with as much energy as he normally showed, and gave Harry the shadow of a wink when he spotted him in the crowd.

'Why do you think something's the matter with him?' Hermione asked in concern. She squinted up at the high table herself, following Harry's gaze.

He shrugged, looking down again. 'There was an odd thing in Remus' office… but I don't know. He says he's just tired.'

'Looks fine to me,' Ron noted, tapping the table with his fingers. 'I wish they'd hurry it up – I'm starving.'

'You ate half of Honeydukes,' Hermione pointed out waspishly. 'You ought to be –'

'Excellent!' Ron sighed in relief, as the usual end-of-term spread appeared. He dived immediately for a platter of buttered rolls, and Hermione gave up her lecture with a huff.

Harry wasn't hungry. He piled his plate with a few different choices to keep Hermione from fussing; but he picked unenthusiastically at the food, making shapes in his mash with the fork. He could feel the eyes of both his friends on him, but even Hermione did not comment on his lack of appetite. When he glanced up as the pudding appeared, he caught the pair of them having silent conversation over his head. He cleared his throat. Hermione began spooning pudding quickly onto her plate, while Ron's ears went pink.

Harry felt like he should be angry about it… but he hardly had any more energy for anger tonight. Hours and hours of shouting and tears and barrages of painful information had quite drained the instinct to lash out.

So he sighed instead.

'I'm not going to go mad,' he told them bluntly. 'So you can stop whatever secret plot your cooking up.'

They both looked guilty. 'It's just… it was a lot, what happened this afternoon. Anyone would be upset – overwhelmed, even. Don't… don't you want to talk about it, Harry?' Hermione asked in a small voice.

'Not tonight,' Harry said. He pushed away his untouched food and went back to trying to discern Dumbledore's state, just to avoid their eyes. 'I just… I can't anymore today, all right? I just can't, Hermione.'

Hermione looked tearful, but she nodded. Ron patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

'You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want. But… you should know you look awful, mate,' Ron told him honestly. 'And we're not plotting… but Hermione and I were talking on the walk back, and we think…' he swallowed, looking over at Hermione for help.

'We just don't want you to do something you'll regret, Harry,' she supplied in that same nervous voice.

Harry pulled his attention from the staff table at this, turning to stare at the pair of them. 'Like what?' he challenged in a low hiss.

'Like going off after Black,' Ron said bluntly.

Harry set his jaw. He did not say anything.

'You wouldn't, would you?' Hermione pleaded, laying a hand on his forearm. 'Because it isn't worth it Harry, it isn't,' she insisted. 'That's exactly what he wants… you'd be playing right into his hands if you do.'

'And he isn't worth dying for,' Ron added seriously.

Harry stared between them. He knew what they wanted to hear… what his next line was supposed to be. But it was as if they didn't understand at all.

'He killed my dad first, did you know?' he asked in a whisper. Hermione's hand stiffened on his arm. Ron paled a shade or two.

'What?' he asked in a gruff voice.

'Voldemort,' Harry explained, ignoring both their flinches. 'When he came to the house that night. My dad tried to stop him; to give my mum and me time to get away. He told her to take me and run. But Voldemort killed him, and he came after us in moments.'

'Harry…' Hermione began. But he ignored her.

'She took me to the nursery,' he continued mercilessly. 'She tried to shield me from him; begged Voldemort to kill her and leave me be. She told him she'd do anything… but he just killed her too. Got her out of the way. Then he came for me…'

Ron looked ill; Hermione deeply unnerved. The merriment and bustle of the feast surrounded them, but the celebration was oddly muted in their tiny bubble at the end of the long Gryffindor table. Several flakes of enchanted snow had fallen into his pumpkin juice before Harry finally spoke again.

'Do you want to know how I know that?' he asked, studying their terrified faces. 'Do you want to know how I know exactly how it happened… exactly what they said in their final moments?'

Neither replied, watching him in fear.

'Because that's what I can hear – every time a Dementor gets too near me,' Harry finished in a harsh whisper. 'That's the memory I get to relive: the moments that replay over and over in my mind. It's why – according to Dumbledore – they affect me so badly.'

'Harry,' Ron began. 'That's… I'm…'

'It's his fault, Ron,' Harry said, cutting him off. He glanced to his other side to include Hermione too. 'It's Black's fault. He was my godfather. He was their best friend and their Secret-Keeper. And he sold us all out. He sent Voldemort after them. I hear their deaths… over and over and over again… because of what he did. Because Black betrayed them.'

Harry stood up from the table. He was no longer interested in pretending he was planning to eat anything tonight.

'Now you tell me,' he added, leaning back over the bench to whisper at their ears. 'What would you do… if it had been your family?'

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Minerva frowned as she watched Harry push his food about his plate. Most of the students were chatty and windswept tonight: excited by the end of term, the prospect of the impending holiday and the day spent in the village. She knew Harry was likely to have been a bit bored on his own at the castle, but she hadn't expected this level of melancholy. He looked drained.

'Do you think he's unwell?' she asked, leaning over slightly to whisper at Albus' ear. She daren't speak too loudly, for the Minister for Magic had joined them at the feast tonight and was seated on the headmaster's other side. But Fudge, luckily, was distracted: waving pompously at some of the students in the crowd and occasionally tipping his bowler hat, he did not seem to be paying them any mind.

'Harry?' the headmaster replied, following her gaze. He sighed. 'He is not ill, no… I shall explain after the feast.'

Minerva's eyes narrowed. 'What –'

'After the feast, Minnie,' Albus repeated. He too, now she looked more closely, seemed sad and haunted.

Minerva frowned but went back to her dinner. Down the table, she could see Remus was hardly touching more than Harry had, gazing into his goblet of mead with eyes miles away. Severus, on the other side, was glancing repeatedly at the centre chair with an almost angry expression.

She'd missed something.

When the children were dismissed to bed and the Minister had taken his leave, she turned expectantly to Albus. Severus was hovering too, still glowering. Albus shot him an odd look before nodding Minerva out of the Hall. He did not speak until they'd reached his circular office.

'What is it?' she asked as soon as he'd closed the door. 'What's happened?'

Albus sighed. 'Today in the village, did you meet some of the others in the Three Broomsticks?'

The question took Minerva by surprise. 'I did,' she confirmed. 'You'd asked me to cover you with the Minister, and I brought Filius along. Hagrid met us unexpectedly and fell into conversation with Cornelius, so he joined as well. Though why he still condescends to speak to the man after the tosh that lot put him through last term –'

'You were overheard,' Albus interrupted quietly.

Minerva paused midstream, frowning. 'I –'

But it came back to her then… what they'd been discussing over drinks. She clapped a hand to her mouth in horror.

'No…' she breathed quietly. 'No, Harry wasn't… Harry isn't allowed in the village without supervision. How could he have –'

'Even walls have ears, Minerva,' Albus said heavily. 'Ours especially. You know that. Though in this case, it seems the ears were a touch more physical. According to Severus, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were seated at a table nearby. They repeated your conversation nearly word for word.'

Minerva felt her stomach drop out. 'Harry…' she hissed. 'He wasn't supposed to… we should have told him, Albus.'

'Yes,' the headmaster agreed. He sank onto the sofa, rubbing at his eyes beneath their half-moon spectacles. 'I have thought of little else since the moment Remus came to get me this evening. But what is done cannot be undone. He knows now. Or, at least, he knows of Black's true relationship with his family, and he knows of Black's role in the Fidelius Charm.'

'What happened?' Minerva asked hoarsely. And she listened with a sinking heart as Albus relayed the events of the afternoon.

'I cannot believe I didn't check the surroundings…' she chided herself angrily. 'The Three Broomsticks… of course there were bound to be students about. I just assumed…'

'It was unfortunate timing,' the headmaster agreed. 'But not entirely your fault, Minerva. And perhaps it is for the best overall. At the very least, we know where we stand. Harry must be given time to work through everything.'

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Many hours after the end of term feast, Harry still lay awake. He traced patterns on his curtains, trying to stem the flood of thoughts racing through his mind. He had pretended to be asleep when Ron entered the room for the night, rather than answering more questions. He was sure the charade had not fooled his friend, but Ron did not force the issue. Nor had Hermione made an appearance. The dormitory was in near silence: the occasional snore from Neville's bed or the rustling of sheets as someone shifted the only disturbance in the night. Harry liked the silence for its privacy, but he almost wished for something to distract him.

Unable to fall asleep, Harry finally climbed carefully out of his four-poster. None of the others stirred as he crept across the floor in his bare feet. He thought maybe he'd just go sit by the fire for a while… it had to be better than staring endlessly at his hangings.

He pulled the door ajar by degree, then nearly swore aloud as something furry brushed against his toes, making him jump.

'Oh, no you don't!' he whispered, snatching at the cat as Crookshanks made to streak through the cracked door. The animal gave an irritated hiss, but allowed Harry to scoop him up.

'I reckon Ron might be right about you, you know?' Harry told the cat after he'd safely shut the door to the dormitory again. 'This castle's full of mice. Find another to go and chase, why don't you?'

He could have sworn Crookshanks gave him a reproachful look as he carried him firmly down the spiralling stairs.

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Minerva had left the headmaster hours ago, but she could not sleep. Guilt and worry kept her from rest, wondering after Harry and cursing herself for her carelessness in the village. At last, to put her mind at ease, she summoned Mina and asked her to check in on the child. The elf reappeared a few moments later, looking nervous.

'What is it?' Minerva asked, already sitting up in the bed.

'Master Harry does not sleep either, Mistress,' the elf said sadly. 'Mina is checking the beds, but Master Harry is not there. So Mina looks in the common room, Mistress. He is being there – by the fire.'

Minerva frowned. 'Thank you,' she said with a nod. The elf vanished with a muted crack.

Not wasting another moment in indecision, Minerva got out of the bed and tied her long tartan dressing gown around her waist.

The Common Room was silent as she climbed awkwardly through the portrait hole. Harry did not turn as she entered. He was perched in one of the cosy armchairs next to the hearth, staring unseeingly into the low-burning fire as he stroked a huge, ginger-furred cat. The animal's yellow eyes tracked her as she approached.

'Harry?' she called softly from a few feet away, not wanting to startle him out of his trance.

He jumped slightly anyway, and the cat gave a noise of protest as Harry's hand clutched instinctively in its long fur.

'Hi,' he whispered upon seeing Minerva. He pulled his gaze resolutely back to the fire again.

The professor hesitated. This was not territory she'd ever navigated before.

With a small sigh, she pulled her wand, summoning a second chair closer to the boy's. She sat so that they were nearly knee-to-knee, and patted the top of the cat's head in turn. The animal was still gazing untrustingly at her.

'What's he called?' she asked.

'Crookshanks,' Harry replied to the flames. 'He's Hermione's.'

'Is she up as well?'

Harry shook his head. 'Crookshanks sneaks up to our dormitory,' he explained. 'Ron reckons he's got it in for Scabbers.'

'Hmm.'

They sat in silence for several moments. The cat, apparently deciding she wasn't much of a threat, began to purr under her touch.

'Our cat was ginger too,' Harry said suddenly. It was whispered, just as all his speech had been tonight. But his jaw hardened just a fraction as he said it.

Minerva paused in her ministrations to Crookshanks. 'Yes,' she said quietly. 'Darby. He was your mother's from her own days at Hogwarts. He was sweet.'

'I suppose he died,' Harry mumbled. 'Just like everyone else that night… everyone except me.'

'No,' Minerva corrected gently. 'Batty took him in, actually. She kept him the next eight years. He lived a good long life.'

'I can't remember him,' Harry said. 'I keep trying… keep going over and over the scraps of memory. And I don't remember.'

'You were very small, Harry,' Minerva reminded him. 'How could you?'

'Remus said he was there all the time,' Harry muttered. 'All the time. And I have the photo from the wedding… but I don't remember him. I thought, maybe, if I did…'

He turned to face her for the first time. His eyes were not watery, but there was a hollow, almost deadness about his expression that frightened her more than tears. And Minerva knew they were no longer speaking of the cat.

'I am so sorry, Harry,' she said. Her own voice was uncharacteristically shaky. 'So sorry. This was… you should not have found out like this. We should have told you together – Albus and I. We should have told you differently. I was careless. You have every right to be angry with me.'

She laid a hand gently on the boy's arm, and took it as a good sign that he did not flinch away.

'I'm not,' Harry said quietly. 'Well... I was,' he amended. 'I was angry with you, with Albus, with Remus… with everyone, I suppose. I still am… maybe. I'm still angry you didn't tell me – that I found out about it the way I did. But mostly now I'm just angry with him.' His eyes blazed with the force of the words.

Minerva squeezed her hand on his forearm. 'We all are, I assure you,' she swore, her voice returned to a shadow of its usual briskness. 'He deserves Azkaban, for what he did to you and your family.'

'He deserves nothing,' Harry countered fiercely. 'He deserves to die. Like Peter Pettigrew. Like my parents. He should rot for what he did to them.'

'The headmaster would tell you there are fates much worse than death,' Minerva noted. 'Myself… I am not sure that I agree.'

Harry gave just a fraction of a smile at the endorsement. She squeezed his arm again.

'You really should get some rest,' she said gently. 'It's well after two in the morning. There will be time enough to talk over the holidays. With me and with Albus, should you wish to.'

But Harry chewed his lip. 'Is he alright?' he asked.

Minerva frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'Albus,' Harry clarified. 'He was… off, earlier today. He went all pale. Then he almost fell over in Remus' sitting room. Snape was furious, but Albus just said he was tired.'

Minerva's frown deepened. 'Tired?' she repeated, releasing her hold on Harry as she thought back to what Albus had been like when she'd seen him earlier in the evening.

Harry nodded, still worrying his lower lip. 'Maybe you should check in on him,' he suggested innocently, climbing to his feet as Crookshanks leapt lightly onto the floor. 'I'll be fine.'

Minerva stood as well, sending the chair back with a flick from her wand. She considered Harry for a moment: so small still, in his bare feet on the hearthrug.

'Will you sleep?' she asked with a beady eye.

He hesitated.

She sighed. 'Put these on before you catch cold,' the professor insisted, twirling her wand through the air again to conjure a thick pair of slippers. 'And come along,' she beckoned imperiously.

Harry followed without a word as she led him swiftly through the portrait hole and up the darkened corridors. Neither spoke as they made the journey, until Minerva muttered the password at the gargoyle. She was irritated – but unsurprised – to see Albus sat at his polished desk, bent over an ancient-looking parchment. He vanished it almost immediately as the door to his office opened.

Minerva took one look at him and chided herself royally for not spotting it before.

'Minerva – and Harry,' Albus began, rising from the chair at once and looking deeply concerned. 'Good gracious, child, it is very late. Are you alright?'

'He most certainly is not, and neither are you, Albus,' Minerva said sternly, sizing him up. 'You look dead on your feet. Upstairs, the both of you.'

'Minerva, I –' Albus began in protest, but she cut him off with a fierce glare.

'Harry isn't keen on rest either,' she informed him. 'But you're both likely to come down ill if you keep up this nonsense. Staying up until you keel over will not aid in the recapture of Sirius Black, nor will it make the Christmas holidays at all enjoyable. Please, come to bed.'

Harry frowned. 'I really don't think I can sleep,' he admitted.

'I will bring you a dreamless sleep potion if you need it,' Minerva promised more gently. 'But you need to sleep, Harry. As do you, Albus,' she added with a bit more force. 'Harry tells me you haven't been well yourself.'

Albus shot a half-accusatory glance at Harry before responding. 'I am fine, Minerva,' he insisted. 'A mere moment of age.'

She studied his face sceptically. 'You look as though you haven't rested in weeks,' she disagreed. 'I can't believe I didn't spot it sooner. Come.'

Cowed, or perhaps simply out of curtesy for Harry's wellbeing, the headmaster put a hand on the child's shoulder and led him gently up the stairs. Minerva followed them all the way to the boy's usual room, and turned down the covers expectantly.

'You – into bed this instant,' she told Harry, eying him beadily until he'd pulled the blanket up. 'I'll bring you a spoonful of Dreamless Sleep. And Albus,' she rounded on the headmaster, 'You set him an example and get to bed yourself, before I call Poppy up here to dose you both.'

The headmaster bent to adjust the blankets and brushed Harry's fringe back gently. Minerva bustled from the room to retrieve the promised potion, and the boy was asleep in moments.

One down, she marched Albus to the largest bedchamber. 'In,' she commanded, arms crossed. The headmaster was smiling slightly, but he made no comment as he followed her instruction.

'Will you be joining?' he asked when he'd settled, eyes twinkling with supressed mirth.

Minerva huffed. 'How else am I to ensure you won't hurry off again as soon as I'm out of hearing range?' she challenged. 'Budge up.'

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Albus' smile widened as she tossed the dressing gown aside onto a bench by the window and crawled in beside him, but she did not return it.

'Why did you not tell me you'd been having trouble sleeping?' Minerva asked him quietly when they'd both settled into the sheets and the Transfiguration professor had doused the lights. 'And don't deny it,' she added quickly, as the headmaster immediately opened his mouth to do so. 'You could not get this ragged from one difficult afternoon, even one as trying as this has been.'

Albus sighed. 'I have had a few weeks of slight insomnia,' he admitted. 'Nothing I cannot handle, of course.'

'Oh yes, by the looks of things you've handled it wonderfully,' Minerva scoffed. But she softened in spite of herself. 'What is it?' she enquired more solicitously. 'Harry?'

He hesitated. He could not tell her. Or, at least, he could not tell her all. He could not tell her about the Horcruxes… or the Hallows… he could not tell her about Gellert.

But he would not lie.

'In part,' Albus admitted with a sigh. 'He said something this evening… it was innocent, I suppose, but it did remind me…'

'Said what?' Minerva asked curiously, propping herself up on one elbow to see his face.

'He told me to tell the truth.'

Minerva scoffed. 'Oh Albus,' she chastised, 'If a bit of cheek is going to send you off the rails…'

'It was not what he said, precisely,' Albus continued slowly. 'It was the manner in which he said it. It was a command, Minerva. It was unforgiving. His magic was in turmoil around him with the extent of his distress… and for just a moment…'

He paused. He did not want to recount the scarlet gleam he'd thought he'd seen in Harry's eyes as he'd thrown the words. He did not want to scare her.

'He was upset,' Minerva soothed, taking his hand. 'It's no wonder.'

'Yes,' Albus agreed. 'But I have heard the order before. From Tom Riddle. The first time I ever met him, in fact.'

Minerva's fingers clenched over his own.

'Harry is not You Know Who,' she breathed quietly. 'I… I understand the distress, of course. But it's coincidence, Albus. You know that.'

'Perhaps,' Albus said uncertainly. When she still looked frightened, he hurried on. 'Oh, I do not think Harry is Dark,' he amended quickly. 'No, far from it. However, the incident highlighted certain risks. There is more to lightness and darkness than tendencies; more than good character and bad. And I have already made so many mistakes where Harry is concerned…'

'As have we all,' Minerva reminded him.

Albus sighed again. 'Harry… Sirius Black… there is much to worry about in the present. But more than that, I think, is that I cannot shake the impending feeling that we are closer to war again than I would prefer. Harry is still so young… he will not be ready, should Voldemort return now. It is already next to impossible to keep him from harm, and we have not yet that obstacle to deal with. And meanwhile, I am growing older every day. We are running too tight to both ends of the clock, and he has so much left to learn. There may not be…'

Minerva cut him off with an odd noise, her own face looking a bit pale. In spite of her earlier lectures, she sat up against the headboard and brightened the candles, frowning.

'Albus, stop,' she said, perhaps more harshly than she'd meant. 'This sort of thinking is not like you. There is nothing to suggest You Know Who's return is any closer today than it was last year. Sirius Black is known to be in the area, so he cannot be with his master. There is time yet for… for Harry,' she finished with a deep swallow. And Albus could tell flashes of the prophecy he had recounted all those months ago were echoing in her mind – as they had been in his own for weeks.

'And as for you,' she added, giving just a flash of a smile, 'You have been an old man for decades,' she teased him. 'Age has not yet slowed you down. And Merlin, Armando was well over 300 when he passed this position to you,' she reminded. 'I refuse to entertain the notion of your –' she swallowed hard again – 'I refuse to discuss it. And you should not dwell on it either.'

'Death does not frighten me,' Albus assured her truthfully. 'At the right moment, death should be a release: a promise of what is to come after. We are none of us meant to walk the earth forever. No, it is not the knowledge that I will one day die which keeps me awake, Minnie,' he corrected softly. 'It is the fear that I am not doing what I must while I am here… or that I will leave Harry unprotected. There is no cure,' he added with a slight smile, as Minerva started to speak. 'We cannot tell what the future will bring, and it is empty to promise otherwise. In any case, I suspect it is not a fear which is unique to myself.'

'No,' Minerva agreed. There was a tenderness in her expression as she stroked a hand lightly over his cheek. 'It's precisely how I felt myself today – that I'd made an irreversible error. I expect this is how true parenting would feel… to be constantly worried that you are going wrong, or that you will be responsible when something catastrophic occurs.' She sighed. 'It's different than I'd anticipated,' she admitted. 'I've always felt protective of my students, of course –'

'That is more of an understatement than the day Professor Kettleburn described the engorged Ashwinder he provided for the Fountain of Fair Fortune as a rather interestingly coloured worm,' Albus quipped, thinking back on all the heated exchanges he had arbitrated between Minerva and Severus over the years.

She snorted. 'Possibly. All the Heads of House feel a measure of protectiveness, as I am sure you remember. It's part of our duty, and at times it's stressful in and of itself. But it is not the same, with Harry. I suppose it never really was, but in the past year or so…'

'Quite,' Albus agreed. 'Perhaps we would be better at this, had either of us had children of our own. Or perhaps it is simply because Harry comes with his own unique set of complications.'

Minerva shifted against him, laying her head against his chest. He dimmed the candles again as they relaxed slightly.

'When my brother Malcolm and his wife were expecting Ophelia,' Minerva recalled after a moment, 'He was a mess. Our own father was wonderful, in his way… but he was a Muggle and, obviously, he did not take an active role in raising us from a magical perspective. Malcolm wrote my mother while I was staying over the holidays, begging for help. My mother wrote all her advice on parenting into a letter.'

'That poor owl,' Albus murmured with a small smile.

Minerva shook her head. 'Oh no,' she corrected. 'The letter was only one sentence and a signature.'

Albus tried to turn his neck, looking down at the top of her head. She bent hers back so they could lock eyes.

'What did she say?' he asked curiously.

'You can come back from almost anything; but to come back, you must be there.'

To his surprise, for the first time in weeks, Albus Dumbledore slept soundly.

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The forest was freezing. Predictable, maybe, given the heavy fall of snow and the steadily dropping temperatures that heralded the coming of Christmas. Ice glistened from the branches of high evergreens like thousands of diamond shards. Even with his thick fur and the forest's protection, Sirius was chilled to the bone.

He wondered if he dared to spend another night in the Shack instead. He'd done it four times now, when the bitter winds and icy snows had made it impossible to find refuge even in the enchanted trees. The place was just as he'd remembered it, though covered in dust and with the definite aura of disuse. He'd half-expected to find some trace of Remus' return to the castle the first time he chanced the journey. But there were no signs at all that the werewolf had resumed his isolations. Sirius supposed they'd found another solution, so many years later. Perhaps Dumbledore had warded a corner of the castle instead.

This close to the full moon, however, Sirius felt too skittish to take the risk. If Remus did happen upon the shack again, he would be able to spot a recent intrusion. Even though he'd confined his nights to the broken down sitting room in the lower part of the house, the disturbance in the dust patterns were inevitable. And Remus, transformed, would certainly be able to catch his scent on the slashed-apart sofa or threadbare hearthrug.

Sirius could see the school from his spot tonight on the edge of the trees, darkened save for a flickering light in what he knew to be the headmaster's tower. He'd stayed close, hoping the cat might visit again. The cat which he suspected was not a cat. Or, at least, not entirely. He thought perhaps it had Kneazle ancestry.

Highly suspicious and intelligent, the cat had taken an immediate dislike to him when they'd encountered each other late one November night in the grounds. Sirius had nearly run for it, certain the animal would attack… but some instinct told him to stand his ground. The cat had sniffed at him, bottlebrush tail aloft and quivering, for a good five minutes. Then he'd darted away again.

But he'd come back. Many times, now. It took weeks… but, slowly, the cat began to trust him. It came every few days, and they prowled together through the edges of the forest and over the darkened grounds. It wasn't the same as human company… but it was far better than total seclusion. And eventually, he'd managed to communicate his purpose to the animal.

That had been the most difficult part. The cat could tell he was no ordinary dog, of that Sirius had been sure from their first meeting. But the cat was not human. And that made things tricky. When Sirius was in his Padfoot form, he could communicate easily with other dogs; could bark, growl, raise his hackles… it was a base instinct, in this form. And they'd bumped along just fine as the Marauders, but they knew each other so well. They could communicate without words; operate in perfect unity. It was easy enough to work with gestures or the limited vocal noises he could make as an animal… but it would take more than that to turn his new companion into an ally.

Sirius didn't really know how it had worked, precisely. He knew it was something close to mind magic… perhaps a crude form of Legilimency. He'd never really learned much true Legilimency before. He supposed he would have, if he'd been able to complete his qualifications to the Auror department, but of course he'd never had the chance. Maybe he'd been able to will the magic to work for him, sloppy as he knew his efforts must have been. Or, perhaps, it only worked only because of the intuitive nature of kneazles – who were well known for their ability to sense the thoughts and natures of other beings. Either way, they'd managed it. And the cat was trying to aid him.

Which was why he'd taken to hovering on the edge of the grounds, though he knew it exponentially increased the likelihood that he might be caught. He watched, and he waited… and he hoped every night that the cat would bring him Peter.

Except tonight. Tonight, he had a new favour to ask of the animal.

The scroll was wedged tightly in the crook of a nearby oak tree, where he'd shoved it to keep it from the elements. He'd been able to nick it from the edge of the paddock behind Hagrid's hut, after a careless O.W.L. student had left it behind. Then, in his most daring move yet, he'd stolen into the gamekeeper's hut itself last Wednesday, when Hagrid took his boarhound for a stroll by the lake. The animal had gone mad when he'd scented him on their return… Sirius had heard him even deep in the forest… but it had been worth it for the ink and quill.

He wasn't going to let another Christmas pass him by.

'Lily will hex you,' Marley opined from her place in the corner. 'Ten galleons on the Horn Tongue.'

She was perched precariously on the edge of the slightly-peeling countertop, kicking her bare heels lightly off the wooden cabinet below while she munched on apple. Sirius looked up from his contemplation of the tableful of potential gifts with a smirk.

'Lily loves me,' he said confidently. 'And she loves Christmas.'

'Does she love her house?' Marley quipped back. 'Because I reckon she'll be lucky it stays standing if you give the baby all this rubbish.'

'It's been standing for centuries,' Sirius countered as he bent to examine the cage of miniature unicorn models he'd bought off a trader in Hogsmeade, 'And James and I lived there together before Harry happened, remember? If it survived us, it can survive a five-month-old.'

'Miracle,' Marley jibed. 'And anyway, I made a promise. Told her I'd keep you to five at a max, and nothing living. So you're going to have to rein it in, Father Christmas.'

Sirius' face fell. 'You went behind my back?' he asked in a wounded voice.

She shrugged. 'Hags before Shags, as it were,' she reminded him. 'Lily ranks first.'

At his crestfallen look, she giggled. 'You prat. She came to me. Seemed to think you might go overboard for some reason…'

'But… I'm his godfather,' Sirius pointed out, quite truthfully stunned.

'Yes… not his fairy godfather, as she put it.'

Sirius looked up with a frown. 'What in Merlin's name is a fairy godfather?'

Marley shrugged, though her eyes were mischievous. 'That's what Lily called it,' she explained. 'Something about a fairy that gives children exactly what they want with a wand, just because they ask for it. It's a Muggle legend, apparently.'

'Fairies can't wield wands,' Sirius pointed out. 'Can't do much of anything, really, except twinkle and preen.'

Marley rolled her eyes. 'I know that,' she said patronisingly. 'It's just what they say, apparently. I don't know. They make dreams come true or something. Or they just indulge children because it amuses them.'

'So… like Muggle Dumbledores with wings?' Sirius offered. Marley giggled.

'Mental Muggle stories…' he went on with a shake of his head. 'A fairy godfather… You'd be better off with a pixie. At least they can be a laugh.'

'Closer to you, in any case,' Marley retorted. She crossed her legs. 'But I guess they're supposed to be fairy godmothers, anyway. So you don't really fit the part. Though if you carry on with the forty-five minute routines in the loo every morning…'

'Oi, it takes work to look like this,' Sirius countered in mock offence. He tossed his shaggy hair for effect.

She snorted, clutching a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying the room with bits of chewed apple. Sirius laughed, pushing back from the table to take her in again. His eyes raked suggestively up from her crimson toes to her face.

She was slightly mussed – in that carefree way that spoke of a lazy morning in intimate company. She was wearing one of his overlong shirts that was falling off her shoulders and riding up to show pink knickers as she rocked on the counter. Her long hair was tied in a loose plait, a few curls escaping. Though Marley was always impeccably put-together outside the house, he'd grown used to seeing her like this in private.

Sirius thought he might even like this version better.

'Perv,' she chided lightly, flicking the apple core at his face and pulling down the hem of the teasing shirt.

'Wear trousers next time, and I'll behave,' he challenged as he batted the apple away with a playful grunt.

His icebox and cupboards had undergone a lot of change too, since Marley had started staying more frequently. They were bursting with what Remus had dubbed 'healthy options, well done you!' and James labelled knowingly 'witch food.'

Sirius stuck resolutely with his fry-up. But he kept the fruits and the odd-shaped greens around anyway… because he liked that she wanted to stay to breakfast when he had them.

He looked back at the pile of toys again and ran a hand through his hair.

'So, what do you reckon?' he asked, leaning back in his chair. 'Can't get away with the lot then?'

'Mmm… best not risk it,' she opined, popping off the counter to come and survey the groaning table. 'He's not going to be able to use half this anyway.'

She passed him a cup of steaming tea, and began rummaging through the piles. 'A broomstick, Siri? Really?'

'Best model for the under-fives,' Sirius countered defensively, snatching the plastic broom back as though she'd threatened to burn it. 'He'll love it.'

'He can't even walk,' Marley reasoned.

Sirius frowned as he set the broom onto the corner of free table-top in front of him.

'I just want it to be special for him,' he said quietly, fingering the toddler-sized seat. 'It's his first Christmas. It should be exciting. It should be magical. And with everything going on… who knows whether…'

He trailed off, but he didn't have to finish. The memories of the past year were louder than their own voices in the tiny kitchen. Sean's death at New Year… the Prewett brothers' only last month… the McAllisters, the Bones, the Larsons, the Clendenons, the Marwoods… And nobody had seen or heard from Regulus in more than fourteen months.

Sirius' breath hitched in spite of himself.

Though he hadn't seen her come round, Marley was suddenly behind his chair. He felt her hair tickle his neck as she bent to kiss his cheek from behind; her hands running over his shoulders and chest. It wasn't an invitation this time. It wasn't their usual game. This time, her hands offered only comfort.

He clutched one in his own.

'They'll be more, Sirius,' she promised softly. 'They'll be years more. You don't have to cram it all into one Christmas day. Not for Harry… not for any of us.'

It was an empty promise, and they both knew it. But it comforted him all the same.

'Maybe save the broom for his first birthday?' he suggested, trying to recapture the light-hearted morning.

'An excellent idea,' she approved. She kissed him once on the top of the head, patted his shoulder, and pushed away again.

'Now, what say we pick the five best then, and crack on? I promised Lils we'd meet them at the market at noon, and it's coming on eleven already.'

He watched her sorting through the piles of parcels with a goofy half-smile. And his thoughts wandered in spite of himself… drifting to impermissible netherworlds… where perhaps, one day, they too might be celebrating a baby's first Christmas… might be choosing godparents and regulating brooms…

He'd given the toy broom to Harry for his first birthday instead, just as they'd agreed. She'd been right, as she so often was. His godson was much better equipped to seat it by then. Lily, who'd appreciated the delay nearly as much as she'd appreciated Marlene's refereeing the gift brigade, sent photos. And he wished Marley had been around to see them.

But she'd been wrong about the time.

There would be no happy ending, for them. No tow-headed children with his grey eyes and Marley's dimples, running and laughing with Harry as they grew. No house in the country with a meadow they could play quidditch in. No weddings.

Just funerals. Just emptiness.

He'd known it going in. 'Just shagging,' she'd called it, that first night. And it was… wasn't it? Yet that couldn't explain why he'd put a preservation charm on the pillow to keep it smelling like her forever.

He hoped she was in heaven now, if Heaven was a place at all. He knew she couldn't be in Hell. Or he'd have found her by now.

Hell wasn't a fiery pit of demons and darkness. Hell was screaming yourself awake: alone, covered in sweat and tears. Knowing your friends were dead. Knowing the woman you had dreamed of would never return to you.

So he hoped that, somewhere, Marley, Sean, James, Lily, Mr and Mrs Potter, Grandad Harry, and all the others he'd loved and lost were together… sharing a Christmas feast again.

And he waited at the edge of the frigid, darkened forest… for the cat to take his Christmas present to his godson… and, perhaps, to bring him his own.

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Review Responses, Chapter 30:

Guest (Chapter 29 Review): First off, I apologise… I did not see your review until after finishing Chapter 30, so this response comes one chapter later than usual… but I thank you for your review all the same! Glad you enjoyed chapter 29 so much. The confrontation was a pleasure to write… although I am itching for some happier scenes and may try to work in that direction for at least a bit now. We saw Albus's portion of things in Chapter 30, of course, but in this next chapter we'll get the Minerva inclusion. I'm not going to play out that scene in quite the same way… as I don't want to repeat too much similar material, but I hope you find it satisfying nonetheless. After all, she was the one in the pub, wasn't she? She's got to feel a tad guilty… in any case, I hope you enjoyed Chapter 30 and will enjoy Chapter 31, and I hope you had a lovely holiday as well!

Anyeshabaner: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, when Harry shouts 'Tell the Truth!' Albus is certainly reminded strongly of Tom Riddle. Its Snape's POV at that moment, so of course Severus doesn't realise… but Albus will be haunted by it. Poor Albus… he had some difficulties all around in Chapter 30. As to the horcrux in Harry piece, however, I can't answer at this time. We haven't actually seen him speculate on the possibility yet… but it is certainly coming. As is Minerva – finally. She's back this chapter! Sirius has a POV as well, and a major one coming in the not-so-distant future. Hope you enjoy!

BlueWater5: Thanks for your review! Glad you liked the Fantastic Beasts shout out. I have a theory about that particular line… Enjoy chapter 31!

Psitomer: Thanks for reviewing! I love Bill as well – so excited to get to play with him a little… he's got a lot of potential. As does Charlie, so perhaps we'll see him from time to time as well. The idea of string theory or other maths and sciences playing into magic is fascinating, and entirely plausible. We'll definitely be getting a lot more of magical theory over the course of this series, so I hope you like where it heads. Arithmancy, I think, is really an integration of maths and science with magic in many ways… and of course the philosophy aspect is heavily introduced by Albus/Merlin and will be explored further. Religion and spirituality have a part to play as well, I think. We've had a bit about religion in the Wizarding World… and that may come up again. It's fascinating to consider the many intrinsic overlaps, though it does make my head spin at times!

Harry… yes, he's a bit quicker on the uptake, sometimes. Side effect of private tutorials with Albus, Minerva and Snape. Though I do think he still struggles with exactly that which Grindelwald accuses Bill in Chapter 30 – Harry, too, tends to see in black and white where really there is mostly grey. He's improving, but it's a learning process. As for Albus, 'manipulative' might be a strong descriptor… it's not inaccurate, necessarily, but I don't think he ever comes at it from a malicious place. He's forced to manage nearly everything, and he wants to protect Harry… but like many parents/mentors/teachers/protective figures, he is imperfect at times. To me, he is still the embodiment of goodness, no matter his faults. As to whether he had doubts… oh, I think Albus had many important fleeting thoughts this last chapter. The question is – what will he follow up on? The Willow… I promise we will get that story before the end of this book.

Ah, Grindelwald. He is creepy. You never quite know where you stand with him, do you? As to the question on the original involvement of Gellert with Albus on the horcrux issue… I cannot speak for JKR's brilliant mind, of course, but that is rather where I drew the idea from. Make of that what you will. :)

Enjoy Chapter 31!

Valkyrie-Sythe: Thanks for your review! Don't worry – Albus is a bit overworked at the moment, but his little spell at the end of Chapter 30 was directly related to his inability to sleep: his preoccupation with the Hallows v. Horcrux dilemma (that Harry later experiences in canon). I'm not tearing him away from you lot… At least, not yet.

StormOwlRage: Thank you for reviewing! I'm very glad you're liking Grindelwald… he's such an interesting character to develop. Almost like a dark version of Albus. I appreciate your confidence! I'm sure Fantastic Beasts will be wonderful… it is JKR, after all. I just hope when she reveals her thoughts on the character, my own won't be too far gone. Hope you like Chapter 31!

MoonshineMadame: Thank you for your review! Happy to hear you liked the chapter! Harry… haha, yes, he is definitely having a bit of a wobbly… not dissimilar to how a lot of children/pre-teens tend to get when they feel they've been wronged (I definitely pulled the 'stop treating me like a toddler!' rant a time or two… while stamping up and down and chucking my things around my room). My parents definitely did not have the type of reactions these wizards do… except perhaps to point out that my actions and my complaints were rather inapposite. Remus… yes, very sad and rather broken. Snape… emotions are not his thing; and Sirius Black is really not his thing. And Albus… I was a bit confused on the magical affliction assumption, but then I re-read the chapter and I think I worked out where you thought that. But Severus assuming Albus' condition is Harry's fault isn't really in the magical sense. Rather in the emotional one. Albus just has had a very difficult few weeks and hasn't been able to sleep (not unlike Harry's own issues at times), and this last emotional blow is just one too many. He's overwhelmed.

I apologise for the timing confusion… I had initially not planned to go so back and forth with the timeline, but I wanted to watch Albus' deterioration come together in one chapter rather than drag out over three, and I wanted the readers to have that immediate background as he comes in to handle Harry. Hopefully it worked! I'm glad you liked the Gellert/Albus/Bill scene… that will be (hopefully) a fun arc to watch unfold over the next few books.

Haha I love the 'Word' comments… for me, there is a section entitled 'Review' and when you select it the comment options pop up… but I am not positive that the non-UK version works similarly, so that might be different on your computer. Being blonde myself, however, I also am fond of hand-editing, and I tend to do this with a lot of my own work.

Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Guest Reviewer: Thank you for reviewing! I really appreciate the compliment, and am very glad you are enjoying the story so much! Hope you like the continuation.

WizardingWorld97: Thank you for your review! I hope you are enjoying the story. I've already given you this answer, but thought I would post it in case other readers were confused by the conversation in the previous chapter. In HBP, when Dumbledore shares Ogden's memory with Harry, the scene that he shares is Bob Ogden calling on the Gaunts after Tom Riddle Sr is cursed by Morfin Gaunt, a response to Morfin seeing his sister had taken a fancy to a Muggle. He visits the family and gets in somewhat of an altercation with Marvolo, durin which Marvolo shouts at Merope for her poor magic skills and then nearly strangles her with Slytherin's locket. Eventually, Ogden flees the home and returns with Ministry reinforcements, according to Albus' account. The sixteen-year later scene in which Morfin is arrested by the Ministry is mentioned by Albus, but not recounted in a memory that Harry sees. I assumed Ogden would have been part of that team as well. Merope, of course, has been dead for 16+ years at that point. So I actually invented the events of the second visit (assuming he was with MLE when they arrested Morfin for the murder of the Riddles), but did not invent the first visit or his recollections of Merope. I hope this helps, and enjoy the next chapter!

Lordban: Thank you for your review! I'm very glad you have enjoyed the stories so much thus far and really appreciate your compliments. I hope I can continue to meet expectations as the story progresses. I know it is always unfortunate to have to read a story piecemeal as it is posted in instalments… but I will do my best to keep the new chapters as swift as I can! I hope you enjoy this next chapter, and all my best as well.